FMR Poetry
Feminine, masculine, radical poetry
Why is it that when I walk into a theater, do I want to leave? Why when I randomly open a book, do I look forward to closing it?
I look askance at those who speak words with exhibitionist ease but never have the simplicity to expose their naked bodies.
Even and especially when it is touched by love, the couple is a matter of non-desire. This love becomes a repulsive thing.
To remain silent would be a decent way of stifling thought, which will always be the painful expression of an order given to oneself by one's own mental bourgeoisie.
To decry sexual exhibition is to deny the reality of coitus, the most banal of our realities, in favour of an illusion of self, the mother of all violence.
Moving away from the fear of what we are is a form of refinement of our being. To embrace our animal side is to become human.
In a society of puppets, it is natural to become puppets. It remains to be able to endow them with singular bodies and adequate heads.
Start by undermining the basis of my nature. Set the moral high ground and wait for the... cement to set... the wide asses of the cows that live here...
I'm testifying from where I am. As a good archaeologist, I create my own ruin. The loneliness of the fields of childhood is not the same as the loneliness of the fields of adulthood.
Ladies and gentlemen, following a strike movement by a certain category of a personal nature, we are not in a position to present you with the planned programme. We apologize for the inconvenience.
