Sunday, May 16, 2010

Small Clear Bubbles Inside Lilps

Exorcism of poetry (1)

Christian Andersen Erwin, writer and poet French-speaking Belgian, Danish-born father, André Maurits Flemish and Belgian mother, Yvonne Marie is Dhuygelaere born in 1944 and lives in Charleroi, Belgium. By 1960, at age 16, he agrees politically supporting Algerian independence (it was found recently - in September 2005, the former Algerian president Ahmed Ben Bella , for whom he worked at the an evening at the Chateau de Monceau-sur-Sambre, Charleroi, Belgium) and joining the Trotskyist Fourth International, which at that time just had a new division under the leadership of its Latin American office then headed by Juan Posadas , aka Homero Cristalli .

Andersen became one of the founders of the Belgian section of the 4th International called the Revolutionary Workers' Party (Trotskyist - POR (T)). After being at 16, secretary of the nucleus of Monceau-sur-Sambre (Charleroi), it quickly became, under the pseudonym Andrew, politburo member Belgian alternate member of the European office and responsible for the newspaper The Workers' Struggle (Which became "Workers Fight") and in charge of security of the organization in Belgium.
During these years he participated very actively in supporting the organization of Guatemalan guerrilla commander MR13 of Yon Sosa (who was murdered by the Americans, like the other leader Turcios Lima ) as well as, training activists smuggled into Spain to fight Franco. He made many visits to France and Italy.
After 1967 it is moving towards anarchism and nurtures strong sympathy for the RAF Ulrike Meinhof .
He interrupts his schooling at 17 and becomes official at the Ministry of Works until 2005.
He discovered the Algerian Sahara in 1969. That glare: a passion that began last until 1995. A serious accident prohibited him permanently from his rooms again in the desert. Andersen, who had discovered the poet in 1973 had given up writing for 22 years to deliver better this passion sands. He returned to writing in 2004: Address to the Dogs and Early History of Murder ( poems prefaced by Marcel Moreau) and in 2005, with sad poems for children of unspeakable century.

He had published three other books before: Earth Blood Fire (1976), Elements for a Sacrifice ( price-Maurice Gauchez Philippot 1977) and LIGATION & CLOT foreword by Werner Lambersy in 1982 .
Meanwhile, he began to prose and published some essays: I deserted my beans , Exorcism of Sand , Standard jubilant, poetic function. He defines himself as a poet and traveler, and individualist anarchist, since 2004, as a polemicist.
In the 1970s, Charleroi, he founded the "g roup yBy " who published the poetry journal Watermark. In 2003 he created
Profana Bellic CRM (coordination of resistance to monotheism) and launches poetry collection " nothing that 1 poem" with Baloise Nicoletta Gossen .
is still with her in 2004 he created the website bilingual French-German Verbalta poetry.

Coming soon: GLASSBREAK or defenestration of Angels, with a before-say Marcel Moreau and a preface by Yann Orveillon .

Dr. Moreau knows Erwin Christian Andersen past thirty years is his next book " GLASSBREAK or defenestration of Angels":

It's poetry I like it raw and odor coming out of the woods, where convoluted goldsmith and his leather work.

That beast is close behind Love that precedes it, she calls on her skin a light flickering, like the old Suns fell, as they were dancing despair into the arms of drunkenness.

From this point too light, just enough to remind us that words do not come to light, but as adultery or incest, between dog and wolf.

It will be understood that in poetry, I am wary of too much bare breezes, reflections and those I do not know what that intangible is assigned uses. Nothing like here: the flesh wants to decide what the verb and the verb answers the grip of incarnations. This does not music. The music is, and it is sensory, necessarily. She rhythm all seasons of the body.

Like any poet in whom the compass is a time of appendicular desire, making it impossible for a serious starting point mapping or fall, our poet wanders. A deranged he walks, trails presses. But he wandered for a good cause, the cause of women.
With it, his reason can rotate up to seven times more in the Cartesian before dying, still dripping, to an orgasm.

The man did his time in the desert, contemplative hermit, indolence caravan. He invaginated all the dunes. He now devotes himself to irrigation luxurious. It moved his thirst for the river to Venustic. After sanding the raw, out of sight. After the vast, mystical, the deep, abyssal, another religion, without God, a sacred organic, a plump spirituality.

