THE ANARCHIST
Roland Michel Tremblay
Translated from French by the Scottish author
Sheila
MacLeod
www.crownedanarchist.com/anarchist.htm
www.crownedanarchist.com/anarchist.doc
www.crownedanarchist.com/anarchist.pdf
Black Poetry
(if
you want)
This book has now been published in French by IDLivre.com and is the most popular book they ever printed.
The rights for the English version are available. Please contact me if you are interested: rm@crownedanarchist.com
French version / Version française: www.anarchistecouronne.com/anarchiste.htm
Warning: this book is not for anyone I know, anyone who has aged too
quickly.
I have no need for your judgements, keep them for yourself!
44E The Grove,
Isleworth, Middlesex, London, TW7 4JF, UK
Tel/Fax +44 (0)20
8847 5586, Mobile: +44 (0)794 127 1010
rm@crownedanarchist.com www.crownedanarchist.com www.themarginal.com
The Collective Soul is Rotting
Perverted
animal, knowing the whole world of sex
I’ve
thoroughly penetrated you and I remember
This
makes me just as perverted as you
Aren’t
we happy together
In
our slum, forever arguing
And
getting nowhere
Life
is sweet when there’s nothing but perversion
To
lead us to the heights
Being
there with you I meet human consciousness head on
Observing,
recognising itself, and dying with us
The
collective soul is just as rotten as ours
Because
we are its progeny
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
Ah,
I must empty my heart
Of
all its rottenness
I’m
so far from fulfilment and inner peace
I
yearn to die as I yearn to kill
No
light on the horizon
And
yet I know all about mysticism
Know
how to reach spirituality
Find
God
But
it’s all from the mind
Nothing
from the heart
I’m
incapable of love
But
capable of death
My
sensitivity is useless
I
could destroy humanity with my violent thoughts
No
faith, no hope
I’m
corrupt
As
corrupt as you could have wished
I’m
corrupt to the marrow of my bones
I
suffer from an incurable disease
Fluttering
in my brain
Gnawing
at my bones and offering me doubt
Pain,
unhappiness
I
walk with the weight of my guilt
Through
streets punctuated with churches
Knowing
right from wrong at last and doing wrong
They’ve got me
My
thoughts are no longer my own
I’ve
fallen into their net
I’ve
listened, swallowed, digested
I
suffer from an incurable disease
Called
God
I’m
an explosion of places
A
multitude of times
There
are several versions of me
I
follow this path or that while believing I’m following my destiny
But
it makes me suffer so much
To
know I’m following a beaten track and living too intensely
I
try to accept, to experience, everything
Although
I could easily spare myself
I’m
an explosion of places
A
multitude of times
I
chase all sorts of possibilities
I
follow this path or that, I’m my own destiny
It
makes me suffer so much
But
I’m learning to get acquainted with life
Acquainted
with the lives of others
They’re
just like mine
I’m
an explosion of places
A
multitude of times
But
I still feel I’m nothing
Grubby
and ugly, empty and worthless
How
can such a heap of meat follow a destiny?
Three minutes have gone by
The world begins to wonder
Where is it now?
Then my heart beats wildly
I turn on my computer and click on my electronic sheep
It looks at me, hums, walks around and produces
strange noises
This really cheers me up
My little sheep . . .
Then I begin to cry, for everything there is to cry
about
Then it sneezes and I’m happy again for a moment
It jumps higher and higher
Leaps up on to the words in these lines
And this really cheers me up
And I cry more than ever
And I realise that I really love this virtual sheep
That it’s the only thing in the whole world that can
stop me crying
But then I realise just how sad I’ve become
When a virtual animal is all that I have
And I really don’t know what I’d do without it
How could I have become so sad?
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
I
went into a church on Sunday
With
the latest edition of Let Us Pray in Church
I
kissed the congregation, fulfilling my destiny
Doing
a favour to those in need of love
The
priest smiled broadly, delighting in this joyous Mass
He
thanked me and absolved me from my sins
Absolution,
nothing too wicked for God to forgive
I
went into a church on Sunday
With
the latest model of a gun
I
fired on the congregation, fulfilling my destiny
Doing
a favour to those who no longer saw clearly
The
priest smiled broadly, delighting in this deathly Mass
He
thanked me and absolved me from my sins
Absolution,
nothing too wicked for God to forgive
Your Children Are All Empty
Vessels
(and Sex-Obsessed!)
I’ve
watched them, hyperactive and spiteful
Utterly
empty-headed, blissful in their ignorance
Vegetables,
like me, in the scheme of things
Learning
stupidities for filling little pitchers
But
they’re all cracked, spilling their contents on the floor instead of being able
to act or question authority
Not
one of them who doesn’t dream of flying out the window
Or
making love with the person next to them
Most
of them are already on drugs
And
you, for the love of heaven, want to see these empty vessels do well
Your
empty vessels will be successful and cracked at the same time
No
matter, your children will be cracked for all eternity
How
beautiful life is when your truth pours out from the mouths of your children
I
sacrifice myself for one and all
I
come forward telling the truth
Bearing
witness, as I must, to my experience
I
describe my perversion, my immorality, in detail
Listen,
they spit on me, trample me, and I don’t give a toss any more
I’m
here, it’s today
I’m
not, unlike you, a mass of defences, ready to spring into action
A
tissue of falsehoods for justifying my failures
Fifty-six
ways to camouflage the truth
Here
it is utterly naked in front of you
Open
your eyes and learn a lesson from it
You’ll
never be better than me
You’ll
never be worth more than me
I’m
the one who confronts life
I’m
the one who confronts truth
Have a Nice Cup of Tea, My
Dear
«We
don’t need all this violence, this rowdy music, these indecent pictures»
«When
you’re older, you’ll change, you’ll understand, I hope»
«You’ve
got two choices left: law or medicine»
«You’ve
got to have this diploma and these qualifications at least»
«What
you should do now is watch others and do as they do»
«Why
aren’t you doing it?»
«Where
were you last night? Your life is ruled by sex»
«You
don’t dabble in drugs, I hope. Remember alcohol’s a drug too»
«You
have no idea of right and wrong»
«You
must keep trying, one day you’ll get it right»
«Have
a nice cup of tea, my dear»
And
choke on it!
