Poetic Allusions · Un P'tit Je Ne Sais Quoi

❝ In the wave-strike over unquiet stones the brightness bursts and bears the rose and the ring of water contracts to a cluster to one drop of azure brine that falls. O magnolia radiance breaking in spume, magnetic voyager whose death flowers and returns, eternal a being and nothingness: shattered brine, a dazzling leap of the ocean. Merged, you and I, my love, seal the silence while the sea destroys its continual forms, collapses its turrets of wildness and whiteness, because in the weft of those unseen garments of headlong water, and perpetual sand, we bear the sole, relentless tenderness. ❞

The uncommunicativeness has fabricated the alphabet of silence, composing so the words from sounds, chic combined with mine and yours, plasticized in the inverted commas, because a title can be dotted with dots. When the scheme of the words gets to you, they kiss your lips, haunted in the nuance of a sinless flirt, blown through the murmur of a bizarre thought in the anticipation of some responses to the questions of my soul. Both our opinions palpitate in syllables, read and heard in some dialects written on the staffs with the echo's synesthesia, susurrated in the mirror of the sky, while you're in my mood, exactly as… eu quero, you, sighing out your fixation, elle et moi. “un coin d'une rue une enfant elle très belle très blonde quelque part dans la ville Elle et Moi un jardin tranquille un regard une étreinte un frisson des yeux qui se lèvent une larme qui coule doucement sur sa joue la douceur de ses lèvres Elle et Moi son corps vibre sous mes caresses nos souffle...

in a way known only by me and you, uh, we're going to love each other until the end of the time, and then, forever after, we'll build another realm identical with your soul and mine

The clothes were almost off… of her; Outside, — a tree… too indiscreet spies masterfully with any of its leaves to see her closer, closer… [it got gaped]. Perched, on my enormous easy chair, half nude, she clasped her hands. Her feet were trembling on the floor with that finesse, [a finesse as she is…]. I watched, — a waxed light's ray trapped into a tiny branch outside the window how's butterflying above her mouth, and up, over her breast, so pride and ripened. I kissed her delicately ankles. She held a sweetly brutal laugh which scattered into virgin trills  —  a jolly laugh so crystalline… Her feet hid under her chemise revolted said, — 'please stop it!…' But I laughed at her cries —  I knew she really liked it. Her eye trembled beneath my lips, but they've closed at my touch. Her head went back; she cried: 'Oh, really! That's too much! 'My dear, I'm warning you…' I stopped her protest with a kiss and she laughed, low —  a l...

if you're the shadow of a thought or the thought of some shadow, meowing boundless experiences, stripped in some melodic phrase around the fireplace of a season, set in a frenchy roof's geography, I don't know; (it's a subtle sketch)

by getten to know you, means, — to go in the setting of the soul, to open the folder, — [status], to check off — [the happiness], (and) to set the password, — [love] (anything else can be omitted) 𓇼 by getten to know me, implies, — to carry me daily in your days, to let my eyes' tempo be yours, to choose my time's destination, (and) to let my desires be your satiety [anything else claims patience] 𓇼 but to those who wants to know who am I and you, say to them, — don't try to penetrate through our invincible lupine component; don't dare, don't suppose, never, or our essence will use its shield; [we're passion never translated] 𓇼 y'see, we know people are strange; (try not being the one of those who ...expired before being discovered)

I've let myself drift through the poems of the sea and the blueness of some pianissimo sounds I got in delirium, surfing in their whirl, dreaming to see what you saw through any groggy dream I have shimmered thru all hazes and archipelagos of stars' winter, hid carefully in your celestial eyes so I can feel your touch touching my mystic scent, to sigh to me just a thought, — [i want you badly]

Any ending-year whispers to me, — you're the most beautiful poetry, as so much unreal as you are true, clad in your mysterious air of a manuscript. And yet, like my predecessors, I've got to abdicate now. So keep me in your thoughts to remain that mark of those seconds in your hottest and tendentious priorities. 𓇼 to each one, I whispered, — 𓇼 I'm easier than a thought in your mind and heavier than a dream that you could dream. Take me like a figment dressed in verses, waltzing, then, hold me tight in your arms, purely and intensely, for our love to rise over borders, to be irrevocable and to fulfill concretely our story from one letter to another letter, from one word to another word, from a tune to another tune... and to have butterflies, to feel like I'm flying with all those vibrations wandering throughout the world, through the thoughts, souls and... — we'll collect kisses for dreams, and we'll give meaning to a life-paradise with the passionate shiver of...

