Combat (1) Shadow Selected Poems of Andre Chenet According to the anthology "Poetry Combat " Pascal Perrot that constitutes the last few months on the pages of the group of the same name that runs on the social network Facebook .
Pascal Perrot, fearless defender of poetry in all its forms and instigator of the movement "Uprising
poetic" and "
Uppercut" (visual and audio) is also a connoisseur slam, spoken word and rap as well as new music trends supported by strong poems. His interventions on stage, his power of improvisation in the cut and thrust have earned at other times the nickname of "Poetic Gladiator." Poet, performer, novelist, this "pedestrian Paris" constantly attentive to his time and alert to shifts of reality, has recently posted "
Drafts Cultures ", a" web magazine "(arts, literature, music, cinema, theater ...) where, excellently accompanied by his wife Gracia Bejjani-Perrot
(chronic, layout, graphics) , it is carried out with skill and lucidity in the art of creative criticism: "Give
see, to dream, to think in a spirit of sharing ... This site is written for four hands is not meant not detached from the cultural news, but remain subject to all . "From an article to another, the multidimensional universe proves Pascal Perrot a richness that is confusing by the splendor of the unexpected trajectory of a sentence or rocket by delicate tangle of twists and turns of reasoning in sham.
ago the philosopher in him, or rather a philosopher poet writing aloud, standing in the emergency pre-means "the present, while circumscribing, not without humor, the outrageous excesses of our civilization gargling from bankruptcy. In this, the selection of poems below reflects the spirit of rebellion slaying the rigid codes and layouts, use bulky partition talkative an insatiable modernity always demanding more new and original, until congestion ensues.
To read his biography and read a selection of his poems, visit:
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http://poesiedanger.blogspot.com/search/label/Pascal% 20Perrot
Démesure of poetry The poem is that which has neither name nor rest, nor place, nor remains: to crack the work is moving. Needless to identify out of some famous landscapes in the area forbidden thoughts, antinature horizon and then completed after his passing. It haunts our space because it is our time. Elusive in each of his figures which arises only to link its emerging tendency to unpredictable inheritance, the poem secretes its own history as the plane spirals its tracer irreducible linear in nature that was in this blue-white . Building on the starry explosion of language, mulling over the beginnings of the fledgling event, leaving the gesture of its functional uses, the cutting of its thematic intent, the poem that after he struck the man pages to request shelter and rest for a story, the perfect model glimpse of the blue stone on a face, not the key. Without remission.
Jacques Garelli (from "Build
" Mercure de France--)
Link: -
http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacques_Garelli From the state court That one who said our king
That one that comes with war
That one fact that all our goods
That war kills those who he wants
That one everyone who deut
That one who brings sizes
In the great fire of hell Devil take
If he will have peace after death. Who has money
war
Who maintains money becomes
gentleman who makes money every honor
Who is lord
money he keeps the ladies Who has any money
good sound it happens
Who ac'est money in the world's heart is the flower
On all alive is he who can and is
But the bad guys always have their money
Who has money for man is wise Who keeps
money to everyone who
it contains money has always noise in force
Without rigor
Who has money as he pleases
Who has money for all he
C ' happiness is
To have money when default never
But the wicked always their money necessary. Who
aa money back and all
Who likes money each his possession just
Who has money on it has no error
From misfortune
Who has no money right not deal
Who wants money to a if all subvient
Who has money he is a cleric and doctor prior
And if everyone has property exalt the wicked
But still they need money.
Money is everything, as an affront to all law judge
he twists become
Money makes everything as it should be maintained Rumors
lose debates city and castles
Money is everything when it does hold
Between lazy traitors to heaps.
For money people are hanged
For money castles are sold
For all evil money is money committed by
rights are rendered honors
For money are lost by
money is sold by his friends money was once dismissed
P ar the good money comes worse
For money is the man subjected to severe pain
and martyrdom.
John's Bridge-Espine Alletz (1490? -1500?)
-
Proclamation It is done, gentlemen! Already
wax mannequins invade libraries
women walk like wet flags
Fools distribute the image of their mind
the doors of abandoned churches
Laugh
I forbid you to laugh or cringe
I forbid you to sell your love songs
Sow your tinsel
Eat flowers and rockets
Minding your food to those animals
And give them all the heart and the rest of
no longer driving your kids to school
Teach them use the word SECRET
From
We have already reversed the multiplication tables
We go back over to the house of crime
We are tireless even in sleep
Stay for the said
Today's Around the World In
TOUR
of
WORLD
ELT Mesens -
http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/E._L._T._Mesens Creed I believe in man, this shit
I believe in man, this manure,
This quicksand, this dead water.
I believe in the man, twisted,
This bladder vanity.
I believe in man, this ointment
This bell, this feather in the wind,
This firebrand, this search-shit.
I believe in man, blood-licking.
Despite everything he could do
In fatal and irreparable. I believe in him
For the safety of his hand,
For his taste of freedom,
For the game of fantasy.
For his vertigo before the star, I believe in him
For the salt of his friendship,
For water from his eyes, for his laughter,
For momentum and weaknesses.
I think forever For
him a hand that was stretched.
For a look that was offered.
And first and foremost
For the simple home of a shepherd.
