me...mi...io...moi...mwen

me...mi...io...moi...mwen
blissing of introspection

mercredi 7 août 2013

"A sphere in mutation" by Ca.Dé

Free Angela and all political prisoners 

...movies open you up…stories change you…
"FREE ANGELA" 
Not so much the movie in itself, which was more a documentary than anything, pieces put together, some poetry was tried but not necessarily in a successful way, but fortunately nothing else than the facts were truly needed to make it relevant.

Coming out of there, i felt dignified…i felt purposeful…empowered…but i also felt lost (…) as i started to doubt the mechanisms behind my newly enlightened purpose and power.
I realized that i have been trying to materialize revolution into my life for the past years, but doing such by only doubting the world around me. 
I had to now admit that my fight was no clever, because I was trying to simply reproduce the "effects" of those who before me had imposed sensitive change, but unlike me they were moving with, by, for and against the "causes". 
My observation became that I was seduced by the idea of change but never courageous enough to understand that changes have to be experienced. I was focusing on the global subject of a so called new world but fearing to dig into the details and mechanisms that compose the present world and would describe the future one.
Our time has become one of global consciousness, but won't we always remain intimate creatures ?
For anything to potentially touch us in any way it has to leave the global and enter our intimate sphere, doesn't it? 
So why when we think of a better, bigger, fairer world we attack it in a global way without touching this intimate sphere? Isn't the failure certain then? …actually there would not even be case of failure as the file on the issue would have not been opened.
Here we are dressing like revolutionaries, developing the brain of a revolutionary, gathering year after year all the weapons of a real warrior, except the warrior forgets to get up to go to war or better doesn't go to the "good war". 
I believe a war for genuine change is before anything pacific in that it is characterized by selflessness and resilience, and can then last and have impact for ages. 
In that perspective the warrior can't be defeated, the David can fear no Goliath…
For myself i can say as of today that i did not learn how to be a pacific warrior as i haven't learnt neither the development nor the application of selflessness, as I have neither the ability nor the will to truly revolutionize my intimate circle. 
The description of our time being in the self, the definition of the self, the application of the self on other selves, it becomes human survival to protect the self, the intimate circle and therefore when you think about it our actual survival ultimately protects this world from ever changing.

So today...as i watched the story of this woman, Angela Davis, in its every details, i went from a global to intimate perspective of how her story became one of revolution, a universal one not only for a country and a world, but for a time. 
I also understood the importance of the articulated mind (not that only a scholar can relevantly have an impact the world !!! we know that is nonsense!), but because the place and the context of where the revolution take place and the revolutionary rises matters. 
If it has to take place in this western world, we can't deny the fact that this one is obsessed by the mind and its effect on the global.
How can we then precisely, intricately, purposely shake grounds if we are not able to understand, articulate and then materialize changes in the sphere where you want to see them take place ?
Study, education, knowledge have the potential (and the ultimate purpose) to become and be used as weapons for our pacific war … the rock thrown at Goliath…
But this can only happen once it has been taking out of its academic context and used to question the said context that has produced it. Only then it can be of use for the people, the time and the future's sake…otherwise it is as if David had handed over that rock instead of throwing it…

So today...i truly question the integrity of my personal and intimate sphere, as I realize that it has been shaped like walls of concrete to allow me to survive my many disagreements with the global sphere.
This world has been teaching me how to build my own slit trench, secure it to then hide in it. 
My sphere is airtight to allow me to live despite the struggles of my community, of any community. 
I can read it in the news and must not be overwhelmed by it to be able to productively go on with my day, that is a common ability we all have right? 
But then I wonder how can revolution and change arise if its seed has been taking out of the ground. This seed being the emotional impact that injustice must normally have on human consciousness.
The observation becomes that during our evolution in this world this genuine ability of being thrown by the things we challenge in it is being numbed out. The process of evolution can therefore become one of unwanted dehumanization that will ultimately make us loose the ability to have true impact on humanity ever! 

So today…I doubt this strength that i have been building for 27 years, as this strength might have shifted me from the causes of being a human to its effects, this strength might have forbidden me from ever rising my voice for "the people" as i have outdistanced myself from the idea of "people". 
If the only change that interest me is one for self, I am a warrior who has already been defeated…by trying to be so strong…
Is the strength then in the fragility of emotions, concerns and selflessness? 
Shouldn't the process towards becoming a human nurture all of the human compositions and emotions instead of selecting only the one that are more adaptable to this world?
Shall being "weaker" and therefore more sensitive and aware become the new "strong" and the new sensible? 

So today… I am starting to wonder differently as my questions are progressively moving from the global to the intimate.
And I stand there deeply believing that this shift in the mechanism of introspection itself can give to change the potential of a seed instead of a fleeting bouquet (…).

Ca.Dé

mardi 7 mai 2013

...the end of stuff...



just finished a novel…well…huh…
will read poetry from now on! 
done with sensible stuff, will just keep sensitive junk
overwhelmed by things that start existing only to impose ending 
really over defining existence by drawing its many limits  
why wish to exhale to experience breathe? when you can get dizzy in the endless inhale? 
… will read poetry from now on … or just word on a page of a book not even written - therefore finished - yet
i will eat only the inside of my sandwich, let the edge called bread find its new beginning 
wake up without my alarm and stop it right before it rings so my nights will be known as limitless
brush my teeth in the other room so i forget to stop, while watching TV
switch my side of the bed every night so i don't know which way to fall 
acknowledge the fact that i have no watch and stop using my cell as one, then days shall become clouds
go somewhere with no purpose and let the purpose find me 
do something for the damn journey!!! instead of the result
not finish this note….

