tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21356064979393934212024-03-06T06:59:52.621+01:00Mlle D'enfer(t)Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-76982524072727159212011-06-19T17:32:00.003+02:002018-03-23T00:06:34.386+01:00Thašunka Witko<center>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhTLKG55kgxiB3GeylOPJAmbN4D86JzwwDQomJbe86Klji0LauvC4aMGfeQif-db8Ic6twrSMQJ_aoVPIe0IXMJZPXB1lVDSD3gE4XmC9FN-HxF19bpNHflpYvRfLyAv14yHilOw56sM/s1600/5294801728_f8ace2df54_b.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619953063910900690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhTLKG55kgxiB3GeylOPJAmbN4D86JzwwDQomJbe86Klji0LauvC4aMGfeQif-db8Ic6twrSMQJ_aoVPIe0IXMJZPXB1lVDSD3gE4XmC9FN-HxF19bpNHflpYvRfLyAv14yHilOw56sM/s400/5294801728_f8ace2df54_b.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Souvenirs</span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Impressions</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Eclosion</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Fêlures</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Juste à l'horizon</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">La peur chevauche les fractures</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Sur la roche</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">C'est la nausée qui s'épanche</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">La possession s'incline</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Avec sa gueule triste</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Boulevard du choléra</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Impasse du désir</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Putain aux entournures</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Etranglée au collet</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Suspendue aux nuits vagues</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Nage en eaux troubles
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Inspire la clarté</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ne baisse pas les bras</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Non</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ne baisse pas les bras</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Mais</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ne saisit pas les armes</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Entend les effrois</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Qui pissent sur les murs</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Mais</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ne veut de personne </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Si la liberté sombre</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ne veut rien qu'aimer</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Pas d'orgueil ou peut-être dans sa poche</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Oui rien que des respirations</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Des nuages percés</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Mais</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Peut-on la comprendre</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">D'être </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Juste </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Aimante</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "courier new";">"Fracture" par</span> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/benphotoblog/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span></a><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/benphotoblog/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255);">ADDAMSBERG</span></a>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "courier new";">"Orchidées" par</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255 , 255 , 255);"><a href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/" target="_blank">Luc Lamy</a></span></span></span>
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Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-78520838583844132011-04-17T22:08:00.007+02:002011-06-19T17:34:22.012+02:00Lust<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEPXPb9E7PEYP-_tAHo04gQd09DD8E_bNoH-YcJlqNo_0JwWCOye05dW5DW2A3gsFg4UathGGKbkiutlyvYTd5LSOCujfgzIJ7OO990HoSvuyHEaN6dwOTjwUMuw7jjg0pnlLIuwhXym4/s1600/Encore+le+ciel.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEPXPb9E7PEYP-_tAHo04gQd09DD8E_bNoH-YcJlqNo_0JwWCOye05dW5DW2A3gsFg4UathGGKbkiutlyvYTd5LSOCujfgzIJ7OO990HoSvuyHEaN6dwOTjwUMuw7jjg0pnlLIuwhXym4/s400/Encore+le+ciel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596647120682470146" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">A la fin du jour,</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">le soleil brûle juste encore</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">la nuit enduit les façades</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">je vois des ombres</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">se laminer sur les falaises</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Du plaisir</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dans la peur</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">De la moiteur</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dans le milieu</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Moi j'irai avec les dents</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">la chercher ta chaleur</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Tu vois mon amour</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Y a rien que je puisse taire</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:MS Mincho;">Du silence</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Si je me barre</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dévale l'escalier</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Si je défais les voiles</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Colle ma bouche mordue</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Sur les reflets des trains</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:MS Mincho;">Il reste</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Juste ce quartier de peau qui racole ta langue</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">En haut de l'hémisphère</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Ce vertige jusqu'à l'os</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Qui étonne toujours</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Mes doigts<br />Grisés</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">C'est de la joie</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Ça l'a toujours été</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Suis-moi à Victoria</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">J'vois pas Monsieur</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Tu y serais le Roi</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et moi du sable chaud</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:MS Mincho;">Toi</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">A</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">T'enfoncer dans mon corps</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">A chercher</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Sous mes grains</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">le frisson, sous le tissu</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Juste ce quartier de peau qui racole ta langue</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Là</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:MS Mincho;">Respire!</span><br /></div><br /><center><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=59551591&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=59551591&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-57179970322668992562011-02-28T18:41:00.004+01:002013-06-22T13:39:18.699+02:00Madrigal [guerriero e] amoroso<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKbgFWxZiQbAzIdRyKq2AVrUK78xCqEsuXPNw_0T3kvLV6XEQhiuaQWWpZ5OgtJLyQ4hSJ1m4GsymCPo4jMmKKTUVR3epbqcANC6MvW3iX3dOWl5Rx7yMAEFJki0rPmO7jf58GbVxr8Q/s1600/IMG_4109-2sm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKbgFWxZiQbAzIdRyKq2AVrUK78xCqEsuXPNw_0T3kvLV6XEQhiuaQWWpZ5OgtJLyQ4hSJ1m4GsymCPo4jMmKKTUVR3epbqcANC6MvW3iX3dOWl5Rx7yMAEFJki0rPmO7jf58GbVxr8Q/s400/IMG_4109-2sm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578794685884805794" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">je ne comprends pas les riens, ces riens qui se bousculent au seuil de mes lèvres sur le bout de ma langue se suspendent sucent ma moelle jusqu'à la sienne seulement ces mots qu'il étouffe ont ce goût de bataille d'entrailles débattues sur le bout de ma langue sa voix s'entaille ce sont des lamelles de quelque chose de beau d'exsangue éreinté, de l'attente, d'une atteinte enrayée de sa voix qui s'effeuille s'échoue dans ma gueule un peu pâle, ouverture grande nous sommes ici et ce qui mure les mots hurle la peau je ne comprends pas la morale encore moins ses détours et lui sait mes abîmes ce qui mouille sous sa soif nous sommes ici j'appelle ses mains couturées cousues à mes cheveux déchirées à mes angles noyées dans les fentes fêlure continue et ce sont mes restes ivres que je défends comme ils sont étirés à la pointe de ses ongles le regard plaqué au sol sur le bout de ma langue je sens l'amour à sa fin je n'en veux pas pourtant, c'est un suspens une heure sans secondes que je désire pas un dîner par coeur ce sont les poisons que j'aspire dans mes replis sur le bout de ma langue ont ce goût de bataille de chair de foutre de fouraille plus un atome ne divise plus de rupture juste un amas une éternelle addition je voudrais l'avaler peu importe l'endroit je fouillerai ma cuisse de fragments de morsures écrits tangibles nous sommes ici à l'est du matin le corps tendu la tendre violence la nuit encore je n'ai plus peur de rester de couler dans sa nuque ces riens encordés sur le bout de ma langue</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKbgFWxZiQbAzIdRyKq2AVrUK78xCqEsuXPNw_0T3kvLV6XEQhiuaQWWpZ5OgtJLyQ4hSJ1m4GsymCPo4jMmKKTUVR3epbqcANC6MvW3iX3dOWl5Rx7yMAEFJki0rPmO7jf58GbVxr8Q/s1600/IMG_4109-2sm.