Lucien Jacques (from "Poetic Anthology
"-Editions Les Cahiers de l'Artisan)
-
http://amislucienjacques.monsite-orange.fr/ On the night
survivor learn very slowly to live open
bury the human face as gangrene gold
and I dropped shards of flesh in the sun
forgotten men unnecessary
the night surviving men are contagious
ago guns heavier than shoulders
I saw snow falling gray moths
excised and the mother's body under the trees
but finally when the bark will have mercy Tree
blind when the birds sing still
waves reach to homes burning
then we will go alone in our clothes
stone naked women under their skin
dawn light up and go among you as a crime which amounts
Tristan Cabral -
http://poesiedanger.blogspot.com/search/label/Tristan% 20Cabral -
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4n4ui_tristan-cabral_creation Property division
thieves watch the continents
booty but beware we keep the rest the rest
the star of the shepherd's song from
Lane and silence all primers
all beds nap
and the printed page and the dahlia flowered
portraits guitar
wind loaded with thorns where roses are gearing
the source in the pre
wing
to scatter throughout the water glass to that memory
bare sand geography
our forests
where
lose your commandments and the public and our joint projects
many palaces built from the shadows of our
not against you
you false acrobats
the real bosses of banks
wrestlers showmen of metaphysics
you and your world where swagger
where trime
where we bullied
your world backwards to reverse
to pour in through the
will
as the exploitation of man by man
Roger Bordier -
http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roger_Bordier therefore
freedom means freedom
Afghan pain means pain
Jewish freedom means
pain pain near East
Argentine Chilean Polish Korean
pain pain black
I mean: freedom
means instead of pain
but I would rather
freedom means need to say
necessary rights and human liberty
stress
states rights just make
verifiable: it will mean
calving of killing
setting fire to the machine which
escort and changes in the warm terror declaration
rights
I mean freedom to found yet
;
Jean-Pierre Faye -
http://www.cipmarseille.com/auteur_fiche.php?id=1549 TOMB FOR NEW YORK (excerpt)
Spray you, statues of liberties, nails driven into the breast with a wisdom that mimics the wisdom of roses. From the East wind blows again, tears tents and skyscrapers. Write two wings: an alphabet
second rises on the slopes of the West and the sun is the son of a tree planted in the garden of Al-Quds. Thus j'attise my flame. I begin, shapes and defined:
New York woman whose straw bed is rocking the vacuum in vacuum.
And now the ceiling is disintegrating: every word is a sign of falling, movement is shovel or hoe. Right and left, bodies that would change the love, the look, sound, smell, touch and change itself, opens a time portal, improvise and break the remaining hours, pleasure, poetry, morals, thirst, say, silence, and cancel the locks.
I seduce Beirut and its sisters, the capital.
They jump out of bed and shut the doors behind them from memory. They approach and hang with my poems, swaying gently. The pick for the bar, flowers for the window, and flames, history of bolts!
I said I seduced Beirut.
"Seeking the action, the floor is dead," say others.
call because your dead languages have waived the usual verb for that of mimicry. Speech? Do you see the flame? Then write. I say "write" I'm not "act out" or "copy it". Write. Ocean to the Gulf, I hear no tongue, I do not read a word. I hear that noise. I see no flame thrower.
call the lighter things. Everything is contained in it. The action is instant and direction, the floor is all directions, the whole time. I call hand and the hand is a dream.
I find you, O fire, my capital
I find you, poetry!
I seduce Beirut. She is and I clothe. As we wander the shelves and ask who reads, who sees? The Phantom for Dayan, and oil runs to his destination. God was right and Mao was right: "The weapons are a factor of great importance in the war, but not the decisive factor. It is man, not weapons, that is the decisive factor "and there is neither victory nor defeat final.
I repeated these sentences and maxims, as do the Arabs, wandering in Wall Street, where flowing rivers of gold of all shades from their remote sources. And I saw among them the rivers Arab carting millions of corpses, victims and offerings to the idol, and among the victims of the sailors who were laughing as they raced along the Chrysler Building to go back to basics then. Thus
j'attise my flame.
We live in the din black so that our lungs fill with air of history. We climb into eyes as black barricaded cemeteries to overcome the eclipse. We travel in black head to escort the sun future.
Adonis
(excerpt from "Tomb for New York
" - translated by Anne Wade Minkowski
- Sindbad Publishing)
-
http://fr.wikipedia.org / wiki / Adonis_ (poet) Dreams torn to those St. Bernard Those who are exiled to the confines
what did they do with their lives
what have they done with their memory
what have they done with the hope
that burned in the path of their veins?
What despair, what injury
the men have enrolled in their flesh
so they are silent and
and be silent in too obscurely
the endless echo of their dreams torn
; Bernard Mazo (extract of "In Cold
deadly exile " Rougerie-Publishing-)
- Spring
poets
SUCH TO RATS, COCKROACHES ...
like rats, cockroaches
We reproduce at infinite speed
Hardly do you have the time
To kill a poet than a hundred others arise
The first five will be tens
consensual. Nothing to fear from them They sing
birds
flowers, landscapes and even poetry
The forty following will
Armed with rhymes and poor image in tatters
Their childish annonas Do
will shake your lofty pedestals
Of the ten who remain
one, maybe two left their mark
Those who cross their path
Your punishment is that you did not know which
A month or maybe a century
successor to his death a revolutionary
You will open heart
shooting at its
rhymes and anger
If you came to mind
From burning on the public square all poets
A new generation had already emerged before the first flame
Who knows some spoilsport
Might even exhume the words of your victims
And their abrasive power
Staying alive despite the weather and dust
I am alone and yet
I tell you that you are surrounded by my words Your power
I limited myself
est while carrying the germ toutes les cosmogonies! Pascal Perrot
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http://www.brouillons-de-culture.fr/ -
http://insurrectionpoetique.mabulle.com/
