Greffes & Transfusions... mini recueil 

#1 Posté par : wastedreamor2 27 octobre 2015 à  21:58

Je me reconnecte seulement aujourd'hui depuis mon dernier post.
Je tiens à  m'excuser auprès de ceux qui m'ont lue, soutenue, rendu le sourire, écrit, donné envie de recroire en MOI.

Je suis désolée pour les mp laissés en plan, je compte reprendre contact avec vous, mes amis de PA...

Je vous dois une peine explication sur ma "disparition". Et ça devrait prendre plus de trois lignes, étant fatiguée ( ça fait mieux qu'à  la ramasse...)

Je le ferais dans une prochaine entrée,
"I asked god : the answer was Dope"
Quoique tout est dit dans le titre.

#2 Posté par : wastedreamor2 16 décembre 2015 à  02:53

The barking dogs

There’s a choice to make
Perhaps a new road to take.

I shut my eyes, it’s still dark
Night & day I can hear them bark.

The dope fiends & the rock stars,
Melted white and blue collars,

They scream for me to rush down
Where the dope show goes on.

They cry for me to turn back,
As my sober mood turns to black.

Summer ended the very other day
My skin & my sky are tinted grey

I’m aging as the seasons pass by
I can’t hum myself the same lie

Again & again & again...
I wish I knew another refrain.

Next to the shut window
Are the marks of my last blow

The broken gear & the empty bag
These used to be my flag

Curing the huge hole in my heart
They cursed me while trying to abort

The boredom & the pain : this endless plague
Of all the barking dogs who still beg

For a little company in their sorrow…
As an addicts’ nation all hollow

They all need to stay in a blind pack
To fight the burden of reality back.

Dead or alive, They want me back,
So, deaf or mute, they would still bark.

#3 Posté par : wastedreamor2 16 décembre 2015 à  02:54

De battre mon coeur s’est arrêté….

Entre mes parents,
la guerre était déclarée depuis longtemps…
Moi, je ne connaissais encore
qu’un seul univers : le leur.
Les assiettes volaient,
parfois le sang coulait.
Parfois je suppliai Papa,
Ne me tue pas…
J’y tenais donc à  cette vie si je ne voulais pas la perdre,
Plus qu’un instinct de survie, j’avais une place parmi les miens
Et un avenir à  vivre. Faire partie des 1% comme nos aïeux…
Entretenir les apparences de ce clan illustre
A tout prix, celui du silence avant tout,
Aussi ma douleur, essence de souffrance.
Mais je ne connaissais rien d’autre de la vie,
Que ce mal...
Et un peu d’amour de mon entourage,
Ou juste une appartenance, une possession à  débattre.
Celle illusion de ne pas être seule,
Que je ne connaîtrais plus
Cette illusion qui m’a fait déplacer des montagnes,
Qui m’a faite reine au royaume de la résilience,
Cette douce chimère,
que loin, par delà  la mer,
Ma famille m ‘attend….
Mais je suis revenue et ce nouvel univers n’avait pas laissé de place
Au souvenir de l’enfant perdue, aujourd’hui femme sans flamme
Prostituée sans client, Toxicomane sans âme...
Des cendres des tombes des ruines des silences encore toujours,
Je ne savais pas que j’étais devenue à  mon tour un secret de famille,
Bien à  l’abri comme un cadavre emmuré sous un placard.

#4 Posté par : wastedreamor2 16 décembre 2015 à  02:55

Dysfunctional Siblings


I have a sister,
She had no mother.
She’s been given to our grandmother
As a baby
By our daddy
Because her mommy
Had found a richer
Man than daddy.
So she left her daughter,
& let 5 years pass before
She tries to see her
& convince my sister
It’s all about the madness of our father
& our wicked grandmother.

I have another sister,
She’s got no father.
Her mother
divorced her father
When she even wasn’t a teenager
Then he found another
wife to be the mother
Of a new child
In a country foreign & wild
Then he died
from cancer
But noone sent my sister
any letter
To let her know
he wasn’t there anymore
She had to google her father
To know that now for ever,
there only were
Her mother
left for carer.

I have a third sister,
Sometimes she visits her father,
He’s a billionaire father
He Sleeps on a comforter
in a corner
Of the kitchen
Near the bin & the oven
Because he’s so cheap
He's a flat with no bed to sleep
In the living, only the sister
sleeps on a furniture.
The couch from where
Her father
Usually awakes to order
His armies of low paid workers.


