Wild Bohemia

Sois toujours poète, même en prose.
Charles Baudelaire

If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
Leonard Cohen

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Photography / Diary / Archive

Breakfast with Lucifer. #poem

Breakfast with Lucifer

she stood on the balcony
the world her ashtray
puffing out clouds 
across the burning night

below her black boots
the pigeons 
pecked at filth
between the cobblestones

a crow 
on the spire 
cawed at her
she laughed

and swigging spirits 
with the one star 
that had broken from the flock
she hummed

sunday morning
praise the dawning

…or play? 
#music #guitar #decisions #punk
Work…
#punk #PhD #books

Daily schedule.
Morning: French press.
Afternoon: macchinetta.
Feeling lucky: espresso.

Viv Albertine of the Slits, 1980

Viv Albertine of the Slits, 1980

at the end of the day
I’m still just a little boy
who lost his soul, self and sister
in the dark, dark woods

better
lost in the woods
where Lucifer roams
than locked with the choir
in gilded tombs

“And I’m dancing to a scream.”

—   the Jesus and Mary Chain

It’s dark. 
There are no stars,
The sun is gone
And the moon
Is just a stone.

sur ton dos mes doigts dansentmystique cadencevalse clandestinedes dieux bannie
sur tes reins mes doigts dansentà rythme intensearcane mélodiejig sans répit
sur tes lèvres ils dansentd’occultes transesderviches damnésà des gestes impies.