l'écriture sans calmants… Poésie Body Bags ®

I didn’t touch my computer yesterday
the clerk at the supermarket talked to me with his mouth full
I don’t like “kids writing poetry workshops”
a poet’s place
isn’t in a workshop,
I don’t like “discussing with kids a topic elaborated by the author and the teacher”
I don’t like writing in a workshop
“poetry triggers a physical movement towards writing, leading the kids towards an imaginative approach
to words and their meaning”

that poetry
won’t help you out

that poetry enables nothing
that sperm is a “physical movement towards writing”
that my cock you’d stroke inside someone else’s cunt
is a “physical movement towards writing”
that the full mouth of the clerk at the supermarket is
a “physical movement towards writing”
that the ocean in the Fall is a “physical movement towards writing”
that mouths are meant for something else

that Trinidad against Wright
is a “physical movement towards writing”
that my tongue under you witch skirt
is a “physical movement towards writing”

I don’t like “contemporary poetry raising awareness activities”
I don’t like teachers
I don’t like walking towards teachers
I don’t like librarians
or
archivists
or
the “Spring Poet Conference”
or
guest authors,
one day in the courtyard of the “CIPM”
I could have killed the other poet
that
the poet’s wife
was there with him
that a poet moving around with his wife is no poet.
that a poet moving around with his wife is no poet but a merchant

you missed me Line 5 between Place d’Italie and Kremlin-Bicêtre
you would have disliked Chavanac and would you visit the hotel
5 rue d’Austerlitz?
Do you know I think of you every time I look at the geraniums?
Do you know in 2003 I weighed 94 pounds and wanted to die?

You sent me Joe,
and if I don’t kill the geraniums,
I’ll cheat on them with Joe
I am crazy to wait for your words like this,
I am crazy to think that one day, one day maybe,
your hand will slide between my legs,
I am getting crazy waiting for you,
I’m holding on,
I think if I go pee now
it’ll mess everything up
and
the plastic cock will penetrate my vagina,
even if the idea makes me sick
and
I think about a warm cock,
stiff,
a frothing cock.

Pascal Uccelli

((( @ notre_combat )))

This Body Bag by Pascal Uccelli is registered and protected by the Copyright France [7] – Copyright France [6] – Copyright France [5] – Copyright France [4] – Copyright France [3] – Copyright France [2] – Copyright France [1] – “Writing Without Sedatives…” © Pascal Uccelli, 2005 – 2009 – All Rights Reserved – No part of this publication may be reproduced.

The translator is accredited by the SFT, Société Française des Traducteurs. The translator’s expertise is from French to English. Fabienne Gondrand, Translator.

* CIPM: Centre International de Poésie Marseille / Marseille International Poetry Centre.

Tags: 2003, 5, 94, archivists, body bag, cock, computer, crazy, cunt, Fall, géraniums, guest authors, Joe, kids, l'écriture sans calmants, legs, librarians, merchant, mouths, Pascal Uccelli, poet, poetry, sans calmants, sperm, Spring Poet Conference, supermarket, teachers, tongue, Trinidad, warm cock, words, workshop, Wright, yesterday

Barbara

I’m thinking of you,
the bruises
between your legs,
the teeth
mark
on your lower lip,
the wet stain
on the sheet
and
the smell
on
the finger.

Pascal Uccelli

((( @ notre_combat )))

This Body Bag by Pascal Uccelli is registered and protected by the Copyright France [6] – Copyright France [5] – Copyright France [4] – Copyright France [3] – Copyright France [2] – Copyright France [1] – “Writing Without Sedatives…” © Pascal Uccelli, 2005 – 2009 – All Rights Reserved – No part of this publication may be reproduced.

The translator is accredited by the SFT, Société Française des Traducteurs. The translator’s expertise is from French to English. Fabienne Gondrand, Translator.

Tags: Barbara, body bag, bruises, finger, l'écriture sans calmants, legs, lip, Pascal Uccelli, sans calmants, smell, teeth mark, wet stain, without sedatives, writing without sedatives

Nina Hagen – « New York, New York »

tell me,
you thought
of a piece of something
that would
come from me
that you could
carry
between your legs
always,

maybe
a piece of my cock
if
I cut it
and you collected it from the relay point,

maybe
something else too,

a piece of the South,
a piece of my glass
of whiskey,
a piece
of
my
Sunday
at the back of the bar,

tell me,
you thought
of a piece of something
that would
come from me
that you could
carry
between your legs
always,

maybe
some of my vomit
you’d collect from the relay point.

Pascal Uccelli

((( @ notre_combat )))

This Body Bag by Pascal Uccelli is registered and protected by the Copyright France [2] – Copyright France [1] – “Writing Without Sedatives…” © Pascal Uccelli, 2004 – 2007 – 2009 – All Rights Reserved – No part of this publication may be reproduced.

The translator is accredited by the SFT, Société Française des Traducteurs. The translator’s expertise is from French to English. Fabienne Gondrand, Translator.

Tags: bar, body bag, cock, glass, l'écriture sans calmants, legs, Nina Hagen, Pascal Uccelli, relais colis, relay point, sans calmants, Sunday, vomit, whiskey, without sedatives, writing without sedatives