I'm gonna love you as you are, — innocent… harmless… and… without too many questions… I'm gonna love you gentle… sophisticated… subtle… and tender… to remember about me until the next time… Are you laughing...? I'm gonna love you as you are... (I need you...) — (for…) (؟?) (for...) (forever…)

here I am, organic, fragile, timid, sought by your wonder-working in the foreplay of heart and soul, with the transparency of a smile at the rendezvous of thoughts in the voyage of music anthology, felt explicit in the vibe of a word, mine and yours, tacit wild thing

I don't want anymore our tempo to be interrupted by some outsiders all I wanna listen to is your very coquetted rustles caressing my eardrums everything else, the others can only dream will happen to them, — (it just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in), — a precious sensation, a yearning climax, next to a furtive smile, — yours, mine, jazzing up in a whispered touch like is today, ᵀᴼDʳᵉᵃᵐAᵇᵒᵘᵗYᵒᵘ‧‧‧

❝ Little rose, rose little one, at times, tiny and naked, it seems as though you would fit in one of my hands, as though I’ll clasp you like this and carry you to my mouth, but suddenly my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips: you have grown, your shoulders rise like two hills, your breasts wander over my breast, my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin a new-moon line of your waist: in love, you have loosened yourself like the seawater: I can scarcely measure the sky’s most spacious eyes and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth..... ❞    

a dreaming whisper, a tender sound, — [my soul sautéed] a few drops of honey, an exotic condiment, — [you bath in my fire] an amalgam of feelings, a hurricane of emotions, — [both overwhelmed] ₘhᵐᵐ‧‧‧ head over heels

«It's part of a sci-fantasy-transmedia fairy tale called, The Everything Nothing. It's about creation, fractured identity, and transcending physical form. Its orchestral tapestry of sound and melody will be worming the way down of your ear canal to the base of your spine through a mesmerizing short video where two soulmates are reunited in a multidimensional plane of existence». It's  Starman 

the winter holiday is here, the house is adorned with apple pie flavor pampered through cinnamon and with brioches smeared in honey filled with the suppleness of the bitter cherries dressed in fine chocolate well sprinkled with the holy myrrh of almond haunted by some gingerbread with a shiny collar of sour cream softened in the essence of orange and lemon exactly as traditional spirit asks and invites disguised among unstable smoked sausages steamed steaks and other goodies wrapped in cabbage and vine leaves spurred with the booze of gods while for the atmosphere to be complete, all got spiced with jokes, dance, and music in the presence of dearest ones even if some of them are near or far, — so have a bon appétit wherever you are, the love is felt... and is reloaded over and over, again, (if anybody asks you...) 🎄

winter holiday is present, waiting for you to hug it with gentleness, with the sweetish soul, with a cheery gaze, with smoothly thought wrapped and hypnotized by love, the vital essence found in each of us, — the one which shaped us from the early beginning … happy holidays! tchin-tchin 🥂 🎄

Right from the morning, the childhood memories received a cool refresh from the snow queen. Jovial flakes rolled out from their crystal castle, a subtly silvery curtain for the child in me. Acolytes posed snow roses adorned with magic, applying me anesthesia with the festivity's effect. Delicately, their beauty surrounded me, to collect the scent of my smile with explicable emotions. Memories smiled at me. I smiled them back. Happy Holidays 🎄🫦

— How tall do you suppose a Christmas tree should be? — Well, I think it should be only adorned. — And then? — Then fill the glasses with a pompous wine. A princely one having the spirit of a gigolo, just enough to be a bit confusing through the scent of those delicious dishes that arouse some ideas along with a corruptible color for waking up contradictory tastes and flavors that invoke the freshness but also provokes you to commit the experienced sweetly sin sufficient to accept lucid and confident your ageless soul, irresistible and full of vigor craving for the special moment of this graceful, merry and divine day similarly like you loved sincerely and passionately using the charm of your spirit on the big wave, traversing the heart of yours, entire year... tchin-tchin🥂 🎄

smooth music…🎧 a sensual ruby wine, robust, having a carnal spirit palpation likened to the burst of cheery laughter calibrated in a pale light which invades the atmosphere of my soul wrapped in subtle veils of desired caresses by you, on my mind, – I, on yours, discussing some discusses, saluting the holiday 🥂 🎄

it's nothing but a blue moon sipped pianissimo with cognac in the abstract of a clepsydra it's nothing but a blue moon not a mentalist or a magician or appearances of some wizard it's nothing but a blue moon with many thoughts, touching each cell sublime until orgasm it's nothing but a blue moon but who's the moon and who's the blue, no one debated it has already been engraved and fulfilled agonistically to fly you to fly me‧‧‧ to the moon

