Waiting for the Summer fruits while remembering springtime flowers in the graveyard

More than a month later.
Times flies no wait! it's running after me!

Wish I had time to write my blog, surely it could do me good.
To write a little.
To just talk about my daily life and my art life.




It feels so good everytime I go back to my acrylic world ;)













I haven't painted much for a while.
Not in the mood, too busy with other things in my life, like phoetry for instance.
Working on different projects.
In fact for a whole month I was really incredibly busy but I handled it and I guess I loved it.
When you're so busy you go to the essential and you have no time for insomnia.
Kidding a bit, but working so much made me feel better.



You don't have to compartimentalize your self, especially if you're an artist.
Just keep expressing, share what you have to share, do what you have to do,always out of Love.
And I believe you are safe, for everyone interpretes no one ever grasp the truth of your own soul.
You only know.

who you are. And why you do the things you do.
Even if sometimes it can sound weird to you, with time and looking back you find the answers are all in the questions of your art, your heart.











(picture featured in my book In The Name Of Kali)





I have so many to express but I don't know where to start.
How to do a sum up on everything I've been lucky to learn and discover this past month.

First of all about Friendship and making friends.
Still the same old thing that people want you to be honest and they cannot hear your truth.
hey it's merely your truth, so it should not be the world to them right?

I have been through events that showed me true friendship required maturity, a bit of self trust to be aware of what you have to offer in this relationship, a good sense of humour and of course open mindedness and tolerance.

I remember when I was younger I somehow couldn't hear people disagreement with me, I would lose temper at once now I am okay to listen and I always try to see what the person means, how she or he perceives things.
It's always a question of perception after all.

If you're strong enough, you're not fleeing because of another viewpoint.

Immaturity can be cute of course it depends how it is shown but some people feel lonely and disbelieve in true friendship, or just want to criticize the rest of the humanity as if they had the monopoly of good heart or what?
This is so absurd!

Open your mind!
See further for goddess's sake!

I am always sadden when people don't want to grow and understand things.
Stubborness is a huge waste of time.
Of course we all have our strong opinion and we sometimes don't feel like changing,it's ok.
We have lived things that make us be who we are, but when you want to make friends you have to open and be ready to lose or suffer the fact you won't face a mirror.
We are all similar but all unique.
it's just so sad all the beauty people may waste with a locked up heart.

They may say it's because they've been hurt a lot in the past and disappointed by everyone and they don't want to trust anymore.
immature waste of time, we learn in this!
we learn through this!


There is something I really cringe at it's when people feel the need to criticize another to feel better about themselves.
Like " come on people stop whining and believe that fairies will pop out of your screen"

fuck this!and fuck you!
If these people want to share their emotions the way they do,it's their right
not please with this, kiss their asses!

I cannot stand those attitudes.
People should just live their life and stop pointing their fingers at other and how they live theirs!
Hell,Leave us alone!

I do not fear any criticize or anyone wanting to burn me, that's always why I chose the name " Ma Sorcière" at flickr.

I am totally utterly and completely accepting myself & happily pissing you if it has to.
never my goal well okay it depends if you tease me too much babe;)



People must see me as bitchy because I have a big mouth and anger is not something I am shameless to express.
I have read anyways in some Christian or catholic forums that anger was not so much of a sin
of course I do not believe in the idea of sin, I gladly play with it.
and if anger was a sin I would be then a shameless sinner.

Not out of rebellion, it's more than this.
I believe in expressing your disagreement, if you suffer because of somebody's behaviour it is just your right to tell them you are angry and why.
It does not mean hurting them on purpose.
But saying unpleasant things to them that is merely your truth on how you lived things, how you felt them and it cannot be changed.

We are the way people had treated us.
Like our parents in childhood and teen age for instance.

If your parents complimented you, hugged you, showed you care, lots of affection, if they made you feel you could do anything, if they were there anytime listening closely to your problems etc maybe then you can grow as a self confident adult and not have to endure depression or lack of self esteem at times.

