Let go, sing out loud & dance with all the Goddesses,sorceresses and sprites within

I do know it's exhausting me when I take the time to make a bloke that cannot get my work shut his mouth.
it's a waste of time.
useless.

After all there will constantly be people who will say your paintings are crying way too much.
I remember with a smile my beginnings in mixed media art.
It was all naive, innocent,cute and mostly smiling art.
I used vintage images and mostly children that I turned into fairies.

At first I wanted to do what I admired in others with my own touch.
I wanted to reveal the power of my Fae child and I used the power of dreams, what can connect me to Innocence.
to the realm of Purity.Hopes.



This is what should be done
By one who is skilled in goodness,
And who knows the path of peace:
... Wishing: In gladness and in safety,
May all beings be at ease.



Whatever living beings there may be;
Whether they are weak or strong, omitting none,
The great or the mighty,
medium, short or small,


The seen and the unseen,
Those living near and far away,
Those born and to-be-born —
May all beings be at ease!



Let none deceive another,
Or despise any being in any state.
Let none through anger or ill-will
Wish harm upon another.


Even as a mother protects with her life
Her child, her only child,
So with a boundless heart
Should one cherish all living beings;

Radiating kindness over the entire world
Spreading upwards to the skies,
And downwards to the depths;
Outwards and unbounded,
Freed from hatred and ill-will.


Whether standing or walking, seated or lying down
Free from drowsiness,
One should sustain this recollection.
This is said to be the sublime abiding....
(la metta, Loving Kindness Prayer)

that really is a prayer that I love.
Something I want to keep on spreading.
But I also think sometimes some people should get a kick in the butt for the way they dont respect your soul or say or write things with no sense at all showing how much they lack of empathy.
But yet perhaps they just cannot enter and get our souls.
Yes we should not care.

For after all this will always happen.
being misread.
being misinterpreted.
being labelled.

It's alright.
we are still who we are.
we are not the eyes that look at us.

We are our soul.
In time of deep melancholly that is what remains.
we are our soul.
Thus we are not alone therein.
never.
always.



I made this painting of Demeter protecting Persephone till she's no more inside her for a book project with Ruth Eichmiller and Kristin Hoffmann.
I hope this project will work, I hope it will bring its fruits.
But for now, it does.
It inspires me and it's teaching.
it's opening things, it's easy for me to relate when reading it.

I believe many things could be related to that Demeter/Persephone's pain.
When we dare give birth to something, and put it out there.
make it real.
give it life.
face it.
We cannot protect it anymore.
it's no longer a secret.
no longer inside.
you feel so weak then.
And your baby can dive in the underworld.
The way things are.

I believe every downfall has new things to bring, new horizons to open,so I don't fight to deny my state.
Not happily bleeding but I kind of know the process now.
Or should I say the procedure?
to endure.

I often have my strange moments of ecstasis in chaos.
Some kind of reaction that is totally the opposite to what I've learnt, how I feel etc.
It's strange, but honestly I prefer to laugh at it & enjoy.
It's just like clowns are funny but the ones who hurt the most for sure.
It's good to laugh, it's perhaps healthy to be able to laugh at oneself.
why, we should not even take our pain too seriously?

Depression?
well the more I think of this the more I agree with doctors who says there is no chemical imbalance tests.
and anti depressent are fucking up the body and have sides effects.

Being depressed is a part of life.
It's the dying of illusions.
It's a path towards spiritual maturity.


Title: Oh my love oh my coward!



title:you left with my words you thief!











A girl was asking what do I think when I paint those things?
well I really love trees on the head because I've always compared the spirit with a tree, growing branches, having dark roots, some can be cut, some has to be cut, but we always remember where we come from & our flowery branches never denies or dark roots
we're as one.
at peace.
no struggle for nothing.

Anytime I begin struggling, I say" what's the heck? you're meant to be a positive thinker how can you go back to the underworld?how can you be so melancholic again and why so much dark art?"

I breathe. I think.I pause. And I know.
I just have to do what I have to do and to be what I am, who I am.

It's okay with me.


It's okay to be who I am.
I can also handle it in my friends.
The fact they can be so alive, playful and smiling, so enthusiastic and full of youth in their soul and then fall again and be so depressed, and silent, and need time on their own...



This world truly lacks of depths, lack of empathy,emotional communications , I believe us artists are here for this!

That might sound self assured or pretentious but I don't mind.
I know who I am.
I know why I'm here for.
Sometimes I just forget and sometimes I ache my feet because I'm not wearing the right shoes or no shoes at all.



title:How long this godawful blood leaking in my chapel?