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 70px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKbgFWxZiQbAzIdRyKq2AVrUK78xCqEsuXPNw_0T3kvLV6XEQhiuaQWWpZ5OgtJLyQ4hSJ1m4GsymCPo4jMmKKTUVR3epbqcANC6MvW3iX3dOWl5Rx7yMAEFJki0rPmO7jf58GbVxr8Q/s400/IMG_4109-2sm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578794685884805794" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Bondichérie par</span> <a href="http://www.emmanuellebrisson.com/"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:arial;font-size:180%;" >{E}mma</span></a><br /><br /><br /></div><center><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowTransparency="true" src="http://www.deezer.com/fr/plugins/player?autoplay=false&playlist=false&width=400&height=80&cover=false&type=playlist&id=445593435&title=&app_id=undefined" width="400" height="80"></iframe></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-88524220522063099682011-01-19T14:27:00.003+01:002013-06-22T13:23:56.599+02:00Sous sa peau<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFQfOrjv9scwUXSX3rGzv9TeNWL3GGy4NUcMfPEETv6_IjVhaJuwkYmkpferXB0EM7RNSj8GelJwFw9TgiJjMGVVSYcnTzoyTi0EGjsOG5ZOCsgQCPNH-p3PWYwN2X1VEvpKdkCDGQ-Uw/s1600/Sous+sa+peau.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFQfOrjv9scwUXSX3rGzv9TeNWL3GGy4NUcMfPEETv6_IjVhaJuwkYmkpferXB0EM7RNSj8GelJwFw9TgiJjMGVVSYcnTzoyTi0EGjsOG5ZOCsgQCPNH-p3PWYwN2X1VEvpKdkCDGQ-Uw/s400/Sous+sa+peau.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563901838427559202" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: MS Mincho;">elle ferme les yeux<br />ton absence en présence<br />on lui dit<br />vous êtes l'un pour l'autre<br />même le silence le lui crie<br />elle sait au détour<br />des entraves<br />des ornières chevées<br />marcher sur le tourment<br />tourner le dos au sombre<br />voir ton ombre bleue<br />dans le marc de café<br />laisser le soleil accroché aux regards<br />Elle tend vers toi<br />Elle ne partira pas<br />Car il faut goûter encore<br />Goûter du bout des lèvres<br />ta langue curieuse<br />les matinées blanchies<br />à l'odeur de javel<br />les mains dans ses cheveux<br />tissés par les araignées<br />nocturnes<br />le sein appelant ta bouche<br />chaude<br />elle entend dans ton souffle<br />les dialogues irrévérencieux<br />que vos corps argumentent<br />les coinstots de sa nuque<br />de ses fesses en arceau<br />battre jusqu'en son creux<br />l'eau<br />le sang qui est le tien<br />s'infiltrer sous sa peau<br />On lui dit vous êtes l'un pour l'autre<br />Parfaits<br /><br />Elle ne partira pas<br />Si partir<br />C'est se quitter soi-même<br /></div><br /><br /><center><div><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=55951943&ap=1&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=55951943&ap=1&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-2389547363077655682010-11-28T14:47:00.016+01:002013-06-22T13:24:31.874+02:00Petit prince<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcfDYEhU43rBHrOuplycmTtPpu-BLkG6CEC1x1RfgmNAhh2rhmOp78fRfPegwkQwf1JqAxj_E7TgPwVWO9wVV89bzSPu8aDsetBMQFEbTgtyVzj2SapN3kSqV5rCdtm96Pdcsvr3d-bc/s1600/P1060764.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544597599004841138" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcfDYEhU43rBHrOuplycmTtPpu-BLkG6CEC1x1RfgmNAhh2rhmOp78fRfPegwkQwf1JqAxj_E7TgPwVWO9wVV89bzSPu8aDsetBMQFEbTgtyVzj2SapN3kSqV5rCdtm96Pdcsvr3d-bc/s400/P1060764.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Basculer<br />Ne plus savoir compter</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Voir les métros partir sans ton cartable</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">(Et les miroirs couverts de baisers peints au rouge riront de tes égarements)</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Il faudrait décalquer tes idées à la blancheur des nuits</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Les inscrire fort sous la peau des oublieux, des retardataires, des jouisseurs,</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Qu'ils s'attardent toujours dans l'innocence...</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">A la jointure de tes respirations accrocher des frissons, les histoires de minuit qui font rire bêtement les filles nues éperdues</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Perché sur un nuage, jouer à la marelle (ciel!)</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Moquer gentiment les normes fantaisistes des filles électriques,<br /></span><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La poésie trop sucrée<br />Sous les ampoules de Crimée<br />Ou celles de l'Atlantique<br /></span><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">(Et aimer)<br /></span><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Chanter faux en cachette - <span style="font-family:verdana;">la</span><span style="font-family:papyrus;">la</span><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >L</span><span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family:mistral;">a</span></span>!<br /></span>Dégringoler sous un corps chaleureux, goûter au soyeux<br />A tout ce qui déborde...</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Faire d'émois une éternité...</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Boire du mauvais café, et rester</span>.<br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Mais non, il est l'heure!</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">...<br />...<br />...</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Mais tu es toi,</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et tu enfouis ton visage entre les chemins de craie, dans les parfums canailles</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Tu glisses alors entre les lignes quelques caresses, beaucoup beaucoup (beaucoup) de tendresse, et trois petits mots à l'encre sympathique...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">(Il faut que tu y ailles!)</span><br /></div><br /><br /><center><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcfDYEhU43rBHrOuplycmTtPpu-BLkG6CEC1x1RfgmNAhh2rhmOp78fRfPegwkQwf1JqAxj_E7TgPwVWO9wVV89bzSPu8aDsetBMQFEbTgtyVzj2SapN3kSqV5rCdtm96Pdcsvr3d-bc/s1600/P1060764.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 70px; display: block; height: 70px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544597599004841138" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcfDYEhU43rBHrOuplycmTtPpu-BLkG6CEC1x1RfgmNAhh2rhmOp78fRfPegwkQwf1JqAxj_E7TgPwVWO9wVV89bzSPu8aDsetBMQFEbTgtyVzj2SapN3kSqV5rCdtm96Pdcsvr3d-bc/s400/P1060764.jpg" border="0" /></a></center><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:Ms Mincho;font-size:100%;" >Empreintes par </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:arial;font-size:180%;" ><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/natdia2/"target=_blank>nat*dia </a></span><br /><br /><center><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=52326784&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=52326784&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object><br /></center></div>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-39297466886714857582010-10-31T20:00:00.012+01:002010-11-28T15:01:05.580+01:00All the clocks are broken<span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"></span> <div align="center"><em><span style="font-family:georgia;">(en musique)</span></em></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><em></div></em><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidW5yZaoIcgXdj_IDjuIzxIV8_Ri6h80cCZz0kwQ_7LM-CFSaRs2I3S1GYqPtpegtFDXkHU3WBR8LwU-TRV7VJllNCV_qp6m3HYy5b3BiZmW63KjklG3U8idRZdO_RO5O14d0uBq3YW-4/s1600/For_Cecile.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534282487750687554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidW5yZaoIcgXdj_IDjuIzxIV8_Ri6h80cCZz0kwQ_7LM-CFSaRs2I3S1GYqPtpegtFDXkHU3WBR8LwU-TRV7VJllNCV_qp6m3HYy5b3BiZmW63KjklG3U8idRZdO_RO5O14d0uBq3YW-4/s400/For_Cecile.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Elle a encore déballé le lit, laissé quelques vestiges de maquillage dans un recoin de l'oreiller. Elle se tourne, sur le dos, abdique sous le repli du sommeil. Le plafond a la même fissure qu'hier.</span><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><br /></div></span></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"></span></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;color:#ffffff;" >Il y a ceux qui choisissent, ou les menteurs, qui restent mal.</span><br /></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Fermer les yeux quelques heures - mais pourquoi ne sont-elles pas éternelles quand elles le devraient? </span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"></div><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"></span></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;color:#ffffff;" >Il est parti, a dit "je t'aime moins".</span></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Engluée de rémanences, somptueuses jouissances, de rires en écharpes de ce à quoi on s'abandonne, cette mémoire indésirable qu'elle voudrait délabrée, pas si vive.