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Under the lamp, your hands are busy
They
Two crabs occupied food
They raise
And their shadows glide on the plate
Again arise
And their shadows s' There glue
Under the lamp, white, raw
Our faces cut
Figures tired of foreign income
too far
Maybe
And all the bare end of the journey
What should we What lie not exhausted
Diamondback
We have missed? We dine in silence


Actually
is the silence that we eat

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(To listen to the video put on pause the audio player at the bottom of the blog;))

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Elusive (1) Pets

Past, present, future. The whole time. The oblivion. Boredom. What we are, what we have never been, what we will not become. An unnamed planet plunged into eternal night, silent and icy. Someone sitting on the edge of Pluto, feet in the air, plays with cards alone. If the next draw is that an ace of hearts he will return on Earth. Jack of spades. Another time perhaps. The

TGV from Lille entered the station at precisely the time indicated on the overhead. I settled comfortably in my reserved seat. By opening this book I decided to complete during the trip bookmark fell into my seat and my neighbor. I usually use what falls into my hand to mark my pages, this time it was a playing card that I could not recover despite all my efforts.
My neighbor is reading a scientific journal whose cover shows in large letters the main folder: the coldest planets.

Each time I take the train I can not help thinking that this might be my last trip. Anything can happen.

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"Freedom is the daughter of reason and not sentiment."

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further I go into my thoughts on life, love, relationships, the more I appreciate what I saw and the more I love my newfound freedom.

be a woman today is not simple. Actually it never has been. We are different from men and yet we want to match. But why try to match them when we are different? Simply because we have always been relegated to an object. We have always been regarded as vases, dolls that were used only for breeding.

Then came acts of rebellion. Women have repeatedly expressed to be heard, to say loud and clear that we too are human beings with emotions, thoughts and strength.

But after the seventies, that it happened? Nothing more ... Feminist movements have persisted, but they really continue to fight for a real ideology or at least a realistic ideology?

sake of parity, women fought requesting an egalitarian system, but here, the man was mirrored things, nourishing his desire to be recognized for what it is, while leaving a place disguised as a housewife working-woman.

result, the woman tried to supplant the man. And today it is surprising that within a couple of man does nothing. Leaving him no chance to take a full place, simple revenge for the oppression suffered in society, the woman wants to reign supreme in his household. The man finds his account, since he already reigns outside, at least with him there is not shit, Ms. manages everything. Except that wanting everything to manage, the woman puts a pressure monster and does not know say stop it even works. It is then assigned tasks more cumbersome and difficult in addition to his home. That's where the drama arises. She ended by reproaching her spouse to do nothing to help him, but he did just asked at some point help? If yes sir and did nothing, maybe she has not sufficiently expressed its need. Or is that things are introduced within the couple are too inked and that nothing will. It is therefore advisable not to give bad habit from the start of a couple. Do not say "no leaves I'm going to do" because under the influence of the love we want to help the loved him and avoided the dirty work. Unless the couple is sharing all of the unpleasant as well.

So when we start with someone you must let him place his people and his responsibility as being full. This is not the woman, to the accounts of the gentleman, his administrative letters, linen etc.. Everyone should continue to manage what is clean and all that is specific to the couple should be done together. The sorting the laundry, the other puts in the machine. One notes the expenditure other consistency checks with the statement of bank, the shopping list is done together, like shopping, if the timing to prevent it, one does the shopping, the other organizers, etc..

But to achieve this harmony, it is still necessary that people know what love is and why at some point two people choose to get together. Because right today, it seems that what makes two people to get together, it is the image that reminds us of our dear backward society.

To live happily live together ... So everything is a pretext for the couple. But where is the love in all this? And why love he would push us to live together? And if love was more than a desire to share the daily life of another? Besides, to maintain that love, maybe do not live there all the time with each other.

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asleep on my lips

Breath the air of the night.

In my dreams deep

Your angel face merges.

Reminiscent of remembrance

one sweet night where I could t'interdire

The enjoyment of my body left

which you widely abused

Before abandoning

Without even giving me a kiss.

Aware of my weakness

I still enjoy your touch

And have constantly tormenting me

To have been able to satisfy you

To then be abandoned.

O ephemeral pleasures

Who left the bitter taste

In my mouth dry.

I was your lover

For one night only

And I am crying

it can not be otherwise.

© 2011 Priscilla

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Go away from this cold winter bites the terrible unbearable! Farewell heavy wool coat, turtleneck sweater farewell! To me bikini, fine sand and clear water !

Oh yes all leave, never to return. Go to greener pastures to warmer climates.