It’s
the truth as you’ll never know it
It’s
serial infidelity by women as much as by men
It’s
such a revulsion with life that a whole chemist’s shop couldn’t cure it
It’s
separation, divorce, depression, abortion
It’s
short-lived affairs where sex is what matters most
It’s
a decent bottle of Scotch or of Cognac
It’s
a packet of cigarettes harbouring cancer to gnaw at your guts
It’s
random, street-corner death for a thousand and one reasons
It’s
a struggle for power or money where no one’s the outright winner
It’s
a high-class bitch who knows everything and subjects you to her morals from
hell
It’s
a whore who’s been humped by a businessman and dies from an overdose of coke
It’s
a gaggle of neuroses meeting up to reinforce each other
It’s
the Pope saying the opposite of what he thinks in the name of we don’t know
what
It’s
a country owned by big, rich companies
It’s
lives in hock to banks
It’s
ubiquitous hypocrisy
It’s
institutionalised slavery
It’s
political corruption at every level
It’s
God dead and buried
Resplendent
in her lovely garish frock
Breasts
bursting with hormones
Wig
of hair piled half a yard at least on top of her head
She
was really beautiful, my slag
Singing
to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day
Counting
her ex-boy friends in the bar, they came to far too many
I
took her, just as she was, back to my hotel room
They
must have thought I’d found a whore and not been too fussy about it
But
I kissed her, sucked her, fucked her inside out, my slag
She
was as docile as a bitch on heat who asks for more, my slag
I
should have snatched the wig off my slag
Deflated
the ballooning breasts of my slag
Clawed
off her frock and her buttocks, my slag
Finally
killed her with pleasure, my slag
Last
night I fucked the town slag
And
now I feel free
It’s Par for the Course in
New York
I’d
hardly set foot in this great American city and already we were having sex in a
taxi
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
Then
we went out, found ourselves at an orgy, with everyone at it all round us
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
Then
we met a surgeon, aged seventy, who wanted us to make up a threesome
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
Then
I met a hundred and one people you’d slept with in one year
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
Then
I saw your sixty credit cards, all of them over the limit
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
For
you I worked in a mafia restaurant, swarming with rats and cockroaches
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
I
met your psychiatrist friend who prescribed some amazing pills for me
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
With
you I caught several sexually transmitted diseases
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
I
even saved you from a drug-induced suicide where you coughed up blood
«But
that’s par for the course in New York»
For
all those things, I love you
«Ah,
that’s not par for the course in New York»
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
Drink Up Your Whisky, Old
Girl, and Cheat Death
Every
day God grants, I get up and go to the Off Licence
I
buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer
She’s
got three months to live, they tell me, so I say to her:
Drink
up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!
It’s
been five years now since they first gave her three months to live
So
the whisky is obviously keeping her going
And
so every day God grants I get up and go the Off Licence
I
buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer and I tell her:
Drink
up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!
Knowing
it’s God who’s sent me, she thanks me profusely
Taking
the first glass diluted with water, then drinking it neat
Next
day the nurse finds her out cold, picks up the empty bottles
Crosses
herself but remarks that it seems to work better than morphine
So
every day God grants I get up and go to the Off Licence
I
buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer and I tell her:
Drink
up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!
I
watched you from the back of the bar, felt sorry for you
Blatantly
lacking in personality, you were just a hanger-on
Lost,
new to this world, you walk wondering if you have the right to do so
But
come on, for the love of heaven, get up and walk!
Stop
breathing in what others have breathed out
Direct
your energy to your surroundings
Claim
your place, be a mover and shaker of this world
We’re
not a lost generation
We’re
a generation landed with ramshackle structures
This
is no time for stupefaction, it’s a time to destroy and rebuild
Motivation
destruction inspiration construction
Come
on, my boy, we’ll make a man of you yet
Me,
an anarchist?
No
way, my friend, you’re quite mistaken
I’m
an alchemist, which is altogether something else
I
transform the rotten human heart into something palatable
Capitalism
and Communism into something else not yet invented
Compulsory
moral values into something not yet invented
The
whole human race into something not yet invented
Sublimation
of everything into something other
Than
the systematic destruction of everything
This
is no mean claim
Anarchy
exists, is necessary for change, but never lasts long
Soon
people are killing each other and someone then takes control
Anarchy
is not enough, we must have alchemy
That’s
why I’m an alchemist
Without
hell, no heaven
Without
the devil, no God
Without
mediocrity, no excellence
Without
death, no life
Without
darkness, no light
Without
unhappiness, no happiness
Without
immorality, no morality
Without
mortality, no immortality
Without
perversion, no purity
Without
evil, no good
Evil
is therefore essential
Long
live evil!
In
a world of competition I’ve learned my lesson well
Out
of my way, punk, or you’ll get what the others got
You
can judge me, destroy me, condemn me
But
you’ll have that on your conscience
Take
advantage of the situation, strike, kill, step into your victim’s shoes
Even
when you revel in it, we call this climbing the ladder
You
get there with motivation but mainly with a good kick up the arse
The
best killers are those who get to the top
Pope,
King, President, Prime Minister, Minister
Swanning
around in limos when they don’t have their private jets
Lesser
weasels have waded through shoals of shit to get where they are
You’ll
find them heading companies, organisations, financial and educational
institutions
We
don’t get to the top by accident, integrity would kill us
Everywhere
I follow the social pattern
I
strike and I kill
The
other day, looking the harmless tourist, I was strolling by Buckingham Palace
I
looked at the flowers, although it was dark,
not
knowing if the Queen could see me from her royal window
Unluckily
for me I had a weapon but we should be allowed to defend ourselves,
even
against the Queen
They
trained their guns on me, all round me the click of their catches
I
went on examining the flowers, though fully aware of the threat
Lights
blazed, loudspeakers began to bellow
Puzzled
and panicked, I took out my weapon, held it up under the lights
They
stepped back, their guns clicking again (the first time being only a warning)
They
all took a look at my weapon: a harmless tourist’s camera
-
You bunch of idiots, I was looking at the flowers!