At the first raw
invisible guest or just empty chairs
contemplating my fate
This coffin of photographs with dust and grain
Black and white just like the core of the core
I gaze at the photo when suddenly I am submerged
At the edge of my eyes
leaking blood in my little chapel
Hosanna
My eyes can not feel a thing but this suffering
A moment
Thought it would be the snow on this numb ache
I am seized by the blessing
And I choke under my smile such an ancient smile
Feels like centuries away
My body shakes with the sobs
my soul feels so old
Then the sketch of a sad smile
Trying to sip back a taste of that moment
Impossible to recollect all those butterflies
My net is pierced everywhere
Thus the rain again bleeding from the walls
why didn't you sit down next to me?
Why couldn't I feel the light touch of your hand?
I know I know it would have killed me now(...)



I'm in a strange phase of my life.
I want to believe this will just be nothing at all.
But I've studying love, relationship, enticement and how it all works.
I'm not saying I know it all.
But I've seen processes,how easy people can be flirtatious.
I still cannot explain the detail that grabs a soul and make it fall in love that you grow some kind of faith towards this person.

I believe somehow it is the connection,closeness of souls and the giving receiving balance.
balanced devotion.
Something rare.
Does that mean I believe in Love?
it's like asking to I believe in Happiness?

All these things would take hours to detail, to go deeper inside them.
I would often say I want something I can't believe in.

I've had depression,I've overcome desillusionment.
Do I want to face it again?

I partly believe that this life is made of Blissful moments and those have to be lived with awareness.

Découvrez Sarah Slean!

And I am aware Happiness is not someone or the fact my life could have begun.
My life is.
And I am.I am. I am.
what is it to exist?
to be looked at? heard?loved?seen?
I am.

And I do this for me too.
And everyone should love themselves too.

Découvrez Sarah Slean!

Awake your goblins
Don't you hear the sound of sorceress
don't you hear the witch has awoken from her century slumber
Hear her moans in the woods
Like forgotten incantation that warm your insides with a threat
awake your little devilish girls for the feast on crumbs
We're gonna celebrate our bruises & scars
It's our Omega juice
Bleeding much more than so called truths
No intruders in our tree hangers delights



while dissecting the ladybirds we finally could read their mind
Sonnets in between wings
I'm so sorry I killed the ladybirds while wanting to get rid of the spiders
Crawling all inside her
And then my arsonist burnt each letters unsent
Each glow quietly burried no chant no funeral for her Poem
Only a strong fire
But the flames began to glide their own agony
Fall was there with the dead leaves books of memories unsaid
The black holes in my eyes could not utter the hatred
As tangible as the sheer cowardice to live in words
so she only cut an 8 on my heart
I should be healed by now
The blazing nonsense was circuiting in my veins
Erasing each sigh of you each step each sound
Did you exist she asked me in the night
Of course not you were but a fiction
Another page in my diary
Another corpse in my coffin heart

**********************************

So in my new Fall.
collapse of soulquakes.
rivers of tears.
I am alive.

I feel pain, I do.
It just makes me another human being just like you right?



I am free of fears today in this painful ecstasy because I feel, I can touch my strength and how much I can resist to pain.Maybe it's my illusion.Maybe it is real.
I may fall
But it's okay.

I let go.
I'm ready to let go.
Today I let go.
The fall is soft.
I am protected by my guardian angels.

I can feel the air on my skin.
I can feel the peeling of memories lived or unlived.

I'm not fighting.I'm not waiting anymore.I'm not asking. Not begging anymore.
Not my role to make others act the way I want them to.
Not my role to make others understand what they cannot comprehend.
Not my reason to live to complete another or make them feel alive.
I let go.

I stretch my arms in this fall.
I'm like a cross but I'm weightless.
Nothing to bear anymore.
naked. body+soul.
Real.More vulnerable as ever.
but not scared.
I embrace my incompleteness.
I celebrate my imperfection.

I let go.
And I heal myself in this.
I will live through this.
I will rise up through this.

And it's okay if there is no hands to catch me so I don't hurt myself.
It's okay if there is nothing and no one.
I fall and I feel.
It's okay if I'm alone.
I know this by heart.

I won't allow this to make me bitter.
I know myself I'm always stronger.

And I'm a true sincere and honest lover.
and I will love her.
My inner lover
I will feed her.

I'm all I need today.
This is my own fall.
I'm not a victim.

I just am being realer as ever.

I may end up living on my own.
I may never belong.
I may never get married.
I may never get pregnant.

I am still belonging to this minority.to this circle of sensitive souls who wants to create,inspire,give,love and share always.
The empaths. The ones who works with light/love.
The ones who still cares and can find beauty and wonders in the little details of this life.

I am married to myself.
satin and silk.
I am pregnant of art.
my babies are : poems, paintings, all this giving to the world that can hear.
And the ones who need to read this.

I don't need to be beautiful in your eyes.
I don't need to be half loved.
I don't need to be desired.
to be.
It's okay if I'm unwanted.