The enjoyment has changed unknown or unseen. It is always praise and vertigo, tongue hanging out, but this time the Absolute is female, he has the guts, belly, shouting and illegibility final borders of the uterus and madness. And it is harder journey, nor
more incredible, I know something.

I happened to never come back: it was not really a trip, it was a return to the beginnings of the world was an Adoration. Erwin Christian Andersen is a seizure when he hates, which génufléchit when he likes.
What he wrote touched me, and I say.

Marcel Moreau

is a small selection of poems that I sent December 8, 2009 at Yann Orveillon so that it get an idea of poetry Erwin Christian Andersen :

" Finally out of the night, out of the mud. Ho! As they take the feet and legs at night and mud "... Robert Desnos


zonard fool the naked man from the suburbs of Geiger blinked red oscillating Å on level of anxiety to the more stubborn salt qu'aiguilles Carthage lost in trade exchanges with Africa and compasses Nilotic spearhead pointed to where came rattling semaphores switches sealed off from the cold sky as notary will lead to certified vacuum where everything finally understood that blends brews and remoulded without complaint or request barbaric plan beard lichen and pus of days in the brine hands without anger or pleasure in age blindness deaf walls belies the grim town to the bone of the first bits of surgery and pain "like a wire in my skin oder nichts aber immer ja arriba.

( extract clots Tying - 1981)

My blood is born in the country without
close to sources of questioning

he is the vassal and smells the time
his singing is for dogs
infinity can be heard from as many
I want ants that
the henchmen sent to
honey from my lips and try to dry up
my speech today is my blood
joyful young

however he was among those who are
on the cutting knives
shroud of memory that he put in this time of

pale dawn raids and insults
farm where it was hitting in the aortic arch

my singing has learned his banner is
background puzzle is

become proud, but it can be deferens:
he talks to dogs dog


I'm more
without knowing how many people yesterday

tomorrow lined up

confused with the night time they move

speak and sing in me pride and joy especially strong muscles
vibrate under my skin until

shiver and my heart beats for miles
the Faucard decimated their ranks
the passage of large rivers
time they went their hordes
yet reached the other bank
their mothers often have
kidded in the mud and I'm
come to me I smell

centuries and hell
my injury is my song that takes you

they announce my poem that moves and calls the dawn


Do you have more truth
that the purest gems

ringing language
O masks superimposed
as silent and quiet
tables Act
I get drunk here
the pullout
you recompose
and book me panting

glare of nine masks

lifting arms rattle
at sunset
the sky ablaze
knife to the throat glows

life is to spread it on a deserted beach

that death
our children vomited


He watched the canoes
they guessed there
in the curve of the river they approached

propelled at high speed with lots of shouting
by paddlers dressed in black brawlers

they were already within range of a few temples
still separated man from his death
the turbulence of water were being
he grabbed a wild rose petal
and drank quietly accumulated water in his hollow

then the finger he picked
a bit of fine dust of the road
and has painted a sign on the front
a tear appeared at the corner of his eye
hesitated and stopped
with tiny licks
as a puppy he began to lap
he drank it very slowly disappeared inside
his body wide open as reconciled

already docked canoes

he embarked on a new journey


Children loved the company of well
their eyes water and deep dark

their strong shoulders
stone sealed
singing haunting
penalty under this learned magisterium I knew

happy death without having to undergo
in fatal wedding party
it was I was able to laugh at
wells ironic
happy death traps and misinterpretations
sense of reason
sluggish sweetish the pale
narcosis dreams
distillates tenuous and fragile
they taught me
drunkenness dizziness
initiating me to the dangerous proximity of sinkholes

wells were
my mirrors I saw my double front
I 'learned to read lips


Where does the blood flow in long and

in streams on the slopes of
and centuries

do to these vast prairies redheads
haunted by thirst irreducible
and wild beasts
to these places before the ancestor of apes

to mischievous eyes
openers of the first tracks he would

killings in the crush of falling drops

discovering the litany of defeats
forgotten the essential
tropisms of heaven and earth
water and fire
mysterious signs carved in stone or
painted purple
which always led to sumptuous

epiphanies where is the blood that still guides

and if necessary the
otherwise harass the few sheepdogs
weavers glanders
burdened with a thousand and syphilis
I tend ear in vain
we hear more songs
where are they remained
Is mad poet on his swing
to sing his poem still
where drums and fifes
cries of women
laughter of children clapping beats
feet that will give rhythm and tempo
to light trance
muzzle fevers
teach where and how to get to bed

when hungry and cold
afraid we laid
green wood on the fire which is dying in the darkness of
coughing a bad cough
which does not bode well
took cold blood
we threw the bread