Yesterday,
having nothing to eat and nowhere to go, I went to look for a job
I
found the three tallest buildings in town, the ones over fifty floors
The
first one said Bank of something or other
-Good
morning, I’ve seen your wonderful premises,
the
thousands of jobs you have, so here I am
«But,
my boy, we’re serious here, we work hard»
-Oh?
And what do you do? I’m hungry and I need a place to sleep
«Well,
we manage everyone’s money and deal with economics»
-Do
people need all this to have their money managed and their economics dealt
with?
«Get
out, you ignorant fool, you don’t understand how modern businesses work!»
The
second huge building was called something like Mutual Life
«Here
we sell insurance, pensions, Treasury benefits, formalities galore»
-But
what you’re selling is wind! And you charge a fortune for that?
«Wind,
is it? Insolent upstart! Our services are all essential and legally ratified,
The
papers drawn up by the best professionals, it’s a lot of hard work!
There
are 25,000 people working in this building!»
-
What? 25,000 professionals with nice fat salaries for filling and filing forms?
«Get
out, young innocent, get wise to the real world,
the
great big serious world of modern business»
The
third huge building was filled to the brim with lawyers,
spilling
out of the top-floor windows
-I
want a lawyer at once to help me understand my rights and liberties in these
companies
«And
how much money do you have, young man?»
-One
dollar, look how lovely the Queen is on my dollar
«Get
out, you cheeky young fool, you’d need 500,000 of those dollars to hire a
lawyer
And
even at that price he’d be crooked!»
Poor
innocent that I am, I must have missed the boat
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
Stop Puking
All Over Me
Fine by me going out with you
Fine by me drinking half the bar with you
Fine by me making dangerous love with various objects
tearing my insides
Fine by me exchanging our sighs and saliva till we
choke on our own CO2
No problem piercing genital organs with rings
Bring me your instruments of torture, your whips, your
leather gear, your wedding dresses
Hard drugs too, you know I love you, I’d do anything
for you, even die of an overdose
If you rape me like an animal I don’t mind
Introduce me to Satanism, the Black Mass with animal
sacrifice, that’s still fine
Throw me out on the street for three days, then take
me back, that’s OK
I’m happy to go to those places where they swap
partners
And watch illegal porno films where people do
unbelievable, unimaginable things
The hell you offer me I accept as paradise
If you want me to piss in your mouth or shit on your
face, I’m still up for it
But please, please, please, stop puking all over me
God Loves Me
Quickly, quickly, I went down the stairs of a dark
sleazy club in New York
Someone injected me with something which brought me
straight back to the surface
Even higher than the surface, I travelled through
space
Angels surrounded me, like countless embodiments of
the Virgin Mary
How wonderful I felt!
Absolute fulfilment which only the truly spiritual can
reach
I found myself face to face with God
God said to me:
I love you!
It hit me like a huge gust of fresh air, I stayed
stunned by it
Back on earth I took a plane to see my friends and
tell them the good news:
God loves me!
They called the police and I found myself in a
psychiatric
hospital where I stayed for several days
I went through a cure of total detox (although they
prescribed other drugs for me)
Now I see clearly:
God doesn’t love me!
My Life Is
Ruled By Sex
…and the same thing the next day
Whether it’s the tube to Piccadilly Circus or the
subway to Washington Square
I’ve only got one destination: Soho
I go to the village, go into a pub or a club
Parade my spare-time English, my sad little eyes, my
innocent face,
looking all round me at once!
And it’s going on in every direction, all sides, I
must learn to control myself
Then suddenly someone looks at me, this is the green
light
In less than a second there I am there
So you live with your parents? You’re a Catholic?
No, no, what am I saying…:
You want to come to my place?
And there we make love like a storm unleashed from the
sky
We kiss each other all over, lick, devour, masturbate,
cry out and come
Afterwards we lie back, neither of us asks any
questions, we part
And the same thing the next day…
Poor Little
Thing
He’s got new shoes, poor little thing
He lives with his parents, poor little thing
He goes to the University of Toronto, poor little
thing
He’s got a career in front of him, poor little thing
He’s got a good job now, poor little thing
He’s saving thousands of dollars, poor little thing
Soon he’ll buy a house, poor little thing
He’s got a beautiful blonde on his arm, poor little
thing
He’ll have children, poor little thing
He’ll have a condo in Florida, poor little thing
He’ll have a whole apartment block in the centre of
Toronto, poor little thing
He’ll be rich, his fortune amassing over the years,
poor little thing
But he’ll be unhappy, poor little thing
None of his dreams coming true, poor little thing
At fifty he’ll go through his menopause, poor little
thing
He won’t understand, he’ll have regrets, be remorseful,
poor little thing
His uneventful past will resurface, he’ll find plenty
to be sorry about, poor little thing
He’ll need help and drugs, poor little thing
Then cancer will carry him off, poor little thing
Poor little thing
My Head’s
About to Explode
This morning, in the next hour, this is what I should
do:
My tax returns
A CV and some job applications
Answer letters, pay bills
Deal with demands from my bank about my overdraft
Find some money and something to eat
Find somewhere to live, I’m being evicted in two days
Find the love of my life, I’m in despair
My head’s about to explode
In fact, what I have to do this morning is this:
Sell some of my non-essential belongings
Buy an airline ticket for who cares where
Take a look at what’s left then: nothing
Start all over again
My head’s about to explode!
In fact what I really have to do this morning is much
simpler:
Go to sleep and never wake up again
I Pissed on
the Sorbonne
The bells of the Sorbonne are ringing
It’s the day I wrecked my whole course
The day I abandoned it all
And then got completely rat-arsed
On wine like a real old wino
I burnt all my papers
Junked all my notes
I ran through the streets
Saint-Germain, Saint-Michel
To the Place de la Sorbonne, came to a halt
I unzipped, I pissed
Yes, I pissed on the Sorbonne, but that’s nothing, I
should have shat on it
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
He holds me with his shaking hands, asks me for a kiss
We sit on a balcony overlooking Central Park
He falls asleep with his head on my stomach, listening
to it rumble
Oh my dear sugar daddy, where would I be without you?