I don't need to need.
In this fall I catch up my independence as a woman.
My mind's strength.
I'm never alone when I decide not to abandon myself.
In the name of love
is constantly misused.

No one has to suffer for Love.To please everyone.
Love is no sacrifice.
This is pure crap poetry for your lonely inside goth baby.
There should not be a price to pay for true Love.
And if in the balance love is more suffering, you got to let go.

I'm letting go.
I'm healing.
I'm falling.
And it's alright.

It's the path to begin a new spiritual growth.
That's why I gave birth to: Ma sorcière.
a new persona.
She's gonna show me the way.




ani di franco, asking too much

Great ecstasies & then: the immensity of nothingness void...you won't swallow me whole!I'm not that weakness anymore!

my first exhibition was nice.
I am grateful I did this.
Sharing with the world in another way.
going out from my recluse sanctuary.
It was complicated.
My anxiety disorder is back and truly destroy my life quality because there are simple things I can't handle, but I'm fighting.
never giving up.I'm not ready to give up.

I also sold a collage there.
I am eager to have other exhibitions and to keep working in different fields with my art.


So strange how our feelings and mood can be night and day.

I have always been that kind of woman.
That does not mean I am dead or bipolar manic depressive whatever.

I am just as I am, the hypersensitive realistic dreamer, constantly growing, learning,discovering and understanding new things about herself.

I am so alive.
I know I am alive.
For this cut inside of me is so real. It does feel incredibly real.
I can paint a woman with a big slash in her core.
I look in the mirror.
This is what I see.



I know S.A.D does not help me lately.
The lack of sun just makes me so negative.
But I know I am not this.

I see myself walking bare feet in the snow.
It's not pleasant, but the blanket is like peace.
apeasment on all the bleeding overflows of my heart.

I am sacred, I have these feelings, I am real, I accept myself deeply and completely.
I am never waiting for a gentle tap on my back" it'll be alright babe"

I dont want to hear words that says: "come on you won't be a thirty something Goddess all your life"

It's true.
But is this what most people perceive of me?
The way I look?

Is it my limitations?

Sometimes knowing what you want seems not enough.
but hey so many things are not enough in this life, gotta get used to that!

In the back of my hearse Animal is trying some silly faces to cheer me up.
And I am driving faster.
faster.
faster.
fleeing my emotions.
Unable to name them, unable to stick a label with certainties and archive it gently.

I keep saying to myself, it's okay, it's the season.
you'll be fine.

But I hear the howling of this dark hole monster inside of me.
My baby banshees is screaming too.
"why. why did you love me so little?why must I forever live in dreams?"

Was I wrong in all the things I lived for a year?
was it all for nothing?
why can't I just answer a simple question?



“I think that when we look for love courageously, it reveals itself, and we wind up attracting even more love. If one person really wants us, everyone does. But if we're alone, we become even more alone. Life is strange.”
(paolo coelho)

“The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.”
(vladimir Nabokov)



but my soul she fears
my soul with her brain dress
cannot walk these unknown lanes
where each road signs show me the way
Risk risk dare dare
and my legs they shake
and my heart it bleeds
and the horizon glows with the blissful morning dreams
angels whisper its in your reach it s in your reach
and I close my eyes
I'm too weak to see
How do you find my new coward dress
and I twirl and twirl till you get dizzy
and weary of your baby
What if the horizon was lying
what if the color were prettier with eyes full of tears
I know I want my cuddle my nest and my bliss
But it's ever been easier to offer this
Easier to scatter hope petals and let them bloom away from me
like a dark certainty so many stars kneeling for you but away from me(...)



Oh night blue fog caress Oh night I can't sleep
I can't sleep alone
I'm alone
I'm alone
Whispers of telepathic trees
Echoes
I cannot sleep
hearing the sounds of silence
hearing the sounds of the world
the din of humanity
I'm alone
voices repeat No
They know
And the tears are clinging to my eyelids
Hidden pearls in the clouds
and my sealed lips they cannot sigh anymore
I put it in a box with collected tears and useless pieces of my blackened heart
And how do I write this with sorrow
and I can write in the lake of memories
I need to wait for the frost
I wish I could write it
I should be away with the faeries in my dreams
the ones still left to make my heart glow to make all aches flow
I can feel twisted knots or severed wires of the machine of my hearts
I am all disconnected
Like a fall
shedding naked wires with sparks of life remains
(...)



