Roland Michel Tremblay



Translated from French by the Scottish author Sheila MacLeod




Black Poetry

(if you want)


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This book has now been published in French by and is the most popular book they ever printed.

The rights for the English version are available. Please contact me if you are interested:

French version / Version franÁaise:


Warning: this book is not for anyone I know, anyone who has aged too quickly.

I have no need for your judgements, keep them for yourself!


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The Collective Soul Is Rotting

No Faith, No Hope

Iím Corrupt

Being Nothing

Virtual Sheep, My Only Love!

Let's Go To Mass On Sunday!

Your Children Are All Empty Vessels

The Anarchist

Have a Nice Cup of Tea, My Dear

Iíll Tell Whatís Normal

I Fucked the Town Slag

Itís Par for the Course in New York

Drink Up Your Whisky, Old Girl, and Cheat Death

Weíre Not a Lost Generation

The Alchemist


I Strike and I Kill

Outside Buckingham Palace

Flush it all Down the Loo

Stop Puking all Over Me!

God Loves Me!

My Life Is Ruled By Sex

Poor Little Thing

My Headís About to Explode!

I Pissed on the Sorbonne

I Love My Sugar Daddy


Iím Your Leader

Iím Unreachable

Iím Irresponsible

My Mea Culpa

My Devolution, My Revolution

Throw Me Away After Use

Step Into My Hell

Come With Me and Iíll Show You The World

Is it My Fault If I Donít Get a Hard On?

Flee, Flee, Flee

Iím Going to Shoot Myself

Your Flowers Smell Like Christ Decomposing!

You're So Sweet!

I Go from One Extreme to the Other

The Meat Between a Womanís Legs

From the Moment When...

Love is Sweet


Anarchy on Earth


I Donít Give a Fuck About You

Head in the Clouds?


If I Were A Woman

If I Were President of the United States

If I Were God

My Terrible Sentence


Alone in the World

Iím Going to Find Myself a Whore


Something Tells Me That This Time...

The British Dream

Hollywood Success

The Following Poem Was Banned in 53 Countries

And This One Was Banned All Over the World

No Girls in the Army

Letter From Prison

A Gun At Your Head


The Infinite


Frontline Terrorism

The World Is Dying

A Serious Problem with Authority

You Lied

She Always Was a Monster

I Am the Talk of the Town

I Should be Dead

Iím Your Slave

Iím Your Inflatable Virgin Mary

Youíre Just A Bitch-Victim

Life and I are Incompatible

There Are No Noble Feeling

Thereís Nothing Worse Than People With Principles

The Policy of Truth

Get A Life, Old Crow!

Iím Just a Pretty Face

Bitchy Woman

Crabs, Crabs, and Crabs Again

To Die in Peace

Are You Still My Friend?

Something Philosophical

Dear God, Let Me Be Done With It

Living in Infinity

Beyond War

Ready to Explode


Poetry to Galvanise a Whole Generation

Faith in Mankind

Iím Ugly

Iíve Seen an Extra-Terrestrial

The Power of Words

Oh Gloria, If You Hadnít Loved Cider So Much...

The World is Disheartening

Come On, Damn It, Iíve Got a Life to Live

Existential Crisis

At the Heart of London

Put A Bomb Under Them

Too Many Stupid People All Round Me

The New Love of My Life


Life Isnít Life

I Hoped For So Much

The World Wonít Change

Death to Purity!

Whatís Your First Name Again?

The Marginal

I Donít Remember

I Remember

I Know the Name of God

Contempt For Manís Pettiness

Again, Again and Again

Social Reality

Do the Opposite

Be Marginal and Make a Difference


The Most Beautiful Creature on Earth

Where are the Great Thinkers?

Oh No, Not Another Scandal!

I Could Pretend To Be The Devil

I Live in Opposition to the World

A Good Horror Story

What a Buzz!

We Are Energy

Youíre Zombies

My Last Cigarette, My Last Beer

To Hell With Conformism

I Want to Shit All Over You

No Forgiveness

The New Age

Inner Peace

Prostituted to Other Peopleís Ideas

A Nice Big Burger

Itís An Honour For Me

Are You Cool?

I Played Video Games for Ten Years

I Failed My Last Physics Exam

Get A Pint of Milk

Mom, Come and Find Your Son


Go Fuck Yourself, Arsehole

You Abused Me

Sex?Sign These ContractsÖ

Twenty-Six Cameras Watch Me When I Shit

The Nevada Desert

Anarchist Theory

A New Life For Sale

Descent Into Hell

Anorexia Nervosa

Creating A New World

Another Mutilated Body

Death Valley

Just When I Thought Iíd Understood

Iíve Said It All

A Swamp Full of Tadpoles

I Understand

My Frankensteinís Monster Is Already At Large in the Crowd

Who Do You Think You Are?

When You Dream of Glory, I Wank

A Little Hitler in the Making

Innocence Is Never Innocent For Too Long

Oh My God!

You Opened the Gates of Hell

If I Were Einstein

In The Depths of the Marais

Church Street

What Iíve Found in the Holy Bible of the Hotel

The Hidden Knowledge of Things

The Voice of a Generation

Iím Making History

I Am God the Father

The Collective Soul is Rotting


Perverted animal, knowing the whole world of sex

Iíve thoroughly penetrated you and I remember

This makes me just as perverted as you

Arenít we happy together

In our slum, forever arguing

And getting nowhere

Life is sweet when thereís nothing but perversion

To lead us to the heights

Being there with you I meet human consciousness head on

Observing, recognising itself, and dying with us

The collective soul is just as rotten as ours

Because we are its progeny



Back to the Top   Back to the Summary



No Faith, No Hope


Ah, I must empty my heart

Of all its rottenness

Iím so far from fulfilment and inner peace

I yearn to die as I yearn to kill

No light on the horizon

And yet I know all about mysticism

Know how to reach spirituality

Find God

But itís all from the mind

Nothing from the heart

Iím incapable of love

But capable of death

My sensitivity is useless

I could destroy humanity with my violent thoughts

No faith, no hope




Iím Corrupt


Iím corrupt

As corrupt as you could have wished

Iím corrupt to the marrow of my bones

I suffer from an incurable disease

Fluttering in my brain

Gnawing at my bones and offering me doubt

Pain, unhappiness

I walk with the weight of my guilt

Through streets punctuated with churches

Knowing right from wrong at last and doing wrong

Theyíve got me

My thoughts are no longer my own

Iíve fallen into their net

Iíve listened, swallowed, digested

I suffer from an incurable disease

Called God



Being Nothing


Iím an explosion of places

A multitude of times

There are several versions of me

I follow this path or that while believing Iím following my destiny

But it makes me suffer so much

To know Iím following a beaten track and living too intensely

I try to accept, to experience, everything

Although I could easily spare myself


Iím an explosion of places

A multitude of times

I chase all sorts of possibilities

I follow this path or that, Iím my own destiny

It makes me suffer so much

But Iím learning to get acquainted with life

Acquainted with the lives of others

Theyíre just like mine


Iím an explosion of places

A multitude of times

But I still feel Iím nothing

Grubby and ugly, empty and worthless

How can such a heap of meat follow a destiny?



Virtual Sheep, My Only Love!


Three minutes have gone by

The world begins to wonder

Where is it now?

Then my heart beats wildly

I turn on my computer and click on my electronic sheep

It looks at me, hums, walks around and produces strange noises

This really cheers me up

My little sheep . . .

Then I begin to cry, for everything there is to cry about

Then it sneezes and Iím happy again for a moment

It jumps higher and higher

Leaps up on to the words in these lines

And this really cheers me up

And I cry more than ever

And I realise that I really love this virtual sheep

That itís the only thing in the whole world that can stop me crying

But then I realise just how sad Iíve become

When a virtual animal is all that I have

And I really donít know what Iíd do without it

How could I have become so sad?



Back to the Top   Back to the Summary



Letís Go to Mass on Sunday


I went into a church on Sunday

With the latest edition of Let Us Pray in Church

I kissed the congregation, fulfilling my destiny

Doing a favour to those in need of love

The priest smiled broadly, delighting in this joyous Mass

He thanked me and absolved me from my sins

Absolution, nothing too wicked for God to forgive


I went into a church on Sunday

With the latest model of a gun

I fired on the congregation, fulfilling my destiny

Doing a favour to those who no longer saw clearly

The priest smiled broadly, delighting in this deathly Mass

He thanked me and absolved me from my sins

Absolution, nothing too wicked for God to forgive



Your Children Are All Empty Vessels

(and Sex-Obsessed!)


Iíve watched them, hyperactive and spiteful

Utterly empty-headed, blissful in their ignorance

Vegetables, like me, in the scheme of things

Learning stupidities for filling little pitchers

But theyíre all cracked, spilling their contents on the floor instead of being able to act or question authority

Not one of them who doesnít dream of flying out the window

Or making love with the person next to them

Most of them are already on drugs

And you, for the love of heaven, want to see these empty vessels do well

Your empty vessels will be successful and cracked at the same time

No matter, your children will be cracked for all eternity

How beautiful life is when your truth pours out from the mouths of your children



The Anarchist


I sacrifice myself for one and all

I come forward telling the truth

Bearing witness, as I must, to my experience

I describe my perversion, my immorality, in detail

Listen, they spit on me, trample me, and I donít give a toss any more

Iím here, itís today

Iím not, unlike you, a mass of defences, ready to spring into action

A tissue of falsehoods for justifying my failures

Fifty-six ways to camouflage the truth

Here it is utterly naked in front of you

Open your eyes and learn a lesson from it

Youíll never be better than me

Youíll never be worth more than me

Iím the one who confronts life

Iím the one who confronts truth



Have a Nice Cup of Tea, My Dear


ęWe donít need all this violence, this rowdy music, these indecent picturesĽ

ęWhen youíre older, youíll change, youíll understand, I hopeĽ

ęYouíve got two choices left: law or medicineĽ

ęYouíve got to have this diploma and these qualifications at leastĽ

ęWhat you should do now is watch others and do as they doĽ

ęWhy arenít you doing it?Ľ

ęWhere were you last night? Your life is ruled by sexĽ

ęYou donít dabble in drugs, I hope. Remember alcoholís a drug tooĽ

ęYou have no idea of right and wrongĽ

ęYou must keep trying, one day youíll get it rightĽ

ęHave a nice cup of tea, my dearĽ

And choke on it!





Iíll Tell Whatís Normal


Itís the truth as youíll never know it

Itís serial infidelity by women as much as by men

Itís such a revulsion with life that a whole chemistís shop couldnít cure it

Itís separation, divorce, depression, abortion

Itís short-lived affairs where sex is what matters most

Itís a decent bottle of Scotch or of Cognac

Itís a packet of cigarettes harbouring cancer to gnaw at your guts

Itís random, street-corner death for a thousand and one reasons

Itís a struggle for power or money where no oneís the outright winner

Itís a high-class bitch who knows everything and subjects you to her morals from hell

Itís a whore whoís been humped by a businessman and dies from an overdose of coke

Itís a gaggle of neuroses meeting up to reinforce each other

Itís the Pope saying the opposite of what he thinks in the name of we donít know what

Itís a country owned by big, rich companies

Itís lives in hock to banks

Itís ubiquitous hypocrisy

Itís institutionalised slavery

Itís political corruption at every level

Itís God dead and buried



I Fucked the Town Slag


Resplendent in her lovely garish frock

Breasts bursting with hormones

Wig of hair piled half a yard at least on top of her head

She was really beautiful, my slag

Singing to celebrate Saint Patrickís Day

Counting her ex-boy friends in the bar, they came to far too many

I took her, just as she was, back to my hotel room

They must have thought Iíd found a whore and not been too fussy about it

But I kissed her, sucked her, fucked her inside out, my slag

She was as docile as a bitch on heat who asks for more, my slag

I should have snatched the wig off my slag

Deflated the ballooning breasts of my slag

Clawed off her frock and her buttocks, my slag

Finally killed her with pleasure, my slag

Last night I fucked the town slag

And now I feel free



Itís Par for the Course in New York


Iíd hardly set foot in this great American city and already we were having sex in a taxi

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

Then we went out, found ourselves at an orgy, with everyone at it all round us

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

Then we met a surgeon, aged seventy, who wanted us to make up a threesome

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

Then I met a hundred and one people youíd slept with in one year

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

Then I saw your sixty credit cards, all of them over the limit

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

For you I worked in a mafia restaurant, swarming with rats and cockroaches

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

I met your psychiatrist friend who prescribed some amazing pills for me

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

With you I caught several sexually transmitted diseases

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

I even saved you from a drug-induced suicide where you coughed up blood

ęBut thatís par for the course in New YorkĽ

For all those things, I love you

ęAh, thatís not par for the course in New YorkĽ



Back to the Top   Back to the Summary



Drink Up Your Whisky, Old Girl, and Cheat Death


Every day God grants, I get up and go to the Off Licence

I buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer

Sheís got three months to live, they tell me, so I say to her:

Drink up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!

Itís been five years now since they first gave her three months to live

So the whisky is obviously keeping her going

And so every day God grants I get up and go the Off Licence

I buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer and I tell her:

Drink up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!

Knowing itís God whoís sent me, she thanks me profusely

Taking the first glass diluted with water, then drinking it neat

Next day the nurse finds her out cold, picks up the empty bottles

Crosses herself but remarks that it seems to work better than morphine

So every day God grants I get up and go to the Off Licence

I buy two half-bottles of whisky for the old girl dying of cancer and I tell her:

Drink up your whisky, old girl, and cheat death!



Weíre Not a Lost Generation


I watched you from the back of the bar, felt sorry for you

Blatantly lacking in personality, you were just a hanger-on

Lost, new to this world, you walk wondering if you have the right to do so

But come on, for the love of heaven, get up and walk!

