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 "


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