James Crittle, a famous pilot of the French Air
Force, later turned university professor, on February 18, 2015, was found dead
in full uniform Rue Montmartre in Paris. He had used some cyanide to put an end
to his life. The French Air Force took over his funeral in Bordeaux, but Joseph
and Magdalena Seth, two young people who had been his friends up to three years
before when James Crittle stepped out of their life without any explanation,
hearing the news on the radio decided to claim his body since he had no known
direct relatives. […]
GIVE OR TAKE TODAY 1
“Take a step ahead
“A step forward
“It’s enough to be told
“To be liberated
“It’s enough to tell
“To be free.”
Listen to the story
To the story teller
The voice of some phoenix
Abandoned in the night
Forlorn in rejection
Rises from his own ashes
The ashes of his trauma
God bless the child!
ROD OF REBIRTH
(Bordeaux, Tour
Pey-Berland)
[Inspired from Hildegard von Bingen]
I
salute you, wand evergreen
Erected strong and vigorous by the wind
Summoned
by our sensuous prayers
Your
time has finally come
To
bloom and blossom between our limbs
Climaxing
its fertility
I
salute you, rod evergreen
You
satiate my thirst
My
inner fire inflames you
With
the noesis of love
CRUCIFIED NIGHTMARE
“There is in every one of us . . . a
type of desire that is terrible, wild, and lawless . . . Shall we just
carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by
casual persons . . . ? Anything received into the mind at that age is likely to
become indelible and unalterable . . .”
My dear Plato, what about any casual
act from any non casual person performed casually on a child? Is there any road
to rebirth from such acts? Is the noesis of spiritual and mental love, not to
speak of carnal sex, enough to purge the mind and the body of these casual
events?
“Come then, and let us pass a leisure
hour in storytelling, and our story shall be the education of our heroes.”
VERLAINE – JE TE HAIS
(en français dans le texte)
[ . . . ]
Verlaine,
je te hais
Des
plaisirs évoqués,
Désirés,
Convoités
De
ce Rimbaud que tu te fis
Comme
s’il n’était qu’un
Moucheron
dans une pissotière
Que
d’un doigt tu aurais écrasé
# posted by Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU @ 12:54 PM