waking up snow fallings like white wishes, over London, blanket of innocence everything so pure and bliss, but snow flakes you came too late, because it was last night, my heart melted it!!!

but i knew powerful emotions,

would show my happyness,

in my sleep, dreaming...

because i love the snow.



i curse with my soul,
i love with my heart,
i forgive with my pains,
and it will be so to my last breath,

so nothing can hurt me more,
your silence is no cruel,
but the reflection,
you must face in this broken mirror of yours,

don`t you know,
forgiveness is a gift,
so without a drift,
i only have three words to tell you,

i love you.




As a child, I always knew what I wanted to be: a poet or a serial killer.

Both used the same ammunitions, while the poet kills with words,

The assassin used a bullet but at the end, both listen the whispers of their emotions, feelings to terminate their anguish.


As a teenager, I wanted to be a saint or a whore. Both used the same trick, one sell his soul, the other one sell his flesh but at the end, each ones is searching to escape.


As an adult, I wanted to be a cobra or a lethal rose. Both used their beauty.

One will dance, his stare hypnotise you to inject his lethal venom, and the other one will always prick your heart to piece.


These days, I dream and wish to be love and to love, I dream of the man pressing his lips again mine and wish the sweetest kiss of a lady.

Because at the end of the day, we are all sexual being…



Nights can fall and shadow fills my heart , all i have to do to, to find faiths and see true love is those eyes, there is no lies only purity staring back at you, right to the core of my soul and i know, if sometimes, i feel i have lost faiths in my human fellows, those eyes take me back to hope and i know, love is real




The poet act on impulsion, Outside of his nest, Beauty struck him, like the warm freeze, Such jewels are tears, Rolling upon his lips, Soon, to be turn to ink, To stained the page, Wondering the essence, Who guide his hands, And tarnish light to shadows? Where is the sun, Where the child once enjoyed? Tonight lost in the deep night…

grief has took over bliss, Pains has robbed the ecstasy from his eyes, Cripple blind man, Begging through words, To let him experience again the innocence, The purity of the morning dews, Flirting through his fingers, water kisses.

The poet act on impulsion, When the rage of the child erupt, No remorse control or regrets, Just a vacant grave, to jump and hide his shame, in such hollow worthlessness!

Falling, faster and faster, Light slowly become deem, No stars, no moon, no sun, Silence become gold to the broken soul, Where I go there is no an angels or god, Turning into a ball of fire, ashes to ashes.




Sweet breath stroke my face,

Bitter wind, the back of mother hand!

Such is life, brutally alive

Children’s minds…

The void of the blind man,

Remind me of this love…

A Street name carnage desire,

As I watch my shadow slip away….

Back alleys ways fills with zombies.

Feeding on each others carcasses!

Rotten dreams for mortals!

Puppets of destiny, dangling from the hollow true!

May I hold the strings?

To cut free, and watch crashing,

Such pretty creatures, to falls,

Over the gutter, that is my life!!!




Third attempt to write about it

And all I ever get too is the unzip part!

Trap of the honey sucker,

His bed made of semen petals!

I don’t look or care for excuses,

Yes I was young, so what !

Should I have known better?

When his fingers stroked my skin?

And his words twisted it my mind?

Hidden face of innocence can be so ugly!

I almost forget him, forgive? Who…

Before he did the deed it left on me!

one has to be violated it, my best tattoo.

It seems like the wind was slapping my ass,

When his fifthly hands caressed it my hair.

His sickly voice trying to hypnotised my drunken soul,

And felt my clothes being removed away!

What was the big deal? those crimes happen every days,

I was seventeen, I was no kid,

Oh sure, It took long before I took the knife

And kill my ego used and abused!

Paris, city of the lovers,

Not so sure by the hot poker,

I scream enough for him to give me back my serenity,

By then it was too late!

The man, used a soap to seat on his new trophy,

And if I felt hate, my manhood was hard,

And let him steals my innocence,

Today, I feel nothing, no an inches of hate!

They say rape is a taboo subject,

I say, taboo is the silence that followed it!

I have no more time for secrets,

We all, know secret kills!

It could have been someone else,

Today, I barely remember his face,

More the details of his room,

The pimp of the voice whispering me,

How beautiful, I was,

The lies and the burning soap,

Burning my inside while he took his pleasure,

And felt to sleep like a child.

As I was told youth is wasted on the youngsters!

Woke up naked my mind still fills with blurry flashbacks,

Of what he had done to me,

looking at him sleeping peacefully.

The kid turned to a man,

And shook him, realising his clothes had vanished!

He could barely spoke and order me to go back to bed,

The front door was locked or was it my sanity?

I was a naked trap animal,

There was only one last exit,

I open the window,

And stood on the balcony.

I scream for my life,

He watched me like some frantic creature,

But he knew the look in my eyes,

Was ready to do the jump!

He crawled of the bed of his sin,

And took a key of his pocket,

Through my attire at me

And I run half-naked in the streets of romantic Paris.

There is neither moral or regrets,

I find my way to the train station,

And once more time as I had done thousand of time the night before,

I check my pocket, where I had not find any money or my return ticket.

As my hand plunge one more time in my jacket pocket,

I felt something I had look all night,

My hands retrieved the train ticket,

Was I a joke of the devil?

And all I could sense was the remains,

The burning sensation inside me,

Soap are made to wash hands,

Train ticket to leave, Strangers to avoid

As meaningless to-day the word rape has become.

Sweet seventy, face of an angel

Easy prey, half sober,

Wondering the streets of Paris,

Funny, I still always check my pockets to these days!



If I was your son, I be your seed,

The one who let me out to this world,

If I was a punch, I would choose the one,

You gave to my pregnant mother,

If I was the traumatise child,

I would be the one listening his mother screams,

If you were holding the metal belt,

I would be the kid with the scare,

If you was the one broking glass on the floor,

I was the one walking bare feet upon it,

If there was a closest,

I was the one hiding inside it,

If was an beaten puppy with metal bar,

I was the son force to watched it,

If I was the man who was pushing his wife by the window,

I was the small child, weeping for help,

If I was the man scalping your mother,

I was the one holding the knife,

If I was the son of the woman begging for help,

I was the one ready to push the blade inside you,

If I had follow your path,

I was the animal trap in your cage,

If your were my father,

I would have stop drinking myself to death,

If you were my blood and flesh,

I am glad you took your delirium six foot’s under,

If I had a choice,

I wish, we could had the chance to spoke once,

If I could turn the clock,

I would tell you, I had long forgave you,

If you can hear me from above,

I was simply telling you, I love you dad.




Seating in the back of the school,

We always knew who she was,

The sweet smell left on your dirty knickers

Your crooked little smile,

Little fish, always smiling,

Lunch is ready, fish fingers!