Béton armé

spray

Des cris sur le trottoir.
Le rouge succède au noir.
Ça tue sur le béton,
Se bat sur tous les fronts.
Le feu se mêle au sang,
Aux larmes des innocents.
Combien d’éclairs, de tirs,
De chairs qui se déchirent,
Et d'espoirs orphelins ?
Quelle part de gloire enfin
Pour occire ou s’aimer ?
Pour s'unir ou décimer ?

Se résigner ?

La plaie dans nos mémoires
Dans nos livres d'histoire,
Les corps se portent à bout de bras,
Les drames s’affichent sur caméra.
Ça entache les souvenirs,
Ça empêche de dormir.
On périt et Paris s'écroule.
Ailleurs aussi les mêmes foules
A armes inégales
Tombent sous d’autres balles,
Succombent à d'autres barbaries
Et paient toujours le même prix.

Le même pire qu'ici.

De la buée sur les miroirs,
Sur les écrans, dans les regards.
Le cœur à bout de forces,
La voix se fait féroce.
Ça crie, écrit
Tout un tas de conneries.
Ça résonne, déraisonne.
Faut-il que l'on s'étonne
Des enjeux, des injures,
D’un Dieu contre-nature ?
Les mots sont dans l'émotion,
Des maux sans explication.

Sans concession.

Du rouge sur le trottoir,
Du rouge dans nos mémoires,
Du rouge sur le béton,
Du rouge sur tous les fronts.
Les cris, les chairs, les larmes,
Les corps morts sur le macadam.
Les balles, les armes, les caméras,
Les cris, les écrans, leurs choux gras.
La foule, la houle, l'agitation,
Les injures, les bavures, les passions.
Ce qui nous désunit nous punit, 
Nous trahit, nous détruit.

Nous engloutit.

© Emilie
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What I Could Do To You

gun

Would you keep me if you knew
I could shatter your heart into a million shards,
leave your skin dry under the hottest sun
like an old dead tree in an endless summer?

Would you fear me if I drew
a target on your chest, turned ink into a scar?
And if I asked you to, would you give me a gun
and look at my hand as I pull the trigger?

Would you love me
differently
if you knew
what I could do
to you
if I ever wanted to?
Would you lose me
into that storm
if I were free
to break you down?

Would you keep me if you knew
I could salvage your soul in a second,
silence your thoughts with my bare words,
fan the embers burnig into your brain?

Would you fear me if I threw
a whole bag of lies and stoned your innocence,
then laugh at the feelings scratching you all over?
What if I tied your wrists to invisible chains?

Would you love me
differently
if you knew
what I could do
to you
if I ever wanted to?
Would you chase me
into that storm
if I were free
to break you down?

Would you love me
differently
if you knew
what I could do
to you
if I ever wanted to?
Would you face me
into that storm,
and let me free
to break you down…

…just like you broke me too?

© Emilie

Posted in Poems & Lyrics | 1 Comment

The Heart of the Matter

love

Some things are a matter of fact:
your mind, your soul, your heart.
They make you who you are.
Try to set them apart
or enter the wrong fight,
they will just strike you back
and leave a scar
in your life.

Some things are a matter of truth:
your loves, your hopes, your pains.
You don’t decide.
You don’t explain.
You can’t fly under the radar
or find any excuse.
There’s no place safe to hide,
not even in the dark.

Some things are a matter of choice:
the choice to be kind,
caring, faithful.
Or the choice to be blind
and cruel and fierce.
Pick a side, change the rules.
It’s up to you.
War or peace.

Some things are a matter of time,
they bloom in what you do:
building the world bit by bit;
holding a hand; filling the void
you don’t want to fall into;
standing on your feet,
rain or shine;
raising your voice.

You’ve got the facts.
You know the truth.
You have the choice
to make this time
matter.
Today, more than ever,
your voice
is power.

© Emilie

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