Of course we have to cut the cord too.
Past is past, even if it feels like something has been stolen from us, something we can never have again.
A missing part in our life.
How to fill the hole? how it to heal it whole?

Art ,creativity, love and being real are possible answers to this, and of course to try not to act the same way.

We all live in cycles.
I mean cycles of sorrows and joy that come back to us and we feel oh I have experienced this before in another way perhaps, sometimes it could also be reminiscence of past lives.
Some present sorrow can re-open past wounds, it's the life.
How we deal with this?
expression and imagination.

There is enough energy in our soul to heal if we really want to.

Some people still come to me asking "how is the baby? how is your pregnancy"

I am like, well he, okay you didn't know not your fault, but I lost it, I miscarried.

Then the whole thing is back again, like a wave to my face and I remember it's me who've been through this maelstrom of emotions.

But I am definetly not alone in this.
I have been lucky enough to take pictures of wonderful children.
There are great teachers and my contact with them made me more and more understand how I have a real easy bond with children, that childhood is a familiar world to me.
A lot of people often say how younger I look in real life or on my photos, it's cute.












I really hope to keep learning and finally create another business as a photographer.
Especially children photographer because I love to capture that essence , the soul of this time, so pure, so innocent, where magic is unscathed.

To come back about anger, it's an emotion people often deny, feel ashamed, can't deal with etc.
I express anger easily when I disagree if it's something important of course I'm not angry at everything.
I love when I'm fine with everything, but the world is not bright pink everyday is it?
look further.

I believe it's because I am capable to love immensely, I share a lot of myself, I am a real human being or trying to always tend towards this.
I give, I try to inspire, I share and I do listen a lot.
The fact that I love big implies also the fact I can also be extreme with anger because there are things I cannot bear.
like Anais Nin said:

"The only abnormality is the incapacity to love."

Also some people tried to bother me with the fact I take self portrait that showed my body in a sensual or erotic way and then taking pictures of Innocence/children.

Well I do believe we are complete when we can express Mary and the Magdalene, of course you draw the limits.

I would quickly kick pedophiles asses.
I have seen other photographers taking sensual self portraits and also the most beautiful soulful and real portrait of innocent children and there was nothing wrong with that.

It's like a woman can be a Mother and she's still a sexual wife.
She's not only the sweet heart of the house.
We are multi sided, so is my art.


They fly
You're in them
They fly
You want them
entwined thorns so soft and touching
How beautiful the nightmares under my pillow under my bed under my heart
Ankle all swollen
Sore throat
Sense all sored
A wardrobe full of circean dress
Little darkness
Tame thy monster whisper the pixies
But all my garden have blown away
seeds of dandelions
No dreams no wishes
For another tree
To climb and let my soul soar
I cannot clean my wings
I am a bad needlewoman
I want to sew my lips together to prevent them to utter
my need my needs my desires



I believe my friends understand and enjoy the things I do without judging.

We have many different things to express.

so yes I have been working on a New Eve project!




and happily mixed Innocence and sexuality.

My thoughts are fizzing and I have many new ideas for books, but sometimes I'm like Hey hold on!
I cannot note all these things!
So I believe I have enough ideas for the next 10 years ;)
haha



Ha! this is one of my most fav poetic design since a long time!
It all appeared by magick out of the blue so thank you Fairies!Thank you muses!!
I am blessed and never alone.
Of course it's for an imaginary band so I had to imagine it all :)
It's always so much fun to me!



Band name: June Please June
Album name: Springtime watery songs

1)Alone at the White crow queen lake
2)April's flowers underwater
3)May drowned
4)Artemis river of presents
5)Strange path of the pomegranates
6)Away from the Fields of narcissi
7)Sister Demeter's letter
8)Third lane
9)Douceur de Léthé
10)Flammes à l'amer
11)4
12)Ocean of love and coffins
13)Blue funk stream

Of course one day I will make a book on this too, but yeah I need more than a life ;)



He said "Anais!Anais!"
I remember that name.
She said it could be your daughter's name, the one you'll never have.
I told him she was under a pile of pages of madness
He couldn't read my name anymore so I told him to be my hurt
He couldn't be my words
Even if he dared
How could Mr Empathy bleed as much as a woman
Not in my story anyways
Men invente themselves pain and women live through them
Always
For instance when you got a package in your car and you never dare
pull out the ribbon
then who are you?
A ghost?
Are you fucking insane?
I thought that was me.
I thought
All along the cinders a shoe that shouldn't be red
Sometimes you say you're afraid to acknowledge the water in your eyes
This hole darkest void
I wish I could be the rain when they ask for the sun

(...)