In the street, where I spend all my time
You feed me, listen to me, appreciate me
You see in me what no one else can see
In your eyes I’m master of everything
The world belongs to me, I just have to reach out my
hand
According to you I’m intelligent, handsome, a part of
this world
He watches me as best he can, gets me to sign bills
for him
I drive him wherever he wants in his Mercedes,
go with him to concerts, the theatre, five-star
restaurants
He feels he can never do enough for me, is afraid I’ll
disappear without warning
He swears absolute fidelity, keeps me company every
minute of my life
He gives me affection, shares his cat’s affection with
me too
He takes me to his holiday home in Connecticut, his
condo in Fort Lauderdale
Opens his bar to me, goes with me through the
wonderful throes of alcohol
He takes me by the arm, I support him as he walks
He really loves me and I love him in return
He talks about his will, but I don’t want to hear
about it
Head waiters smile at our entrance, but I ignore them
I’m travelling first class now, when I used to hang
around street corners
Our friends are all worthwhile people, cultured and
civilised
I help him to dress, he helps me to undress
He likes to see me asleep and naked in his bed, he
watches over me
He washes me, nothing in the world gives him more
pleasure,
he thinks I have «a magnificent dick»
He knows how to thank me in his own way, opens the
doors of the world to me
He’s the only person who thinks I’m someone
I love falling asleep in his arms
He’s my only father
Vaginaphobia
I see her coming a long way off, give her a big,
embarrassed smile
Her eyes insist, but I’m still shy
She takes the initiative, buys me a glass of wine
And we talk about a thousand and one things, music,
poetry, the eternal flame
She lives in the West End, carries me in off in her
BMW, even opens the door for me
She invites me to a restaurant in a hotel in Baker
Street
I’m the only one listening to the pianist playing
Brahms in the background
She tells me she’s rich and successful, socially and
otherwise
She becomes more insistent, I more uncomfortable
When she shows her legs I feel a wave of nausea
Finally she puts her hand on me, asks me up to her
room
I go up with her, we make ourselves at home, I’ve had
several glasses of wine
She undresses me slowly, so far so good
She puts my penis in her mouth, so far I’m still
breathing
She puts her finger up my arse, then licks it, I’m
very impressed
But then she insists that I take off her skirt
Where’s the emergency exit?
I take off her shirt, her tie, her waistcoat and her
skirt
There she is naked in front of me, a big lump, her
cunt prominent
My friend, it’s time to take flight!
I’m Your Leader
I head a new Anarchist movement, proclaiming the
advent of a new Christ
In other words, me
I gather together those who are sickened by life
Those who can no longer bear the weight of rules and
laws
Who no longer want to hear what they must or must not
do
Who have had enough of living by the precepts of other
people
I’m your leader
Through me we’ll make them listen to reason
We’ll destroy their way of thinking and ruling
We’ll rethink the world
I’ve come to this world to clean up the Capitalist
system
I’ve come to this world to call everything into
question
You’re going to hear us
You’re going to stop in your tracks
You’re going to think about what you’re doing
You’re going to see that I’m right
I’m Unreachable
Who am I? A name on an endless list
Where am I? In West 9, Fourteenth arrondissemnt,
88th Street uptown, Church Street downtown
How am I really living, what am I really saying?
How do you find me, talk to me, tell me your problems?
How to sit down with me and listen before you start
judging me?
Words on a page, we know what they’re worth
I’m no one and everyone at the same time
I’m just a vague shape but I walk with you every day
Turn your head and you’ll see me
I’m your innate unconscious
I tell you what you want to hear
The life you’d like to live without ever admitting it,
especially to other people
Perhaps you don’t dream enough
Achieving nothing fit to be recorded in the
balance-sheet of a passionate life
Could you die today and say: everything’s been
achieved,
I can die happy, I’ve done what I set out to do,
What I burned to do from the very core of my being?
Who am I? Who am I?
Do I really exist and where do I really want to be?
I’m
Irresponsible
I can’t hold down a job
It’s impossible for me to sit still
I suck people’s blood till I’ve bled them dry
I always manage somehow to take a plane somewhere
I footle about all day
Look for affection on street corners
Spend all the money which has the misfortune to find
its way into my pockets
I despise everybody without exception
I despise everything without exception
Life has no meaning for me
I celebrate death in my free time
Drink alcohol the way you drink water
Smoke something some countries forbid
Do worse than that, but I know when to shut up
I’m irresponsible
But I live life to the full
My Mea Culpa
Must we pay for our mistakes?
Can we be forgiven a life of misery?
Where do I go for a refund?
I want to take back this life which I don’t remember
asking for
I’ve lost it in trying as best I could to make it
liveable
Nothing works, I promise you
Always and everywhere unlucky
I pay all the time for the least of my actions
Will you forgive me the hell I’ve made of my life?
Will you understand it’s better than the hell you’ve
prepared for me?
I was born sick, seriously so
I’m in no way responsible for my destiny
Couldn’t sit happily in my own skin
Nothing could have kept me alive if I’d had to work a
nine to five day
Hear my will, while there’s still time
I leave you the guilt of my existence
Stuff it up your arse
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
My Devolution,
My Revolution
The more I go forward, the more I get bogged down
The evolution of the human race must be following the
same path
An evolution in reverse
Going in the opposite direction to the one it should
normally take
But hang on a moment
Which direction should we be going in to make it
evolution?
Up or down, where’s up, where’s down?
Can we help getting bogged down when everything
directs us to death?
An evolution in reverse, if such it can be called, is
still evolution
Evolution has so many implications, the getting of
knowledge
Personal experiences unknown to those who think them
evil
I know more than that about life, see much further
Don’t we have to descend into hell to find wisdom?
My devolution, my revolution
Throw Me Away
After Use
I’m non-returnable, even if it’s against the law
Can’t be recycled, the machine wouldn’t know what to
do with me
All I’m fit for is burial in some remote spot
Where I’ll be forgotten far from any organized society
I only knew how to lose myself every which way in its
dregs
I thought I could reach the heights by going in by the
back door
But I despised those heights too much
I’m worthless, I’m nothing
I reject as a matter of course whatever could make me
valuable
Whatever could make something of me
My mind can’t accept any sort of label
I do talk, but no one ever listens to me
No one has ever listened to me
Because no one ever listens to anyone
All they’ve done is to watch me, interpret me from
afar
My life is only just beginning but already I’ve drawn
up a balance sheet
Have I lived too much in so short a time?