Stop breathing in what others have breathed out

Direct your energy to your surroundings

Claim your place, be a mover and shaker of this world

Weíre not a lost generation

Weíre a generation landed with ramshackle structures

This is no time for stupefaction, itís a time to destroy and rebuild

Motivation destruction inspiration construction

Come on, my boy, weíll make a man of you yet



The Alchemist


Me, an anarchist?

No way, my friend, youíre quite mistaken

Iím an alchemist, which is altogether something else

I transform the rotten human heart into something palatable

Capitalism and Communism into something else not yet invented

Compulsory moral values into something not yet invented

The whole human race into something not yet invented

Sublimation of everything into something other

Than the systematic destruction of everything

This is no mean claim

Anarchy exists, is necessary for change, but never lasts long

Soon people are killing each other and someone then takes control

Anarchy is not enough, we must have alchemy

Thatís why Iím an alchemist





Without hell, no heaven

Without the devil, no God

Without mediocrity, no excellence

Without death, no life

Without darkness, no light

Without unhappiness, no happiness

Without immorality, no morality

Without mortality, no immortality

Without perversion, no purity

Without evil, no good

Evil is therefore essential

Long live evil!



I Strike and I Kill


In a world of competition Iíve learned my lesson well

Out of my way, punk, or youíll get what the others got

You can judge me, destroy me, condemn me

But youíll have that on your conscience

Take advantage of the situation, strike, kill, step into your victimís shoes

Even when you revel in it, we call this climbing the ladder

You get there with motivation but mainly with a good kick up the arse

The best killers are those who get to the top

Pope, King, President, Prime Minister, Minister

Swanning around in limos when they donít have their private jets

Lesser weasels have waded through shoals of shit to get where they are

Youíll find them heading companies, organisations, financial and educational institutions

We donít get to the top by accident, integrity would kill us

Everywhere I follow the social pattern

I strike and I kill



Outside Buckingham Palace


The other day, looking the harmless tourist, I was strolling by Buckingham Palace

I looked at the flowers, although it was dark,

not knowing if the Queen could see me from her royal window

Unluckily for me I had a weapon but we should be allowed to defend ourselves,

even against the Queen

They trained their guns on me, all round me the click of their catches

I went on examining the flowers, though fully aware of the threat

Lights blazed, loudspeakers began to bellow

Puzzled and panicked, I took out my weapon, held it up under the lights

They stepped back, their guns clicking again (the first time being only a warning)

They all took a look at my weapon: a harmless touristís camera

- You bunch of idiots, I was looking at the flowers!



Flush It All Down the Loo


Yesterday, having nothing to eat and nowhere to go, I went to look for a job

I found the three tallest buildings in town, the ones over fifty floors

The first one said Bank of something or other

-Good morning, Iíve seen your wonderful premises,

the thousands of jobs you have, so here I am

ęBut, my boy, weíre serious here, we work hardĽ

-Oh? And what do you do? Iím hungry and I need a place to sleep

ęWell, we manage everyoneís money and deal with economicsĽ

-Do people need all this to have their money managed and their economics dealt with?

ęGet out, you ignorant fool, you donít understand how modern businesses work!Ľ

The second huge building was called something like Mutual Life

ęHere we sell insurance, pensions, Treasury benefits, formalities galoreĽ

-But what youíre selling is wind! And you charge a fortune for that?

ęWind, is it? Insolent upstart! Our services are all essential and legally ratified,

The papers drawn up by the best professionals, itís a lot of hard work!

There are 25,000 people working in this building!Ľ

- What? 25,000 professionals with nice fat salaries for filling and filing forms?

ęGet out, young innocent, get wise to the real world,

the great big serious world of modern businessĽ

The third huge building was filled to the brim with lawyers,

spilling out of the top-floor windows

-I want a lawyer at once to help me understand my rights and liberties in these companies

ęAnd how much money do you have, young man?Ľ

-One dollar, look how lovely the Queen is on my dollar

ęGet out, you cheeky young fool, youíd need 500,000 of those dollars to hire a lawyer

And even at that price heíd be crooked!Ľ

Poor innocent that I am, I must have missed the boat



Back to the Top   Back to the Summary



Stop Puking All Over Me


Fine by me going out with you

Fine by me drinking half the bar with you

Fine by me making dangerous love with various objects tearing my insides

Fine by me exchanging our sighs and saliva till we choke on our own CO2

No problem piercing genital organs with rings

Bring me your instruments of torture, your whips, your leather gear, your wedding dresses

Hard drugs too, you know I love you, Iíd do anything for you, even die of an overdose

If you rape me like an animal I donít mind

Introduce me to Satanism, the Black Mass with animal sacrifice, thatís still fine

Throw me out on the street for three days, then take me back, thatís OK

Iím happy to go to those places where they swap partners

And watch illegal porno films where people do unbelievable, unimaginable things

The hell you offer me I accept as paradise

If you want me to piss in your mouth or shit on your face, Iím still up for it

But please, please, please, stop puking all over me



God Loves Me


Quickly, quickly, I went down the stairs of a dark sleazy club in New York

Someone injected me with something which brought me straight back to the surface

Even higher than the surface, I travelled through space

Angels surrounded me, like countless embodiments of the Virgin Mary

How wonderful I felt!

Absolute fulfilment which only the truly spiritual can reach

I found myself face to face with God

God said to me:

I love you!

It hit me like a huge gust of fresh air, I stayed stunned by it

Back on earth I took a plane to see my friends and tell them the good news:

God loves me!

They called the police and I found myself in a psychiatric

hospital where I stayed for several days

I went through a cure of total detox (although they prescribed other drugs for me)

Now I see clearly:

God doesnít love me!



My Life Is Ruled By Sex


Öand the same thing the next day

Whether itís the tube to Piccadilly Circus or the subway to Washington Square

Iíve only got one destination: Soho

I go to the village, go into a pub or a club

Parade my spare-time English, my sad little eyes, my innocent face,

looking all round me at once!

And itís going on in every direction, all sides, I must learn to control myself

Then suddenly someone looks at me, this is the green light

In less than a second there I am there

So you live with your parents? Youíre a Catholic?

No, no, what am I sayingÖ:

You want to come to my place?

And there we make love like a storm unleashed from the sky

We kiss each other all over, lick, devour, masturbate, cry out and come

Afterwards we lie back, neither of us asks any questions, we part

And the same thing the next dayÖ



Poor Little Thing


Heís got new shoes, poor little thing

He lives with his parents, poor little thing

He goes to the University of Toronto, poor little thing

Heís got a career in front of him, poor little thing

Heís got a good job now, poor little thing

Heís saving thousands of dollars, poor little thing

Soon heíll buy a house, poor little thing

Heís got a beautiful blonde on his arm, poor little thing

Heíll have children, poor little thing

Heíll have a condo in Florida, poor little thing

Heíll have a whole apartment block in the centre of Toronto, poor little thing

Heíll be rich, his fortune amassing over the years, poor little thing

But heíll be unhappy, poor little thing

None of his dreams coming true, poor little thing

At fifty heíll go through his menopause, poor little thing

He wonít understand, heíll have regrets, be remorseful, poor little thing

His uneventful past will resurface, heíll find plenty to be sorry about, poor little thing

Heíll need help and drugs, poor little thing

Then cancer will carry him off, poor little thing

Poor little thing



My Headís About to Explode


This morning, in the next hour, this is what I should do:

My tax returns

A CV and some job applications

Answer letters, pay bills

Deal with demands from my bank about my overdraft

Find some money and something to eat

Find somewhere to live, Iím being evicted in two days

Find the love of my life, Iím in despair

My headís about to explode

In fact, what I have to do this morning is this:

Sell some of my non-essential belongings

Buy an airline ticket for who cares where

Take a look at whatís left then: nothing

Start all over again

My headís about to explode!

In fact what I really have to do this morning is much simpler:

Go to sleep and never wake up again



I Pissed on the Sorbonne


The bells of the Sorbonne are ringing

Itís the day I wrecked my whole course

The day I abandoned it all

And then got completely rat-arsed

On wine like a real old wino

I burnt all my papers

Junked all my notes

I ran through the streets

Saint-Germain, Saint-Michel

To the Place de la Sorbonne, came to a halt

I unzipped, I pissed

Yes, I pissed on the Sorbonne, but thatís nothing, I should have shat on it



Back to the Top   Back to the Summary



I Love My Sugar Daddy


He holds me with his shaking hands, asks me for a kiss

We sit on a balcony overlooking Central Park

He falls asleep with his head on my stomach, listening to it rumble

Oh my dear sugar daddy, where would I be without you?

In the street, where I spend all my time

You feed me, listen to me, appreciate me

You see in me what no one else can see

In your eyes Iím master of everything

The world belongs to me, I just have to reach out my hand

According to you Iím intelligent, handsome, a part of this world

He watches me as best he can, gets me to sign bills for him

I drive him wherever he wants in his Mercedes,

go with him to concerts, the theatre, five-star restaurants

He feels he can never do enough for me, is afraid Iíll disappear without warning

He swears absolute fidelity, keeps me company every minute of my life

He gives me affection, shares his catís affection with me too

He takes me to his holiday home in Connecticut, his condo in Fort Lauderdale

Opens his bar to me, goes with me through the wonderful throes of alcohol

He takes me by the arm, I support him as he walks

He really loves me and I love him in return

He talks about his will, but I donít want to hear about it

Head waiters smile at our entrance, but I ignore them

Iím travelling first class now, when I used to hang around street corners

Our friends are all worthwhile people, cultured and civilised

I help him to dress, he helps me to undress

He likes to see me asleep and naked in his bed, he watches over me

He washes me, nothing in the world gives him more pleasure,

he thinks I have ęa magnificent dickĽ

He knows how to thank me in his own way, opens the doors of the world to me

Heís the only person who thinks Iím someone

I love falling asleep in his arms

Heís my only father





I see her coming a long way off, give her a big, embarrassed smile

Her eyes insist, but Iím still shy

She takes the initiative, buys me a glass of wine

And we talk about a thousand and one things, music, poetry, the eternal flame

She lives in the West End, carries me in off in her BMW, even opens the door for me

She invites me to a restaurant in a hotel in Baker Street

Iím the only one listening to the pianist playing Brahms in the background

She tells me sheís rich and successful, socially and otherwise

She becomes more insistent, I more uncomfortable

When she shows her legs I feel a wave of nausea

Finally she puts her hand on me, asks me up to her room

I go up with her, we make ourselves at home, Iíve had several glasses of wine

She undresses me slowly, so far so good

She puts my penis in her mouth, so far Iím still breathing

She puts her finger up my arse, then licks it, Iím very impressed

But then she insists that I take off her skirt

Whereís the emergency exit?

I take off her shirt, her tie, her waistcoat and her skirt

There she is naked in front of me, a big lump, her cunt prominent

My friend, itís time to take flight!



Iím Your Leader


I head a new Anarchist movement, proclaiming the advent of a new Christ

In other words, me

I gather together those who are sickened by life

Those who can no longer bear the weight of rules and laws

Who no longer want to hear what they must or must not do

Who have had enough of living by the precepts of other people

Iím your leader

Through me weíll make them listen to reason

Weíll destroy their way of thinking and ruling

Weíll rethink the world

Iíve come to this world to clean up the Capitalist system

Iíve come to this world to call everything into question

Youíre going to hear us

Youíre going to stop in your tracks

Youíre going to think about what youíre doing

Youíre going to see that Iím right



Iím Unreachable


Who am I? A name on an endless list

Where am I? In West 9, Fourteenth arrondissemnt,

88th Street uptown, Church Street downtown

How am I really living, what am I really saying?

How do you find me, talk to me, tell me your problems?

How to sit down with me and listen before you start judging me?

Words on a page, we know what theyíre worth

Iím no one and everyone at the same time

Iím just a vague shape but I walk with you every day

Turn your head and youíll see me

Iím your innate unconscious

I tell you what you want to hear

The life youíd like to live without ever admitting it, especially to other people

Perhaps you donít dream enough

Achieving nothing fit to be recorded in the balance-sheet of a passionate life

Could you die today and say: everythingís been achieved,

I can die happy, Iíve done what I set out to do,

What I burned to do from the very core of my being?

Who am I? Who am I?

Do I really exist and where do I really want to be?



Iím Irresponsible


I canít hold down a job

Itís impossible for me to sit still

I suck peopleís blood till Iíve bled them dry

I always manage somehow to take a plane somewhere

I footle about all day

Look for affection on street corners

Spend all the money which has the misfortune to find its way into my pockets

I despise everybody without exception

I despise everything without exception

Life has no meaning for me

I celebrate death in my free time

Drink alcohol the way you drink water

Smoke something some countries forbid

Do worse than that, but I know when to shut up

Iím irresponsible

But I live life to the full



My Mea Culpa


Must we pay for our mistakes?

Can we be forgiven a life of misery?

Where do I go for a refund?

I want to take back this life which I donít remember asking for

Iíve lost it in trying as best I could to make it liveable

Nothing works, I promise you

Always and everywhere unlucky

I pay all the time for the least of my actions

Will you forgive me the hell Iíve made of my life?

Will you understand itís better than the hell youíve prepared for me?

I was born sick, seriously so

Iím in no way responsible for my destiny

Couldnít sit happily in my own skin

Nothing could have kept me alive if Iíd had to work a nine to five day

Hear my will, while thereís still time

I leave you the guilt of my existence

Stuff it up your arse



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My Devolution, My Revolution


The more I go forward, the more I get bogged down

The evolution of the human race must be following the same path

An evolution in reverse

Going in the opposite direction to the one it should normally take

But hang on a moment

Which direction should we be going in to make it evolution?

Up or down, whereís up, whereís down?

Can we help getting bogged down when everything directs us to death?

An evolution in reverse, if such it can be called, is still evolution

Evolution has so many implications, the getting of knowledge

Personal experiences unknown to those who think them evil

I know more than that about life, see much further

Donít we have to descend into hell to find wisdom?

