Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

At any end of the year, the same game is unfolded. The present year asks if I feel guilty about anything, or if it has to feel guilty about something. Then, it hinted me to keep only the good memories, the rest, it said, — please, put it in on me. Inevitably, it kept on, — I know you learned new things, or at least, some suspicions of yours were confirmed. For a moment, I was surprised when it changed a few words with the new year, which, even if it appeared disguised as a tiny white rabbit, I recognized it by its manner of gazing at me. It was receiving some advice… — the old year said to the new one, — (love her madly). Let her happiness act for you as (your best enemy).

you said something, I said something; questions to responses are whispered; moments are not hidden, but searched; certainly was something it shouldn't be; the consequences are in cupid's realm; a timid game to know me to know you; therefore, — in this spectacular parade of paradox, who's the wolf, who's the black sheep?

Say to the stars how shiny they are. Say to the wind how gentle it is. Say to the dreams in a velvety air to KᵉᵉᵖOⁿKᵉᵉᵖⁱⁿᵍOⁿ so to don't stop no matter what sins will get to you... Hang on! I'll keep on loving you kindly, purely, cheery, immaculate, rousing up the attractiveness to the graceful cote of the miracle of what you are and who you are, indifferently how rarely or often my name will be on your lips...

I'm gonna be home for the holidays. The sweet figurines of chocolate with colorful taste, the candies, and cakes moistened gallantly will aromatize the house with traditional specialties created in my agnostic language to bring the balance in contrast with sacred liqueurs of gods which have the aim to cherish this treasured day as each moment to be manifested in the fluid harmony of music with funny steps gently pirouetted in front of smiles and tender gestures adapted in the special K manner of the event.

Take out from my hair and from wherever the guilty sentiments of yours towards me. You know that candlelight can become sun enough to enlighten the darkest hours. Bring to me the shine of your love and the feelings with all images out of the past. Fairy tales and laughter stirred by blame, incertitude, sleepless nights, passions and an imaginary kiss will heal any obsession. Take out from my hair and from wherever the guilty sentiments of yours towards me. Don’t you remember when I told you that the mystery of the night can be whenever, in the middle of the day or whichever hour? So let’s splash out our love, let's devour it. Let’s be lovers tonight. What do you say?

like a dreamcatcher at the right hours, i've inserted my math in your equation by giving you infinite choices to solve my set of tactics at various frequency some have been brought from the past in minor tones of 69 for 2 of us to sum the actual moment adjacent to a grade with pigment sexual… vibe isotropic… the result obtained was multiplied and divided into the able radical expression of the irrational square root, – ⁽ʸᵒᵘ & ᵐᵉ⁾ at perfectly square function, – ⁽ᵐᵉ & ʸᵒᵘ⁾

with few royal whispers, I've been lured in the majestic castle of your brain, just to have a place where to lose my mind while the venom of your lips gorges me, as later, as a side effect, when inevitably I'll wake up, to have no tendency to ask about what happened, but just to rewind the fancy game of your sinner soul, in me, which with flair... the sun-kissed it... a lot

again the time hasn't any more patience and consigns my thoughts to look for you; again a lot of letters jumped out of images and solitary phrases with immaculate words majestic sculpted to create touches, thrills and playful feelings able to remember me about the aim of our rendezvous incarnated in a place hidden between lines of a song, of a shadow or a gentle light from a photo or colors, tints, and shapes of a painting with tout de suite of characters exposed in the spotlight of some subtle alliances gifted with a voice only to meet you again

Sometimes, when I feel invisible or isolated by those people who I don't even know 'em, I tuck myself into good feelings, then I make from my present a gorgeous party, expressed in percentages of vibrations capable to shake any answer without question and vice-versa. It might sound pretty bookish, but justifies the reason for which I feel powerful & loved, admired, smart, and intuitive, but also, envied by persons who love using their complacency accusing that false tiredness. Hereby, I chose to get transfigured in beauty fiction or poetry, in a song or insistent onomatopoeia, as others to can feel the incantations of a wildish soul. ✴ trrrrr acia, trrrrr ha ha trrrrr voom bam, trrrrr ha ha shalalala... ya ✴

it's Christmas time, pretty baby ;)) happy holidays wherever you are 🎄 (santa claus is back in town)

Imagination is just like facts. It's just as much as reality. It's like an intense, unknowing love. It's as deep, or perhaps even more focused than a shared but not materialized love. A love, which regardless of its form, doesn't waste any twinkle in gestures, or words that can't always be expressed but constantly appears on this day, D13. That's the truest truth… And yes, it's a pleonasm, à la ᵏᴼᵏᴼ more or less………….bad as hell tchin-tchin 🥂

the galaxy rotates in the rhythm of the music for an authentic mood of the dreamer you are, lost and delighted, breathing my love and will, to cut up the shield where I am with your lust; emotions felt, set the joy no matter whenever in a tender blue with a merry Christmas, baby, for love of December is adorned by your thrill wrapped in a little bit of everything traditional 🎄

you are to me, — the winter fête's attire crocheted with the cashmere of the verses' karma of my gray-blue eyes of the muse i am to you to diffuse the satiny sky's scent entwined with holly and ivy in neon moon's sheen at the shadow of a kiss of whichever season… [if anybody asks you]

because your smile seems a glory... box of some dreams have been telegraphed at an odd address from a sarcastic area this area, — staged in splendid art style of the Picasso, in my pocket is wandering with my whispers in your fantasy's colors

I'm breathing deeply to set aside the weight of a stubborn waiting from a demented and static life. Machined in unbearable sweetness, your sagacity erases my delusions, overflowing bit by bit, anew lust on me. Wave upon wave thru wheel of time, you are demanded in my being, using your mirthfully glance full of candor. That's why, I lean my dreams, soothed in the stars' constellation, tenderly to cherish you with their physiognomy.

morning greetings, – coffee, hugs, and ⟮a finer thing⟯; to do is to do nothing but to have confidence and understanding; any chosen path is a good one when can't be found a proper way; so let it be a midday of kisses but take no risk; ⟮love is hard enough without the winter⟯; winter is you... and me... a snowflake one, ⟮inquisitive and playful⟯, gasping ardently, like a whisper to be ⟮summer in your arms⟯

i blindfolded the trees with a green bandana and I told them to find me and the trees found me instantly with a guffaw of leaves i blindfolded the birds with a kerchief of clouds and i told them to find me... and the birds found me with a song... i blindfolded the sadness with a smile... and the sadness found me the next day into a love... i blindfolded the sun with my nights and i told him to find me... and the sun said, — «you're there everywhere, all this time, don't hide anymore.» «don't you hide anymore», said all the things and sentiments which i tried to blindfold 'em.» translation‧‧‧ ©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p'tit je ne sais quoi ‧ chic… à ma façon