<br />Putain de temps précipité dans le bonheur mais bien calé sur le flanc de la peine, à appuyer de ses aiguilles statiques au creux des plaies.</span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"></div><em></em></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em></em></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>Il l'a faite rêver à l'immensité des siècles</em>. </span></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La fissure s'aligne, cicatrice ou mauvais plâtrier.<br /></div><em></em></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em></em></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>Il s'est glissé dans ses fentes</em>.</span></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Elle le garde sous sa chemise, entre les brisures, insignifiants cartilages de l'amour dépassé. Il trône là, dictature délétère dont rien ne succombe.<br />Putain de temps qui n'avance à rien, persiste dans l'immobilisme!</span></div><em><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ffffff;">Il a enfoncé le plaisir jusqu'entre ses entrailles.</span></em><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Le robinet est mal fermé. Comme un tic-tac l'eau psalmodie.<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ffffff;"><em>Il a la jeunesse pour excuse, la cécité qu'elle porte en elle, et les terreurs de lassitude, de raréfaction du désir, de ne pas vivre demain que de tout vivre aujourd'hui.<br /></em></span><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et pour quoi ce corps encombrant, à dévisager son reflet qui perd la raison, se déforme sans son regard, son regard à lui... A lui. Lui. Lui...</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et pour quoi son image flottant entre les courants des pensées et de la constance?</span><br /><em><span style="font-family:georgia;color:#ffffff;">Il est parti, a dit "je t'aime moins".</span></em><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Elle songe à la journée douloureuse, à ce putain de temps qui s'allonge à son côté, et la fissure qui sera là encore le matin suivant, comme la douleur, et l'absent. A ses pieds sur le carrelage, transis.</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Elle rêve debout.</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Au jour qui la verra renaître des cendres, et danser sur les meurtrissures.<br /></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;font-size:160;color:#ffffff;">Pour Anne-Laure...</span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#ffffff;"></span><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><br /></div></span><center><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidW5yZaoIcgXdj_IDjuIzxIV8_Ri6h80cCZz0kwQ_7LM-CFSaRs2I3S1GYqPtpegtFDXkHU3WBR8LwU-TRV7VJllNCV_qp6m3HYy5b3BiZmW63KjklG3U8idRZdO_RO5O14d0uBq3YW-4/s1600/For_Cecile.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 70px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 70px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5534282487750687554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidW5yZaoIcgXdj_IDjuIzxIV8_Ri6h80cCZz0kwQ_7LM-CFSaRs2I3S1GYqPtpegtFDXkHU3WBR8LwU-TRV7VJllNCV_qp6m3HYy5b3BiZmW63KjklG3U8idRZdO_RO5O14d0uBq3YW-4/s400/For_Cecile.jpg" /></a></center><div align="center"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Par</span><span style="color:#ffffff;"><a href="http://www.emmanuellebrisson.com/" target="_blank"> <span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;">{E}mma</span></a></span></div><br /><center><br /><br /><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=52270810&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=52270810&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object><br /></center></div>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-7794785233533118952010-10-10T14:21:00.006+02:002020-03-19T15:35:47.807+01:00Palindrome<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-style: italic;">(en musique)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozyhbM81Ir2zC_WYkrX56oD-CHWlJZ9XDsAuIF55uYuHSglguE7s7lKhBJfs1R_CjnC_bcsJ5rKHYkE-oJcOmg9QQqcncSxEicn2ZZ9NRJRlRxiTB80jataFhMWrdHlSvO2P_N947CdM/s1600/5064523292_07d997cd20_b.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526393399914052898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgozyhbM81Ir2zC_WYkrX56oD-CHWlJZ9XDsAuIF55uYuHSglguE7s7lKhBJfs1R_CjnC_bcsJ5rKHYkE-oJcOmg9QQqcncSxEicn2ZZ9NRJRlRxiTB80jataFhMWrdHlSvO2P_N947CdM/s400/5064523292_07d997cd20_b.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Edwardian script ITC; font-size: 180%;">In girum imus nocte et consumimur igni</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /><br />La tendresse sans conséquences... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">(Petite musique de nuit)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Etendre dans tes cheveux mes doigts, te tressaillir jusqu'au flanc du plaisir</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Entre les heures échardées de torpeur apercevoir ton dos</span><span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ta nuque</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ce que témoigne ta peau<br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Sous l'effleurement </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Ou l'illusion,</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Le drap décalquant ton dessin</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Dans le presque matin...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />A tes pieds égrener la morale, la laisser chancelante</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Prendre mes jambes à ton cou</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Comme tu lies mes pensées tu me morcelles</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Et tu sais le silence au fond de ses déclarations.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Crire</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Etre, sentir</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Gémir</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Chuter à la pointe de ta langue</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Dans l'obscurité tresser les corps en suspens</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Pourtant<br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">J'arrime à mes paupières tes effrois flamboyants ruisselant jusqu'à l'os</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Laisse à mon chevet les brûlures de tes mains, l'écorchure de ton souffle<br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">(Nous tournons dans la nuit</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Et le feu nous consume)</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Au creux du mien j'impatiente ton hérésie<br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Pourtant</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Tu nourris encore</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ces croyances blanchies, de celles qui n'ont plus goût à rien, jetées</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Là</span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Dans les mailles exsangues</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">De tes veines éclatées</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Pourtant</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"> je prends fin à ta source, tu t'ouvres à ma racine</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Tu es ce que je suis</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Miroir,</span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Evidence</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />Théorème.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Et je passe au travers de la violence ordinaire</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"><br />(ce désir palpitant étranglé par l'orgueil)<br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">En t'attendant,</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Sans douleur<br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";">Ni désespoir</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "ms mincho";"> </span><br />
<br />
<center>
<div>
<iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowTransparency="true" src="https://www.deezer.com/plugins/player?format=classic&autoplay=true&playlist=true&width=700&height=350&color=ff0000&layout=dark&size=medium&type=playlist&id=50788612&app_id=1" width="700" height="350"></iframe></div>