He's sick I feel this emotion sickness
moving like the sunset on fire in my hellish heart
He's sick he doesn't breathe it but I listen
sick of me I feel his icicles in my veins sometimes
So I safely close my eyes in bed uncaring for the flesh as my soul is already gone
to you she sleeps in your words as you feel them
and He's sick of me his fragile wings trying to hold me still
and I wish I could scream I'm so plain I watch the mirror and I see nothing
my hands full of blood in which I read how these seasons lead me nowhere
and my eyes can't cry in your company
Drink me drink my blood of my "I am so sorry"
drink I've never been the queen of the Ball of drama
bleed through me
And you lover you love her you love me
and I love him I love you I love him
and I want you I so want you I want you to meet your bliss
Apease this I don't want to see Baby hell on my grave
One day my eyes will be forever closed
One day my mouth will be forever shut
and nobody cares if I ever die alone
sometimes under my bed I write my way back to mom and dad
I'm ten again and I found my way back to re-live the best
and I found that beach
Him and his shell
your name inside it
It was so easier you know
we grow grow grow we know
He will never let me go
I know we cannot be severed but you know
I'm drinking your heart overflow
you do not say anything about your dreams
you keep them in my chest but I'm not your shell
we know how many seasons to our hearts
how many seasons
Crumpled frozen wings the inner child's weeping snow
The hands of Mrs anxiety back to my neck or tearing my insides
she may read the next oracle
I'll never understand why anyone would want to sink in the bottom of my well
when I'm feeling so unwell collapsing galaxy of long time lost dreams
we're not children
Gypsy souls we're not children
my tomb still burns with their fascination for things that I can see but not in me
and the soft melody of snow
soothing blanket this snow quenches my fire
cover me so I can't read how sick he's sick because of me(...)


She cries.
She cries the sound of it.
the sound of each letter.
The sound of the silence between each of them.
Not too many letters.
Quick answer.
Quick fix to a broken chimera.

The noise of her tears.
little streams of tiny lights.
Not glowing for a long time anymore.

She breathes her own madness.
She hurts herself.
"why did you ask? why did you even think of it?"
She cannot breathe anymore.

A path of mirror that awakes such an amazing hatred.
who?who? woe.
her.her.hurt.
dusty heart that she rinses with the tear drops.
A somber anger.

The forest is empty of dreams.
It's the core of it, where no rays of light penetrate.
Always humid and so cold.

Masochistic to distraction she repeats the answer.
To be sure.
To feel the slow collapse of every wall of her inner castle.
They lost themselves for good.
Pearls of dew from her dusky eyes rolling like poetry towards death.

Salt on her lips.silence.Cruel silence and she is the face of Despair.
(...)





I'd kill the butterflies one by one
Shimmering dust to the sea
To see how far I can go
How fast I can swim
How deep
And I'd rip the last flowers of the dead poetry
Then the masquerade of coffins would dance with the briars
And I'd be there gently sipping the blood juice of our melodies
Because the world keeps on howling so hard
It breaks my soul in two
Hell is here
Heaven is here
And all the doors can be opened
Though now the keys are entangled in the tinsels of hushed memories
Go back
No one wants you here
Go back
Some days I cannot kiss her
Some days her mask is terrifying
The hallways of neverending dusk
Where everything is so freezing cold
Sometimes I cannot hold her
Sometimes she cannot hide me


*****************
Maybe I just denied things?
Maybe I didn't ask the right questions?
Maybe I just met a wall and I thought I could lean on it...

but oh the stones, like marble, so cold, so cold...
and then reality does give you gift, from behind she arrives and strangles you so hard that no words can be spoken.
So strange how things can make us think or feel.


I am always making peace within myself.
I know right now I cannot listen to any advice, I don't want to hear a thing.
I need to breathe.
I am not a victim.
I assume the way I live and feel.

I never deny the doors around me, I dont deny the alleys downward, up to the sky.
I don't deny my emptiness on some days, how after feeling utterly drenched and chocking on emotions I am the void.

Something immense.
Infinite perhaps.with no echo.
no air. no sound.
Nothingness all around.

I know I reject my tears today.
I know if I begin...
I know those waterfalls.
Nothing poetic or beautiful in feeling cut.
Nothing beautiful in the forever insomnias.
It's been too long now.

cut the cord. cut the cord.cut it, cut it, cut.

I will always have these moments anyways, because I am a big receptor of the sounds of the world, because I am so aware I'm not alone in this.
I haven't been so kind to myself lately, so now I'm taking care of me.

Back to the beginning?
no way!
I want to run!
oh yes I want to run away.
run away from myself.

Painting appeases me right now.
























I am grateful for my passions,and the things that truly keeps me working, keeps me holding on to positive thinking.
It's not easy to think right when your wonderful garden of poetry has suffered such an hurricane of words of "if only" of "almost nothing was necessary to..."

but things are the way they are.
Or no!
Things are rarely what they seem.

I know I will sing, paint, dance ,wirte and smile alone today but I will not deny this deep sorrow I am feeling.
I cannot deny how something inside me died.
But I'll be okay as life goes on...




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