Ladies and Gentlemen, due to a strike by a certain category of staff, we are unable to present the planned programme.

We apologise for any inconvenience caused.

Like dead children born out of a tight pocket...

Like cats with no eyes under a knotted plastic...

Like paper embosses

As the elephant wallows

In dreaded taboo

I am not the monstrosity foretold...

I am a man

Boy

I am a human being

I don't make too much fuss about my exquisite body,

Not now, please

You see, now I am more beautiful than you.

I feel strangely good,

Voluptuously pachydermic behind the barri-crade of my empirical defences

It's morning, I'm cold

Rid of the urgency to grab your rump, I am in essence self-sufficient

Moving wound, I bleed and yet I survive, life, life, video

I need to grab my camera

Sculpting this safari to my quivering ears

I print in 3D the melody of my bush cries

I am now looking for where my moods are coming from,

You see, I cry

But what horror is he?

Be nice, tell me because I don't feel anything anymore

Nothing left to lift my heart

Like paper that embosses

Like the elephant that wallows

In taboo

I like the disillusioned blazer that has been supporting my masculinity since the orphanage

I am a man

I am a human being

I am manly but I lack the arms to beat the air around me

I have my tail as a fly swatter

By my appendage I cling to your mouths

Supreme genetic collage

Thus I deceive my good public

So don't just stand there gawking,

You don't admire elephants if you don't accept black people

I thought you understood Babar

Bitch!

The word bitch is stormy.

It excites, to the rhythm of phallic passions,

Bitch, the one who just wants to come

Likes to enjoy, does not hide his pleasure

Get on all fours bitch!

Your fantasy goes further than that

Beyond words, bitch!

Dreaming of a wild vulva,

Bitch, amazing beauty,

Why does the humiliated thrill?

But who are they screwing in the depths of these lands?

Shame screws its trophy into the wall of my feverishness

Hunt, run, come to me

I don't know these people running around, partying

I only know their avatars

I like the respectable blaser who supports me along the corridors where I meet my friends for a drink

Well-bred, I live like a real man

Beautiful lies are banished from my reasonable life

Bobard hates the old lady with the knobby knees who begs: "Caress my deformed thighs, please".

Hey Manichean slits, it's too late to love me, naughty,

To welcome in black and white the turgid torment of my pain

The seed of my reptilian brain has risen to the level of my neocortex.

A primitive return to my true instincts, which alone want me to be good.

Yes, truly I tell you, all power is an abuse

Any effort at conviction, a rape with penetration.

You're trapped in my slimy cum, bitch!

Thus the violent poachers relieved themselves in my flesh to the bottom of my thick skin

In the meat of my meat, under the rough vigour of my buttocks

Without the defence of the barricades, I don't think we sexual dilettantes are going to be left with anything.

I urinate profusely on your mockery of devotion, seduction

I disembowel the first who doubts and even if I die poisoned, I graze on the textile of nations

The veil gives me the vapours, secular and compulsory.

Too bad, my imposing, shriveled foot will serve as an umbrella holder.

Soon we will go to bed in the cemeteries above,

Knowledge is a burden

It's time to die a fool.

Penetrators are now being bred.

Humans, whether black, white or yellow, breed the submissive like ants breed aphids.

Like ants do with aphids.

Man too small to embrace me, I write you simple words so that they can enter your face.

Happy Monster I am not like you because I don't care what choices have to be made for my own good.

I deal with my handicap. It could have been worse against the overflowing ivory and black ebony hunters.

Human, mistake from the small 'a' to the big 'Z', you got the wrong horde

I see you, young, trickster, distant, flesh-hungry narcissus, licking the boots of the powerful.

I can't want you dead though, but your kind has forgotten me

You, you betray me, who loved you, charming.

Artifices and social degeneracies resonate in your heart.

You rot my nature, an adult eager to win, and you harm those of my race.

Being a man is not about you and your busy life.

As an adult, you are a badly aged child, panicking at the thought of being suspected of an irresponsible act.

Educator, ruler, decision-maker, leader, male with false convictions, female seeking dubious recognition,

You're just a piece of shit with a suit on.

Since we are here together, in this mess of horrors, let us accept my degenerate grip and go to bed early.

Tomorrow we'll go for a walk in your world, a tour of the place where you are nothing.

What do you say to that mutilated corpse on the side of the road? That corpse with the exquisite smile?

I'm sorry if I'm writing poetry, but mine can't adorn your teak bookcase.

There is this hatred that cannot cease to be said, coming from my thousand-year-old depths

But all this, somehow, you can't help it.

Because you have to eat well, you have to enjoy and love well,

You have to give birth, you have to make a career,

You have to pass off your light knowledge as skills.

One must adhere to the laws of gender and species.

All this has to be obeyed.

Even if everything hurts us

MLF still haunts my thinning neck, although I hardly think I'll end up anything but stuffed by these well-meaning ladies

Today I invite you all to the ruin of my biotope

Forever and ever, solemnly before you, I wed the forest

Removal of the mask. Face with prosthesis.

Hello, hello little elephants!

So how are you tonight?

Live song

"In the spring, in the spring, in the spring I'll be 16...

Au Printemps - Marie Laforêt (1969) - Pierre Cour, André Popp

Ladies and Gentlemen, due to a strike of a very personal kind, we are unable to present the planned programme.

We apologise for any inconvenience caused.