</center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-85728431805211396522010-09-07T19:15:00.018+02:002013-06-22T13:49:22.643+02:00Morning<div align="justify"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NQ4WSsG4TopoBnM4Gh0PVKLb_QtaddNss3JWGCpB9PpjIJ3DJbyBdoj4oVFy69YBMUIWvFko4ifAsHTjBORx53p2NtWEgRdoQ7Wh5tm9CVlZ7n3JRkWcTCe1zQAoiQnK1NoDQLh9BhM/s1600/Morning.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 393px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514234692280510978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NQ4WSsG4TopoBnM4Gh0PVKLb_QtaddNss3JWGCpB9PpjIJ3DJbyBdoj4oVFy69YBMUIWvFko4ifAsHTjBORx53p2NtWEgRdoQ7Wh5tm9CVlZ7n3JRkWcTCe1zQAoiQnK1NoDQLh9BhM/s400/Morning.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Ton parfum flotte encore...<br />Il reste de toi quelque douceur. L'infini/l'indéfini. Ces riens balançant les restes de la nuit sur les murs de mes songes éveillés. Nue dans le jour qui se tient droit, froid, j'éclipse le réel, je veux... je veux, je veux... tes mains contre mon sein, le rire dans ses ellipses, la vie dans chaque coin... sentir couler sur la peau du matin l'eau barrée, l'amour sous mes coutures. Croire que le lundi se lèvera avec toi, que je t'attendrai là. J'écrase les petites tristesses sur le pavé, je veux, je veux... je veux qu'encore demain soit une évidence, j'entends ce que tu tais. Tu es la mer montante que j'envisage, celui que l'on n'ose espérer. (Comme je me sens faible, alors que je m'échappe à moi-même)<br />Je veux. Je veux... je veux te dire que ton corps embrasse mieux le mien la seconde suivante, te raconter la soif, que tu me boives entière.<br />Parfois je ne verrai que toi t'avancer parmi les figurants, et tu viendras à moi et je goûterai ta langue, et mes doigts dans les plis de ta chemise, et je n'aurai plus peur de ne pas me reconnaître, car je sais plus encore qui je suis alors que tu me vois si bien.<br />Ton parfum flotte encore... (un grand arabica sans doute)<br /></span><br /><center><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/georgessansd/"></a> </center><br /><br /><center><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=49722019&ap=1&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=49722019&ap=1&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object><br /></center></div>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-375515378793245202010-07-04T21:30:00.012+02:002013-06-22T13:48:56.086+02:00Encore le ciel<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:courier new;" >(en musique)</span></span><br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/Judith-P1060962.gif"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 169px; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/Judith-P1060962.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Encore le ciel étire Paris disparait l'horizon délie la raison a jeté la nuit courte sur un quai j'espère sur mon épaule ta bouche ce corps que mes jambes commencent à reconnaitre dans l'enlacement l'hier affame aujourd'hui je pense à tes doigts, à la peau qui se fane au minéral à la fois où tu dormais tout contre, je cherche les contours de tes rires l'invasion de ton nom, ce qui me porte loin, les étranges synonymes qui parlent d'aimer, trois mots orageant les désirs, tes mains délugeant le plaisir... la nuit affame le jour aussi je pense à ton sexe qui prend sans exiger le mien qui veut toujours les lendemains ivres les fins qui ne finissent la langue épicée la femme en atomes que tes sens érigent en résurrection tu cherches la sagesse que le manque a fait otage je pense à la folie aux résolutions à l'envie aux jamais. Au don à l'abandon. A tes extrémités que ma bouche réclame A l'inlucidité A l'infatuité Encore le ciel délivre la ville capitale empreinte du désir a laissé sur le carreau les impossibles ressaisi les parfums qui luminent oublié les paroles arides je cherche les étendues les fentes les odeurs, les goûts qui me frémissent, alors que tu dérives jusque sous ma poitrine.</span>
<br/><br/>
<center><iframe scrolling="no" frameborder="0" allowTransparency="true" src="http://www.deezer.com/fr/plugins/player?autoplay=false&playlist=false&width=400&height=80&cover=false&type=playlist&id=46691947&title=&app_id=undefined" width="400" height="80"></iframe></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-39232142984728189612010-06-28T00:54:00.011+02:002013-06-22T13:22:50.181+02:00Rue des deux gares<div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">(en musique)</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7XKT147g5epg4ScBQu_VojpTK9SPUEpc2OFO9zMCjofL04eWJ3_z3A19qrH2BiG-b6mxCW6V9diUbs_RPmV28R4xFbIExFR3vjpfAB9KLckpg2UADZJb6aFAsaS0omviBxmYwi3OrkM/s1600/rue-des-2-gares.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7XKT147g5epg4ScBQu_VojpTK9SPUEpc2OFO9zMCjofL04eWJ3_z3A19qrH2BiG-b6mxCW6V9diUbs_RPmV28R4xFbIExFR3vjpfAB9KLckpg2UADZJb6aFAsaS0omviBxmYwi3OrkM/s400/rue-des-2-gares.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487601843671631682" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La porte s'ouvre. Sous le poids de l'intrusion le plancher frissonne, s'éveille enfin déclarant les ans qu'il a portés. On sent dans ses gémissements la vie qui lui a passé sur le corps, les paysages historiques. L'appartement se dévoile, son âme vous saisit. Avancez... dans le couloir rouge aux fauteuils de velours exilés d'un théâtre, drapés d'ambre charnel... Place numéro 15. La lumière en crue sur le passant s'improvise diva, et apprête le soleil en partitions délicates. Le regard s'attarde, la licence ici a les faveurs de l'abondance. Chaque pièce introduit ses confessions, emporte loin là-haut, où se cachent les mémoires... Jusque dans les perspectives, les toiles d'araignées depuis longtemps dévastées ont emprisonné les empreintes des hôtes, tandis que des femmes accrochées aux murs fument en sépia, parmi les mots d'autres, l'amour qui s'interroge, et les violonistes. La tête dérive, le carmin murmure. Les livres gardent les moutons. Les archets en étalage. Au fond à droite... la chambre de coton, comme le jour gravite, satellite des pensées érotiques, sous les draps et les matelas superposés s'immiscent les rémanences des peaux vacillantes, les mains âpres éprises et les songes absurdes voyages au long cours... Solitude - bienvenue. La nuit passera sur les tapisseries et les illusions, le bois redira son discours, le café et les épices extrairont la peau briochée des bruissements de lin... enfin... les quatuors joueront dans le salon, rue des deux gares...</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7XKT147g5epg4ScBQu_VojpTK9SPUEpc2OFO9zMCjofL04eWJ3_z3A19qrH2BiG-b6mxCW6V9diUbs_RPmV28R4xFbIExFR3vjpfAB9KLckpg2UADZJb6aFAsaS0omviBxmYwi3OrkM/s1600/rue-des-2-gares.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 70px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7XKT147g5epg4ScBQu_VojpTK9SPUEpc2OFO9zMCjofL04eWJ3_z3A19qrH2BiG-b6mxCW6V9diUbs_RPmV28R4xFbIExFR3vjpfAB9KLckpg2UADZJb6aFAsaS0omviBxmYwi3OrkM/s400/rue-des-2-gares.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487601843671631682" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Sténopé</span> entre deux gares par</span></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"> </span><a style="font-family: trebuchet ms;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/nikostream/" target="_blank"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:180%;" >nikø</span></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><center><div><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=45639834&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=45639834&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-22364230478540547292010-05-28T01:08:00.012+02:002011-03-06T11:45:41.413+01:00Hôtel Dandy****<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20pBO5SFECUFwjTiVAzV9Xw-o5sMgRtgVTvlRp_1hubP7wNMbYb_80MDWifGn9lzSo3trIbVfOOtc4aqmBCPSyG3rABZx8KeLznwoJGsQ5jsIinqSOizBrvpo8jLibyG4UTEZMzl8DS8/s1600/3932414212_2235c3a369_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20pBO5SFECUFwjTiVAzV9Xw-o5sMgRtgVTvlRp_1hubP7wNMbYb_80MDWifGn9lzSo3trIbVfOOtc4aqmBCPSyG3rABZx8KeLznwoJGsQ5jsIinqSOizBrvpo8jLibyG4UTEZMzl8DS8/s400/3932414212_2235c3a369_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475882846093483714" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Cher ****,</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Mai ramène sa gueule de promesse, réminiscences en bandoulière, horizons en vastes échancrures... J'ai pour me tenir droite de belles perspectives, et les années qui s'empilent apprivoisent mes composantes, sourires en bataille arrimés en périphérie des sentiments heureux, j'avance... Rue Gambetta, quatre étoiles me tombent sur le coin des pensées archivées; il y a dans cet hôtel des mémoires nucléaires qui achèvent leur incandescence sur la peau glacée de l'absence. As-tu délaissé dans cette architecture du rien l'esquisse même de ma langue sur toi? Et le goût?</span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Je voudrais arracher les étiquettes, inviter le courage à dîner, mais toi, enfant, tu tombes quand tu marches - et lacères dans ta chute mes bras qui s'attendrissent.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Je parcours la ville. Et parfois je t'invente à l'autre angle de ce trottoir dégueulasse. Cependant, sache-le, détourne-toi de moi, ignore-moi si tu venais à me croiser dans des circonstances malvenues. Tu es **** et tu appartiens à la dimension des instants chavirés, aux parenthèses illégales. </span><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">J'ai dans l'idée que seuls les hasards imbéciles nous verrons l'un face à l'autre le cheveu débraillé, le temps qui presse et la politesse obligée.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Je t'embrasse, je crois.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">****</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">P.-S.: Tu me manques une fois par mois, c'est une moyenne bien sûr.