And what use is living too much, I’ve had nothing out
of it
Sometimes someone takes me, swallows me, appreciates
me for a fraction of a second
Then they’ve had enough, spit me out again
I’m worthless, I’m nothing
Life isn’t worth the effort of living
Come on, come in and share my hell
I’m at home here in the warm
It’s comforting when it’s cold outside and in
Sorry there’s nothing left to eat, that’s one of the
joys of my hell
It keeps me alert, seeing human misery quite clearly
There’s plenty to drink, though, a bottle of French
wine tonight:
La Vieille Ferme, Côtes du Ventoux
My survival depends on drink more than on food
I’m going out tonight, come with me
We’ll listen to a rhythm wild enough to wake up your
heart
Make it beat at the right speed to lift you outside
the walls of your life
I’m going to meet someone who’ll show me a new
universe
You too can share it
Hear life being discussed, people existing
Revealing all their secrets to complete strangers
Because I’m a complete stranger, more to my family
than to all those unknowns that I meet
Step into my hell
Once you come to understand it, perhaps it won’t be
hell any more
But you won’t come to understand it
Just as I won’t come to understand you
Must we for that reason try to wipe out one another?
There never was a war without loss of life
I’ve got nothing to lose, you’ve got nothing to gain
If there must be a fight, I’ll fight
If you want war, I’ll wage it
If I have to kill you, I’ll kill you
I’ve got nothing to lose, you’ve got nothing to gain
Step into my hell…
Come With Me
and I’ll Show You the World
You’re so handsome, so young and not yet disillusioned
with life
You admire me, think I’ve done everything you’ll never
dare to do
Here’s Church Street, Woody’s, Boot’s, John, George
and Henry
It’s not a bad beginning but let’s go further south
Here’s Greenwich Village, the Crow Bar, Splash, John,
George and Henry
Have a cigarette, have a beer, we’ll go back in a taxi
Here’s Old Compton Street, Soho village, Popstarz,
John, George and Henry
Smoke this joint, let that melt in your mouth, sniff
this, undress
Here’s the Marais, the subway, the Queen, Jeannette,
Georgette and Henrietta
There you are, now you know about the world
Don’t expect to find anyone better than me
Because you’ll only find everywhere John, George and
Henry or various versions of them
Is it My Fault if I Don’t Get
a Hard On?
How
did you get to be so cold?
Slow
and uninterested at first, then suddenly passionate
No
communication, meetings arranged through a go-between
Me
torturing myself all day because we’d said nothing about the night
Forget
the candlelit dinner, romance and flowers
Was
there any desire? What did you do to fan the flame?
We
screwed each other without human warmth
Then
we had to get drunk to do it
I
did my best in the circumstances, three joints before bed, but to no effect
Two
people in my bed at the same time, I don’t even recognise myself
But
if the person I fancy decides to leave us together...
Then
all I see in you is that first impression you gave me,
how
can you expect me to get a hard on?
Bring
back the third person and maybe we’ll make it
You
brought him back, we made it, but at what price?
You
think you don’t excite me
You
think only the love of your life excites me
I’ve
introduced jealousy into your relationship
Destruction,
that’s my passion
But
it’s only with you that I don’t get a hard on
It’s
not my fault and it’s not down to drugs!
Leave
and go anywhere else
London,
Paris, New York, Toronto
When
everything’s going wrong
When
people don’t understand each other
When
you don’t look straight at me but glance to right or left
When
your parents try to convince me I’ve got the wrong number so that I can’t reach
you
When
my social life is truly bankrupt because my studies take precedence
When
shame, guilt and even nostalgia are killing me
Let’s
sprinkle it all with whisky, Canadian Club, and make our sign of the cross
Flee,
flee, flee!
As
soon as anyone criticises me, no matter what for
Looking
on me as less than nothing (which is entirely true)
Taking
me for an idiot to be exploited all the way and back
Abusing
me as much as they can and may, even within the law
You
can trample all over me, spit in my face and finish me off altogether
I’ve
still got the option of flight
Flee,
flee, flee!
When
the brain stops responding to the body
When
my IQ goes up (against nature) by a notch
When
I start to act like an idiot, talking to myself or crying in the dark
My
only solution, utter forgetfulness, complete renewal, rebirth
Flee,
flee, flee!
I
want to do it without causing trouble or sorrow
My
family have long since forgotten me, how could they feel the impact of the
shot?
I
want to make sure that no one ever finds me
Spare
myself a funeral, the fire and the urn
Leap
into the ether and never come down again
Bury
myself in the earth and never come up for air
Sink
to the bottom of the sea and never resurface
Travel
through infinite space without arriving anywhere
Become
utter nothingness, with no remains in refrigerators or elsewhere
Burn
up everything I’ve touched, even my own ashes
Be
sublimated into energy which will lose itself among the stars
I’ve
got to stop myself from thinking, finish myself off for good, not
half-heartedly
Stop
all the torment and wild fantasies
Blow
all the circuits of memory capable of retaining any token of my presence on
earth
I
have no pity for anyone, least of all for myself
Forgive
me! I wanted nothing more than to live!
But
living is impossible...
Your Flowers Smell Like
Christ Decomposing!
You
waited patiently for the deadly boring workday to come to an end
You
walked quickly, at random, to wherever I might be
I
was with someone else but willing to free myself for you
Doubtlessly
thinking I was French
You’d
bought red wine, baguettes and some weird, smelly blue cheese
Miserable
cow, I’ve got nothing to do with France
France
threw me out, I can’t legally live there
You
see? I speak English now and I’m proud of it!
Where
do I come from? Nowhere
You
persisted, airing all the romantic ideas you’d amassed
You
were wondering how to improve your behaviour, temperament, manners
Talk
about love, complicated friendship, perhaps the start of a love affair,
fidelity
You
know very well I was stuck where I was
You
didn’t even mention the marriage or the arrangements for divorce
Then,
when you produced your flowers smelling like Christ decomposing, it was too
much
Go
on, pack up your goods and get out of my life
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
That’s
what you said to me the first time I kissed your neck
I
took you in my arms and you told me I was nice and sweet and all
Then
you rejected me: You’re so sweet, but . . .
