That time of the century

It’s now, it’s that time of the century.
And all you can say is you’re ready.
The moment is yours, the future is born,
And it came a long way to capture your soul.
It dangles the cure by twisting a thorn,
Not for you to obey, yet to fix on your goal.
It scares and allures, invades any shore,
And you’re left as a prey, only few steps behind,
When you’re still unsure what phase you head for.
It knows you’re enslaved, like most in your kind,
Who’ll grow insecure at a free entry door,
At the suddenly paved avenue of their times.

And the moment is pure, and the light is reborn,
As it came a long way for to summon your prime ;
When life is obscured with all you had sworn
It clears enough days to freshen your mind.
Unless you adjourn a filtering dawn,
Abide in your haze and partly go blind,
This page you will turn, or soon will be torn,
You’re either in chase or easier to bind.

Oh, the strain you endure in your quest for more…
Every page has a lure, when not fully scored.
And the mourning is rude, yet no past you adorn,
Rewinding old views of the sculpture you’re from.
How brittle and crude, it was looking forlorn ;
If you played your own muse, well, embrace your freedom.

It’s now, it’s that time of a century.
And all you can swear is « I’m ready ».

(Tableau : André Devambez – « La Charge »)

Beat the odds.

Beat the crap
Beat the mellow stuff
Beat the odds
Beat the evidence
Beat the mainstream
Beat the flood
Beat the word on the street
Beat the noise of defeat

Beat the times
Beat the city
Beat the so-called winner
Beat the self-grown loser
Beat your fate
Beat the current rate
Beat the average
Beat the common type
Beat the hype
Beat the village
Beat the happy few
Beat the well-born
Beat the bourgeoisie
Beat the labour’s view

Beat the line that’s too easy
Beat the song rhyming cheesy
Beat the fashion
Beat the standards
Beat the grade they gave you
Beat the past you went through
Beat all expectations
Beat all and anyone’s expectation
Beat the wind against you
Beat the heights you once knew

Beat the odds
Beat the flood
Beat the insiders and outsiders
Beat your idea of yourself
And beat your idea of the world

It’s gonna take a lifetime
It’s gonna take a life’s work
Now beat the pavement
Beat your soul down to the pavement

Beat your soul deep down to the pavement

(Tableau : Gustave Courbet – « The man made mad with fear »)

Can’t hurt the pain.


You can’t hurt the pain.
Can’t make the grief suffer the way you do.
Nor cut a lifeless branch on a weak familiar tree,
Regardless of the shades unrolling over you,
From every last year’s leaf the spring will not renew.
You won’t kill what’s dead already,
Loathe what’s cold or vanished,
What no more will shine.
Even when the old flame surrounds you.

You do not heal,
But never grows the fatal wound,
Wishing you’d turn the stroke of fate
In a violent revenging blow.
By then you point the fist
Against your own shadow,
Unveil a clear target
For those of light beliefs,
Who hardly bare their chest,
And let their feelings go.
You look for mind relief,
In the balance we make
Between beauty and dirt.
Not amongst right or wrong,
Justice and crime.

You’re not the lawyer.
Because you feel, more than you judge.
You get to sense, more than you deem.

Then in the final repentence,
Here is the greatest of your deeds ;
If, as a living remembrance,
You are the one she requested
For the ultimate confidence,
Facing an almost departed.
The hand in debt will cure
What itself had branded.
And you will know the touch,
As you will know your pain,
But then also the prints
From a brotherly chain.
This major human link
Was never born in vain.

So you will have to lend
Your own uncertain hand,
All over bitterness,
Absence and loneliness.
Wide open for a mate
Not to a broken fate,
Not to a shred of history,
Nor a fallen memory.
Not to a leaving rest of life.

For you cannot hurt the pain.
She’ll lift you anyway.

And you shall forgive.

(Tableau : Edvard Munch – « Vampyr II »)