I would take a bungalow near the water and me would go every morning to soak my feet in the salt crystal where small clowns will greet me and peck my toes still. My shadow will cover the pale reflection of my figure and then I feel the rising sun warm my bare back as a lover's hand caressing my skin. This heat slowly invade my whole body and the coolness of the water translucent property that will appeal. So I myself

lengthens as rolling in the sheets of my lover and let the gentle waves caressing flirt with me.

Lie on your back, eyes closed, swaying to the gentle lapping of the water, I let my mind wander to the gentle pace and relentless ocean.

I will be like Venus out of the water, lying in my bed of sand and water, leaving my body to the caressing love this remote island.

The softness of the sand under my back, marry each curve of my body, while lightweight linen and crystal fun to caress my breasts.

My skin and offered to the Sun, tremble under his tongue of fire, which run over my body and lay inert. And when my body will be burning with desire Sates I returned to my home in the shadow of my body rest by alanguit paradise.

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Notes on air, the weather

Question time has turned into the question of time. This time absorbing his own question is how quickly, just the same time. The questions now exhausted - long time ago - give way to life which we know what it is, what it would be.
If we had to say: a bird in the sky. And we'd be one or the other. But we do not steal, and it rains.

What we wanted - we remember today? - The more we seek? Where is he? What would he find ? Or would it look just the answer?
should think without question, live well. We would say that's life, it's like that, without certainty. And what would life be without blurring issues, real life, perhaps. In

live there any unresolved issues. All forms of doubt, our disabilities known, impossible to hold, the imagined worlds, the possibility of being - we will draw the roads and doors. What we have thought - the smile that confess. Our fears vanished. The energy of the stories, and those to discard, to read, they write. The discovery charms. And we would absolutely
all. By magic, the second would be the first time, without canceling it, where we would live immediately answers, questions from us.

Every gesture, every look, every movement, all life would be like. Air in the fresh air, linen in the sun. Dense life. We would like to and loved. But it rains, we are not birds and we do not fly that dreams ours.

By default, in this life there by night. And their splinters in the day, your flesh untouchable, your shadow is too light, your pale echo.

My lips Stuck in

That and this of you
There, beneath me
Tops, against
Behind, you float

An arc En Ciel

Bendy
You smell?
There at the bottom of the sea
Between your legs
arms of your river
The words of a world
Swallowed ...

Love ghosts has great virtues qu'ignorent the living. There is talk of breath, silence, hugs invented. Densities vanish. From a life upside down where people walk on their heads. The proper order of things, really.

remains a window in which to breathe: it is wrong, life is something else, hopefully. And hope is in the air.
But we miss him. It is not wrong, it's life, land, where we suffocate. Behind the window wall. Of slow suffocation.

We have to dream birds. Dreams of flying.

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Dreams Cake Chocolate Prisca

Ingredients:

-2 eggs-100g of dark chocolate

-100g-100g flour

-sugar 50g salted butter

salt -1 / 4 packet of yeast

In a bowl (or other high-sided container) to the two egg yolks and 100g sugar, beat until white.

Reserve the egg whites until stiff climb to the future.

Melt the chocolate with a little water

Melt butter

Mix melted butter with melted chocolate until the mixture is smooth.

Insert the chocolate / butter mixture in bowl with egg yolks and sugar beaten and mix well, then introduce flour in which we introduced in yeast. Mix everything in order to obtain a homogeneous preparation.

Beat the egg whites and gently fold into the mixture.

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This cake is creamy and light, a true delight.

Bon appetite.

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I am delighted to receive Kouki Rossi and his poem , really:)

olds aboard

is there still ringing this bell
the clamor of children
earlier chocolate
is important

while you astray
eyes plastered with soot
the wineries of your day
their sounds flutes argue
tingle your silences
nuts and anise

that t irritates it's where you spell
warehouses
where your attic spread
night surgical
there is the other
are several
their heat
official who still holds you
same stone
is convenient

you advance
you do

you have and you know
food brought aboard
bread anchovy oil
the earthen pot in Fire
running for the banquet
a life for a dog

like a scarecrow
drawn
pants in your hands the torches
unhooked abysses
you come back limping
t'abreuver the delights
there has
they are
see them
crammer black

still without
thank you to scrap your cross
not punch their young
wound
and then your laughing uproariously


it would be almost good
your pain and joy


Kouki Rossi http://koukistories.blogspot. com /

_________________________________________________

"the first Friday of the month, each written on the blog of another burden to prepare each of marriages, trade, invitations. Horizontal movement to produce other links ... Do not write, but writing in the other. "

Complete list of other exchanges

Juliette Mezenc http://juliette.mezenc.over- blog.com/ext/http://motmaquis. net/ et Christine Jeanney http://tentatives.eklablog.fr/ ce-qu-ils-disent -

Christophe Grossi http://kwakizbak.over-blog. com/ et Michel Brosseau http://www.àchatperché.net/