Ca.Dé

vendredi 1 février 2013

new app...


j'apprends que la magie de l'instant est la survie du suivant 
j'apprends que je ne sais pas tout mais veux tout 
j'apprends que le père noël n'existe pas mais envoie des cadeaux parfois 
j'apprends qu'y croire c'est 90% de la recette 
j'apprends que je ne veux pas savoir mais veux apprendre
j'apprends que pardonner ça prend du temps 
j'apprends que le temps passe vite 
j'apprends que l'argent n'achète pas tout 
j'apprends qu'on peut promettre la lune 
j'apprends que j'aime la vie 
j'apprends que c'est ce que je n'ai pas appris que j'aime le plus 
j'apprends que c'est pas tout mais que la page est finie...

Ca.Dé

vendredi 31 août 2012

NIGHT HOUSE

Night house
warm house
is yours to take
if you let go...welcome to my house...
smoke surrounds the deepest curves of your body
pink flash lights brighten the darkest parts of your soul
sweetest sweat makes your back shine
blackest boots make the floor hurt
DJ says he has no pity
hide your tired in a corner of the room near the couch
let your shy sink in the purple blanket near the wall
let the bouncer be your dance partner
try to stay hydrated on Jack & Coke
close your eyes and all you can hold on to is your cigaret
two fingers away from complete loss of yourself
let the gay guy tell you you're fabulous
ask the cute one with a hat to dance just with your eyes
say no to the one with a ugly sweater with your lips
when it's time to go
the light, the smoke, the hat are gone
but you say "one more" with your hips
anyway you gonna have to find your way home with your head.

Ca.Dé

jeudi 1 mars 2012

la prose vivante


Poésie, poésie...la vie est faite pour être vécue ainsi.
Les seuls moments de vie où je trouve un peu de paix sont ceux qui me permettent de manier la rime dans mon corps, l'oxymore dans mon coeur et la métaphore dans mon âme.

Mais voilà, la technique de la poésie qui se vit en est une qui ne s'apprend pas.
Ca peut décourager... se sentir condamner dans un univers prosaïque et banal...
La bonne nouvelle? c'est que normalement c'est naturel, on est tous des poètes!!! =)
Le problème? tout ce qu'on fait (euh...se force à faire) depuis notre réveil jusqu'à notre coucher (je parle bien du merveilleusement détesté mais religieusement pratiqué: métro-boulot-dodo...) tue le poète en nous. Pour le voir de manière moins dramatique, disons qu'on le tue pas, on le bourre juste de prozac!
Voilà donc maintenant notre poète interne qui déambule somnolent dans un monde monochromatique.
Fini les noir, blanc, rouge, vert, bleu de Rimbaud*!
Le monde est terne, pas besoin d'en parler, rien à dire ni à redire, rien à changer.
Besoin de fantaisie? eh ben changeons notre photo de profil Facebook!
Non! Encore mieux! Trouvons la page "poésie" et mettons un bon gros "j'aime"! ah ah!
Voilà qui rend heureux le poète "proza-ïqué" en nous!

C'est bien pathétique tout ça (et un soupçon comique)...mais...voilà...quelque chose de merveilleux est arrivé ce soir.
Mon poète intérieur a dû oublié de prendre sa dose, car je revois des couleurs, j'entends des figures de styles, un rien m'inspire un texte, ce qui est 'normal" ne le semble plus du tout.
Je me sens euphorique et nauséeuse, déprimée et heureuse...l'artiste dans toute sa splendeur quoi!
Et surtout, ce qui me plait plus que tout...c'est que de nouveau, j'ai une de ces envies de changer le monde!!!
It's fabulous!
T'en penses quoi Rimbaud?

"A noir, E blanc, I rouge, U vert, O bleu : voyelles,
Je dirai quelque jour vos naissances latentes"
;-)
bliss & peace
Ca.dé

lundi 2 janvier 2012

no line for new friend


did it leave me or did i drop it?

where is my built-in-brain-sharpener?

no line comes out, thoughts just rebelliously remain at the stage of confusing sticky gum.

what do i do with that? could they just come lay down with me on the white bed called sheet!

can we dance the waltz where they lead and i follow?

can we play the game of you inspire me and i write you down?


the thoughts said no and went for a ride on other people's blog.

i stayed with a new friend called Heavy.

so i invented an HeavyTale.




an heavy head is more noticeable than an heavy soul.

heavy soul of mine don't talk, don't write, just complains in silence

heavy soul of mine is a B., she don't like any of it but won't say shit until it's too late

heavy guts of mine got cancer called fear and don't want no cure

cure is rebellion, cure is work, cure is going to vacation when everybody is coming back, wearing pink when black is the new black,

cure is expansive, cause you gotta buy your soul back but you spent your cash to get the new Mac.

heavy head is more noticeable then heavy soul and new mac makes me forget heavy head.

so i kept my head light and put the rocks on the top of my soul, i called it surviving.

rocks too heavy to be sharpened

very slow spirit will make no line

it hasn't left me…i dropped it.

lundi 25 juillet 2011

rêves en rouge

Sur mon mur rouge j'ai accroché mes rêves
J'ai effacé au papier de verre le crachat de mon jugement
"i am that" s'est écrit en lettres d'argent brillantes
Le rouge un jour sera craquelé
Mes désirs assouvis ou oubliés
Les lettres deviendront pierres de lune
Moi, j'aurai ma maison près des étoiles

Bliss*Ca.Dé*