My devolution, my revolution



Throw Me Away After Use


Iím non-returnable, even if itís against the law

Canít be recycled, the machine wouldnít know what to do with me

All Iím fit for is burial in some remote spot

Where Iíll be forgotten far from any organized society

I only knew how to lose myself every which way in its dregs

I thought I could reach the heights by going in by the back door

But I despised those heights too much

Iím worthless, Iím nothing

I reject as a matter of course whatever could make me valuable

Whatever could make something of me

My mind canít accept any sort of label

I do talk, but no one ever listens to me

No one has ever listened to me

Because no one ever listens to anyone

All theyíve done is to watch me, interpret me from afar

My life is only just beginning but already Iíve drawn up a balance sheet

Have I lived too much in so short a time?

And what use is living too much, Iíve had nothing out of it

Sometimes someone takes me, swallows me, appreciates me for a fraction of a second

Then theyíve had enough, spit me out again

Iím worthless, Iím nothing

Life isnít worth the effort of living



Step Into My Hell


Come on, come in and share my hell

Iím at home here in the warm

Itís comforting when itís cold outside and in

Sorry thereís nothing left to eat, thatís one of the joys of my hell

It keeps me alert, seeing human misery quite clearly

Thereís plenty to drink, though, a bottle of French wine tonight:

La Vieille Ferme, CŰtes du Ventoux

My survival depends on drink more than on food

Iím going out tonight, come with me

Weíll listen to a rhythm wild enough to wake up your heart

Make it beat at the right speed to lift you outside the walls of your life

Iím going to meet someone whoíll show me a new universe

You too can share it

Hear life being discussed, people existing

Revealing all their secrets to complete strangers

Because Iím a complete stranger, more to my family than to all those unknowns that I meet

Step into my hell

Once you come to understand it, perhaps it wonít be hell any more

But you wonít come to understand it

Just as I wonít come to understand you

Must we for that reason try to wipe out one another?

There never was a war without loss of life

Iíve got nothing to lose, youíve got nothing to gain

If there must be a fight, Iíll fight

If you want war, Iíll wage it

If I have to kill you, Iíll kill you

Iíve got nothing to lose, youíve got nothing to gain

Step into my hellÖ


Come With Me and Iíll Show You the World


Youíre so handsome, so young and not yet disillusioned with life

You admire me, think Iíve done everything youíll never dare to do

Hereís Church Street, Woodyís, Bootís, John, George and Henry

Itís not a bad beginning but letís go further south

Hereís Greenwich Village, the Crow Bar, Splash, John, George and Henry

Have a cigarette, have a beer, weíll go back in a taxi

Hereís Old Compton Street, Soho village, Popstarz, John, George and Henry

Smoke this joint, let that melt in your mouth, sniff this, undress

Hereís the Marais, the subway, the Queen, Jeannette, Georgette and Henrietta

There you are, now you know about the world

Donít expect to find anyone better than me

Because youíll only find everywhere John, George and Henry or various versions of them



Is it My Fault if I Donít Get a Hard On?


How did you get to be so cold?

Slow and uninterested at first, then suddenly passionate

No communication, meetings arranged through a go-between

Me torturing myself all day because weíd said nothing about the night

Forget the candlelit dinner, romance and flowers

Was there any desire? What did you do to fan the flame?

We screwed each other without human warmth

Then we had to get drunk to do it

I did my best in the circumstances, three joints before bed, but to no effect

Two people in my bed at the same time, I donít even recognise myself

But if the person I fancy decides to leave us together...

Then all I see in you is that first impression you gave me,

how can you expect me to get a hard on?

Bring back the third person and maybe weíll make it

You brought him back, we made it, but at what price?

You think you donít excite me

You think only the love of your life excites me

Iíve introduced jealousy into your relationship

Destruction, thatís my passion

But itís only with you that I donít get a hard on

Itís not my fault and itís not down to drugs!



Flee, Flee, Flee!


Leave and go anywhere else

London, Paris, New York, Toronto

When everythingís going wrong

When people donít understand each other

When you donít look straight at me but glance to right or left

When your parents try to convince me Iíve got the wrong number so that I canít reach you

When my social life is truly bankrupt because my studies take precedence

When shame, guilt and even nostalgia are killing me

Letís sprinkle it all with whisky, Canadian Club, and make our sign of the cross

Flee, flee, flee!

As soon as anyone criticises me, no matter what for

Looking on me as less than nothing (which is entirely true)

Taking me for an idiot to be exploited all the way and back

Abusing me as much as they can and may, even within the law

You can trample all over me, spit in my face and finish me off altogether

Iíve still got the option of flight

Flee, flee, flee!

When the brain stops responding to the body

When my IQ goes up (against nature) by a notch

When I start to act like an idiot, talking to myself or crying in the dark

My only solution, utter forgetfulness, complete renewal, rebirth

Flee, flee, flee!



Iím Going to Shoot Myself


I want to do it without causing trouble or sorrow

My family have long since forgotten me, how could they feel the impact of the shot?

I want to make sure that no one ever finds me

Spare myself a funeral, the fire and the urn

Leap into the ether and never come down again

Bury myself in the earth and never come up for air

Sink to the bottom of the sea and never resurface

Travel through infinite space without arriving anywhere

Become utter nothingness, with no remains in refrigerators or elsewhere

Burn up everything Iíve touched, even my own ashes

Be sublimated into energy which will lose itself among the stars

Iíve got to stop myself from thinking, finish myself off for good, not half-heartedly

Stop all the torment and wild fantasies

Blow all the circuits of memory capable of retaining any token of my presence on earth

I have no pity for anyone, least of all for myself

Forgive me! I wanted nothing more than to live!

But living is impossible...



Your Flowers Smell Like Christ Decomposing!


You waited patiently for the deadly boring workday to come to an end

You walked quickly, at random, to wherever I might be

I was with someone else but willing to free myself for you

Doubtlessly thinking I was French

Youíd bought red wine, baguettes and some weird, smelly blue cheese

Miserable cow, Iíve got nothing to do with France

France threw me out, I canít legally live there

You see? I speak English now and Iím proud of it!

Where do I come from? Nowhere

You persisted, airing all the romantic ideas youíd amassed

You were wondering how to improve your behaviour, temperament, manners

Talk about love, complicated friendship, perhaps the start of a love affair, fidelity

You know very well I was stuck where I was

You didnít even mention the marriage or the arrangements for divorce

Then, when you produced your flowers smelling like Christ decomposing, it was too much

Go on, pack up your goods and get out of my life



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Youíre so Sweet!


Thatís what you said to me the first time I kissed your neck

I took you in my arms and you told me I was nice and sweet and all

Then you rejected me: Youíre so sweet, but . . .

All the same, next day you learned more about me and we talked about your hometown, Seattle

You saw a sensitive soul, wearing his heart on his sleeve (old, outmoded English phrase)

A soul so pure and sweet that no one reading these lines could understand the paradox

That night you lit candles, put on some hackneyed classical music which everybody knows

I was hardly dressed but played the innocent who doesnít know what effect heís having

I went out for a moment but came back for a cigarette

You were dressed strangely for the night, very exciting

I came close to pouncing on you and raping you there and then

But I stopped myself, to be sure of being able to see you one more time

Then, when you threw me out, you made the mistake of giving me one last kiss for the night

At once I got a hard-on and we both got carried away

You asked me to put out the candles so as to hide your old body

You made love like someone rediscovering his joie de vivre, the happiness of existence

You gave me more warmth and energy than I would ever have thought possible

You confessed that the age difference between us had caused a psychological block

(But no, Iím of age, you wonít go to prison, donít worry)

Thirty-one isnít old, you know

Youíre capable of such tenderness, such wonders

In fact youíre the one whoís so sweet and thatís unforgettable



I Go from One Extreme to the Other


As with everything in this world, thereís no happy medium

Everything goes right or everything goes wrong

And my reactions are extreme

Either Iím having such a good time that I could die of happiness

(Sometimes just watching the movement of a snail)

Or I want to die drowned in drink

(sometimes just seeing a snail crushed at the side of the road)

Iíll draw down the moon for you or Iíll cut off your head and bury you

Iím on a strict diet or eating to bursting point like a pig

Iíll dance at the edge of the cliff but sometimes I need a darkened room, hermetically sealed

I insult people and lose all my friends or I shower them with more flowers than they can bear

I get through a task by working on it twenty-four hours a day or I do nothing at all

Iím an extremist

As with everything in this world, thereís no happy medium

Everything goes right or everything goes wrong



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The Meat Between a Womanís Legs


Yes, someone told me about it, I know it exists

It seems it has a strange colour and texture, an aphrodisiac scent

Iíve discussed it at length with priests

Advertising agencies and business men

In high-minded purely intellectual conversations

Itís an interesting concept, a marketable product

We should draw up a strategy, avoid all pitfalls

Sell it fairly expensively but target the right consumers

Itís a good marketing ploy, a gilt-edged industry

Yes, I have to admit it has certain undeniable qualities



From the Moment When . . .


From the moment when . . .

Youíre worth nothing any more and itís written in the stars

That youíve failed at everything and have no future

That everyoneís rejected you, parents and the love of your life

That youíve got no more food and itís only by a miracle that youíve survived this long

That youíre lost at five oíclock in the morning in the middle of some strange town with nowhere to sleep

Then real life begins

The life where you have no more hang-ups, no more shame

No morality, no outmoded values

Not answerable to anyone

Then I indulge myself to death

I make my base in London

I go out, drink, smoke, take drugs, and rave the night away

And when Iím lost in the Underground on my way to the centre of town, Iím ecstatic!

I revel in my total freedom

Iím so far away from all those people who say things should be this way and not that

Iím far away from the ones who live in the past and have no hope in the future, without even taking a look at the present

Ah well, as for me, Iíve never lived as much as I do in the present

From the moment when everything youíve ever known no longer exists, life begins



Love is Sweet


Weíve been head over heels in love for four years

We donít understand each other any more but try to be faithful

We cook ourselves nice little dinners

Broccoli soup with cream, charlottes with maple syrup

We sleep together in a queen-size bed, hardly ever snore

We go together to the cinema, go shopping together

Everyone knows about our relationship and accepts it gladly

Life couldnít be sweeter

But . . . where did we meet?

What no one knows is that we met in the bog at a bar in town

Thereís nothing more romantic

A dark room filled with smoke at about two oíclock in the morning

Iíd just arrived, was already drunk

Iíd been smoking something dodgy, couldnít see very well

You gave me a lift home saying perhaps weíd see each other again at the end of term

I gave you the wrong phone number

You gave me crabs in the first month of our relationship

And now today that love is dead

All thatís left in my head are the worst moments

For a long time I wished you dead

Every year you left me in the lurch to look around elsewhere

The little friends you slept with would come and ring our doorbell

Youíre a complete slut

Today I feel free beyond description

Love is sweet . . .





I lay there in silence

Blood dripping on the ground

I didnít see your gun

Iím dying for you

Youíve never understood anything

Unknown in the big city

Lost for days on end without seeing you

Waiting for you in Ottawa or in Paris

Where were you then when I was still alive?


Iím lying here in silence

Listening to myself die

My gun in the bracken

Iím dying for you

Iíve never understood anything

Unknown in the big city

Lost for days on end seeing you in my dreams

Waiting for you in Prague or in Texas

So where are you now that Iím dead?


Iím lying here in silence

Listening to you die

Whose gun was it?

Youíre dying for me

Weíve never understood anything

Unknown in big cities

Lost for days on end without seeing each other

Waiting for each other in Toronto or in London

Where are we now that weíre dead?



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Anarchy on Earth


Oh God!

They were all born in their own little world

They all interpreted your existence according to their own ideas

They all wrote their own bible and believed in it

They all thought they knew everything

They all thought they were right

They all waged war to impose their own ideas

They all killed in your name


Oh God!

Did you want so many nations and such wretchedness?

So many births and deaths?

Can pardon, absolution, ever come from all this hell?

Weíre born, we die, just where we are

Freedom of thought has never motivated us

We all have our own laws, our own ways of doing things

They all waged war for their own ends

They all killed in your name


Oh God!

Didnít you want us to convert our enemy?

Didnít you want us to understand our enemy?

Didnít you want us to help our enemy?

Didnít you want us to love our enemy even if he kills us?

They all waged war

They all killed in your name

Theyíre all guilty

You probably wanted anarchy on earth?





Anarchy is being aware in ourselves that something else exists

Anarchy is thinking differently from the rest of the world

Anarchy is ridding ourselves of everything foreign to our desires

Anarchy is doing what weíve always wanted to do


Anarchy is something within ourselves

Anarchy has nothing to do with anyone else

Anarchy isnít fighting or destroying our own kind

Anarchy isnít demonstrating in the street to denounce this or that


Anarchy is a revolution within

Itís the awareness that something else exists

Itís an existence that depends on no one else

Itís an intrinsic freedom guiding us towards happiness and joy


Anarchy isnít political

Anarchy isnít racist or discriminatory

Anarchy bears no ill will to anyone

Anarchy is questioning everything again and again

Itís being above the things of this world

Itís the quest for a reason for living

Itís doing whatever makes us happy

In a world where itís impossible to be happy


Anarchy is a revolution of the mind

Anarchy is a feeling of freedom

In a world where there is no freedom

And thatís very powerful!



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I Donít Give a Fuck About You


You think you know everything

You analyse my every move

You give me marks out of ten

I donít give a toss


Iím above all that because I havenít yet achieved great things

I live purely by necessity

Survive purely by instinct

If youíre not happy, go fuck yourself


Youíve learned everything, know everything

You know whatís good and whatís bad

You have preconceived ideas as to what I should or shouldnít do

You think you could do better

Come on, then, letís have a laugh at your shortcomings

Youíre still something better than I am?

All the more reason to challenge and contradict you

I donít give a fuck about you!



Head in the Clouds?