</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20pBO5SFECUFwjTiVAzV9Xw-o5sMgRtgVTvlRp_1hubP7wNMbYb_80MDWifGn9lzSo3trIbVfOOtc4aqmBCPSyG3rABZx8KeLznwoJGsQ5jsIinqSOizBrvpo8jLibyG4UTEZMzl8DS8/s1600/3932414212_2235c3a369_o.jpg" target="_blank"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 70px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20pBO5SFECUFwjTiVAzV9Xw-o5sMgRtgVTvlRp_1hubP7wNMbYb_80MDWifGn9lzSo3trIbVfOOtc4aqmBCPSyG3rABZx8KeLznwoJGsQ5jsIinqSOizBrvpo8jLibyG4UTEZMzl8DS8/s400/3932414212_2235c3a369_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475882846093483714" border="0" /></a>rendez-vous par <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/nikostream/" target="_blank"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:180%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">nikø</span></span></a><br /></span></div><br /><br /><center><div><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=44652347&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=44652347&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed><a class="hsqwkbsahczcrxtvuwdo" href="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=44652347&ap=0&ln=fr"></a><a class="hsqwkbsahczcrxtvuwdo" href="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=44652347&ap=0&ln=fr"></a><a class="hsqwkbsahczcrxtvuwdo" href="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=44652347&ap=0&ln=fr"></a><a class="hsqwkbsahczcrxtvuwdo" href="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=44652347&ap=0&ln=fr"></a></object><div id="dz_ref" style="font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 9px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"></div></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-81711051131010065392010-04-17T20:00:00.018+02:002013-06-22T14:01:54.724+02:00Les particules soyeuses<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:courier new;" >(<span style="font-size:85%;">en musique)</span></span><br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/fle-fleur.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 169px; CURSOR: pointer" border="0" alt="" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/fle-fleur.gif" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/cheveux-yb.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 169px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: pointer" border="0" alt="" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/cheveux-yb.gif" /></a><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/neige-immobile.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 169px; CURSOR: pointer" border="0" alt="" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/neige-immobile.gif" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:courier new;">Gracieuse Ayumi</span></span></span><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center;font-family:Edwardian script ITC;" ><span style="font-size:180%;"><a href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,255)">L'ami</span></a></span> <span style="font-size:130%;">aidant</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><center><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=42445706&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=42445706&ap=0&ln=fr" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object><div style="FONT: 9px Arial" id="dz_ref"></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-59496875095559736292010-04-04T14:01:00.026+02:002011-03-06T12:07:04.142+01:00मानसून<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="COLOR: rgb(192,192,192);font-family:MS Mincho;font-size:80;" >(en musique)</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4MeNQqUCTWt9C0LHk3nnUVlnPpZMzqK_uQoX-cUY2mLgl-YhvPkvq7ok95GaER_KuSKmDOvcj2ljZ_0sRuBT9-c_yjsat9LwVLCWsMSxJiliphtRM0cyTKLMfPQIfdmfzwuIS001Aqw/s1600/4478113407_b4fb4c492b_o.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456251745490011058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4MeNQqUCTWt9C0LHk3nnUVlnPpZMzqK_uQoX-cUY2mLgl-YhvPkvq7ok95GaER_KuSKmDOvcj2ljZ_0sRuBT9-c_yjsat9LwVLCWsMSxJiliphtRM0cyTKLMfPQIfdmfzwuIS001Aqw/s400/4478113407_b4fb4c492b_o.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:edwardian script ITC;font-size:240%;" ><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">Je me souviens.</span></span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(192,192,192);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; COLOR: rgb(192,192,192)"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;font-size:100%;">Elle enflammait les jardins, les gouttes éclataient en fou-rires sur sa vérité nue. Elle coulait sur moi, je fendais son abandon comme je suçais la pulpe de ses doigts, et le miel. Ses cheveux sentaient l’orage, sa bouche sang </span><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;font-size:100%;">prononçait des serments dans une langue secrète, je voulais qu’elle m’enroule dans son déluge d’impatience vorace et m’envisage dans le temps. Elle sinuait entre les petites salines des recoins de peau, et le plaisir, s’en faisait un manteau. Elle m’inspirait / je soupirais. Je la rêvais dans ses éclats de joie, au-delà de mon solipsisme ; je parcourais de ma langue la cartographie de ses constellations. Elle apprivoisait mes contours entourait ma nuit de ses bras dentelait de bonheur l’aridité de ma nébuleuse. Corde sensible. Inondée de désir en suspens, l’obscurité s’esquivait, et au matin, le sommeil encore emmêlé à sa chevelure, elle me noyait.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; font-family:Edwardian Script ITC;font-size:240%;" ><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">Je me souviens.</span></span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lJjEiuVBeLxZqEssHXS0NHhqf22kjQPtoZU6Lr9MvZcvJNAnKfe3s23hsXFgapIyxcQL4-gZDQ3mxIamlVwDOHOLNv8dKaIijG8weHPk4A72z_VWvMapKiRvdjAjbjwRvuPn0cUe0Ew/s1600/4478113407_b4fb4c492b_o.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 108px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456255934432519890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lJjEiuVBeLxZqEssHXS0NHhqf22kjQPtoZU6Lr9MvZcvJNAnKfe3s23hsXFgapIyxcQL4-gZDQ3mxIamlVwDOHOLNv8dKaIijG8weHPk4A72z_VWvMapKiRvdjAjbjwRvuPn0cUe0Ew/s400/4478113407_b4fb4c492b_o.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:edwardian script ITC;font-size:240%;" ><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">Recordo.</span></span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(192,192,192);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: justify; COLOR: rgb(192,192,192)"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;font-size:100%;">Ella encenia els jardins, les gotes esclataven en rialles damunt la seva veritat nua. Em lliscava pel damunt, jo partia el seu abandonament com si xuclés el tou dels seus dits, i la mel. Els seus cabells tenien la flaire de la tempesta, la seva boca sanguina pronunciava juraments en una llengua secreta,jo volia que ella m’emboliqués en el seu diluvi d’impaciència voraç i em colloqués en el temps. Ella serpentejava entre les petites salines dels plecs de pell, i el plaer, se’n feia un abric. Ella m’inspirava / jo sospirava. Jo la somniava en els seus esclats d’alegria, més enllà del meu solipsisme; recorria amb la meva llengua la cartografia de les seves constellacions. Ella domava els meus contorns embolcallava la meva nit amb els seus braços dentava de felicitat l’aridesa de la meva nebulosa. Corda sensible. Inundada de desig en suspens, l’obscuritat s’arraconava, i al matí, amb el son encara trenat a la seva cabellera, m’ofegava.</span><br /></div><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; font-family:Edwardian Script ITC;font-size:240%;" ><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0)">Recordo.</span></span><br /><p></p><span style="font-size:+0;"><p></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4MeNQqUCTWt9C0LHk3nnUVlnPpZMzqK_uQoX-cUY2mLgl-YhvPkvq7ok95GaER_KuSKmDOvcj2ljZ_0sRuBT9-c_yjsat9LwVLCWsMSxJiliphtRM0cyTKLMfPQIfdmfzwuIS001Aqw/s1600/4478113407_b4fb4c492b_o.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 70px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 70px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456251745490011058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ4MeNQqUCTWt9C0LHk3nnUVlnPpZMzqK_uQoX-cUY2mLgl-YhvPkvq7ok95GaER_KuSKmDOvcj2ljZ_0sRuBT9-c_yjsat9LwVLCWsMSxJiliphtRM0cyTKLMfPQIfdmfzwuIS001Aqw/s400/4478113407_b4fb4c492b_o.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:Ms Mincho;">La femme de papier de <span style="font-size:160;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/conradroset/" target="_blank"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,255,255)">Conrad Roset</span></a><a style="FONT-FAMILY: courier new"><br /></a></span>La langue déliée par <span style="font-family:edwardian script ITC;font-size:210;">Òscar</span></span></span></div><br /><br /><center><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=37946808&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=37946808&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed><a class="bnqkbmjogbhglllsnomv" href="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=37946808&ap=0&ln=fr"></a><a class="bnqkbmjogbhglllsnomv" href="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=37946808&ap=0&ln=fr"></a></object><br /></center></span>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-69549161290212926872010-03-22T00:32:00.023+01:002011-03-06T11:48:06.107+01:00Le réveil (48° 51’ 44’’ Nord 2° 21’ 3’’ Est)<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >(en musique, en douceur)</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4ipW-VVjmYWU-TnSGBonYH-pT3CjbEF16uWGB_FM5XNqw254W4CZwmh5MCtGj4hLn6MdYKe7V9NlH21Jr-V0MyVp6FgIWg-8kyktiYYHqFQvN8N56j65oK7Qp0SSDvadWr7CnQdxdOY/s1600-h/4114980916_5375abd781_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4ipW-VVjmYWU-TnSGBonYH-pT3CjbEF16uWGB_FM5XNqw254W4CZwmh5MCtGj4hLn6MdYKe7V9NlH21Jr-V0MyVp6FgIWg-8kyktiYYHqFQvN8N56j65oK7Qp0SSDvadWr7CnQdxdOY/s320/4114980916_5375abd781_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451240135565034850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: MS Mincho;">Le vois-tu le soleil montrer sa face paraissant au-delà des atmosphères effilochant les toiles de la nuit, grand cinéma des draps blancs? Alors qu'elle me lèche les pieds, de la Seine les filets nocturnes retiennent encore les corps chauds indolents, leurs parfums insolents attachés aux creux des reins. Le jour porte sous terre les minutes lascives des sommeils entêtants et précipite ton odeur sous la rame du métro. Et je n'ai plus dans mes bras que ton sourire et une vague empreinte de dents qui ne t'appartient pas quand j'explore les replis de ma peau. A(i)mant, de tes boucles je dois extirper ma paresse, m'enf(o)uir dans les couloirs carrelés, reprendre le train de ma vie, dans la torpeur d'une foule délavée. Quitter les cimes orientales, délaisser un baiser.