All
the same, next day you learned more about me and we talked about your hometown,
Seattle
You
saw a sensitive soul, wearing his heart on his sleeve (old, outmoded English
phrase)
A
soul so pure and sweet that no one reading these lines could understand the
paradox
That
night you lit candles, put on some hackneyed classical music which everybody
knows
I
was hardly dressed but played the innocent who doesn’t know what effect he’s
having
I
went out for a moment but came back for a cigarette
You
were dressed strangely for the night, very exciting
I
came close to pouncing on you and raping you there and then
But
I stopped myself, to be sure of being able to see you one more time
Then,
when you threw me out, you made the mistake of giving me one last kiss for the
night
At
once I got a hard-on and we both got carried away
You
asked me to put out the candles so as to hide your old body
You
made love like someone rediscovering his joie de vivre, the happiness of
existence
You
gave me more warmth and energy than I would ever have thought possible
You
confessed that the age difference between us had caused a psychological block
(But
no, I’m of age, you won’t go to prison, don’t worry)
Thirty-one
isn’t old, you know
You’re
capable of such tenderness, such wonders
In
fact you’re the one who’s so sweet and that’s unforgettable
I Go from One Extreme to the
Other
As
with everything in this world, there’s no happy medium
Everything
goes right or everything goes wrong
And
my reactions are extreme
Either
I’m having such a good time that I could die of happiness
(Sometimes
just watching the movement of a snail)
Or
I want to die drowned in drink
(sometimes
just seeing a snail crushed at the side of the road)
I’ll
draw down the moon for you or I’ll cut off your head and bury you
I’m
on a strict diet or eating to bursting point like a pig
I’ll
dance at the edge of the cliff but sometimes I need a darkened room,
hermetically sealed
I
insult people and lose all my friends or I shower them with more flowers than
they can bear
I
get through a task by working on it twenty-four hours a day or I do nothing at
all
I’m
an extremist
As
with everything in this world, there’s no happy medium
Everything
goes right or everything goes wrong
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
The Meat Between a Woman’s Legs
Yes, someone told me about it, I know it exists
It seems it has a strange colour and texture, an
aphrodisiac scent
I’ve discussed it at length with priests
Advertising agencies and business men
In high-minded purely intellectual conversations
It’s an interesting concept, a marketable product
We should draw up a strategy, avoid all pitfalls
Sell it fairly expensively but target the right
consumers
It’s a good marketing ploy, a gilt-edged industry
Yes, I have to admit it has certain undeniable
qualities
From the moment when . . .
You’re worth nothing any more and it’s written in the
stars
That you’ve failed at everything and have no future
That everyone’s rejected you, parents and the love of
your life
That you’ve got no more food and it’s only by a
miracle that you’ve survived this long
That you’re lost at five o’clock in the morning in the
middle of some strange town with nowhere to sleep
Then real life begins
The life where you have no more hang-ups, no more
shame
No morality, no outmoded values
Not answerable to anyone
Then I indulge myself to death
I make my base in London
I go out, drink, smoke, take drugs, and rave the night
away
And when I’m lost in the Underground on my way to the
centre of town, I’m ecstatic!
I revel in my total freedom
I’m so far away from all those people who say things
should be this way and not that
I’m far away from the ones who live in the past and
have no hope in the future, without even taking a look at the present
Ah well, as for me, I’ve never lived as much as I do
in the present
From the moment when everything you’ve ever known no
longer exists, life begins
We’ve been head over heels in love for four years
We don’t understand each other any more but try to be
faithful
We cook ourselves nice little dinners
Broccoli soup with cream, charlottes with maple syrup
We sleep together in a queen-size bed, hardly ever
snore
We go together to the cinema, go shopping together
Everyone knows about our relationship and accepts it
gladly
Life couldn’t be sweeter
But . . . where did we meet?
What no one knows is that we met in the bog at a bar
in town
There’s nothing more romantic
A dark room filled with smoke at about two o’clock in
the morning
I’d just arrived, was already drunk
I’d been smoking something dodgy, couldn’t see very
well
You gave me a lift home saying perhaps we’d see each
other again at the end of term
I gave you the wrong phone number
You gave me crabs in the first month of our
relationship
And now today that love is dead
All that’s left in my head are the worst moments
For a long time I wished you dead
Every year you left me in the lurch to look around
elsewhere
The little friends you slept with would come and ring
our doorbell
You’re a complete slut
Today I feel free beyond description
Love is sweet . . .
I lay there in silence
Blood dripping on the ground
I didn’t see your gun
I’m dying for you
You’ve never understood anything
Unknown in the big city
Lost for days on end without seeing you
Waiting for you in Ottawa or in Paris
Where were you then when I was still alive?
I’m lying here in silence
Listening to myself die
My gun in the bracken
I’m dying for you
I’ve never understood anything
Unknown in the big city
Lost for days on end seeing you in my dreams
Waiting for you in Prague or in Texas
So where are you now that I’m dead?
I’m lying here in silence
Listening to you die
Whose gun was it?
You’re dying for me
We’ve never understood anything
Unknown in big cities
Lost for days on end without seeing each other
Waiting for each other in Toronto or in London
Where are we now that we’re dead?
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
Oh God!
They were all born in their own little world
They all interpreted your existence according to their
own ideas
They all wrote their own bible and believed in it
They all thought they knew everything
They all thought they were right
They all waged war to impose their own ideas
They all killed in your name
Oh God!
Did you want so many nations and such wretchedness?
So many births and deaths?
Can pardon, absolution, ever come from all this hell?
We’re born, we die, just where we are
Freedom of thought has never motivated us
We all have our own laws, our own ways of doing things
They all waged war for their own ends
They all killed in your name
Oh God!
Didn’t you want us to convert our enemy?
Didn’t you want us to understand our enemy?
Didn’t you want us to help our enemy?
Didn’t you want us to love our enemy even if he kills
us?
They all waged war
They all killed in your name
They’re all guilty
You probably wanted anarchy on earth?