Still waiting
Red roses in the vase on the kitchen table
I hear the melancholly on the window pane
It echoes
Humide soft noises
She forgot her keys once again
Did she do it on purpose
On the bed Anais' dress
I could still smell her perfume
The satin of poetry that suits her skin like nothing else
When you meet Anais you never forget her eyes
All the secrets they tell when they penetrate yours
It's a strange moment right after midnight
Her ghost is above me invading her dress
Floating laces and the bewitching whispers
Then later I sway naked in the attic
Missing her touch
missing the way she understands
Each of her kisses not demanding not expecting anything
As the rain falls deeper(...)

she dances on the walls that she paints with her whispers:




(not completely satisfied with this self portrait but I love the poem with it)

There are demons on Rachel's road
It's in her name
It's in her faith
Along the ground
Debris of all the things she recalls
We hear evil songs on Rachel's road
Among the particules there is note
Something that caress your neck when you sleep to dream
She doesn't remember much of these nights
One day she'll tear up the horizon On Rachel's road
The ravin isn't far
You could come with me
If you want to feel
desert of books not to be read
But if you do you cry the same
Like the black doves
After all the grins having cut you through
After all the thorns having slashed you open
She wanted to be wide open and freed from turmoil
There are flowers of lies on Rachel's road
"Can you hurt me now? will you hurt me now? If I ask you to?"
When you lie down
The ground is hot
You gaze at the ceiling for hours in the dark
Except it's the sky the beginning of void
Wishing it could tumble down on you
So you wouldn't have to be sewed back
With all these things inside
I wish I could tell
On Rachel's road silences are obsessing mesmerizing
I wish I could tell
But the distance is drowing near(...)










Maybe in the world of fake she could be the one
Behind her mask behind her glowing dress
He didn't know the whore was a giver
Forgive her
How many times she would dance this way
Always the same right steps left steps
Completely poisoned and tamed
You try to love her
She leaves with no word
Next year for the same entrance
She's in trance in her bleeding world
Everyone want to protect her but most abuse
She will claim it's her right to suffer
Her only desire
Because she cannot love her
Fasten this little terror
Quiet she knows it's better to be fucked than alone
Ella Jane always drown to the darkest horse underwater
You're not Ophelia
Tear that dress now
She will cry in my arms talking about strength
I witness the massacre in her bleeding poppy fields
She cannot sleep anymore
She remember spreading not wanting
A big S on her heart
There are cinders glowing cinders
Wish I could have helped my sister
But she cannot realise she has given up on her own
I told her everything was better not to
And she smiles
The most noisy smile you've ever seen
You see how she will kneel when he'll ask her to leave everything
You're gonna leave your home
You're gonna kill your soul
This big S in the middle
I won't blame their testosterone shackling & their weakness
This time I wish you loved your self
only this time


another poem that had to be shared, hoping some sisters out there can read and perhaps decide to take the power back and to be their own.

I often think about this, how women became half of themselves for a man, this is so sad.
As for these men they are so weak.
Their power resides only in controlling, how pathetic.

People have to be reminded what Love is sometimes.
A lot of ego is taking part in painful relationship because no one really dares to give in to Love, what it merely is. The beauty of it.