François Bon http://www.tierslivre.net/ et Laurent Margantin http://www.oeuvresouvertes. net/

Martine Sonnet http://www.martinesonnet.fr/ blogwp/ et Anne-Marie Emery http:// pourlemeilleuretpourlelire. hautetfort.com /

Anne Savelli http://www.fenetresopenspace. blogspot.com / and Urban, Urban http://www.urbain-trop-urbain too. en /

Murièle Laborde-Modély http://l-oeil-bande.blogspot. com / and Jean Prod'hom http://www.lesmarges.net/

Jeremiah Szpirglas http://inacheve.net/ and Franck Queyraud http://flaneriequotidienne. wordpress.com /

Kouki Rossi http://koukistories.blogspot. com/ et Jean http://souriredureste. blogspot.com/

Piero Cohen-Hadria http://www.pendantleweekend. net/ et Monsieuye Am Lepiq http://barbotages.blogspot. com/

Marie-Hélène Voyer http://metachroniques. blogspot.com/ et Pierre Ménard http://www.liminaire.fr/

Frédérique Martin http://www.frederiquemartin. fr/ et Francesco Pittau http://maplumesurlacommode. blogspot.com/

Jean-Yves Fick http://jeanyvesfick.wordpress. com/ et Gilles Bertin http://www.lignesdevie.com/

Candice Nguyen http://www.theoneshotmi.com/ et Benoit Vincent http://www.erohee.net/ail

Nolwenn Euzen http://nolwenn.euzen.over- blog.com/ et Joachim Séné http://www.joachimsene.fr/

Isabelle Pariente-Butterlin http://yzabel2046.blogspot. com/ et Xavier Fisselier http://xavierfisselier. wordpress.com/

http://les-embrasses.blogspot Christine Leininger. com / and Jean-Marc Undriener http://entrenoir.blospot.com/

Samuel Dixneuf http://samueldixneuf. wordpress.com / and Philippe Wolff-Rahmy http://kafkatransports.net/

Savigneux http://aloredelam.com/ Lambert and Lambert Savigneux (yes) http://regardorion . wordpress. com /

Catherine Desormiere http://desormiere.blog. lemonde.fr / and Dominique Hasselmann http://dh68.wordpress.com/

Christophe Sanchez http://fut-il-ou-versa-t-il. blogspot.com / and Brigitte Célérier http://brigetoun.blogspot.com/

and

twitter twits, and 9 each, Claude Favre and Mary Axe angkhistrophon @ @ marysehache (they chose to publish two texts in one who has a blog: Mary Axe http://www.semenoir.typepad. en / )

Merilyn Sarkova Sleep

Believe

Someone has gone in
As long journey
A left naked the night I hear this voice
Inside
From child death
Once having The other grew
not having
Who believed in legends

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Notes on the night of the same day his Mother crossing white

We say that we walk, but we note .

We note from the rubble, ruin ordinary, anything that goes across it.

I write with him. I listen, and its lightness is tragic. Quiet and tragic. Out goes the time still.
I write from a place where I'm not, I write elsewhere. Do you know what trouble lay his notes to the window - I do not see you that there -? And you hear me, do you see me?

write probably nothing . Write it anyway. For nothing is like living life too. But all the sadness going on.

They were beautiful last night - is violent youth who has lost it. They smiled. I smiled too, was good. Death too, sitting at ease in the huge armchair. She drank, smoked, and devoured my time.
The large dog in the night and we assumed a sky so deep we could not belong, that loneliness came from there, our feet into the earth. Our skins too close, our eyes weary of our excesses restarted every time when everything did not want that yet afford. We offenses our arms are too short, our hands less agile. Our fates of strange animals and lost.

And you and your love of kid, ran, came quickly, with your eyes of childhood. What a joy to see you, talk to you, listen. To learn what you little overwhelming that you simply give.

At the other end of the world, near lakes dark and cold, they walk. They do not care whether it was under a lead, they walk together on this, seen here, seems to be the Moon, they say. It is just across the ocean to get there one must first fly, they say. So I'll fly. I can.

This all comes as a word and turn up the chimeras. What name them? We tried to escape again without success. The half-beat is not overcome, and we do not win. So keep them away is best.

Sadder than forgetting you is what falls with him in what will eventually have never existed. It is a birth and a death in reverse. We can not even write that we existed, we can not write anything or think about it. Or that one day we died, because nobody came to us from being just never came. Never. One day we will never come. We will never have had any other life .

should know what to say tear the inconceivable loss of all hope, the conviction to live his remains. Say it without trembling, without tears or affectation, without asking. Will promise not to be ill. Se malporter. No longer just get up, but walking.

And the other world after the votes that chance left to reach dreams. One, cherish it. It may be that not just get up. That walk.