Anarchy is being aware in ourselves that something
else exists
Anarchy is thinking differently from the rest of the
world
Anarchy is ridding ourselves of everything foreign to
our desires
Anarchy is doing what we’ve always wanted to do
Anarchy is something within ourselves
Anarchy has nothing to do with anyone else
Anarchy isn’t fighting or destroying our own kind
Anarchy isn’t demonstrating in the street to denounce
this or that
Anarchy is a revolution within
It’s the awareness that something else exists
It’s an existence that depends on no one else
It’s an intrinsic freedom guiding us towards happiness
and joy
Anarchy isn’t political
Anarchy isn’t racist or discriminatory
Anarchy bears no ill will to anyone
Anarchy is questioning everything again and again
It’s being above the things of this world
It’s the quest for a reason for living
It’s doing whatever makes us happy
In a world where it’s impossible to be happy
Anarchy is a revolution of the mind
Anarchy is a feeling of freedom
In a world where there is no freedom
And that’s very powerful!
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
You think you know everything
You analyse my every move
You give me marks out of ten
I don’t give a toss
I’m above all that because I haven’t yet achieved
great things
I live purely by necessity
Survive purely by instinct
If you’re not happy, go fuck yourself
You’ve learned everything, know everything
You know what’s good and what’s bad
You have preconceived ideas as to what I should or
shouldn’t do
You think you could do better
Come on, then, let’s have a laugh at your shortcomings
You’re still something better than I am?
All the more reason to challenge and contradict you
I don’t give a fuck about you!
You’re looking at me
I’m not listening
You attract my attention
Your head’s in the clouds!
I reply
No, no, my head’s not in the clouds
You watch me
I’m somewhere else
You panic
You’re head’s in the clouds!
I reply
No, no, my head’s not in the clouds
You spy on me
You’re infuriated
You yell
You’re head’s in the clouds!
I reply
No, no, my head’s not in the clouds
I’m much further away than the clouds
I saw light on the horizon
Got out of my boat to hear more clearly
Flew as far as the mountain
A wave filled the sky
Seductive music charmed me
In that light I saw
Sound travel over the fields
Flying with bats over the canal
Waves filled the sky
And I understood
All the answers were there on the horizon
In the smallest details in front of my eyes
Light, sound, waves
I flew all over the sky
With the eagle eyes of the illuminated
If I were a woman, I’d be beautiful
If I were a woman, I’d be slim
If I were a woman, I’d be clever
If I were a woman, I’d be an engineer
If I were a woman, I’d build a tower reaching up into
space
If I were a woman, I’d have 16 children who’d all be
engineers
If I were a woman, I’d understand everything happening
around me
If I were woman, I’d embrace human rights, the poor,
the orphaned
If I were a woman, I’d be president of the company
If I were a woman, I’d be Joan of Arc
If I were a woman, I’d be secretary-general of the
United Nations
But since I’m not a woman
I’m going to fall asleep in front of the telly with my
beer
If I Were President of the United States
If I were President of the United States, I’d speak in
the name of God
If I were President of the United States, I’d be a
diehard Christian
If I were President of the United States, I’d speak in
the name of family values
If I were President of the United States, I’d be
heedful of my duty and good
If I were President of the United States, I’d be firm
and ruthless
If I were President of the United States, I’d joyfully
love everyone
If I were President of the United States, I’d kill the
terrorist enemy
If I were President of the United States, I’d be old
and wise
If I were President of the United States, I’d be rich
as Croesus
If I were President of the United States, I’d build up
a strong army
If I were President of the United States, I’d develop
an infallible defence system
If I were President of the United States, I’d rule the
world
If I were President of the United States, I’d be pure
If I were President of the United States, I’d be
perfect
If I were President of the United States, I’d be the
most powerful man ever
But since I’m not President of the United States,
I’m going to the bog to wipe my bum
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
If I were God, I’d have created you, you miserable
animal
If I were God, I’d know what was going on in your
underdeveloped brain
If I were God, I’d laugh at your petty power of
authority
If I were God, your shortcomings would make me laugh
If I were God, it wouldn’t interest me how pure you
were
If I were God and you a delinquent in the making, I’d
take an interest in you
If I were God, all your laws and social niceties would
be meaningless to me
If I were God, I’d delight in watching you destroy
yourself
If I were God, I wouldn’t listen to your self-serving
prayers
If I were God, one genocidal act more or less wouldn’t
mean the end of the world
If I were God, I’d know just how wretched you were in
all your apparent greatness
If I were God, your life would be futile
If I were God, your death would be futile
If I were God, only my overall plan would count for
anything
If I were God, only what I’d foreseen for humanity
would count
If I were God, only the final reckoning after the
death of humanity would count
And since I am God
I’m going to write your story
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
Forgive me God for I have sinned
I thought in my madness that I could save the world
I thought I could make a difference
I thought I had the power to change things
They deported me
They put me in prison
They stripped me of all the rights I’d been granted
They stripped me of all the hope I’d built up for
myself
I deserve it
I was deaf
I was blind
I wasn’t up to it
Now I’m silent
Now I’m invisible
Now I’m dead
Is that what you want?
Now there can be no pardon
No possible understanding
No magic vision
In my mind you’re dead
Oh God, how your logic put us in the wrong
How your will fails to move us
How your wisdom is unknown to us
My sentence is that of humanity
We’ve all sinned
We’ve all thought we could save the world
We’ve all thought we could make a difference
We’ve all thought we had the power to change things
We all deserve death
A tortured soul like mine
That has lost its direction
On the right road to happiness
That’s complete madness
I take all souls with me in my torment
In an endless madness at the brink of day
All the outmoded constructions
Which existed only in my imagination
Oh God . . .
I see things
I hear things
Beyond my understanding
Save me!
I’m at the beginning of time
I’m at the end of time
I’m infinite
Madness has got hold of my poor soul
I’ve gone crazy
Hear my prayer!
