jeudi 2 octobre 2008

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

my exhibition in Brussels at the Gallery 2016

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.

Nous n'étions que de la poésie et nous ne resterions que des mots

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.
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?

War, woe, we are...

“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)

I can't explain why it still drunks me with life

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(...)

Lonely trees telepathy

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
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

Snow gentle blanket of snow

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(...)

I know the answer
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.
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.

You want nothing! Nothing! nothing! just nothing at all!


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.
It's always like going to a different planet

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.

Le Monde Onirique de Princesse

Petite Princesse au coeur détraqué

how many tears do we have to cry for you to live

The open book of her secret Garden

Dis Ailleurs

Dis mon Amour, pourquoi il y a toujours trop de champignons?
Je pleurs des étoiles dans ses nuits(details)

Oh dare to be wrong taste the dream live it deep

you'll never know my real name

Oh viens faire saigner mon coeur d'un jus de Passion!

smithereens of me under my hair

I do not exist

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...
My only companion everyday

He offered a Bokeh world just for me© All Rights Reserved - No Usage Allowed in Any Form Without My Written Consent.

5 commentaires:

isa a dit…

Bravo pour ton expo ma belle !!! Les cheveux courts ça te va si bien ^_^ !! Et tes peintures sont superbes !
ISA :)

Anonyme a dit…

Your art, dear, certainly isn't suffering, and brings me great pleasure. I'm sorry your melancholy has returned--

This lack of brother sun has also taken a toll on me--perhaps that's why I'm writing again, and back on the drugs.

The blog is back up (no posts yet). Do drop by when you have the chance. It's always a pleasure to have you.


Hélène Deroubaix a dit…

merci Isa:)

ha! the mysteries of Jake.:)
you know you truly intrigued me?
you even inspired me poems, photos,paintings and some kind of insanity in the past.
I'm unashamed to say.

I wondered if you had seen that or that my getting close to souls never shows for real.

Like some kind of Muse energies.
I loved your writing, I really did, it was fascinating and very inspiring for my soul that could relate and penetrate this dark forest of words.
I think I thought you were crazy somehow and you looked unreal, too secret, hidden and yet familiar.

back on the drugs?
maybe you should find drugs that harm less...
yes stupid to say, but writing is a drug to me.
sometimes it is even painful to write, to dare say the words we feel are cutting our insides.

I remember how grateful I felt to you because you really awoke my yearnings to write more,that was intense!
so thank you.

and thanks for reading me.
you should write again, sure it would do me good to read you.

Blessed be brother!

Anonyme a dit…

I meant psychiatric drugs; do remember, I'm clinically ill (I've finally accepted the bipolar diagnosis after several years of experimentation, self-medication, etc).

As you may have already noticed--the blog was back down after 1 weekend. There is a simple reason for this: I'm addicted to it; that was the reason I quit writing online to begin with. I become totally consumed in conversations and posting and writing essays knowing I have an audience..... and such wonderful and interesting people reading them.

It was becoming unhealthy. Since I had been feeling so bad lately, I thought it might do me some good to do something I truly enjoy again for a while. As usual, I turned it into something self-destructive within a matter of days.

At any rate--I'm feeling much, much better after several weeks back on the meds. But I'm not currently writing as much as I would like.

I was always just as curious of you as you of me.

I'll try to drop by again sometime.

Be well.


Darcys Knotty Knitter a dit…

Your poem above and the picture of your cat brought back a memory of my first cat gatto.I was 8 yrs old and spent time at a farm coaxing this kitten out of a bush it took along time to get the wild kitten to trust me.I took her home with me.When I was 11 years old on Easter morning we found her suffering a pitbull had hurt her beyond repair but I made my mother take her to the vet to be sewn up I couldnt except that she would die she suffered under my bed for 3 days then my mom helped me realize letting her be put to sleep was mercy not cruelty.I still miss her today even though Iam now 41 years old.Iam still a cat lover my cat now is a hymalian persian mix her name is precious I dont let her outside we live in the mojave desert where it isnt safe to let your pets wander.Here is a link to see her on my blog:)