<br />Les idées floues s'aiguisent au temps qui passe, mes seins pointent sous la langue glacée du matin désobligeant qui avance, imperturbable, vers le zénith, tandis que les rayons en érections dénudent les derniers fils de l'encéphalogramme onirique.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsKxhAnX-EsfLHymJ4E3ZbgmOwN_VoXXgTyZpXo7QaL8xm9XG9X64Dtc5otPNb5YjnPApShSZMVbhQ8M3v2UxJp7Bv8Wi2tyFkVi6_gEdhIiVpyfiIFccDbwGicrxHW9iY-LAkrdj4kQ/s1600-h/4445336376_3cde1bb46d_o.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvsKxhAnX-EsfLHymJ4E3ZbgmOwN_VoXXgTyZpXo7QaL8xm9XG9X64Dtc5otPNb5YjnPApShSZMVbhQ8M3v2UxJp7Bv8Wi2tyFkVi6_gEdhIiVpyfiIFccDbwGicrxHW9iY-LAkrdj4kQ/s320/4445336376_3cde1bb46d_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451239150951153458" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4ipW-VVjmYWU-TnSGBonYH-pT3CjbEF16uWGB_FM5XNqw254W4CZwmh5MCtGj4hLn6MdYKe7V9NlH21Jr-V0MyVp6FgIWg-8kyktiYYHqFQvN8N56j65oK7Qp0SSDvadWr7CnQdxdOY/s1600-h/4114980916_5375abd781_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 70px; height: 70px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC4ipW-VVjmYWU-TnSGBonYH-pT3CjbEF16uWGB_FM5XNqw254W4CZwmh5MCtGj4hLn6MdYKe7V9NlH21Jr-V0MyVp6FgIWg-8kyktiYYHqFQvN8N56j65oK7Qp0SSDvadWr7CnQdxdOY/s320/4114980916_5375abd781_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451240135565034850" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:90%;">Persistances rétiniennes de</span> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/nikostream/" target="_blank""><span style="font-size:230%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">nikø</span></span><br /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><center><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=40535253&ap=1&ln=fr"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=40535253&ap=1&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object><div id="dz_ref" style="font:9px Arial"></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-60422333308360522942010-02-23T18:46:00.025+01:002013-06-22T14:02:44.252+02:00Voyage vers la douleur<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 204, 204);font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">(en musique)</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhKwuedIB4hILTDjlFvtipwCthWnXc4xCj_fBuRIIWfsLRvpef4ZTHLkrxZj105uRrqPdNKn8rDCLM-xVKhPZzJDFL0STkcfDCWvwd8yRK34q9izMUrwcfgPxXgxQzSziSu1ClGKatgc/s1600-h/DSC_0129.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhKwuedIB4hILTDjlFvtipwCthWnXc4xCj_fBuRIIWfsLRvpef4ZTHLkrxZj105uRrqPdNKn8rDCLM-xVKhPZzJDFL0STkcfDCWvwd8yRK34q9izMUrwcfgPxXgxQzSziSu1ClGKatgc/s400/DSC_0129.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443260828403712210" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:MS Mincho;">Tout semble suspendu</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:MS Mincho;">Comme le temps s'est arrêté sur l'horloge crasseuse frémit son empreinte déshumaine aux minutes écaillées.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:MS Mincho;">Les éoliennes agitent la plaine poussant vainement du doigt la grande aiguille. Au travers des vitres marquées, elles qui ont laissé dans leur transparence mille histoires s'y inscrire, le regard s'égare, plein de l'intérieur, vers le flou du voyage. Le chemin de fer fait glisser sur sa route le train déraillé des idéaux, des émigrants, des isolés. Il y a de ce cil ce petit sentiment qui veut se décrocher, parler parfois ne dit rien, et les murs n'entendent pas. Le ciel a des nuages à dévaler, et les mirages se multiplient dans le prisme des larmes.<br /><br />Les listes s'opèrent (abdiquer les escaliers rouges, la cervelle de dix heures. Porter les bas en haut-le-cœur, franchir le passage du désir. Se tenir sur le fil).<br /><br />En bordure de la lèvre palpitent les amertumes, la gueule entre deux gares boîte en direction de l'avant, de la première fois. Les langues se délient, déclarent sur le quai, les bras se tendent, rencontrent le vide mordant, et les portes se resserrent sur l'attente. Le soleil a mis une nuit à se lever ce matin, le départ l'a tu. La rumeur de la cendre se dissipe dans le défilé trouble des troncs dénudés. Alors apparaissent les horizons, archivant les ombres.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:MS Mincho;"><br />La douleur arrêt momentané.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhKwuedIB4hILTDjlFvtipwCthWnXc4xCj_fBuRIIWfsLRvpef4ZTHLkrxZj105uRrqPdNKn8rDCLM-xVKhPZzJDFL0STkcfDCWvwd8yRK34q9izMUrwcfgPxXgxQzSziSu1ClGKatgc/s1600-h/DSC_0129.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 80px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhKwuedIB4hILTDjlFvtipwCthWnXc4xCj_fBuRIIWfsLRvpef4ZTHLkrxZj105uRrqPdNKn8rDCLM-xVKhPZzJDFL0STkcfDCWvwd8yRK34q9izMUrwcfgPxXgxQzSziSu1ClGKatgc/s400/DSC_0129.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443260828403712210" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:MS Mincho;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">un regard de</span></span> <span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/natdia2/" target="_blank"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">nat*dia</span></a></span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><center><div><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=39271087&ap=1&ln=fr"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=39271087&ap=1&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-72031766003212293052010-02-07T23:19:00.006+01:002011-03-06T11:53:06.218+01:00Ferita<p class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho"><o:p> </o:p></font></p> <p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho"><font face="georgia" size="2"><font style="font-style: italic;">(en musique, forte)</font></font></font></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho"><font face="georgia" size="2"><font style="font-style: italic;"></font></font><br /></font></p><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho">Il s’étend. La peau arrachée, le front sur le carrelage, et dégueulant une partie de son âme. La mort violente de son élan le déporte et crache sur le rêve ; au dehors l’automne dépècera bientôt des ossatures les souvenirs heureux. L’enflure du cœur, annonciation du pire de la déchirure émergente qui ne tient plus qu’à son fils. Les nuits éternelles dans le lit bordé d’injures de blancheur sournoise de déliquescence de l’espérance de désirs mortifères. Les jours qui n’en sont plus, avec le deuil ils ont la face obscène, ils devraient se couvrir, avoir la pudeur. Ici on n’avance plus on rampe. Le palpitant martèle son antienne sans objet, tenant l’homme debout face à<font style=""> </font>son champ d’impossible. Devant le vide, derrière le saccage. <o:p></o:p>Ce qui naît de la désillusion a des allures de misère. Et cette plaie qui s’écoule et inonde lui sort par les yeux, l’enterre. Ici on n’avance plus on<font style=""> </font>rampe. <o:p></o:p></font></p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho"><o:p> </o:p></font></p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho">Il se ramasse. La peau déchirée, la pupille décharnée, et du passé béant sourdent les espérances. Vanité ; en dedans le déclin charognard dissèquera silencieusement les souvenirs heureux, exsangues dans leur létalité sordide. Bâillonne ta gueule mémoire qui morcelle la résilience ! Car ici on n’avance plus, on rampe. Il voudrait retourner le lourd manteau de l’irrévocabilité, l’incruster de desiderata inassouvis. Mais seul parmi les autres, il doit se rendre. A l’évidence, à l’absolu épousant la ruine. Le mirage se dissipe aux lueurs desserties d’un crépuscule finissant.<o:p></o:p></font></p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho"><font style=""> </font><o:p></o:p></font></p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho">Il se relève. La peau brûlée, le poing orné de fiel défoncé d’éclats de verre, et ces débris se hérissent, couronnant Némésis. La haine qu’engendrent les murs de la douleur et du désespoir s’invite dans son lit, psalmodiant son infect angélus ; partout dedans dehors au fond en lambeaux les souvenirs heureux se décomposent. Il entend, entre en prière corrompue... De ses mains il aimerait la faire crever, la femme qui a tissé un morceau de vie avec lui. Et ses idées crasses il les essuie entre les cuisses de passantes, et abat sa vie sous un bloc de granit. Il s’accroche aux monceaux de chair, et creuse les mots d’amour jusqu’à la moelle, à les rendre ineptes. Et se fait laid. Donner un sens à ce qui n’en a pas, s’envisager immonde, la blessure il faut la mériter. Ici on n’avance plus on rampe. Il se conjugue au conditionnel, l’inconstance est sa compagne. Marcher droit dans l’immobilité tombale, comment ?! Alors la soif de sinuosité l’emporte, se glisse avec morgue dans les restes défigurés du désir d’être, d’éprouver. Le sein de l’amour ne peut allaiter la foi gangrenée - ou finira au fond de sa gamelle. Oui, ici on n’avance plus... on rampe.<o:p></o:p></font></p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><font face="MS Mincho"><font style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">(et pourtant, le cœur bat)</font><o:p></o:p></font></p><br /><br /><center><div><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=37669963&ap=0&ln=fr"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=37669963&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-86251135259322126502010-01-30T02:12:00.011+01:002013-06-22T14:12:15.084+02:00Petite mort<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC; font-size: 180%;">(Je ne crois pas que les rois mêmes aient un bonheur pareil au mien)</span><span style="font-size: 180%;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Sans un mot, ou si peu...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC; font-size: 180%;">En attendant ceux qui frémissent au fond d'un tiroir.</span><span style="font-size: 180%;"></span></div>