At an end of the world You to the other one I Not talking just listening to a fenced harmonious murmur A silhouette, rising up on Different-Shades-of-Blue I am When-She-Dances the reason you watch me Unbroken, you see me… sweet, like a sin  🫦 tchin-tchin! santé  🥂

— how is, about right now, — (the subject of love‧‧‧) — [the subject of love‧‧‧] is like a shadow of a tiny     silvery-golden light with a blue dusted still — how is, about right now, — (the conversation‧‧‧) — [the conversation‧‧‧] is almost like a silent noise     felt like having the taste of the wild fruits — how is, about right now, — (the emotion‧‧‧) — [the emotion‧‧‧] is like a fluffy cloud     with the scent of winter — how is, about right now, — (the echo‧‧‧) — [the echo‧‧‧] is like a gentle murmur of the whistling — how is, about right now, — (a favorite color‧‧‧) — [a favorite color‧‧‧] is like a delicatessen — how is, about right now, (dear, You‧‧‧) — [dear, You‧‧‧] it's equipped with a delicatessen     of a gentle fluff through a tacit shadow — how is, about right now, (dear, I‧‧‧) — [dear, I‧‧‧] it's composed in the company of a favorite color     with the sound of pleasure in the love's conversation — how is, about right n...

I'm going to surround you, invade you, and caress you fragmented, — phrasing, rounding, and mixing your first mood, whispered and glinted to me jubilantly. °.○ I will travel in your mind with my visions conjugated at past tense in your present. °.○ I'll make you wish to have been born in my moisture aura built with moments from a season with December's scent in endless debates and frisky flirtation and citrus and frost. °.○ I will nourish you with seductive words sculpted with drops of warmth with ice to keep a dual strong flavor, intensely and sharply draped with the tiny tender bites of a ravishing smile smelling of fable and bizarre longing with endless echo in the scent of an untied happiness. °.○ Happiness smells good. Happiness is me smelling of you. I exist in your existence to turn me on, to turn you on and on and on and on...

“ may i feel, said he (i'll squeal, said she just once, said he) it's fun, said she (may i touch, said he how much, said she a lot, said he) why not, said she (let's go, said he not too far, said she what's too far, said he where you are, said she) may i stay, said he (which way, said she like this, said he if you kiss, said she may i move, said he is it love, said she) if you're willing, said he (but you're killing, said she now, said he) oww, said she (tiptop, said he don't stop, said she oh no, said he) go slow, said she (come...?, said he ummm, said she) you're divine, said he (you're Mine, said she) ”

Dear to Me ❝ [...] I expected you, and Like this, I need you, Like this, I love you, and to those who want to hear tomorrow that which I will not tell them, let them read it here, and let them back off today because it is early for these arguments. Tomorrow we will only give them a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf which will fall on the earth like if it had been made by our lips like a kiss that falls from our invincible heights to show the fire and the tenderness of true love.  ❞

defoliate me of all yesterday showing me the way you feel on this very sidereal moment defoliate me in your longings dizzily possessed and penned by love's palpable attendant defoliate me in now's climate on this planet of paradise with your lips respiring mine

fidelity of an impeccable, known "l'grand solitaire" is a hobbyist of dreams which revised its priorities selecting passionately and furtively a love's course there, fate will never be blamed for hesitant's game of ignorant folks who fail to grasp that a disunion is just another way to connect with lovely someone ✶ when a dream got dreams to remember [eventually]

Nothing is more beautiful than talking to the sea. You start to talk to her irrelevant stuff telling a few simple stories as if might mean something. She doesn't stop you. She's listening to you... Even gives you that feeling... encouraging you to confess. And I'm cofessin'...[you؟...]