Youíre looking at me

Iím not listening

You attract my attention

Your headís in the clouds!


I reply

No, no, my headís not in the clouds


You watch me

Iím somewhere else

You panic

Youíre headís in the clouds!


I reply

No, no, my headís not in the clouds


You spy on me

Youíre infuriated

You yell

Youíre headís in the clouds!


I reply

No, no, my headís not in the clouds

Iím much further away than the clouds





I saw light on the horizon

Got out of my boat to hear more clearly

Flew as far as the mountain

A wave filled the sky

Seductive music charmed me


In that light I saw

Sound travel over the fields

Flying with bats over the canal

Waves filled the sky

And I understood


All the answers were there on the horizon

In the smallest details in front of my eyes

Light, sound, waves

I flew all over the sky

With the eagle eyes of the illuminated



If I Were A Woman


If I were a woman, Iíd be beautiful

If I were a woman, Iíd be slim

If I were a woman, Iíd be clever

If I were a woman, Iíd be an engineer

If I were a woman, Iíd build a tower reaching up into space

If I were a woman, Iíd have 16 children whoíd all be engineers

If I were a woman, Iíd understand everything happening around me

If I were woman, Iíd embrace human rights, the poor, the orphaned

If I were a woman, Iíd be president of the company

If I were a woman, Iíd be Joan of Arc

If I were a woman, Iíd be secretary-general of the United Nations

But since Iím not a woman

Iím going to fall asleep in front of the telly with my beer



If I Were President of the United States


If I were President of the United States, Iíd speak in the name of God

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be a diehard Christian

If I were President of the United States, Iíd speak in the name of family values

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be heedful of my duty and good

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be firm and ruthless

If I were President of the United States, Iíd joyfully love everyone

If I were President of the United States, Iíd kill the terrorist enemy

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be old and wise

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be rich as Croesus

If I were President of the United States, Iíd build up a strong army

If I were President of the United States, Iíd develop an infallible defence system

If I were President of the United States, Iíd rule the world

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be pure

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be perfect

If I were President of the United States, Iíd be the most powerful man ever

But since Iím not President of the United States,

Iím going to the bog to wipe my bum



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If I Were God


If I were God, Iíd have created you, you miserable animal

If I were God, Iíd know what was going on in your underdeveloped brain

If I were God, Iíd laugh at your petty power of authority

If I were God, your shortcomings would make me laugh

If I were God, it wouldnít interest me how pure you were

If I were God and you a delinquent in the making, Iíd take an interest in you

If I were God, all your laws and social niceties would be meaningless to me

If I were God, Iíd delight in watching you destroy yourself

If I were God, I wouldnít listen to your self-serving prayers

If I were God, one genocidal act more or less wouldnít mean the end of the world

If I were God, Iíd know just how wretched you were in all your apparent greatness

If I were God, your life would be futile

If I were God, your death would be futile

If I were God, only my overall plan would count for anything

If I were God, only what Iíd foreseen for humanity would count

If I were God, only the final reckoning after the death of humanity would count

And since I am God

Iím going to write your story



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My Terrible Sentence


Forgive me God for I have sinned

I thought in my madness that I could save the world

I thought I could make a difference

I thought I had the power to change things


They deported me

They put me in prison

They stripped me of all the rights Iíd been granted

They stripped me of all the hope Iíd built up for myself


I deserve it

I was deaf

I was blind

I wasnít up to it

Now Iím silent

Now Iím invisible

Now Iím dead

Is that what you want?


Now there can be no pardon

No possible understanding

No magic vision

In my mind youíre dead


Oh God, how your logic put us in the wrong

How your will fails to move us

How your wisdom is unknown to us

My sentence is that of humanity


Weíve all sinned

Weíve all thought we could save the world

Weíve all thought we could make a difference

Weíve all thought we had the power to change things


We all deserve death





A tortured soul like mine

That has lost its direction

On the right road to happiness

Thatís complete madness


I take all souls with me in my torment

In an endless madness at the brink of day

All the outmoded constructions

Which existed only in my imagination


Oh God . . .

I see things

I hear things

Beyond my understanding


Save me!

Iím at the beginning of time

Iím at the end of time

Iím infinite


Madness has got hold of my poor soul

Iíve gone crazy

Hear my prayer!

Itís as infinite as space


But in this universe Iím all-powerful

I control the capabilities of everything

I see beyond the horizon

The nightmare of my existence


Iím no longer myself

I never was myself

Iíll never be myself

Complete madness



Alone in the World


Oh yes, some nights I turn around

And realise Iím alone in this space

That thereís no way in or out that can lead me to anyone else

Iím alone in the world


I think about whatís going on in the starry sky

Iím trying to understand the reality around me

I work on my own ideas, my own ideals

I know that the rest of the world exists only in my imagination


This is my life, whatís in my mind

With trees and the camp fire

Nothing else exists

Nothing to poison my existence


I manage to forget you

I manage to forget that somewhere office blocks exist

Towns and their inhabitants

Duties and responsibilities


I find myself alone with my ideas

My theory of the universe

My home-made philosophy

My fate and my happiness


Iím leaving alone for space on my asteroid

Iím going out of the solar system

Iím exploring other galaxies

Iím alone in the world



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Iím Going to Find Myself a Whore


Beautiful slave of this world

Preferably blonde

Not too old

Between twelve and fifteen


A virgin if possible

Wearing high heels

Already in a mess

And dependent on hard drugs


Donít you dream too?

Have an extraordinary longing to get out of your rut?

A destiny to fulfil?

A desire to change the world?


Well then youíve found me

Iím your whore

Beautiful slave of this world

Still a virgin


Iím a surprise

A romantic dinner before screwing

Candles burning all night long

Fireworks blowing up in your face


Iím going to find myself a whore

Sheíll be dark

Sheíll be old

Sheíll be dirty


Youíve found me

Iím your whore

Beautiful slave of this world

In a firework display blowing up in your face





One day I woke up crazy

The way you are now

My only solution is this anarchy

They tried to lock me up for some time

Time for me to recover my spirits

Time for me to understand that life is a game

Time to understand we must always throw the dice

Time to understand we must accept hell

Pretend to enjoy it and smile at life


One day youíll all be crazy

The way I am now

Your only solution will be medical help

Theyíll lock you up for some time

Time for you to recover your spirits

Time for you to understand that life is a game

Time to understand we must always throw the dice

Time to understand we must accept hell

Pretend to enjoy it and smile at life.



Something Tells Me That This Time . . .


This time when they ask you to come to the centre of London

You wonít go looking shy and submissive

This time when they ask you into the office

You wonít be feeling afraid and anxious

This time when they tell you youíre incompetent

You wonít come up with some silly excuse

This time when they show you their fabricated evidence

You wonít be sick and discouraged

This time when they lie to you through their teeth

You wonít play their game and start lying yourself

This time when they let you know their unjust decision

Youíll take charge at last and tell them to go to hell


Something tells me that this time . . .

You wonít be manipulated by them

You wonít let them walk all over you

Their lies will have no effect on you

You wonít go home defeated

You wonít spend three days bewailing your lot

You wonít sink into permanent depression

You wonít start taking drugs to forget your problems


Something tells me that this time . . .

Youíll be a different man

Youíll be strong

Youíll stop wanting to forget your problems

Youíll take yourself in hand and stop the useless struggle

Youíll face up to your existence

Youíll move on to other things

And then youíll be born again



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The British Dream


The phone rings, itís my drinking buddy from Manchester

He asks me to go with him again to Camden Palace and get rat-arsed

One pint, two pints

New Order are playing

And suddenly the world belongs to us

We dream about being rich, leaving for Los Angeles

To forget that weíre poor and looking for work

Again we talk about starting our own business

Itíll be called The Marginal plc, a nicely provocative name

Itíll make millions and be quoted on the stock exchange

Three pints, four pints

Weíre doing justice to English pubs

Our capitalist side never really disappears

What weíre looking for above all is our independence

Weíll succeed at something, though we donít know what

And at once weíre the brightest and most brilliant people of our generation

Five pints, six pints

Reality suddenly hits us

Weíre nothing and weíll never be anything

We canít take risks and throw ourselves into crazy enterprises

You have to be mad to set up a business, only lunatics succeed

Seven pints, eight pints

Weíre well into a coma

The whole world is mad, lunatics all of them!

What are we doing in this world?

Nine pints, ten pints

We vomit all over the toilets of Camden Palace

The two of us fall asleep at the bar

All our dreams wiped out by our natural functions

Compared to the American Dream, the British Dream is lovely!




Hollywood Success


One glass of wine too many

Thatís why Iíve just been sick on the carpet

But before . . .

I Ďm nineteen

Just arrived in Los Angeles

Ready for anything

Queuing up at the Zombi Bar

To meet anyone there worth meeting

Iím not fussy, sleep with influential men and women

In a world of poverty you take advantage of whatís on offer

Me, me, me!

Now youíll see Iím someone of little brain, great

With a good body, great

And an endless will to get all your plans going, great

Weíre not in Paris, here you make millions, millions, millions

And spend it all in as long is it takes to say so

Weíre not here for the millions

Weíre here to meet the right person

I wonít wipe tables any more

Iíve done too much of that in all the capital cities of the world

Me, Iím going to be part of the world of the rich and famous

The fearsome world of Hollywood

Iíll have one hit, two hits, three hits, a flop

Drown my sorrows in alcohol, then drugs

Iíll be forgotten for years

Then resurface one day when someone gives me a break

But Iíll screw up again

Later go into detox

Iíll babble about the Teletubbies

Time for me to hold a gun to my head

But Iíll have succeeded, for just one moment,

To live on another planet




The Following Poem Was Banned in 53 Countries


I woke up one morning needing a fuck

So I decided to take a walk round my grandfatherís farm

There was a magnificent mare in the stable

A ripe juicy mare

A nice rounded mare like you see in all the best illegal porn films

I mounted her

Letís do it!Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh!

Satisfied at last I went into the henhouse

A nice fat hen full of lard!

Letís do it, hen!Yes, yes!Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh

And even then I couldnít leave my grandfatherís farm

Without taking a peek at the pigsty

Ah my friends!

Two huge nursing sows, you want them?There they are!

Letís do it, fat sows!Heigh ho!Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh

Then at the side of the shed

A nice fat cat on heat

Have I still got the energy?

Wah, wah! Wah, hey!Ah, aah, aaaaaahhhh

And just before I left, a little white mouse

Oh no, I told myself, itís time to go



And This One Was Banned All Over the World


One day I woke up needing a fuck

So I decided to go to a shelter for battered women

[The rest is censored but you can imagine what happened . . . ]



No Girls in the Army


The army, my girl, is for strong men

Macho men

Well-endowed men

Itís a place where youíd be among men playing at soldiers

Itís not for you


The army, my girl, is a place for men with muscles

All naked together in the shower

With big, well-hung willies

Itís a place where youíd be among men playing at being among men

Itís not for you


The army, my girl, is for the stronger sex

Men bursting with spermatozoa

Full of testosterone

Itís a place for playing together even at night

Itís not for you



Letter From Prison


At night I look through the bars

I see the full moon

My gaze then falls on the cement floor

Youíd believe I was thinking about remorse

Or about vengeance

But Iím not thinking about anything

My heart is empty

My gaze absent

Iíve stopped living

Iíve always held my breath

I look at the moon in the sky

Iím far away, far, far away in space

I canít remember being born

I canít remember having lived

A vague memory comes back to me

Only to be forgotten between the toilet and the stool

Human suffering

I despair of ever seeing a better day

When life becomes bearable


I hear stories through the bars

Youíd believe theyíd make me think

Or make my condition worse

But I donít hear anything

My soul is deaf

My life is total silence

Iíve stopped living

Iíve always turned a deaf ear

I hear the stars in the sky

Iím far away, far, far away in space

I donít remember hearing tears at my birth

I donít remember hearing anything at all

A vague snatch of speech comes back to me

Only to be forgotten between the candle and my bed

Human wretchedness

I despair of ever hearing a better day

When the cacophony of civilisation becomes bearable



A Gun at Your Head


A gun at your head

To make you understand

The eternal void

The insignificance of our destiny

Now I see thereís nothing beyond the horizon

Nothing to expect from nothing

The irony of our existence

Iíll throw


A bomb under your seat

To make you understand

The darkness of our logic

The violence in everything

Now I see thereís no hope beyond the horizon

Nothing to hope for from anyone

The hell of our consciousness

Iíll start


A world war on your head

To make you understand

The evil in this world

The uselessness of the planet

I see now that thereís nothing to see beyond the horizon

Nothing to expect from space

The illusion of science

Iíll explode



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Have they even got any hope in life?

Any joy in seeing daylight fill space?

Are they still thinking about science, philosophy and politics?

Do they think theyíll discover psychology one day, late in the evening?

And has the wonderful world of money yet been born?

Itís called the world of marketing and sales

With project managers and managing directors

God must have created these things as irony or as vengeance


Once I saw a garden

Radishes, carrots, tomatoes

Earth and flowers

I didnít see the advent of the business world written in the stars

Nor that of political wretchedness

I see the joy of someone who knows and can do nothing

Who walks free from every plague, every thought

Going out with no pressure, no qualifications

And walking all day without thinking about anything at all

A world thatís forgotten his existence

A world that doesnít think any more

But lives and breathes


I walk in the wind

Learn to unlearn

To forget whatever weíve tried to understand

Free myself from these machines and this noise

Flee from people running in all directions

Iím in quest of inaction

I want total emptiness

I want to live



The Infinite


I thought I understood the idea of the infinite

Seeing my body stretched out relatively in all directions

Seeing time at once stopped and multiplied by itself

I saw the beauty of a world impossible to fashion

Energy fields with no beginning and no end

Heavenly electric storms over the whole universe

Seeing across time what happened before and what will happen after

The power to see reality as infinity where the present has never existed

To understand and interpret infinities of reality

Itís even better to see, understand and live in this world

A multitude of events all invisible at once

And the ability to deal with different strands of experience

I see, try, know everything

I live at infinity



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I live in the most beautiful country in the world

The Prime Minister is the most intelligent being on the planet

Heís challenged everything

I now have enough to eat


The economyís rolling in money

My job pays a fortune compared to what Iíd earn elsewhere

Itís elsewhere that people are dying of hunger

While I live in the richest country of all


Itís crazy, money falls from the sky

But the district I work in is dedicated to finance

What does this mean?

