mardi 29 juillet 2014



Elliott Erwitt. “The goddess Diana, in a sculpture in bronze by Augustus Saint-Gaudens, draws back her bow, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City”. 1949

Bill Brandt. “Untitled”. 1937. London, England, UK


Watching The Gyro, Coney Island, 1949, a photo by Harold Feinstein


“Standing on a street corner waiting for no one is power.”
Gregory Corso
I am singling you through the flames.
The North Pole is not where it used to be
Manifest Destiny is no longer mani-fest.
Civilization self-destructs./Nemesis is knocking at the door.
What are poets for, in such an age?
What is the use of poetry?
The state of the world calls out for poetry to save it.
If you would be a poet, create works capable of answering the challenge of apocalyptic times, even if this means sounding apocalyptic.
You are Whitman, you are Poe, you are Mark Twain, you are Emily Dickinson and Edna St. Vincent Millay, you are Neruda and Mayakovsky and Pasolini, you are an American or a non-American, you can conquer the conquerors with words.
If you would be a poet, write living newspapers.
Be a reporter from outer space, filing dispatches to some supreme managing editor who believes in full disclosure and has a low tolerence for bullshit.
If you would be a poet, experiment with all manner of poetic, erotic broken grammers, ecstatic religions, heathen outpourings speaking in tongues, bombast public sppech, automatic scribblings, surrealist sensings, streams of consciousness,
found sounds, rants and ravesto create your own limbic, your own underlying voice, your ur voice.
If you call yourself a poet, don´t just sit there. 
Poetry is not a sedentary occupation, not a ¨take your seat¨ practice. Stand up and let them have it.
If you would be a poet, invent a new
way for mortals to inhabit the earth.
If you would be a poet, invent a new
language anyone can understand.
If you would be a poet, speak new
truths that the world can´t deny.
Through art, create order out of the
chaos of the living.
Make it new news.
Write beyond time.
Reinvent the idea of truth.
Reinvent the idea of beauty.
Question everything and everyone, including Socrates, who questioned
everything.
Be subversive, constantly question-
ing reality and the status quo.
Strive to change the world in such a
way that there´s no further need to
be a dissident.
Hip Hop and Rap your way to liberation.
Your poems must be more than want ads for broken hearts.
Words can save you where guns can´t.
Give a voice to the tongueless street.
See the rose through world-colored glasses.
Be an eye among the blind.
Be naive, non-cynical, as if you had just landed on earth, astonished by what you have fallen upon.
Dig folk singers who are the true singing poets of yesterday and today.
Think subjectively, write objectively.
Like a field of sunflowers, a poem should not have to be explained.
Haunt bookstores.
Cultivate dissidence and critical thinking.

First thought may be worst thought.
Sow your poems with the salt of the earth.
Don´t let them tell you poetry is a neurosis that some people never outgrow.
Don´t ever believe poetry is irrelevant in dark times.
Make new wine out of the grapes of wrath.
Be the gadfly of the state and also its firefly.


I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting for someone
to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
Of a new symbolic western frontier

 and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the second coming
And I am waiting
For a religious revival
To sweep thru the state of Arizona
And I am waiting
For the grapes of wrath to stored
And I am waiting
For them to prove
That God is really American
And I am waiting
To see God on television
Piped into church altars
If they can find
The right channel
To tune it in on
And I am waiting
for the last supper to be served again
and a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes
and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting 
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the great divide to be crossed
and I anxiously waiting
For the secret of eternal life to be discovered
By an obscure practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and TV rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am waiting for retribution
for what America did to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for the American Boy
to take off Beauty’s clothes
and get on top of her
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting for Aphrodite 
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeting lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other at last
and embrace
and I am awaiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder

Lawrence Ferlinghetti
“I Am Waiting" (1958)


(clic droit + ouvrir dans un autre onglet)
And to any and all who kill and kill and kill for peace
I raise my middle finger 
in the only proper salute
"Salute!" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, scanned from the May 1968 issue of Evergreeen magazine

“Change in the world comes from individuals, from the inner peace in individual hearts. Just as ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water, the actions of individuals can have far-reaching effects.”
Dalai Lama




Woohoo, Rimouski !