It’s as infinite as space
But in this universe I’m all-powerful
I control the capabilities of everything
I see beyond the horizon
The nightmare of my existence
I’m no longer myself
I never was myself
I’ll never be myself
Complete madness
Oh yes, some nights I turn around
And realise I’m alone in this space
That there’s no way in or out that can lead me to
anyone else
I’m alone in the world
I think about what’s going on in the starry sky
I’m trying to understand the reality around me
I work on my own ideas, my own ideals
I know that the rest of the world exists only in my
imagination
This is my life, what’s in my mind
With trees and the camp fire
Nothing else exists
Nothing to poison my existence
I manage to forget you
I manage to forget that somewhere office blocks exist
Towns and their inhabitants
Duties and responsibilities
I find myself alone with my ideas
My theory of the universe
My home-made philosophy
My fate and my happiness
I’m leaving alone for space on my asteroid
I’m going out of the solar system
I’m exploring other galaxies
I’m alone in the world
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
I’m Going to Find Myself a Whore
Beautiful slave of this world
Preferably blonde
Not too old
Between twelve and fifteen
A virgin if possible
Wearing high heels
Already in a mess
And dependent on hard drugs
Don’t you dream too?
Have an extraordinary longing to get out of your rut?
A destiny to fulfil?
A desire to change the world?
Well then you’ve found me
I’m your whore
Beautiful slave of this world
Still a virgin
I’m a surprise
A romantic dinner before screwing
Candles burning all night long
Fireworks blowing up in your face
I’m going to find myself a whore
She’ll be dark
She’ll be old
She’ll be dirty
You’ve found me
I’m your whore
Beautiful slave of this world
In a firework display blowing up in your face
One day I woke up crazy
The way you are now
My only solution is this anarchy
They tried to lock me up for some time
Time for me to recover my spirits
Time for me to understand that life is a game
Time to understand we must always throw the dice
Time to understand we must accept hell
Pretend to enjoy it and smile at life
One day you’ll all be crazy
The way I am now
Your only solution will be medical help
They’ll lock you up for some time
Time for you to recover your spirits
Time for you to understand that life is a game
Time to understand we must always throw the dice
Time to understand we must accept hell
Pretend to enjoy it and smile at life.
Something Tells Me That This Time . . .
This time when they ask you to come to the centre of
London
You won’t go looking shy and submissive
This time when they ask you into the office
You won’t be feeling afraid and anxious
This time when they tell you you’re incompetent
You won’t come up with some silly excuse
This time when they show you their fabricated evidence
You won’t be sick and discouraged
This time when they lie to you through their teeth
You won’t play their game and start lying yourself
This time when they let you know their unjust decision
You’ll take charge at last and tell them to go to hell
Something tells me that this time . . .
You won’t be manipulated by them
You won’t let them walk all over you
Their lies will have no effect on you
You won’t go home defeated
You won’t spend three days bewailing your lot
You won’t sink into permanent depression
You won’t start taking drugs to forget your problems
Something tells me that this time . . .
You’ll be a different man
You’ll be strong
You’ll stop wanting to forget your problems
You’ll take yourself in hand and stop the useless
struggle
You’ll face up to your existence
You’ll move on to other things
And then you’ll be born again
Back to the Top Back to the Summary
The phone rings, it’s my drinking buddy from
Manchester
He asks me to go with him again to Camden Palace and
get rat-arsed
One pint, two pints
New Order are playing
And suddenly the world belongs to us
We dream about being rich, leaving for Los Angeles
To forget that we’re poor and looking for work
Again we talk about starting our own business
It’ll be called The Crowned Anarchist plc, a nicely
provocative name
It’ll make millions and be quoted on the stock
exchange
Three pints, four pints
We’re doing justice to English pubs
Our capitalist side never really disappears
What we’re looking for above all is our independence
We’ll succeed at something, though we don’t know what
And at once we’re the brightest and most brilliant
people of our generation
Five pints, six pints
Reality suddenly hits us
We’re nothing and we’ll never be anything
We can’t take risks and throw ourselves into crazy
enterprises
You have to be mad to set up a business, only lunatics
succeed
Seven pints, eight pints
We’re well into a coma
The whole world is mad, lunatics all of them!
What are we doing in this world?
Nine pints, ten pints
We vomit all over the toilets of Camden Palace
The two of us fall asleep at the bar
All our dreams wiped out by our natural functions
Compared to the American Dream, the British Dream is
lovely!
One glass of wine too many
That’s why I’ve just been sick on the carpet
But before . . .
I ‘m nineteen
Just arrived in Los Angeles
Ready for anything
Queuing up at the Zombi Bar
To meet anyone there worth meeting
I’m not fussy, sleep with influential men and women
In a world of poverty you take advantage of what’s on
offer
Me, me, me!
Now you’ll see I’m someone of little brain, great
With a good body, great
And an endless will to get all your plans going, great
We’re not in Paris, here you make millions, millions,
millions
And spend it all in as long is it takes to say so
We’re not here for the millions
We’re here to meet the right person
I won’t wipe tables any more
I’ve done too much of that in all the capital cities
of the world
Me, I’m going to be part of the world of the rich and
famous
The fearsome world of Hollywood
I’ll have one hit, two hits, three hits, a flop
Drown my sorrows in alcohol, then drugs
I’ll be forgotten for years
Then resurface one day when someone gives me a break
But I’ll screw up again
Later go into detox
I’ll babble about the Teletubbies
Time for me to hold a gun to my head
But I’ll have succeeded, for just one moment,
To live on another planet
The Following Poem Was Banned in 53 Countries
I woke up one morning needing a fuck
So I decided to take a walk round my grandfather’s
farm
There was a magnificent mare in the stable
A ripe juicy mare
A nice rounded mare like you see in all the best
illegal porn films
I mounted her
Let’s do it!
Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh!
Satisfied at last I went into the henhouse
A nice fat hen full of lard!
Let’s do it, hen!
Yes, yes! Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh
And even then I couldn’t leave my grandfather’s farm
Without taking a peek at the pigsty
Ah my friends!
Two huge nursing sows, you want them? There they are!
Let’s do it, fat sows!
Heigh ho! Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh
Then at the side of the shed
A nice fat cat on heat
Have I still got the energy?
Wah, wah! Wah, hey!
Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh
And just before I left, a little white mouse
Oh no, I told myself, it’s time to go
And This One Was Banned All Over the World
One day I woke up needing a fuck
So I decided to go to a shelter for battered women
[The rest is censored but you can imagine what
happened . . . ]
The army, my girl, is for strong men