Christian Erwin Andersen

Top photo: EC Andersen Cape Tenes in Algeria (1973)

- Hostel

In No. 4 Voice Other to be published this week you will find many poems taken from " Broken glass or defenestration of Angels" as well as a test EC Andersen entitled: "The standard jubilant "

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Are Gential Warts Balck

Voice Other No. 4 of

Cover design: Pascal Gabet
Model: Dom Corriera

"Poetry is a Thurs
dangerous "Friedrich Hölderlin

" ... We express our emotions, as violent as they might be, we make our ways of humanity, armed with prestigious passionate visions, which have continued divert us for us to dismiss where we were already expected ... "Andre Chenet (From editorial)


" Always listen in the voice itself
" Monny of Boully

- Florence Christmas : Ghosts of the infinite little

sometimes a sailor, a killer of wolves, a crammer monster, a child perforated
home late from her date
you with his latest ghost
they were summoned to the edge of the sands

- Didier Manyach : Zero Hour
Some boats hollowed with fire
bones of beasts cold
Loads of gold and weapons.
Land uninhabited and hungry families.
snowy passes and straits of ice covered by
and embankments mass graves.
The sea was a vast plain
An endless steppe

- Remy Katy: Stories of the Great Plague

" ... if there was indeed a common will in fact locked up here and finish with the company whatsoever, incorrigible dreamers had kept pens and paper, just discovered they were assassinated on the spot, they blew up ships, planes explode, we went to our loss in the belief and I can tell the joy of a child who flies to imitate the birds, we did not expect death inactive, we helped to die each other in an immense burst of humanity ... "

- Camille Loty Malebranche : Disenchantment
I woke
And I saw as heavy gestures and interaction of our ills
Juggling maniac for our Spartan disillusioned
Our anthropomorphic beasts, cannibals

- Jean-Marc Lafreniere : What have we done with the beauty of the world?

"dispossessed by the slot machines, piggy bank gutted ghettos balance his blood and sweat. Children from pain to play between the virile old condoms and dirty needles. They are not left suffering a life-sucking, shit the elderly, the derision of the world in garbage bags. The standard of living goes down but the Dow Jones back ... "

- Yann Orveillon : The Passion Rimbaud

"... Whatever the degree of consciousness he has of his disposition, the observer who does not himself work as a poet can not help but judge of poetry as a gratuitous act. Having no market value it has no exchange value, so it is free to think that there is no point !..."

- Ghyslaine Leloup : This germinating world awaits our courage
The thirsty land of miracles
reveal his songs betrothal
And our vows of love confiscated

- Tahar Bekri : Palestine Salam
If Jenin Arab embryo and fetus
you buried alive forgetful of history
If the powder is your censer
If your rockets hurt my dark night
Your slabs they console themselves for being my rubble ;?

- Jullian Isabelle : The High Walls
Saida works ... It works

long under fire from guns.
Under the storm of bombs
singing a tune very sweet
to rock her little brother

- Pedro Vianna : I was there
I live man rising in his fall
I saw the man preserve his death
I saw the man grow up its negation

- André Laude : Poems found
We are the people of the ashes of anxiety and offense
we race scattered along the tracks of blood
us this gigantic pile of bones at times deficient renewed violence today is the
sacred book that records battle defeats hopes
We're not only lost in one night putrid ruled by monsters

- SPECIAL SECTION emmanuelle k : Bullies (full version)
And your eyes of stillbirths
miserably roses without blood flow and your heads
obtuse poor orators
see nothing there
include drop .
But the terrible death instinct of beasts who lives

you feel the uncommon thing

single living thing to kill so


- Tristan Cabral : General Hospital
in another dorm
attached to a heater exploded in
face towels white
you ask an old poet who painted Jesus

doing the Iron Cross on a flying trapeze


- Erwin Christian Andersen : Standard jubilant (reflection, followed by a selection of poems)