It means everything because I have enough to eat


Life is wonderful!

I weep with joy!

Look at me, happiness is written on my face

We live on the most beautiful planet in the universe!


Tie me up, I canít carry on any more

Joy and happiness are choking me

Everythingís so perfect that it screeches like the tyres of my new car

Aaaaahh!At last God has heard our prayers


Such a beautiful country!

Such a rich culture!

Such a wonderful system!

Itís too much.Kill me, someone


I want to let everything go

I want someone to launch me into space

I want to escape way beyond our solar system

With a gun in my hand tonight and tomorrow be no more



Frontline Terrorism


Iíve got no pity at all for the old granny believing in her God

No pity at all for the bloke in his suit and tie dying in conformity

No pity at all for that woman fighting for recognition

No pity at all for that child whoíll become a monster in our image

Iíve got no pity at all for anyone


Why should I take pity on you?

Why do you deserve to live?

Why is your daughterís life worth more than the lives of 7 billion other parasites on this planet?

Do you think I give a toss about your dog, your cat or your goldfish?

All youíve ever done all my life is to make me sick


Oh, you were capable of finer feelings

Of loving your neighbour

But itís a bit late to prove it

If you havenít already done it, you never will

Youíre incapable of understanding, of good deeds or of love


I wonít be a hypocrite, wonít hide away to say what I think

When the bomb went off, I was on the front line

When the time came, I was the one who lit the fuse

You never wept for my dead, I wonít weep for yours

You are the catalyst of this terrorism



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The World Is Dying


The world is dying

And I donít give a toss

Iíd like to speed up the process

Steer it to a quicker death

But what power do I have on this planet?

Theyíll analyse my neurosis

This desire to see the world explode

Eliminate all trace of human existence from the earth

And take the last laugh with me to my grave

Because youíll never understand me

Iím playing with you

Iím playing with the analyst

Lying to him all the way and back again

Donít forget it: Je est un autre

Iím a sheep

White like all the other sheep

Iím law-abiding

Iíve been to university

Been a managing director

What a creep I am

Socialist and capitalist at the same time

Iíve read Marx, Nietzsche, Machiavelli and Stalin

And now Iím a volatile mixture

Boom! The worldís just blown its fuse

Grace Ė is that too much to ask?

Iím the worst of anarchists

I donít listen to reason

Anything can justify my death

Anything can justify your death

Can you prove to me that you deserve to exist?

I offer all my worldly goods to anyone whoíll kill me

Iíve had enough of this wretched existence

And like any good anarchist

Iíd like to take the rest of the planet with me when I die


A Serious Problem with Authority


Ever since I was born youíve told me what I should do with myself

Iíve never been free to take the slightest little decision

And if I once stood up to tell you I wouldnít do something

Once just walked away to do something else

That something else soon became your Plan B

I went on doing whatever you wanted me to do

And you wonder why I hate authority

Why I donít take kindly to criticism

Why I canít stand people telling me what to do

Itís because youíve planted these powerful authority figures everywhere

At every level of my existence

Some sort of authority is fencing me in

Checking up on me, spying on what I do

And if I object, however feebly, an army descends on me

An army of parents, teachers, supervisors, directors, priests

Psychologists, policemen, soldiers, agents of all sorts of outfits

What counts is order, conformityís the thing, total peace without compromise

Well, Iím telling you Iím not the one who has a problem with authority

Too many people have too much authority over everyone else in the world

Donít be surprised when everything blows up in your face

When someone suddenly pulls a gun and fires it among you at random

You were asking for it and youíll find it yet



You Lied


How could you?

How could you lie to us all these years?

How could you manipulate events like that?

Why have so little faith in your children?

Did you think we couldnít take things as they were?

Couldnít adapt ourselves to new realities?

That weíd give one last cry and die?


Weíre not fools

Weíre not crazy

Weíre capable of seeing, hearing, acting for ourselves

Taking control of our lives and being aware of whatís going on

Challenging everything from morning to night

And living in this new age of which weíve been robbed


How could you?

How could you carry on like that?

How did you manage to hide so many things from us?

Everyone knew

Everyone understood

Everyone kept quiet

Everyone thought you were right

That these things must be hidden


Fear of talking

Fear of looking ridiculous

Of being destroyed

Of dying


How could you?

How could you lie to us all these years?

How could you manipulate events like that?

Some opinion you must have of your children

When you think it important they must live in ignorance!

And what would that change anyway?


Youíll pay the price

Youíll vanish

And weíll take over

And youíll see that weíll build better things than you do with your petty constructions

Weíll rebuild a truly happy world

Weíll be born again



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She Always Was a Monster


Thereís something hanging from your crotch

Letís see, old sow, itís getting bigger

Donít you ever wash, you old bag?

Itís really disgusting, puts me off

To think that youíre an expert in your field

A field that youíre the only one to understand

Donít you know that the world has moved on?

You tell me youíve been ill

I can well believe it, with those boils on your cunt

And howís the womb?

Generalised cancer?

Iíve been telling myself too that it took something like this to understand

Understand that another life exists outside of your contempt

Iím not going to wear myself out slagging you off

Because youíve always opened doors for me

And then youíve shut them all

If you hadnít been so worried abut your cunt

Youíd have seen that I didnít give a shit about your insides

Your ailments

Your cancer

Your hair falling into the drains of Paris

Bitch, fucking bitch!!!

Thatís all you are

Iíll open those doors for myself

Go back to your cancers and ailments

I kiss your crotch

And whatís hanging from it



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I Am the Talk of the Town


Theyíre talking about me, darling

On five continents, darling

I am beautiful

I am everything

I am the talk of the town


Iím a sex-machine

Iím an orgasmic doll

I cry out

I bugger you

It hurts, darling

Iím happy

Youíre in pain


But Iím dying

Of lack of interest

Lack of motivation

Complete lack of seriousness

Baaah, baaaaaaah, baaaaaaaaaaah!

I donít give a shit, darling!

Iím the talk of the town

And I donít give a fucking fuck




I Should be Dead


I canít begin to understand

Why Iím still alive

When Iíve tried so hard

To leave this world

To rid myself of you

In ridding myself of myself

Flee from this old country

Go to new places to escape from other people in old countries

And isolate myself on a desert island to be sure of finding the inner peace I deserve

I swallowed pills, hundreds of pills

Drank 13 bottles of whisky one after another

Threw up 13 bottles of whisky probably because I was full of pills

I bought myself all The Smithsí records

Fired a bullet into my head but it went straight through my brain and Iím still alive

Good Lord, whatís a man got to do to die in this world?

Take down his trousers, show you his dick and jump off a bridge

Blah blah blah blah, hic!

So go to hell

I donít give a toss about you

What Iíd like is to get rid of you forever

But that doesnít work

Thatís why I threw myself on to those electric cables

50,000 volts and Iím still alive

The only explanation

Is God, heís the one whoís stopping me from dying

So He can screw himself!



Iím Your Slave


Iíve stopped living

Iíve abandoned all my plans

Iíve thrown my promising future out of window

I can tell the whole world of my misery and suffering

The hell youíve made for me

Thereís no place for joy in your universe

Happiness was never part of the equation

Iíve stopped thinking for myself

I obey your commands

I break the law and work all the overtime I can

I work like a dog to forward your useless projects

Iím your slave

Forever, yours for eternity

I give you my life, my talents, my skills

All that for your personal advantage

I donít say a word

I listen to your sermons on my faults

I ask pity for myself

Iíll get to heaven

The heaven of slaves




Iím Your Inflatable Virgin Mary



Screw me!

I give myself to you entirely

Isnít that what you wanted?

Screw me!


Iíll give birth to Christ the all-powerful

That shit will emerge from my guts

To destroy everything it meets on its way

Cause wars in the world


Thatíll be the fruit of this bottomless hole, endless suffocation

Dead men on top of me, blood all over the universe

Screw me!

So that Christ in his turn can screw

The whole world

Bogged down in this muddy marsh

This thick fog


The ways of God are impenetrable

Screw me!

The new improved Virgin Mary

Who spawns hell on earth

For thousands of years

Until thereís a perfect being


Christ decomposed to humanityís tune

Weíve achieved the new age

Of a frustrated virgin

Who gave birth to the end of the world

The ways of God are impenetrable




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Youíre Just a Bitch-Victim


You walk past me, ignoring me completely

In your eyes Iím worth less than nothing

You think Iím sixteen, I think youíre a good fifteen years older than you really are

You put me through the hardest graft for your own satisfaction

You have such a good time it disgusts me, you laugh in my face

You bad-mouth me to everyone all over the place

You seem to be having your period every day of the year

Walking with clenched thighs as if afraid that your bloodstained tampons would fall to the ground

Your face gives me a rash, I couldnít imagine making love to you

You donít take care of your skin, put six layers of makeup on your eyes

A real clown, a real whore

Youíre so dried-up, anyone would swear youíre about to break into bits

God how I loathe you, Iíll beat you till youíve no teeth left

The dinosaurs are still alive, spitting the same fire, Iíve been burnt by it again and again

Bring me an axe to chop this plank of wood

Youíre just a bitch-victim



Life and I are Incompatible


Iím a contradiction of nature in every sense of the term

I think differently from the rest of the world from A to Z

Iím totally sure thereís no justice in this world

And go further in believing that thereís nothing to justify justice

Iím moved when I see how we let people die of hunger

Very surprised to find that the hungry donít rise up against those who have too much to eat

Order has been imposed on the world through fear

A social contract ignoring the fact that weíre in a jungle

That, in the jungle, the law of the strongest prevails and the rest must die

But the ruling principles of these societies flirt with anarchy

There again the law of the strongest prevails but on a different level

You have to fight against life, fight against death

Impose yourself, your ideas, desires, needs, laws and rights

But everything in this world is only convention

There are no rights, no freedoms, no need of anyone else we should gratify

Nothing is good, nothing is evil

Itís up to us to adapt ourselves to life



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There Are No Noble Feeling


There are no noble feelings

Thereís only hidden self-interest

Even in aiming for heaven and going to paradise



Thereís Nothing Worse Than People With Principles


Thereís nothing worse than people with principles

Because their principles only ever apply to themselves

Because of course no one can live entirely according to the best principles in the world

And so they donít live up to their ideal life

And suffer enormously

Then they try to regulate our lives instead

According to principles they donít respect themselves

And so my life is fettered by these principles

Principles which change from one person to another

And I ask to see how all this may be justified

Where is the source of what should and should not be

Life could be much simpler

Without all these futile principles



The Policy of Truth


Should we hide the truth?

Should we tell the truth?

Should we demand truth from others?

Should we help others to hide the truth?

Should truth become an obsession, something beyond price?

We could spend our whole lives looking for truth

We could destroy the whole world for the sake of the search for truth

We could lose all our friends and family for the truth

We could make our lives wretched simply by needing to know the truth

We could lie and feel horribly guilty about hiding the truth

We could destroy our careers and our whole destiny in letting others know the truth

Weíre worth nothing any more when others know the least of our truths

Other peopleís truth is extremely dirty, best not to know too much about it

Not every truth should be told

Not every truth should be known

Every quest for the truth will be in vain

Every attempt to hide the truth will be in vain

The policy of truth



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Get A Life, Old Crow!


Youíre certainly the prettiest girl Iíve ever met

(Well, perhaps not, but almost)

Youíre twenty-one and I thought you were twenty-six

(In your case, thatís a compliment)

If I wasnít what I am, Iíd probably ask you to marry me

(And then Iíd have a British passport)

You walk up and down the aisles pushing a trolley full of books

(At sale price, everything must go)

You smile angelically at me

(The better to plant your claws later on)

Youíre sweet and lively

(Like sows in pigstys)

I stroke your lovely blonde hair

(Because you never stop flirting, you cow)

But when I ask you how you spend your free time, it doesnít mean Iím asking you for a date

(Fuck off)

And then you tell me youíve got a boyfriend

(To put and end to your flirting, itís gone too far)

You absolutely have to go to your break

(What does your determined tone really mean?)

You practically accuse me of sexual harassment

(But where did you get that from?)

Perhaps it was when I got hold of your bum by mistake

(Believe me Iím not interest in pinching bottoms)

And perhaps I brushed up against one of your breasts absent-mindedly

(That was an accident too or unconscious)

In short, youíre a real bitch to put me in my place today

(Your problem is not knowing how to flirt and be nice about it)

Implying that I want to sleep with you?

(You must be out of your mind)

Treating me like some kind of pest in front of everyone

(What do you take me for?)

Your poor boyfriend, no way would I want a woman as frigid as you


Come on, get a life!