Another twig though springtime is gone already
Gabriel Gabriel sing for me lullabies for her
In her dreams for me
She's waving from the other side
Seraphim are holding books and taking notes
Filling pages of the sounds of my love tears
You're not there I don't even know your face
But in all the petals of light I wrote how much I miss you
Letting my heart swirls yearning for this blessing
Come little darling we've been waiting for thee
Blood roses spiralling around my china breaks
Lilith dances in my laces and she says
How pure this love can be
Pomegranate leaking on my chest
I wait for the magic to come
Hail all the angels
Impregnating my souls to the saraswati waters
Poetic ripples in the depths of my heart
Bring me my daughter!
I am a mother!
Bring me my daughter!
(...)

Despairelation?

"dora. [deleted] says:
what really depresses me? and if i say that sometimes i just come over so miserable, so sad... without a reason... going deep down and down... and if i say that even these moments give me pleasure, bring enjoyment... is there a reason why i'm so depressed now? why i'm veering between these depressive like moods and total elation? or maybe it's because i'm so self-centered, always in need to play a leading part and getting down when i get the role of a secondary importance?

i'm depressed 'cause i give more than i receive, 'cause i can't make my dream go on, 'cause i want to hold on to sth that will never come to my expectations...
i'm depressed 'cause the reality is much more different than i've imagined...
i'm depressed 'cause i did things i didn't want to do...
and i'm depressed 'cause i regret things i could have done but i didn't...

and i stop being depressed when i have no time to think about all these stuff.."


This is kind of copyright infrigment to take those words and use them here, but the day I saw those words at flickr around last november I felt such an echo in those words.
Somehow I could relate to Dora.
I could feel her soul. Her sorrow and I don't know who she is at all, but I hope she's feeling better off by now, though with such emotions, it's hard to find a real repose.

I loved reading her words.
she inspired me. I will surely write and paint on Dora, the Ghost Muse.

somehow easier to love to the ones who don't exist, imaginary friends,muses and all than the real ones who can cut you through & leave the most damage.

I say so but my heart is sick enough and unafraid to love more which is why I'm here.
you don't love? then you die.
easy as that.

I felt there was so much of her soul in this, I felt she was the friend who could understand me as I am with my extreme sides.
You never know where I am.
A moment I run with kisses in my arms the second after I only have cuts everywhere and I'm falling apart.

"My name is Hélène and I'm a non anonymous neurotic artist..."
"good evening Hélène!"
clap clap clap.

quietly trying to laugh.

I read somewhere a photographer saying: I'm a cynical with an idealist heart.

that's so true.
I often think cynism is ugly, hopeless and oh my , most of the time I want to turn the neck of these people.

I've had cynical friends.
I stopped being their friends.
I could not hear them anymore.
I wanted to slap their face and say shut the fuck if everything is so bitter and hopeless go die and leave us alone, let us keep finding some hopes and lights, let us do what we want to do , let us be mere humans!

I am depressed lately.very.
The more I hide it, the more it swallow me all, the more I get back to the most cynical inside of me.
It's my Adah's side.
The anger.

that's a real banshee howl.

When sebastien turned on the tv tonight I wanted to scream at the top of my voice.
I don't want to see that.
I don't want to hear that.
Fuck! how does this gonna change my life? how can I help the suffering there?
I can not.
shut this fucking box of crap off!

I try to be as much sincere as possible but sometimes I just don't know how to explain to my dearest friends how awful I feel inside of me because the day after I giggle or am elated for details, for nothing at all or everything.

I wanted also lately to be more private.
to hide my real life to people because it pisses me off how people talk about you.
I admire my friends who keep their private life for them.
I don't mind to share my happy moments. My loved ones.My family.the real me.
But I'm reluctant at talking about my winter depression...
My friends ask how I feel with such enthusiasm that I don't know what to answer.

either I ignore the question or I answer what I think they want to hear with the sound of the truth.

I believe people think you, I, are not allowed to be depressed.
No reasons.

I'm beautiful, so beautiful!
that's what I hear most everyday, yeah my ego can be licked but you know the thing with ego, the more you lick the bigger it goes...kind of cynic erotism ahah
it's past midnight I'm allowed.

ego is our male side I believe.
I have to part things, to be at peace with my sides.Siva.shakti.
destroy.rebuilt.cut through.nurture.
fall.spring again with lights.