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Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-35557713543705389742010-01-16T22:12:00.021+01:002013-06-22T14:06:27.921+02:00La première lettre<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">(écriture en musique, à voix haute et lentement)</span></i></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'MS Mincho',serif;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La soupirante</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La désirante</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle qui croit, ébauche les traits</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">D’une empreinte de sommeil entre les draps défaits</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Qui tourbillonnent</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Virent</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Tourbillonnent et s’enroulent encore</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Encore...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'MS Mincho',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Encore...</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'MS Mincho',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/DrapsBlancs1.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/DrapsBlancs1.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et le lin</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Se remémore</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Comme les images</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Sur les papiers glacés...</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La troublante</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La consentante </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle qu’on arrache le rouge aux lèvres</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Avec la liseuse.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">...</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La caressante</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle qui dit tout</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et abandonne un baiser</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">(Comme entre parenthèses)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La rêveuse</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La séductrice</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle dont les pleins et déliés emportent les regards</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Le palpitant étincelle</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Encré, nourri par le </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><a style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);" href="http://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/calame"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">calame</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">.</span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" try="" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LaMorsure-a.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 112px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LaMorsure-a.gif" alt="" border="0" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LaMorsure.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 112px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LaMorsure.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a></p><center><a onblur="try{parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/Encore-a.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 112px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/Encore-a.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/Encore-c.gif"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 112px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/Encore-c.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a></center><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La </span><a href="http://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/d%C3%A9sinence"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">désinence</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><p style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle qui crie en silence</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle que tu portes avec le souvenir,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Tu la connais par cœur...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La folie prend les mots</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Qui se déchirent par l’absence</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Le </span><a href="http://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/coryph%C3%A9e"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">coryphée</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"> des nuits blanches les reprise</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">A les parcourir encore cependant ils se vident.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">730 pas sont inscrits dans ton dos</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Toujours</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">- Peut-être un peu plus –</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Seul le temps pourrait la désapprendre</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle qu’on épingle</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et corne en cinq dans un tissu de soi</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Avant le point.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><br /></span></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LaCaresseLePoing.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LaCaresseLePoing.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La page blanche</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'MS Mincho',serif;">La sibylline</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle qui dit fragile</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dans le pli</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">De la troisième lettre...</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et sous tes doigts qui la parcourent</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dans un froissement<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Naissent les voyelles,</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Ici contre les murs</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Debout à genoux</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Elles se répandent sur ta langue.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La sinueuse</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Enlumineuse</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Aux boucles enflammées</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Ecriture coulée</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dans la </span><a href="http://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/ch%C3%A2n%C3%A9ehttp://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/ch%C3%A2n%C3%A9ehttp://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/ch%C3%A2n%C3%A9e"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">chânée</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Par les mains d’un </span><a href="http://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/saraba%C3%AFtehttp://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/saraba%C3%AFtehttp://littre.reverso.net/dictionnaire-francais/definition/saraba%C3%AFte"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Sarabaïte</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'MS Mincho',serif;">La passante</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La chantante</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Celle qui sent l’orage</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">D’un crépuscule parisien</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Du haut de son vertige</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Embrassant la ville.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><br /></span></span></p><span lang="FR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><o:p></o:p></span></p></div><center></center><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LesMains.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/LesMains.