Iím Just a Pretty Face


I strut about, looking good beside rich ugly people

I fill a void, enliven their conversations

Iím a good listener, a confidant who never contradicts them

Iím no good, I was born that way

Wherever I go Iím told how good-looking I am and people talk to me

Iíve got the knack of getting whatever I want, of fitting in to any circle

Iím your dream domestic animal

People use me to feel better about themselves

But, watch it, my little brain is working all the same

I can see you coming

I judge and despise you

I listen to you but I hate you

If you abuse me, Iíll have my revenge

I donít believe in wealth

I donít believe in security and stability

For me there are no such things as the social scene or famous people

No class of important or intelligent people

Youíre all the same to me, if not worse than the lowest of the low

Every attempt to buy me or impress me will be in vain

There are all sorts of eighteen-year-olds, with no personality, ready for anything

And if they donít sleep with you, youíll soon get tired of them

If they become demanding, youíll have a hard time

Iím just a pretty face but, watch it, I bite



Bitchy Woman


Only a minute after we were introduced you started insulting me

Saying you felt sorry for me because I wasnít born in London

Then I took a good look at you

Youíre old, my girl and you canít hide the wrinkles on your face

And your makeup only makes your ageing skin look worse

At your age you go out all the time, drink and take drugs

But unfortunately all this shows in your body

You dress like a mad cow and think youíre a big wheel on the London scene

Youíre ridiculous to the core of your being

You poor fool, Iíve every reason to feel sorry for you

I who am still young and handsome and intelligent

So that people see me as a puppy they want to clasp to their chests

They offer me the world on a plate so the world belongs to me

Every day I turn down opportunities which could take me a long way

People want to die in my arms, yes mine, madam

So who cares if I wasnít born in the West End?



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Crabs, Crabs, and Crabs Again


You were itching horribly and put it down to stress

Like everyone else, youíd masturbated and this had affected your neurones

Your doctor didnít find any little creatures, referred you to a psychoanalyst

And now you do visualisation exercises to calm you before you explode

Youíve never taken the time to sit still in silence and think

I meet you coming out of bars at dawn, all in a sweat, high as a kite and completely out of it

You look at me as if I was a vegetable, donít even recognise me

You remember vaguely that you went out four days ago and now donít know where you are

I give you my last pounds so that you can eat but you spend all the money on some drugs or other

You accuse me of not calling you any more, but thereís a limit to my resources

I canít follow you any longer through the lower depths of London, youíre too far gone

Youíll never surface again but I want to surface one day (if possible)

Death is waiting for you round the next corner

Thank you so much for your farewell present

Crabs, crabs and crabs again!



To Die in Peace


I would so like to die in peace

Far from all thought-systems and any systems at all

Far away from everyone

Sufficient unto myself for my own survival

In conditions I know how to manage

Thereís nothing more you can bring me, Iím full, look, Iím throwing up in your face

Thereís nothing I can bring you, Iíve seen nothing but rejects everywhere

So, if I canít expect anything from you and you canít expect anything from me, why force all these duties, responsibilities and bureaucracy on me?

Iím not asking to drink the whole sea, Iím not asking for all these rules and regulations

Iím not even asking for any sort of enjoyment

Even less that my needs are satisfied

Iím asking to be able to stay sitting here on the ground until death catches up with me

But you never grant me this right

Sad world!



Are You Still My Friend?


Oh dear, oh dear

I offended you

I stole everything from you

I understood the whole of your miserable life

I took pity on you


Oh dear, oh dear

Youíre my best friend, my only friend

I love you more than you could imagine

I thought that you were mine and no one elseís

But you have a life I know nothing about


Oh dear, oh dear

What have I done?

Iíve destroyed everything

In less time than it took to establish this impossible friendship

At least you know me, I was an anarchist from the beginning


Oh dear, oh dear,

Could this be the end of that friendship?

Is it impossible to forgive whatever it was?

Are we going to be strangers even in the promised land?

It depends entirely on you


Oh dear, oh dear



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Something Philosophical


When my life makes no sense

When Iím a wretched as can be

And only want one thing Ė suicide

Quick, quick

Something philosophical . . .


The stars, the sky, the moon

The universe, the galaxies

The question of our existence

Quick, quick

Something philosophical . . . .


Iím dying

I weep

No reason to exist

Quick, quick

Something philosophical . . .


To bring me to something essential

Something not real

Something other than this reality

Quick, quick

Something philosophical . . .


Doesnít matter what

Donít know what

To make me forget

Quick, quick

Something philosophical . . .



Dear God, Let Me Be Done With It


Iíve looked at your planet

Your creatures

I canít identify with them

Theyíve rejected me


Iíve admired creation

In every place

I canít identify with it

I want to stop existing


What a wonderful possibility!

Cancer, pneumonia, some incurable illness

Why havenít you picked me?

But I was born dead


Oh why?

Why have you let me suffer so much?

Why force me to act?

Why force me to exist?

No goal to aim for

No social success to look for

No love which will make me happy

No personal satisfaction worth the effort


Permanent guilt

Guilt at the heart of me

Guilt I donít understand

The desire to achieve great things without asking anything in return


So let me die



Living in Infinity


I wanted to achieve great things

And I achieved them


I wanted to love the world

And I loved it


I wanted to travel over the oceans of the universe

And I travelled there


I wanted to understand the universe

And I understood it


I wanted to create wonderful things

And I created them


You donít understand!

Iíve done everything

Loved everything

Understood everything

Created everything


But Godís work is never done

Itís always ongoing

And all the more majestic for that

Itís infinite

And I lack the energy


I lack the energy to achieve great things

To love infinitely

Understand infinitely

Create infinitely


I lack the energy to live in infinity



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Beyond War


Iím beyond war

Iíve never understood genocide

A million deaths mean nothing to me

God is only another human invention


Human suffering


Holy Wars


Never really assimilated


Iíve never taken anything in because I live in the present

What is this present?

You donít want to know

Itís too depressing


War fills my TV screen

Genocide is the news of the day

I have war and death for breakfast

But all the same I go about my daily boring business


Iím living beyond war and I donít give a toss



Ready to Explode


Iíve got a headache

No problem

Just all my energy

Ready to explode


Iíve got this urge in me

To make another world from this world

Look, itís there, itís here . . .

A real world!


Iím not mad

Iím not dead

Iíve got all this for you

And itís ready to explode


You wonít have time to see

Wonít have time to hear

Even though itís all around you

Iím ready to explode


Iím going to inspire the masses

Iím inspiring the masses

With whispers

As powerful as guns

Come on, come on!

Iím alive!

I cry out to life!

Weíre going to blow up this world!


Weíre motivated enough to get somewhere

To build a new world

Recreate an earthly paradise

Youíve heard me!


Get going!

There are still things to inspire you in this world

Things to save lost souls

We canít forget that hell is waiting to explode


Canít forget who we are

Our humble origins can be become great

Be proud of what we represent

And fulfil a great destiny


Enough of self-absorption


We are as huge as the universe

We are the universe!

Ready to explode!



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Thereís a life after life

An existence after what theyíve made us see

Itís strong and powerful!

Itís all the energy necessary to be born


Itís the sum of all the good songs

Of all the anarchist personalities

Itís what inspires people to achieve the impossible

Itís what makes a people a great people


This infinite urge will be born in all nations of the universe

An enormous structure free from the shackles of the past

An extraordinary new inspiration

Weíll march all over the surface of the universe!


Understand the infinite capacity of everything

Understand the infinite definition of the world

Assimilating the whole world

Assimilating universal knowledge


Nothing will stop our progress through civilisations

No law, no ambitious wretch



No civil duty

Weíll live and live and live in total freedom!


The freedom to breathe

The freedom to act

The freedom to be




Poetry to Galvanise a Whole Generation


There was a time when poetry saved lives

A time when a young man would travel the roads of France

To look for adventure on the open sea

Calling up a whole world of the imagination

And rejecting all convention

That was poetry to galvanise a whole generation


Now is the time when poetry saves lives

A time when the young travel the roads of the world

To look for adventure on the open sea

Calling up a whole world of the imagination

And rejecting all convention

Thatís poetry to galvanise a whole generation


There will be a time when poetry saves lives

A time when the young will travel the roads of the world

To look for adventure on the open sea

Calling up a whole other world

And rejecting all convention

That will be poetry to galvanise a whole generation



Faith in Mankind


Ha, ha, ha!

Hey, hey, hey!

Hee, hee, hee!

Ho, ho, ho!

Huh, huh, huh!

Wah hoo!



Iím Ugly


You thought I was good-looking

That I was pure

That my standards were the same as yours

That I was a reflection of your true worth

A surprise and a lie


Youíve seen how ugly I am

What a tearaway I am

What an alcoholic

What a junkie

A surprise and a lie


Oh, I was a hypocrite

I lied

I let people believe I was something I wasnít

Iím an actor

A surprise and a lie


Iím ugly

Iím a tearaway

Iím an alcoholic

Iím a junkie

Reality and truth


And who are you to ask me for a reckoning?

Who are you to accuse me?

Who are you to denounce me for fraud?

Who are you to wipe out my existence?

Youíre as ugly as I am



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Iíve Seen an Extra-Terrestrial


Oh wow!

It was green, it was blue, it was red

It spoke an incomprehensible language

I looked twice Ė and then three times

It hit me full in the face

I saw white, red and black

No time to fetch my camera

It whipped me

I enjoyed it so much I came and then asked for more

I saw the UFOs that the extra-terrestrial threw in my direction

I saw pink, purple, a whole rainbow

It drilled a hole in my brain

Someone implanted something there

Black, grey, the colour of freshwater trout

Since then it controls me from a distance

Charging me up from afar to my very neurones

Now I work harder

I never even go home

Is my flat brown, beige and yellowish?

I told the police, the media and the local X-Files Club about it

They found me next day at my desk, half-dead at my computer

Someone prised open my eyes

They were green, orange and a muddy sort of colour

Someone asked me what had happened

I saw an extra-terrestrial!And UFOs!

But when I saw the film from the closed-circuit camera

I realised that the UFOs were folders

And the extra-terrestrial none other than my boss




The Power of Words


A woman wrinkled with age

When you look at her she shrinks

Away from the pain of this world

I bring her a rose


Sometimes youíre totally disillusioned with life

Sometimes nothing but dead flesh

Away from the pain of this world

I bring you roses


Sometimes itís the rest of the world that seems disillusioned

Wanting to remove life

Away from the pain of the world

I bring it roses


Iíve read about it, heard about it, seen it

A universe closed in on itself

Away from the pain of the world

There are no more roses



Oh Gloria, If You Hadnít Loved Cider So Much . . .


Oh Gloria, you were beautiful with your blonde hair

Your passions, your desires and love of fantasy

Oh Gloria, if you hadnít loved cider so much

Youíd have seen your three children grow up

Youíd still be driving through the streets of Isleworth

Youíd be cooking a turkey for Christmas Day


Oh Gloria, you were fascinating, a true libertine

You invented reasons for going back to your ex-husband because you still loved him

You fought to save your children from poverty

You kept hens and ducks in your garden

You were typical of your generation

And had a huge impact on anyone who knew you


Oh Gloria, were you as beautiful as they say?

Iíve never seen you, even in a photograph

But everyone talks about you all the time

So who were you to have made such an impression on me?

Iíll never know

Oh Gloria, if you hadnít loved cider so much . . .



The World is Disheartening


Oh God, what sort of world am I living in?

Everyone without exception has gone mad

There are seven billion of them and they all piss me off

When I envisage how they spend their time, it drives me mad

Each of them trying to prove theyíre worth more than the next idiot

Their only aim to climb higher in the social scale

Have a little bit of power

Change some detail of their existence

A lot of them try to survive at the expense of others

Studying for thirty years, then taking a job that has nothing to do with their studies

A job taken up with things that are no use at all to society

Nothing there to help the species survive or relieve human wretchedness

Even the poor blacks of Africa are exploited

To prop up the commercialism of capitalist charities, who mainly need money to pay their employees for doing nothing

But all thatís not disheartening compared to the rest

I donít believe weíve arrived at a reason for our existence

In fact I think we prove every day that weíre no better than ants

Who build a nest which will be destroyed the next morning by wind and storm

They seem to think their growth finished when they were children and those children then studied for nothing for thirty years

Some believe in God to give meaning to their lives

But what difference does that make?

None, theyíre each as hypocritical and self-serving as the others

Iím still searching for a reason to live

I canít find one and Iím in despair

Nothing motivates me

And what motivates the world is too depressing for words

At least when I wanted to die because I hadnít yet met the love of my life

I was still hoping for a better world, a world where I would meet the love of my life

Now that Iíve met the love of my life and gone through the disappointments of love

Iíve nothing more to hope for

Social success?

Iíve climbed up, fallen down, climbed up again, fallen down again

Did that interest me?No way

I didnít think I was anarchist

Then one night, after one beer too many

I saw that I was the worst anarchist of all

Better for you not to meet me, you run the strong risk of being thrown out the window

Nothing makes any impression on me

Nothing inspires me

Iíve lost faith in the human race

Itíll never achieve anything worthwhile

And why should it?



Come On, Damn It, Iíve Got a Life to Live


Iím a blob, a big ball of flesh bursting its skin

Like the rest of the world, Iím slowing down

I take ages to finish the smallest task

I sleep more than I live

It takes all the motivation I can muster to get myself out of bed

Going anywhere is quite an adventure, it takes so long to psych myself into

Leaving the building, taking the tube, oh God, itís so complicated

For a head as befuddled as mine

That needs three cups of coffee to function even minimally

Iím a blob when I should be invigorated

Dash out of this bedroom

Get out and never come back, enjoy life

Find all possible motivation

Be inspired for good to live a full and exciting life

I need to find some ruling passion soonest

Need to be strong instead of passive

Full of energy, functioning, productive

Come on, damn it, Iíve got a life to live



Existential Crisis


To die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die

Yes, but before that:

To live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live, live

Stop all this bullshit, your degrees, recognition, social success, happiness

All thatís nothing but wind

And to prove it there are people around the age of fifty

Who are ill and suffer bitterly in spite of the important things theyíve achieved

Have you never heard the cry of freedom?

The cry of the feeling of freedom, cut short by all those things you consider essential?