I have 3 brothers,
They have no mother,
But my Grandmother.
The Ice mother
Is a renowned Doctor
She studied while being a mother
& let the first brother
To the grandmother
Then the other
Brothers appear
But the habit were there
As the grandmother
Was a great carer.
Anyways, then & after,
Ice cube Mother,
Has Never been reported being tender
She's as cold as a refrigerator.

I have no father
& an abusive mother.
The former
Is a whore lover,
A hitter, a life stoler,
Then he was for 15years
My absent genitor.
The latter
Is too much of a bipolar
To get she’s got a problem
She sings the same anthem
It’s all because of them
& me, coz I also belong to them.
We’re not like her
So I’m theirs & shouldn't be there,
In front of her,
To remind her of them
Her real memories are seldom
& she hates her daughter
Fors things that never
Did happen
In this Western.
I had my grandmother…
Now I’m an empty lover.
She’s gone the other day
& it was a very bad birthday.


Sick world we are living in,
Shaky family we’ve been raised in.
We’re all cousins
& should love each
Other as siblings.
But we rarely meet.
They’re in all my childhood memories,
But It’s history, sweet bedtime stories..
& now we all have to figure out
How to pass down
love without
breaking down
To a new generation..
Love without Dominion..
We have no clue
I feel stuck by glue...
So we’ll hire people, nurses & carers,
To hide that we are drained lovers
Since the very first morning
So the lie would go on sparkling
And so goes on the Earth,
Filled up with our empty hearts

#5 Posté par : wastedreamor2 16 décembre 2015 à  03:05

The wasted dreamer


I’m a junk user
But I’m still a believer

I’m a hard core dreamer
In the cold frigid winter

I’ve wasted a dream or two
For the sake of my sorrow

To escape reality, you know?
While I’ve been waiting for you

Hope faded to nullity
Dope to necessity
Future to absurdity.
Scars from abscess surgery
To fucking reality
I feel stuck by gravity
While I keep pretending I’m not a zombie

Passing by the crossroads of life
I’ll never be the good wife

I don’t want to choose a path no more
All I know is dope is there

I’m sitting in the center of nowhere
Though I’m not waiting anymore

I foresee deep inside I’ll never
Take a decision no more

I won’t wander like a damn sheep
Until I fall into afterlife sleep

Death scares some & release others
I belong to the luckiest ones

The core is so wrecked that numbness
Is the only way through painless

Don’t be sad coz I’m not
I’m staring at the red dot

Under my sleeve up the bruises
Then my nightmare turns to dreams

Sweet dreams from a rotten faith :
I’m everywhere but on Earth…

#6 Posté par : wastedreamor2 16 décembre 2015 à  03:06

May all my dirt stain you soon

A few lines of dope for you to know….
Does it worth It? I don’t think so.
But I need them to think,
Coz they make me speak…
And I want you to know
Coz you make me sick.

I ve been a prostitute, my mistake an escort girl,
A precious classy type one but I’m still a whore
Made of your blood     & sharing the same last name on our mail
Also making true your dream of a five stars hotel lifestyle

I’ve been a drug dealer, a cocaïne Hustler,
Carrying my stuff around in Paris by Night in my underwear,
I didn’t know the cold, couldn’t remember the pain,
Filling up my fancy bra with Sir Money and Brothers Dollars
To buy myself the same designer bag as yours,
So, Auntie, I’ll never be ashamed of my non possessions again.

When I was daddy’s little girl, doing it all well,
For the sake of your love, I even didn’t get a phone call,
I fought most of my life, penniless,  studying hard
I ve cried each night out of 15 years. Noone cared.
Praying for my dad to come back & take me home
Rage & Despair fed me while you never came…

A few lines of dope for you to know….
Does it worth It? I don’t think so.
But I need them to think,
Coz they make me speak…
And I want you to know
Coz you make me sick.

I’ve been a junkie, a real one, involving needles
Holes in the arms, scares all over the body, empty Eyes.
And at the end of my spoon, next to my last fix available,
I often feel the same while the flesh is pierced by the syringe,
It all comes clear. I weep like a poor little thing,
So Daddy doesn’t love me, they all never did. They never will.