"... We must" take and create happiness "A simple pleasure, situated at the antipodes of bulimia consumer, the happiness of the cheetah lazily lying on a tree branch in an unspoiled nature, the happiness of the angler, and to show it, show it in designing a legitimate pride and hope that it provokes in the other the desire to try to turn ... "

- Nathalie Riera : Clairvision

.../... our mouths, green leaves of the dream I think when you
between paragraphs & verses

wrapped in silence
buttons to where you defeated me
your hands tied Flax
unwinds me unhooks unfolds & I trust in
rate of the foam in the heat of hot

- Carlos Henderson : Excess black

he said he must start all over again, we must remake the world, continue the sentence
endless bursts of speech furrowing nothingness

he said
continue digging still in the dark there comes the glare
no pact with the absurd: a pact with my empty plain and clear
; ; ; speech

- Cristina Castello : Tides
".../... For
scissors I cut off the alphabet
I castrated my country * Ink and sap
Without that and nothing in this South
Exiled from the echo of my alpha
... / ...

- John Joubert: The reversal of speech
Now this is unexpected: a fresh look

resurrection as the eye of childhood
on a garden of love where happiness
opened in the innocence of the rose

- Cristian Ronsmans : Poetry Is a Game?

"... the entertainment is, of course, the action to be entertained or entertain. Or entertain nothing vulgar, contrary to an idea too often received and accepted, alas. In fact entertained is to be different. It be different, be different, be the Other. It goes back to ancient times, the "mimesis "Very ancient method used in all initiation rites in origin. Differentiate themselves ... "

- Flaviano Pisanelli (Italy): Genesi / Genesis
First the white list

root in the desert once
deaf fiber

e il mondo di inability
sfiorare altro mondo

- Xavier Lainé : Front fog water and

".../... Frail
At the heart of the fracture
What remains of life
Between scattered fragments

abolished the borders of time
Is that front fog and water

- Paul Mari : From a country that does not exist yet
Like others drink their red wine
on table corners of rulership

social conflicts, the curses of the gods,
he hopes the end of storm winds,
that man becomes man

- Dom Corriera : Unpublished Poems
"... / ... I'll change my dreams

For children's drawings on
fogging the windows of trains
Crossing winters indifference
.../. .. "

- Marcel Moreau : Word and Venus
I've been looking for my words in my desire to tell you I have found in
want your love you do

- Andre Chenet : Secret poem (Excerpts)
There was an innocent child
who picked it apart
the place upside
a child with narrow hips
gestures acute
playing with a green bird

- Umar Timol : Blood (Preview)
".../... You are
mirror. And I'll smash. And your

fissures settle my veins. And my blood
long after my death
reap your breath on the esplanade of the madness.

- Werner Lambersy : Coimbra (Excerpts)
".../... The song had stopped

Or something
thing in singing is not known
Who had no place
And the silence was
A lid on a lack of eye

was unimportant
For trade or reports from

forces was irrelevant
Tell yourself you could do without
: speech without
miracle was still a bright

- Pier Mayer-Dantec Poems
Dogs backwards
sleep in our brains
It's going to rain in torrents
On the backs of devotees.

- to read, see and discover (Presentations, Events, News)

- Zen & Haiku (Test of Andre Chenet )
"... Elusive mirror shards illuminating the spirit, the haiku (the contraction of two Japanese words: haiku-ka and hokku, the first poem which could bring free while the second suggests the initial verse a poem or longer composed of two or more people) have such humble little riddles (koan *) quivering, soothing, amaze, either gay or sad ... "

" Always listen in itself
the voices of others "
Monny of Boully

Publication Manager: André Chenet - literary Advisor: CE Andersen, Artistic Advisor
-comp Dom Corriera - Cover design Pascal Gabet
Printing: CAP 49, av. Georges Clemenceau BP 21 101-06002 Nice Cedex 1 Tel. 04 93 44 55 08
1 May 2010 - ISSN 1766-6945

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