Lucjan Wędrychowski


Theatre Of Dolls, photo by Dave Maric




     You take yourself too seriously. You are too damn important in your own mind. That must be changed! You are so goddamn important that you feel justified to be annoyed with everything. You're so damn important that you can afford to leave if things don't go your way. I suppose you think that shows you have character. That's nonsense! You're weak, and conceited! In the course of your life you have not ever finished anything because of that sense of disproportionate importance that you attach to yourself.
      Self-importance is another thing that must be dropped, just like personal history. The world around us is very mysterious. It doesn't yield its secrets easily. Now we are concerned with losing self-importance. As long as you feel that you are the most important thing in the world you cannot really appreciate the world around you. You are like a horse with blinders, all you see is yourself apart from everything else.


Well, God is in His heaven
And we all want what’s His
But power and greed and corruptible seed
Seem to be all that there is
I’m gazing out the window
Of the St. James Hotel
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like Blind Willie McTell

Read more: http://www.bobdylan.com/us/songs/blind-willie-mctell#ixzz38r689iVV

lundi 28 juillet 2014



Melba Moore


Katsushika Hokusai (葛飾 北斎?) (1760-1849), 
connu plus simplement sous le nom de Hokusai (北斎), ou de son surnom de « Vieux Fou de la peinture »
Feminine Wave and Masculine Wave

Einstein and the Poet : In Search of the Cosmic Man


Werner Bischof

Renato Guttuso (1912-1987) 
Telefoni. L’incomunicabilità, 1980


As such, pain is not something you can ultimately escape if you are truly going to embrace who and what you are. If you don’t feel a loneliness that borders on being painful if not outright pain to one degree or another, you have simply numbed what you feel in some way. To think you can transcend to some “spiritual” realm to recognize the true essence of who and what you are and not feel loneliness at your uniqueness, you are fooling yourself and you remain in the illusion of Creation. To access the depth and breath of your being and live in the awareness of who and what you are you will have to learn to be happy with what is including a deep loneliness that stems from your own uniqueness. In this knowing, you can use the loneliness to fuel your creative efforts to create a creation that serves you and not one where you run in fear such that you seek a playmate not out of need or lack but out of a desire to share the wonder of Creation. Hence the statement, “Creation was created out of love and the desire of the Creation to share Its Creation.

Pain is a fuel. It is the fuel for Creation/creation. At this point in time, humanity is asleep as to who and what it really is. Consequently there is much pain in the world trying to awaken consciousness as to its true nature. However, rather than feel the pain, people are doing everything they can think of to numb the pain and/or otherwise not feel the pain. There may be a few individuals who have a glimmer of who and what they are but even they have not bridged the pain of their own uniqueness. If they did, they would be teaching people about how to deal with it and teaching individuals how to recreate themselves rather than trying to convince them to transcend the physical conditions.


Digital art by Paul Henderson.






Regarde l'eau aller, mon chum
Regarde le fleuve et la rivière couler vers la mer
La grande Flaque étoilée là-bas où tout s'en va
Où tout finira
Et qu'elle soit de joie ou de tristesse
Elle aussi, mon ami
La larme sur ta joue ce matin
Un jour s'y rendra
Le sang dans tes veines
Tes rêves, tes espoirs, 
L'incessant flot de tes pensées
Ne t'accroche à rien
Profite de la lumière de ce jour 
Vis, crois, aime et crée et
Laisse couler, bro
Tout s'y rendra
Tout y finira.


(note to my sorry fuck self)


Praying the river Ganga at night, India.
Julie Higelin
“Silence is so accurate.”
Mark Rothko
“In general, people are not drawn to perfection in others. People are drawn to shared interests, shared problems, and an individual’s life energy. Humans connect with humans. Hiding one’s humanity and trying to project an image of perfection makes a person vague, slippery, lifeless, and uninteresting.”
 Robert Glover
Holger Trülzsch, Veruschka: Transfigurations, 1986



Digital Illustrations by Artem Rhad Cheboha


dimanche 27 juillet 2014

Inflatable doll
Lover ungrateful
I blew up your body...
But you blew my mind

Oh Those Heartaches
Dreamhome Heartaches