I’ve always been bisexual, For as long as I remember
My first crushes were for classmates, I was their hidden Lover
Silencious as well… Then a boyfriend turned me into swapping
And I’ve tried to fuck as many women as my father did, cheating
On us. Sexually, I m into girls. My Love has no Gender,
At least I m all about Love, while your sons feel like they had no mother.

When I was the pride of mummy, & teachers,
They named me the queen of Competitive Exams.
I’ve also been a bit of a beauty pageant. I won prices & awards
But none of my people never came to applause…
So what’s the point of a success
When around there’s none
To tell you well done.
It Made emptiness
So real I couldn’t bounce again.
I met my delusions so plain…
It was no option
To go on….

A few lines of dope for you to know….
Does it worth It? I don’t know.
But I need them to think,
Coz they make me speak…
And I want you to know
Coz you make me sick.

Now I’m proud & I’m strong,
I’m a waste & I am a mess
& I’m all yours !
This is my revenge.
And I did all that shitty Money by my own,
Since this is all that matters..
& If I’m out of cash tomorrow
I’ll carry on with one of these businesses
But this will be my last dance
As you never let me a chance…
I ended up deciding to live in peace
And without hate nor rage I m pissed
Destructing myself for a bit of cash
So it won’t be long before I turn into ashes...

I ll change a bit of my pain against your shame
I wish all my dirt to stain
You soon so you’ll know
All the truth about So…`


So

#7 Posté par : wastedreamor2 16 décembre 2015 à  03:08

White Zombie

All is gone,They all went
And I have nothing left
This process was silent
As I lost myself.

I didn’t witness at first
This would be my curse.
I felt blessed in my journey
Because I did find a way
To cope with what they did of me
This dirty reflexion became blurry

And I was glad I could forget
All the pain
And the whole target
Of a lifetime, in vain…

Today I’m awake
And I feel sick
I’m watching what I did make...
This fucking habit I need to kick.
There’s no regret
I was already dead.

Couldn’t share a tear
Neither feel the fear
Watching at the zombie
They made of me…

I am my own creature
Cooking the next mixture
Which will feed my brain
Right through the vein.
My knees are dropping
I wish I’m overdosing.

#8 Posté par : wastedreamor2 16 décembre 2015 à  03:09

Women Shadow Army

Nightshift,
All sisters stand in make up
Been waiting all day up
Silent Dreamers,
May it be with your money
Or take me to any journey
Nightly visitors,
Would you blow the pain away
Before we fade away?

She’s standing in the corner,
Don’t call her teenager :
She just turned twenty.
And she guessed it’s no comedy
Tonight she plays her great role.
She thought she would take it all,
But came her reflexion, dirty mirror
Couldn’t stand to feel one more
After thousands breathes she proudly bear
All over her, the rest of her…
She called for mercy
He went with the whole pay.

Nightshift,
All sisters stand in make up
Been waiting again all day up
Silent Dreamers,
So, we shoot up with their money
To assume the part we have to play.
Nightly visitors,
Would you blow the pain away
Before we fade away?

Her lover’s gone yesterday,
She won’t put any lipstick today.
She remains, beautiful & sad
But her heart is beating mad
She’s infected till the core
It’s not about money anymore
Diseased, unloved, and drained
For the first time she prays
As she’s injecting the last IVs
Shall I deserve to be saved?
I would turn thirty in summer
Let’s hope my grave will get nice flowers…

Nightshift,
A sister lays with nothing up ,
Been weeping all day up!
Silent Dreamer,
This was her last sickness
Now she's all nursed into numbness .
Awaited visitor,
You never blown her pain away
Because love faded away.

#9 Posté par : Intervenant Nuit Blanche 16 décembre 2015 à  12:00

Bonjour WD,

J'ai aussi eu ma période entre mes 30 et mes 35 ans ou j'écrivais bcp de poèmes... comme pour libérer des mots qui me limittaient, comme pour apaiser mes cicatrices, comme pour exorciser des pans entier de mon être en recherche de lumière.

J'avoue ne pas assez bien comprendre l'anglais pour tout comprendre mais tes textes en français sont bruts et j'aime. S'exposer a ses écrits n'est pas simple surtout quand ils portent bcp de souffrances intimes.

Moi je suis sensible a ce genre de pratique, étant passé par là  et je t'encourage a continuer

Quand une flamme veux briller de tous ces feux, elle cherche a s'extirper de ses chaines

Prends soin de toi

INB