The Saint Symphonic Streets

Where are we now ?

Thursday, May 31, 2007


A celles qui tombent des goutierres
Chassant l'arôme du ciel d'hier

A celles qui osent arroser
Un mariage en fin d'soirée

A celles qui s'amusent a couler
Sur mon front jusqu'au bout d'mon nez

Qui tombent sur toi
Qui tombent part terre
Laissent autour d'soi
Un soupçon de mer

À ces nuages blancs qui assouplissent
Le Bleu criard du ciel de Nice

À tout qui flotte autour de moi
Me couronne d'eau

Je deviens roi

Monday, May 21, 2007

Adam's Cross

Turns his face away
From everything he sees
Walks his lonely cane
To parchment poetry

Every step he takes
Away from you and me
Makes a sunny day
dark rooms and cups of tea

He remembers
What it used to be
Where he held her

Now it's just a street
Where empty faces
And Empty places

Turn away from me

And while we're so content
to try to understand
Where he's going
and what he's looking for

He's already there
in Adam's Cross

Where he dreamt the dream
and dared to dare

Quelques notes ...

Je repartais dans mes pensées habiter
Quelques grains de sables pour quelques moments, oublier la neige et le vent de Montréal Pour tenir compagnie a une vague ou deux aux abords de l’Atlantique,
Dans un autre monde ,avec d’autres gens.
Une éxistence sans heures ou s’écoulent seulement les nuages au rythme du soleil.
La ou les pensées s’évaporent et sont remplacées par l’arome des coquillages qui croquent sous vos pieds.

Friday, May 18, 2007

A Million Pieces

Loud words abound
Laying around
The timid peace
In a million pieces

Ears to the ground
Prisoner of sound
You make a thesis
To a plastic Jesus

Before it all

Run away
and hide

Run away and hide

Friday, May 11, 2007

Astoria's Wishing Well

Draped in window silk
her skin filtering light
Morning eyes do fill
She's a wonderful sight

Standing tall
Against a wall
She's staring straight ahead
facing an empty bed

In Astoria's wishing well
no hope remains
were once they gathered to pray
Pitch black echoes descend

She's a shaman of contrition
a priestess of deceit
words dipped in deception
a mirror for defeat

An army of ants and rats
gather at her feet
listen to her
with ears turned inwards

Lying on the floor
ceiling staring contest
a Black hole is growing
where once water broke your fall

you keep falling

Astoria's wishing well
is a little indiscrete

Monday, May 07, 2007

I dissapear

Autofocus, spots and smears
Alleviate my pain, my fears
If I stay in a blur to clear

At least I stay a blur
Which Is all I've ever wanted

The Closing of senility
With the rise of dawn
Closing in on light

is the hardest thing I've ever done

I'm hanging by a thread
a scissor snip away from

And once I drop
I don't have to hope again

In any drop there is
the finality of contact

A closure of grand proportions

were I will never have to think
or feel

were I can wallow in nothingness
and drop from perception
drop from existence

and dissapear

I hope not for black
I hope for white

for never ending brightness

where I will be in awe