Guerlain’s Weblog

living love

love is never what it seems
taken for granted
masked behind many dreams
reels of motives
lust and lies, love is never
what it seems
cocktail of emotions

emeshed and bleed
between the difficulties
that lie within, love is never



truth is where you find it
the reason of a reality
an actuality, a science of
lie is where you hide it

the season of mortality
a potentiality, a religion of


the end is the beginning, but how do i explain,
the agony and estacy of this rapid game,
to take your life, you leave a void, for those who love you
they wonder, they cry, they cannot understand why
Why this has happened,
Why end it all,
what drove you to this insanity, what drove you to the wall
what makes you fearless of death itself, a crazy vanity?
a grandiose idea, of a suicide plot, drives you thinking, and will not stop

a challenge to the end, a mystery, i the victim
scientific measures, cocktails of death, gases of madness,
every idea enters my head,

the ultimate, the penultimate, drives me to the edge
i beat myself to death, i see the morgue, i sense the death
i have no fear of the end


in the background of my life, there is a presence of an intellectual, rather unassuming
his statue great, heart so gracious, mind so knowledgeable
but alone; i often cry
there comes a touching word, invaluable, i too am alone
but, with all those around me, you would never know
of the pain, i feel the darkness, drifting
i sense the pressure lifting

i see clearer, without distraction
a mutilated body, mindful, apologies accepted
from those who strive to hurt me
a figment of my imagination
a course of self distruction, to

an avenue of happiness
the path of one’s existence, lies only in one’s hand
wisdom from another, guides me to exist


i am the ambassador of this journey of complexity
a map of independence, absence of direction
drifting through time, seeking clarity and truth
navigator of humanity
compass of my mind

a place exists, searching
quest for serenity, quest for reality
in pursuit of individualism
compass of my mind

a map of independence,
destination, the abyss

i am the ambassador of this journey of complexity
expedition of emotion, in pursuit of truth
of my true humanity

the thread of my existence
to establish my being
compass of my mind
freedom of my individuality

i am the ambassador of this journey


I await your death, a crow squawks from afar
reminding me that death is hovering, it is not far

I await your apology, a butterfly drifts by
showing me that forgiveness, is sometimes shy

I await your release, a blossom opens wide
giving me that security, you dismissed

I await your approval, wind caresses my face
telling me, disgrace  eventually fades

I await your love, an eclipse hides the sky
smothering me, that depressive state of mind

Tears of grief, none i shed, i await your last breath
I take comfort from your death

A la Halte De L’Eperon Allard Menu du 2 September 1964

speak a little french? I would love to
the sexy tomatoes sing to me
want to kiss me, luscious lips, just pash the inside

souffle au grand marnier, speaks to me, erotically
buxom fine, supreme delight
speak a little french? I must
the french and their food, sex appeal ooze

menu, make love to me, my glands secrete
i love to eat french

white linen

stillness of the moment, interrupted
essence swimming in the air
mist of passion, dancing, intoxicating flair
the scent of innocence, captured
the summer of youth, nature redefined
escapades of love
from the essence of my mind

the essence of nature, this mist of passion
spirit of love, the rawness of nature
takes the fibres of my being
capturing my virginity

the secretary bird

South of the Sahara
Is where you gravitate
Rarely, do you take to the sky

Quills are mounted, temporal
Did Hemingway borrow these to pen his famous prose?

Legs long, stand corrected,
A misprounciation from an Arabic translation
Crest of feathers, sexual expression
Bird of beauty, illuminates perfection
Sagittarius Serpentarius

Poisson d’avril

Month of avril, springs to life, in full bloom, springs to life, before the fool
motley in attire, marotte of festivities,
to celebrate what harvest brings
The poisson d’avril
from its sea of life, to the simplicity of the fool
to enjoy his every moment,
His festivities of life, this april’s fool