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La sensitive</span></div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dont les feuilles se vrillent<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Sous le poids de la peau<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Des larmes écorchées<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et des croyances de lendemain<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Alors que la fin se penche sur le papier</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: MS Mincho; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center">Et le mépris se lit,<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: MS Mincho; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center">S'étend comme une putain<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">dans le sein de ton amour</span>...<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">L’absente<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">La mal écrite<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et que l’on brûle<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Aux lueurs renaissantes<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Ses mots n’ont pas de résonance<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Ou ne sont pas les tiens,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et dérivent,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Et je songe<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Cousue dans tes pensées<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);" align="center"><span lang="FR" style="font-family:MS Mincho;"><i style="font-family: lucida grande;">A</i> la première lettre</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><br /></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/cec-regard-a-4.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 363px; height: 194px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/cec-regard-a-4.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:Monotype Corsiva;font-size:85%;" >Les mots et images de mademoiselle</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:gara;" >Les boucles de</span> <a href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" >l u c</span></a></span><br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-weight: bold;" align="center"><a href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/"><span lang="FR" style="font-size:85%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"></p></div><br /><center><div><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=36670553&ap=1&ln=fr"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=36670553&ap=1&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-90534122522584781052009-12-20T00:22:00.016+01:002011-03-06T11:58:10.805+01:00Sous l'écorce<center style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Sans décence</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Descends</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:MS Mincho;">Dans un coin une courbe à l'angle de mon cœur l'âme appuyée sur la table la tête défaite cordes enserrant les chevilles les mains versatiles, une nudité miellée entre les cuisses. Sur l'ébène la chair se livre, abjure, les filets retiennent les fissures âme adossée le visage déjeté sur les béances d'acanthe vas, viens, exprime du talon âpre à la pointe des sens âme érectile avidité noire ronde, à ta portée la clé, Sybarite, suce, absorbe mon essence fais de moi ton instrument âme-moi</span></center><br /><br /><br /><center><div><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=35838021&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=35838021&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-30419879138144275112009-12-10T14:21:00.019+01:002011-03-06T11:58:40.012+01:00Neiger<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/melledenfer-bb.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 223px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/melledenfer-bb.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/verriere-et-fond.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 368px; height: 318px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/verriere-et-fond.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:100%;" >Judith</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style=";font-family:Edwardian Script ITC;font-size:130%;" >Frederic</span><br /><br />Arbre de <a target="_blank" href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-family:Papyrus;font-size:180%;" >l'ami</span></a> en pulsations<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><center><div><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=35443650&ap=1&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=35443650&ap=1&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-4563041535870073672009-11-16T15:02:00.024+01:002011-03-06T11:59:22.762+01:00Cathédrale<div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:MS Mincho;" >Froissement des chairs en écho au silence sous la voûte des idées appareillent les vaisseaux extatiques Sur la nuit lourde s'écrasent les prières communiantes les murmures consacrés le cri de la peau en oraison Mains jointes doigts brûlés dans le secret des cours intérieures Religion des sens croyances déchirantes polythéisme Au pied des corinthiens consent Georges Sans D. Exérèse des sentiments à la hache reniement des adorations sénescentes (abstiens-toi candeur)<br />La pierre chaude et sanguine accueille ses baisers, elle, elle, cathédrale.</span><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><center><div><object width="180" height="220"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=34761774&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=34761774&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="180" height="220"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-74494965532970098132009-11-12T15:54:00.026+01:002011-03-06T12:00:09.538+01:00夢<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/draps-a-lent.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/draps-a-lent.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/partition-aa.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/partition-aa.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style=";font-family:Mistral;font-size:180%;" >Camille</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">ensommeillée</span><br />dans les petits papiers de <span style=";font-family:vengeance;font-size:180%;" ><a target="_blank" href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">l u c</span></a></span><br />un yume de <span style="font-family:Edwardian Script ITC;font-size:130%;">Frederic</span><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><center><div><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=34250140&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=34250140&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-60567837733472034522009-09-30T19:57:00.030+02:002011-03-06T12:00:30.492+01:00Ma peau aime 2<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:MS Mincho;font-size:100%;" >chère chair chercher à m'engloutir dans les recoins de tes sourires soupirs soupiraux aspirant des mains démon démontrer que ta peau crie, qu'elle est la faim qui me dévore dévoie... dévoiler un sein une épaule un grain, sur la peau blanche une terre de Sienne tienne tiens je te l'abandonne mon désir de soie dessous de saouler tes regards avec ma nuque, sur le parquet étendue nue nue nuée de plaisir à taire à terre térébrante je te l'abandonne mon désir dément d'amante religieuse</span><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"> ...</span><br /></div><br /><br /><center><div><object height="220" width="180"><param name="movie" value="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=32354645&ap=0&ln=fr"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.deezer.com/embed/player?pid=32354645&ap=0&ln=fr" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="220" width="180"></embed></object></div></center>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-17522981304960563702009-09-19T11:15:00.011+02:002009-12-30T14:54:49.794+01:00Chant de cinabre<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/copie-de-justeunbaiser.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/copie-de-justeunbaiser.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/hibiscus-danse-bis.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://i837.photobucket.com/albums/zz297/mademoiselleLacloche/hibiscus-danse-bis.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Une fleur de </span> <span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-size:180%;"><a style="font-family: Opus Japanese Chords;"target="_blank" href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">l u c</span></a> </span></span><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">, un baiser de </span><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);font-family:Vladimir Script;font-size:180%;" >Camille</span><br /><br /><br /></div>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2135606497939393421.post-52918445765705803632009-08-31T14:57:00.017+02:002009-12-30T14:55:21.498+01:00Entre les mots<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='452' height='366' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dysgeNp0a3DwjPYbEmw-0hx44El5QzmWd8Zw5FmMkNuTaAaeYaZ_wLhKau_QdbChamIqLXZW6Z45bmBZeQEbg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"><br />réalisation:</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><span style=";font-family:Opus Japanese Chords;font-size:200;" ><a target="_blank" href="http://www.luclamy.net/blog/"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><strong>l u c</strong></span></a></span><span style="font-family:Vladimir Script;"> </span><br /><span style="font-size:90;">crédit photo: <strong>mlle d'enfer(t)</strong></span><br /><br /><br /></div>Mademoiselle d'enfer(t)http://www.blogger.com/profile/11563699731834823560noreply@blogger.com30