Today, my thoughts are taken out of a playful wave’s tale. In their timidity seem are touching gently the fine sand, but in reality, they're liking better to get camouflaged in a unitary sound of the sea’s Rhapsody from a realm which was created in a fairyland of a savaging cosmos… There… the sea is psychedelically blue in the summer and irritably in the winter, gliding more in a grayish hue. Reason for sailors to describe it as the one with a world of its own meant to urge you at melancholy while its tints penetrate the fiction to conserve the myths, the legends, the poems. This fact affected, in the beginning, the sea’s name, famed as Póntos Áxeinos and later, during the age of colonization, as Euxinus, remaining so for a while, a preferred one, ideal to take you somewhere in a delightful classy colony, where wild ridges have never been conquered, but only the hopes. So, today I walk in a realm touched by those whose muses know a formidable trick to tempt you in music’s phanta...

i'm abandoned... abandoned mannerly only in your mind and soul i'm absorbed... absorbed privily at the very mention of your name i'm meditating... meditating like roses' petals in continuous creation i contemplate at you… you... abandoned, you... absorbed, you... meditating

Mysterious, a playful flake, straight from the morning it knocked at my window and discharged the magic unleashed by Snow Queen with her packs of feelings. Then, in a fleeting moment, at the hour of a winter song stole rapidly from me a kiss and it placed it on your lips like a winter's magic mantle to see me... in your dreams. 🎄

walking through the paths of the dreams, the reality of the right now, it melts into a magic joy costumed in the splendid power of stellar dust fine pigmented with the stolen moments out of a poem identifying my soul as being a medicament, an appetizer, the scent of some color, even some suffering for lust, a sweet sound comparable with the hymn of the fantasies walking through the paths of the dreams, a touch of the sun dawn, and of the moonbeam, with the mysterious realm of the night, and the grandeur of the day offered to my spirit the gifted tone of a key directed by the mystic air of a drunken smile unable to give anything else except, appreciation hidden in a tiny story about love and glory

She's sad. He is not. Both alone.  She knows what He's gonna do for He's flexed slightly over her. Softly, She began to tremble, — — I'm scared, — She whispered.  — It's nothing to fear, — He said, & swiftly he extracted her tooth.

i don't ask much just one night with you, every day

— Doctor, I don't feel well, in fact, I don't know what I have. When I'm walking, I feel a kind of pain, don't know where it is but goes away suddenly, without knowing why. — Okay, let me give you a prescription for, said, the doctor. So, take a... don't know what medicament for don't know how long and don't know how many per day, and you gonna feel much better (dunno when...). « Après 50 ans, on reçoit plein des roses : sclé roses , arth roses , ostéopo roses , név roses . Pour toutes ces roses , il y a un remède.🥂 Donc pas de panique. C’est pas grave. »😉 “ YA trop d’bruits Pour penser à ma vie Pour changer mes habitudes J’vais marcher Pour changer mes idées Ma peur de la solitude C’est pas grave s’il n’y a personne pour m’écouter J’vais chanter pour les oiseaux Si tout l’monde a les oreilles bouchées J’vais crier pour m’amuser YA trop d’bruits J’m’entends plus chanter J’vais faire comme d’habitude Comme chez moi Ou au milieu du bois J’vais chanter ma ...

last night, — at the hour when all the dreams are ripened, i dreamt about you... suddenly, — i realized that one of my flaws is your absence... don't know how, but... my fantasy's muse, hearing me, replied, — right back atcha... Right Back Atcha by Dave Keller

I let my mind be caught and decorated in a story portrayed in the colored sound of your fairyland well expressed in the language of lavender flowers trained to whisper tenderly and to wear my name in the fragranced echo of your velvety thoughts, you,   magnificent deity, the magician of my love who let self abandoned in my sweet drunkenness

As a darling of fate, the fantasy is wandering in all my colors depicted in the kiss of zenith, painted by the sunset's brush and the smile of the sunrise for Icarus' dream to get down amid love's books and longing for desires and the purity of trust above the sky and sea, meditating in a melody for being clement with those who offers a love story by sympathizing and feeling what could be too simple or forbidden for some, could be too much or not sufficiently enough for others.

a woman went to a gypsy to can decipher her dilemma... — — two men are in love with me, so i'd want you to tell me which of 'em will be the lucky one of becoming my husband [after reading the tarot, the gypsy replied to the woman], — the lucky one will be he for you gonna marry with the other