Maybe you find in them a reason for living.I donít

So keep your existential crisis to yourself

I have to live my own and itíll be much simpler without you

Itís much more difficult to have nothing than to have everything and lack for nothing

So respect my choices and let me get on without putting me down

Help me to continue on what you see as my desperate way

God will be eternally grateful to you

Because youíll have to pay for destroying my feeling of freedom

Which is the only thing that can keep me alive

In three days Iíll take a plane

And fly off to rebuild the world as I want it to be

Be happy, I still listen to my own reason



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At the Heart of London


After my second day of working twelve hours non-stop

I took the train to Piccadilly Circus

Got on again at Regentís Park, went to Oxford Circus

Hanover Grand, Popstarz, Indie music

Got there at half past midnight

And drank at the source of whatís been keeping me going all these years

I watched English youth busy at unwinding

Right in the middle of this hell where you drink, smoke, pick people up

After several beers and cigarettes people didnít talk to each other any more

They let themselves go like lunatics to the rhythm of the music

They sang and they danced like crazy forgetting that there would be hell to pay the next day

I picked up someone from Liverpool

We climbed up to kiss each other in front of everyone

Took a taxi to his room in Westbourne Park Road, Notting Hill

Made love all night and cried out like virgins being deflowered

Next day I left very early, I had twelve hours of work to get through

Maybe Iím one of the living dead but Iím living at the heart of the myth



Put A Bomb Under Them


My allergy to uniforms is at its height

Itís crammed with old blokes wearing ties with briefcases and smelly armpits

Theyíre proud to represent the conformism necessary, according to them, to the way the world works

The problem is that the world they live in is only virtual

They work in virtuality

Buy virtuality

Feed themselves with virtuality

Theyíre offered a higher standard of living to enjoy fictitious amusements

The virtual doesnít deliver us anything concrete

But it delivers them a huge house and an impressive car along with their suits and ties

Thereís nothing enviable or admirable about someone who wears a tie

Itís clearly written on his face that he couldnít care less about doing something concrete to relieve human misery

On the contrary, he makes a profit from exploitation

Other people work for him to provide him with things he wonít need

So putting a bomb under him would only benefit the human race

Except that these peopleís lives are insured for astronomical sums, each of them worth in the region of a million pounds

Thatís where the virtual has got us

Overprotecting those who donít need protection and the loss of common sense



Too Many Stupid People All Round Me


I canít breathe any more

I have to put up with the imbecility of someone or other

Inventing heaven knows what to attract my attention

Then I avoid talking to them because theyíre completely illogical

Sometimes the absence of logic can be admirable

But the illogicality of idiots is totally uninteresting

God, how I suffer seeing them trailing around me, seeing them talk to the walls

Thereís even one who tells me in every detail the life story of his idol, Jesus Christ

An African Jehovahís Witness, a sweeper of floors who also speaks French


You see it all

When Iím on the brink of a nervous breakdown

When they get on my nerves, and I want to explode, itís:

Get out of my way!

Piss off somewhere else!

Mind your own business!

Leave me to get on with my life in peace!

Never speak another word to me!

Go and get run over by a bus and donít let anyone talk to me about it!

How to rid myself of human imbecility?



The New Love of My Life


Youíll last me a fortnight perhaps

Youíre from Newcastle

From a poor working-class family

And completely uneducated

You hang around the gutters of Camden town near the welfare building where you get handouts

For six years you lived in empty buildings

Youíre an artist inspired by drugs

Your place in Russell Square at five oíclock in the morning

You canít breathe there, you suffocate

I canít breathe with you, I suffocate

But when we make love, God,

You take me out of my hell and carry me off to your own

I canít have anything more to do with purity, the property of parents

Purity that despises the very idea of making love

Purity that lives all its life in the horror of life

Until realising that purity makes people unhappy

Oh love of my life, letís not wait for the day of judgement to do something

Letís fly all around, weíve got nothing to lose

Canít anyone else but me see and feel your beauty?

So that I swoon away in your damp, dank universe?

So letís die consumed at the end of our love

In exactly a fortnight from now





I looked for you on the Californian coast where someone had shown me an extraordinary view

I looked for you in TV studios where all our dreams are built up

I looked for you at a table in Caesarís Palace between two slot machines

And I looked for you in woods, on mountains where I was strangely bored

I thought Iíd find you in the most famous tourist spot in Barcelona, flying over an old theme park now in ruins, that inspired me for a split second

I thought my eyes would be opened in front of the windows in the red light district of Amsterdam, but I was more afraid than anything else

Then I walked through the hotel where they hold the Cannes festival, sat on the rim of a toilet which Harrison Ford had probably used before me but I felt nothing

I opened the proceedings in front of 6000 people, that gave me a buzz for about thirty seconds

I let everything drop, I showed myself out this time, for a change

I wanted to speak to the whole planet but no one wanted to speak to me

Suddenly they changed their minds and now the whole planet wants to speak to me

But Iíve nothing more to say to them and what they say is extraordinarily banal

Sometimes you meet magical people and spend wonderful moments with them

I havenít met any for the last five years and I despair

No one stands out from the crowd, no one has a vision to fulfil

Their zest for life has thrown them into alcohol and drugs

Making them happy for a split second

And making their existence bearable a little longer

But itís destroying them and finishing them off today

Iíve lost all hope



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Life Isnít Life


Whoís looking for life?

Is there life in this world?

Iíve been searching for it all my life

Late at night in the streets of the world

And I can now say

Death is the whole world

Death is in everything

Death is everywhere


So I canít speak this language

So Iím here in this world without the right to life

And I still find a way of expressing myself

On all the oceans of this planet

Thereís no land which can support life

Only hell

Words have no meaning

No way of expressing what I feel

The result of so many years of ordeal

Has only brought despair

In a world where Iíve got everything

Itís still not enough

Iím dying



I Hoped For So Much


Iíd be lying if I said I wasnít an anarchist

Iíd be lying if a I said I was anarchist

But I hate all politics and political action

Anarchy is most powerful when itís subtle

Anarchy is most powerful when it doesnít declare itself

Anarchy is most powerful when it has nothing to reproach itself with

Iím powerful because Iím no danger to anyone

But Iím more thoughtful than people whoíre targeted, listened to or in prison

I achieve more than all the anarchists put together without being one myself

Donít get in touch with me, I donít want to know you

I hoped for so much, Iím ready to die but in a good cause

There arenít any good causes in this world

Thereís no chaos in this world because logic adapts itself

Thereís nothing in this world

Thereís no one in this world

There has never been anything to hope for from this world



The World Wonít Change


Poor you, you thought the world was going to change

You went on that famous anti-globalisation march

You slated capitalism from first to last

A teargas grenade exploded in your face

I caught up with you that night at the police station

And I laughed at your unworldliness

You looked at me, puzzled

I laugh at your unworldliness


Poor you, you thought the world was going to change

You wrote three tomes on the subject of anarchism

They were good, full of ideas and respectable

A teargas grenade didnít explode in your face

I didnít see you that night at the police station

And I laughed at your unworldliness

You looked at me, puzzled

I laugh at your unworldliness


Poor me, I thought the world was going to change

I did nothing to change it except perhaps for trying to shoot myself in the head

The bullet went twenty feet above me

And I laugh at my unworldliness

I looked at myself, puzzled

I laugh at my unworldliness



Death to Purity!


Ah, there it is all around me

You wonder if it ever takes a shit

Itís crammed with money

Takes its responsibilities seriously

Works hard

Has lovely children and is respectable

Looks at me and wonders what I am

It canít understand why I only live at night

Why I donít stay in one place and that I exist in every country at the same time

Why I persist in destroying my future

But purity doesnít produce anything concrete

Purity creates nothing but enjoys the creations of others

Theyíre a container waiting to receive

Iíll fill you up!

As an anarchist, it frightens me

And kills me



Whatís Your First Name Again?


Wasnít it you who looked disdainfully at me that day because I was only a street ruffian?

Wasnít it you who pushed me out of the way with your foot when I was lying crushed and dead on the pavement?

Wasnít it you who danced in all your pride and self-confidence with such petty vainglory that today it makes me laugh?

I remember, it was you who imposed your world-view on me

Your closed and ready-made interpretation of the universe

With its strictly limited horizons and several long, punishing steps to climb in order to get anywhere at all

How wonderful it seemed to me then that you should make me your mirror

I hadnít realised the terrible potential that was slumbering in me

The infinite energy that was going to inspire the masses

The army that would follow me to trample on you at my rallying cry

But Iím not content with that, itís not enough

Because Iím not like you, Iíve no need of that

Which you wanted so much, which you thought you had and never will have

Iíve been through the hell you described to me as paradise

And Iím the only one to realise that something other than that life exists

What was your first name again?



The Marginal


I assumed the title, I admit it

I took the cloak and crown and put them on, I admit it

But I am the dream made flesh again

Iím fired up like ten men

Iíve given you everything and asked for nothing in return

Iím a revolutionary who has accomplished his revolution

I built a huge machine which didnít make a million

You think itís granted to everyone to be a The Marginal?

You think itís socially acceptable to be a The Marginal?

Let Christ take a running jump!


A The Marginal is someone who dares to assume the title and then acts accordingly

Oh lost poet, welcome to my den

You too can be a The Marginal if you dare

But you wonít dare. . .

Because that needs an ambition you donít possess

You must have suffered

You must be certain and determined to describe yourself as you are

You must be full of inexhaustible energy which only writing can halfway deplete

I canít hear any criticism, have any adversary

Iím The Marginal

And fuck you!



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I Donít Remember


I wrote some fifteen volumes on the subject

You didnít listen to a word

You produced a work on inspiring politicians

I didnít listen to a word

You wanted to revolutionise everything, thought your nation great and glorious

Nobody listened


I wanted to study something interesting in your universities

You didnít listen to a word

You wanted my support and hard work

I didnít listen to a word

You wanted to tear my country apart to be born among the nations of the universe

Nobody listened


I wanted to play my part, I wanted to be what I am

You didnít listen to a word

You scolded me for my way of life, for not being part of my nation

I didnít listen to a word

Now youíve got need of new blood because youíre dying

Nobody will listen to you again



I Remember


Oh yes I remember you

In class you despised me

You put me down in front of everyone


You shone hurling this abuse and other witticisms

I had one hundred per cent written on my forehead, you had zero


Oh yes I remember you

At the swimming pool you had a manís body and I had a childís

You made fun of me in front of everyone

You even won over the teachers

You had one hundred per cent written on your forehead, I had zero


Oh yes I remember you

I tried to win you over to my side

I took you home and made a friend of you

You took everything I gave you

But all the same you laughed at me and it was pointless


Oh yes I remember you

I ran into you years later in a bar

You had some stinking job

You were married

You had a child

You were happy

That killed me


Oh yes I remember you

I remember all of your kind

Every year there was someone like you I had to fight

How did I survive?I donít understand it

Itís this memory thatís made me a belated delinquent

Itís this memory that explains my hellish life

But itís because of this memory that I now live in London

Oh yes I remember



I Know the Name of God


I know the name of God

Itís a good bottle of brandy

That I drink at night in small mouthfuls

Before I come to understand his infinite wisdom


I know the name of God

Itís a good bottle of whisky

That I drink at night in large mouthfuls

Before I come to understand his infinite strength


I know the name of God

Itís a good bottle of Scotch

That I drink at night in large glasses

Before I come to understand his infinite ability


I know the name of God

Itís an endless series of cans of beer

That I drink at night till I can drink no more

Before I come to understand the incomprehensible



Contempt For Manís Pettiness


Iím going to take myself seriously

For once in my life

Iím going to take myself seriously

And get a hold on my life


Iím going to make a difference in this world

And that begins with a total contempt for everything that exists

And a new way of seeing everything that has nothing to do with whatís taught in universities

Above all, nothing to do with what you learn in the commercial world of work


Iím going to take myself seriously because I can make difference in this world!

I can reach thousands of people who share my disgust with life

Who want a better world even if it exists only as an idea

Just picturing a better world is already doing something concrete


If itís only through extremes that we manage to understand something

Iíll be extreme

If itís only through anarchy that we can manage to build a better world

Iíll be an anarchist!


To hell with all the definitions of anarchy

To hell with anarchist movements that achieve nothing on this planet

Itís in thought, action and individually that it happens

Envisaging a better world . . .


A different world where nothing exists any more

A world where authority burbles incomprehensibly

You wanted an anarchist world?

Right, Iíll build it and thatís going to hurt


It starts with contempt for the universe and manís pettiness

Being human is being great in the universe!

Being human is not suffering hell on earth

Being human is as powerful as a galaxy on its way to infinity


Wake up!Get up!

Say at last that youíre going to live all the mornings of your universe!



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Again, Again and Again


Yet again I should weigh up my meagre achievements

Show them to those nice women hoping that some light will illuminate their universe

So that one chooses me over a pile of the meagre achievements of someone else

I should go to the centre of London to convince them that Iím the perfect candidate

And although I donít want to, fell them on the spot

I really donít want their offers, they kill me


Iím handsome, Iím pure, Iím perfect, Iím brave

Ah, my idiocy has no limits no motivation

Iím excellent, get things done, Iím sensitive and honest

Ah, and a strange desire to sabotage your company

Teamwork?Team spirit?Be at one with you?Thatís me!

Ah, Iíll throw up everywhere all over your work and your schedules, yes indeed!


Yet again I must prove that Iím the better man

Ride into battle against the markets and return millions to shareholders

So that they choose me over thousands because Iím able, Iím eccentric

Working in the centre of London and all the big cities of Europe

Good morning, Sir, Good morning, Madam

Hereís how our solution will bring back your millions


Iíll be your saviour, Iíll be Jesus Christ, Iíll get you out of your rut!

Ah, the devil will make his entrance in person

Iíve got all the solutions and all the necessary skills, the results will be phenomenal

Ah, complete bankruptcy, Iíll do nothing apart from finding a way out of it, again, again and again

Iíll kiss your feet, Iíll sleep with you

Ah, Iíll spit on you behind your back, you can count on it


Again, again and again


Social Reality


Social reality is a bank

A bank which must be filled with a team of workers in perfect harmony

The only problem is, weíre all individuals

We all hate each other

Competition is what fills our hearts

Which means enormous jealousy

And endless destruction of the other


Social reality is a jungle

A jungle which demands a conqueror

The only problem is, I donít want to be a conqueror, donít even want to fight

Have I got anything to learn from this hell?