It's so hard.

I've been crying so much in december.
some days I felt I reached the bottom of hopelessness.
This feeling. this void. this sight.
it was something stiffling.

but I'm beautiful thus unallowed to feel the way I feel right?
and if I acknowledge how sad I'm feeling inside right now that will make me be seen as week and it'll be equate to my work and I'll keep that so hard to leave label of the sullen girl.

It is true that I still can be hurt by those people's word.
I'm not just a photograph.
and beautiful? what does that mean in the end?

I love beauty myself so much that people can end up thinking I'm but vain when they love to hastily sum up my self.

I can be summed up, I can be label, I can be cut through, I can be seen as whatever the fuck people want to see me if it makes them feel good.
I don't give a shit really.

I know there will always be people who can understand and those who cannot enter your garden.

I thought I had to protect myself.
but whatever you see, I am more than this or less than that.
what you see is not me, but what you see of me, the way you look at me.

I also believe that if some people come here and read and enjoy the fact I am feeling sad then good for them, they dragged their asses here, means anyways there's interested.



We don't need your small god
Hell man go on your ego cruise and stop ruining our parade
with the boring ever heard I see through you
Watch yourself in the mirror and don't bother me with the light I lack off
Those who are they a bunch of parasite in my attic
blindfold my eyes
I don't need your crutch
I even walk much better barefeet next to the ravin with my ravens
I don't need to be stappled with your virtual paper wings flattery
why do you spend so much of your time to cut our fineries
why do you spend so much hours mocking our masks
Who knows the vacuity behind your own

****

I also believe that it's not depression that makes the art better.
I believe we are somehow depressed because we are artist, poets, thinker, deep souls and it's just something we can't avoid.
our brain never pauses.
thoughts run faster, moods too, everything is alive, so alive and we can feel and see everything with more acuracy that we express things with depths.

for some it's seen as intelligence, for me it's mostly emotions.
perhaps intelligence of emotions.

Or we just go play the game in the real world and fake it, many people can after , why not I?

I'm gonna feel better soon I know.


the words that goes with this image:

dripping stains what a scene
theatre of dreams of the obscene
Now that I'm dead where do you repose your soul
where do you breathe
Non existent wistful absolute
I am crawling on the walls towards the dissolute

come on you all made of careless paper arms
I had to murder my babies to stop hearing
all the rivers poured for nothing
How could I heal more How could I bleed more

was the food for the dust creatures never enough

I don't want to read that you need to read me
I dont want to live in your book
when I rest my head on these harmful pillows where the dreams never sleep
I nightmare and I scream how much I abhorre

will my sanity keep me walking amongst the blind ghosts
To be able to feel it all in this forest of grins
sordid manor of the chains where we only hear the hands

the clock of my heart is bleeding molasses
in the room next door with the drawn tattered curtains
another one begging for kisses
my soul my hell my vision of the cliffs
my transparent dress of bruises
is it real tell me is this real
are we only this
should we belong to this void

give her another ice lake to escape
speed your infatuated poison in my veins so I can't flee no more

all this cries makes me suffocate and I keep myself warm
to the cold walls of my attic
better off in the dark
better off even stark
Everything's lost even the words
even the sound of her voice
can you scream now
can you peak me now

all the slashes won't disappear
you can cut your head off
threadbare my heart
I am so alone at 00:00

come on you all with the glaring sounds
piercing our ears
oddities of the most melancholic lust
he repeats this is adoration
with her nails on the wallpaper

My eyes in the frame
still lifeless
a well of knots with devouring words
something to make you fall
something to show how unholy I am

there's no glue strong enough to mend your pieces
after my words

my hands on the cover
feeling braille
what the hell do you want
tell me which slice which cell which particules
No doors no bars anymore
it's all for nothing at all
help yourself
eat more than you can
talk your mouthful
of my dearest darkness(...)

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

I believe that art will keep on saving my soul and rincing all the stains of emotions I am trying to deal with lately.


Peace & Blessings to you.