Isnít twenty years of shit in these companies enough?

Letting myself be walked over, spat upon

What is there to learn there that I havenít already learnt?


Social reality could be paradise

Where profit isnít the law

Where competition and hierarchy donít exist

Where jealousy is absent

Where stress doesnít eat us alive

Where joy, pleasure and peace are the order of the day

Havenít you had enough of hating and destroying each other?


Do the Opposite


Sit down with your parents and take note of everything they want for you

Sit down with your teachers and take in everything they want for you

Sit down with your employer and listen to everything he wishes for you

Listen to local, provincial, national and international governments and try to understand what they expect of you


Youíll be an engineer, a lawyer, an architect or a doctor

Youíll be the best of the bunch, youíll write books to revolutionise your field of studies

Youíll be among the best, the ones the headhunters steal

Youíll be the perfect citizen, married with children, religious and paying your taxes


Listen to them all and youíll be exactly what everyone thinks best for you

According to their definitions, youíll be the happiest soul on the planet

Above all, keep to the straight and narrow, donít be revolutionary, donít challenge anything


Theyíll bring you the world on a plate, youíll be respected throughout the world


Ah, isnít wonderful to follow the well-trodden path?

When youíre a success and earn a good living?

When your story has no story

And your name doesnít alarm any computer


Yes, I tell you, listen to all the voices of authority on this planet

And do entirely the opposite

Only then will you know youíre an individual who has choices

Whoís free and has a chance of happiness


It doesnít much matter if you wake up in a strange country where you have no right to be

It doesnít much matter if the love of your life isnít lying beside you every morning

It doesnít much matter if you havenít got a penny to get you through tomorrow

It doesnít much matter that you canít eat your fill


Do entirely the opposite in the name of your conscience and your freedom!



Be Marginal and Make a Difference


Itís always possible to leave those you love

Itís always possible to follow other paths

Itís always possible to challenge everything from morning to night

Itís always possible to begin to live again


Be happy and free!

Create your own universe, even if you have to rewrite all the dictionaries

Youíll be surprised at the results you can achieve

A personal success going well beyond what anyone else has hoped


Itís possible to make your life over again!

Itís possible to build a new world!

Itís possible to succeed according to your own principles!

Itís possible to be happy!


Being marginal has never been forbidden

Losing the respect of others has never been a problem

Saying that others are wrong is acceptable

Making a difference is something to be wished for


The only thing that counts is the final reckoning at the end of our lives

The only results that count are those weíve wanted to achieve ourselves

We must free ourselves from everyone else

Be marginal and make a difference



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I met you in a bar in Cannes

Weíd hardly even spoken before you started insulting me

Your mate worked behind the bar

You took me to a very private place

Introduced me to your friend who was once a big wheel in the theatre

We went up to my room at the Majestic

Read poetry all night long

Prevert, Hugo, Baudelaire, Rimbaud

I didnít know that poetry could be so beautiful when read in a voice like yours

Romanticism really exists

Passion really exists

I shed a few tears

You left but then came back again

We made love all night

Like lovers

You said it was great and it was

A magic night

The next day I went back to London

With an unforgettable memory



The Most Beautiful Creature on Earth


The most beautiful creature on earth lives in my flat

I call her Murmy

A beauty beyond compare

Sensitivity supreme

A pure soul who has never caused anyone any harm

All she thinks about is playing

Sitting on my knee

Cuddling up to me every night

Spending all day in my arms

Appreciating me, loving me unconditionally

A little heart that beats so strongly

Sheís afraid of the slightest sound

But feels safe when Iím close to her to defend her

An extraordinary patience

Eyes always ready to weep

Sheís quiet, never argues

I could ask for nothing better

But with beauty comes pain

Luckily, youíre only a cat



Where are the Great Thinkers?


In all past ages religions have been challenged

In all past ages political systems have been challenged

In all past ages science has gone through extraordinary revolutions

In all past ages there have been geniuses, great thinkers

But now youíd say the world had stopped thinking

We donít produce geniuses any more

We donít go through revolutions any more

There are no more great philosophers

The end of an era came with television

The futurist era threatens to pass us by

Too many things remain misunderstood and unexplained

Too many theories are still unverified

Too many dreams have evaporated with the centuries

Conceiving the inconceivable

Understanding the incomprehensible

Inventing the new thing that will change everything

Imagining new things that will challenge everything

Itís not true that all we discover today is completely puzzling

There will always be great thinkers

Capable of reinventing everything at a stroke

With the imagination to envisage everything

Because one key opens all doors

We should find them and listen to them

Weíre living in the age of telecommunications

Out of all this gibberish

Letís at least learn to hear the great thinkers

And you, great thinkers, learn how to make yourselves heard



Oh No, Not Another Scandal!


How am I going to be able to leave the house?

I was arrested again in the Gents in the park with a man

How am I going to be able to walk down the street?

They found pornographic shots of young girls in my old files

How am I going to be able to go and eat in a restaurant?

Theyíre after me for the rape of a young boy

How am I going to be able to travel?

They found an ounce of heroin on me

How am I going to be able to go on living?

I killed my girl friend in a hotel bedroom and I donít even remember it

How am I going to go on being an artist?

Iíve put on 300 pounds

Then I called my lawyer and he asked me

How many millions have you got, my young friend?

As much as that?

No problem, as in all previous cases like yours

Youíll go on breathing, living, creating without a care in the world

Scandal will only be good publicity

Youíll be as rich as ever

Ah, so thatís how it works

Thatís what I told myself too



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I Could Pretend To Be The Devil


I could pretend Iím a young lad

Still virginal in every sense of the word

Who has never made love and is desperate

Who cries every night in his room


I could pretend Iím an anarchist

At the head of an organisation about to murder a whole lot of people

Because Iíve never lived and Iím desperate

Plotting alone every night in my basement


I could pretend to be a maniac

Who has raped more than one madwoman

Made love with the entire planet

And could meet you any night in a dark alley


I could pretend to be a madman

Who has killed several important people

Who kills every night, even in his sleep

And every night targets his next victim


I could pretend to be God the Father, creator of heaven and earth

Who plays games with other peopleís fate

Letting them be born, controlling them, killing them as he sees fit

And every seven days creating another hell on earth


But as long as Iím only pretending

Can you arrest me?Imprison me?Banish me?Execute me?

You have no proof because there is no proof

Iím just like the boy next door

But with an unbounded imagination

And for you, thatís disturbing



I Live in Opposition to the World


Youíve put up with me for seven years

I go to bed at seven oíclock in the morning when youíre going to work

I get up at six oíclock in the evening when you get back

For months Iíve been writing every night

I drink and smoke like crazy to find inspiration

Youíve never said a word

Youíve always loved me

Youíve understood me

Which is more than I can say for the rest of the planet

Theyíve never understood anything

Theyíve never wanted to understand

Itís not acceptable

Just isnít done

For them only one way of life exists

Working from eight in the morning till eight at night, buying a house

Getting married and having children

Iím such a long way from that reality

Iíll always be such a long way from that reality

Because it makes me feel so sick

But itís not as if I have the choice

And to excuse myself Iíll tell you

Itís God who asks it of me

Itís fate that asks it of me

Itís the magic of the imagination thatís at stake

I have to create the most beautiful universe possible

Create a different world again from the rotten reality of others

And if I have to die at the end of my work

Iíll die at the end of my work



A Good Horror Story


Would you like to hear a really good story?

A thriller, perhaps

A wonderful love story

Where the heroine will die under a train on the last page


Perhaps youíd even like to see the blood spurting

And see our heroineís lovely face once the huge wheel has crushed it into pieces?

Oh, you love blood, you love accidents

Gunshots, death in close-up

That fills up the time, stops you from thinking too much

Dinosaurs who tear into scientists

Cars that run over passers-by

Planes that crash into buildings

Nuclear bombs that wipe out cities

And asteroids that destroy entire populations

Except that all that is reality

Reality has long been stranger than fiction

You love good horror stories

Reality when it differs from your boring everyday life

Youíd like someone to fire a gun at you

Youíd like a nuclear bomb to fall on top of you

Biological warfare would be a fascinating distraction

What kills is routine

Huge conspiracies tell you that life isnít as empty as it seems

Thereís a mystery to unravel

A truth to discover putting something else in doubt

A fight worth fighting

If it takes the end of the world to make us appreciate this existence

Well then, roll on the end of the world



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What a Buzz!


When suddenly my brain is working strangely

I look around but I see differently

I have flashes of inspiration by day

Even late at night

Wonderful buzz

Suddenly Iím walking along the Harrow Road

I see plenty of Africans and Indians

I live in the worst part of Westbourne Park

But there it is, Iím an immigrant too and Iím poor

Iím crushed under a big green bag at the kerbside when I come out of the station

I write, write, write my best lines, my most inspired ones

And nobody questions me, nobody finds it strange

Theyíre all as crazy as I am

I live in a hostel for poor people

But Iím not on benefits, Iíve got no right to them

But Iím happy, so happy

Thereís a canal, crumbling buildings, churches of high and low denomination

Oh wonderful buzz

And I walk on to Kensal Green cemetery

Iíve spent days and days in this cemetery

Iíve spoken to the parish priest

Heís a part of this story

Heís made the story

Heís inspired pages and pages of it

Harrow Road

Nowhere else have I felt more at home





We Are Energy


You think Iíve done what you wanted to do

You didnít have the courage, I had it for you

But youíre mistaken

You have courage in you

You are what I am

Iím an exact copy of you

Youíre my inspiration

When I write, itís you whoís writing

How can I make you understand?

Weíre inseparable

We think in the same way

We act the same

Youíre everything to me

You are my energy

Together weíre strong

Together weíre going to walk over everything

Weíve both of us suffered

Weíve both of us been through the worst that can happen on this planet

Weíll think up a new world between us

Weíll rethink it

Weíll change it

Arenít ideas strong?

Canít ideas challenge everything?

Itís ideas that change the world

Forget the rest

Forget the hell of their reality

Weíre going to walk on the surface of another planet

Weíre going to find a way to get far away from here

Weíre going to rethink the universe!



Youíre Zombies


When my parents are talking to me

When the teacher is talking in front of me

When my boss is rambling on

I can hardly keep my eyes open

I struggle to wake myself up

To take in the reality there all around me

None of this was happening yesterday

When I dreamt I could save the world from wretchedness

I could only live in my dreams

And my dreams are ridiculous to the outside world

But my dreams are strong

They challenge authority

My responsibilities and moral duties

By day Iím a zombie

By night a revolutionary

But thatís going to change

Iíll be a revolutionary by day

Iíll dream in broad daylight

Iíll crush all the rest of the world as I go

Youíll be the zombies of my reality

You are the zombies of my reality

Because I have the power to change everything

And you thought I was a zombie

Finding it difficult to keep my eyes open

So as to listen to your balderdash

My God, you still havenít see anything

My God, you still havenít heard anything

My God, the zombies are going to wake up!



My Last Cigarette, My Last Beer


Iíve raided my piggy bank to be able to finish my work

Mortgaged up to my last pound

Now I have to declare my self bankrupt

Iíve opened my last beer

Iím smoking my last cigarette

Then I have to find a job

Go back to the world of work after so much criticism

Begin on the treadmill all over again

Get some work experience which should be useful

Iíll be working for someone, perhaps for several people

Filing papers, recording information on a machine

Receiving messages, sending messages

Travelling on the tube three hours a day

Dying of suffocation on the tube three hours a day

Getting paid a pittance

Smarting at what my father demands in return for my birth

Pride, honour, respect, vanity

And once more Iíll succeed

Iíll manage once more to integrate myself completely

Become part of the whole

Die with them all

My last cigarette Ė how I wish it would last forever

My last beer Ė how I wish I could drink it again and again

Once more itís a complete break

Iíve just stubbed out my last cigarette

The end of a world



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To Hell With Conformism


I never wanted to be different

I always wanted to be part of the group

It was never amusing to be pointed out

To have to fight

And all the rest of it

Iíve always been seen as a danger

A danger to the conformism necessary to society

So am I a danger?

Am I such a threat that I must be eliminated?

Iíve never understood why we donít have the right to go against the rules

Donít have the right to say that what we learned wasnít true

Donít have the right to think differently from the rest

But Iím not going to apologise

I am different

I think differently from the rest

They call me weird

They class me as dangerous

All right then, Iíll be weird

Iíll be dangerous

Iím going right to the bottom of your neurosis

Iím going to challenge everything

Iím going to challenge you

Iíll play out my true role as a marginal

Iíll rally all the marginals on the planet

And become too strong for anyone to fight me again

I am different

And Iíll act accordingly

To hell with conformism



I Want to Shit All Over You


I want to piss

I want to shit

I want to puke all over the place

Thatís what youíve achieved

Thatís the feeling I get when I look at your achievements

Itís not enough, itíll never be enough for me

So what are you doing about it?

Donít you want the world to be better?

A world where we can all be happy?

Whatís stopping you?

What are your thoughts?

Itís not a matter of law

Itís not a matter of politics

Itís a love story

Love your neighbour, live and let live

Canít you find it in your heart to want to save the species?

Open everything up, even your own guts?

What are you afraid of?

That a monster under your bed will come and bite your toes?

Forget your devilish religion

Forget your devilish laws

Forget overprotecting the brains of your wonderful children

Just for a moment forget about defending your little bit of territory

Forget your flag!

Weíre more than that

Weíre in the process of disappearing

Weíre going to disappear from the face of the earth

We must leave

Leave this world

Far, far, far away

Begin again elsewhere

Begin everything all over again elsewhere

Only, will we have the chance?



No Forgiveness


If youíve made a profit from someone elseís poverty

If youíve got a big house and two cars

If youíve never understood that there is a way of making things better

There will be no forgiveness