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night is a talent i n
which you
bridge your

knackered by storm heaps.
silken trees
sullen wear me downs ~

it's sacrosanct the way Jill
bustles about cape
in her hand
me over dress
second telling
the saying
has it'

a t
the back of the shed
like any other trooper

worn by pillows
she's stretched her nape
over his head
a thing

worried by
teased by lilting

your bears


hunkered by the hour
she's dressed
to fill

not as the saying has it
to kill
her lover's bed

or singularly
holding the apocalypse
in her hands
she's palmed his glove
past every sailor


Jill has a body to still
Mona's body is presage to fillhours of plenty


Share and Share alike has always been her mottoe. Not near a sore lent tingling. She' s worn high hoops to her lace. This lazy lover insouciant to her friends.

Divagations G+iennes

Divagations G+iennesDivagations G+iennesDivagations G+iennesDivagations G+iennes

you've tried

you've tired every movie with your damned tornadoes
girls ganstas and guns under every pillow've smoothed your lips
Lips? She say, come again my darling crackling fardel would you
bear this flank of hip the sun-rip of muscled reach .

Something along those line. I mean. Line. as rhythm.
rock n'roll. you were a performance star. you knew better
holding your breath. How could all these beauties compete
you? complete me? Ironic master of the dualist sword! be!
my lover.

If it's hankies you must wear, then wear them, don
them at every sake forsaken trusted hour of gloves,
velvet or otherwise you've tarried long and far
gimped by circumstance how could you want it
any other way. Speak to you , of bones, you've curried
leagues below your boards. Does that make us a tart? If we
keep each separate?
it's what's always made you soup-de-
jour and otherwise lamented by the piffle and puffiness of your cheeks
you've dared to be every salamander. Come again little chowder,
shy not these lovelies, our loam has always been the fort
on which they've strayed.

Uphosterly will not save the day but it could break necks.

tried every movie with your outlaws
in-laws what laws have prevented your calvarly collective farm?
do you do what the doing says ? saying our name daily
river and bolero stream brook pond abysss you clinch the hour
with each silver dish.

A hill for conquest. Settle at your feet, come to say
say to ponder. Wink to arrive. Bed to chamber. Challenge to ?
Smile that does, she smile over his pen. Now that is what I call you,
what you call an enunciation. The man is crazy, he cannot live by himself.
so he live with other to bother. them. attention sought by indirect discourse.
of endless pee-pee.
IS that So?

                        In this narrative the movie is cut by the playa.
So fruit can be imported. Arriving at the perdition and the perfect tense spot in his body,

She mirrors sestinas and pleasures of the flesh. Offering the powder
as her next best set. It's not opera glasses, she needs, she wants
hands hands hands everywhere. A barbarian jewelry cabinet.

The other one goes to bed. Sleep. A pail for girt minding.
Excuse me? what are you recommending doctor?
A sedative for my babies? Ah the nights we wore pain to sleep and
glimpses of our eyes were all we saw. Not like a woman who cannot
speak her mind always directed elsewhere. Or by household gods.
Kitchen sets.

Pretender poets work with concettos. You mean concertos right?
correct her if yer wrong. Why I never said such a thing.
He weeps carrying it downstairs. An armful of Dostoevsky he's blemished
her ruins. They make love. Like renewed dolls. it's called. a relationship.
yes, so they say.

After the A
attack. there were fearsome quarrels. Some endured for barrels.
Other navies came late in the afternoon. Sun was setting rue. Men
had secret expectations. Like women's dresses. Undressed. Garters
capes, girdles. Endless awesome processions. A Concession to heat.

Heart beating beating . Down the street. Like bottles and sprig.
It's spring. over there. yes, She calls the page, endless like her lips have
glued to every mile.

Not paged.

Paged the elevator climbed the mysteries vessels of their heights.
High and low any day was love.

Memento Mori. Come round the bend . Authorial privilege stated here.

That! concept is outdated. It's premarxist. And what he say Old one eye
and his ugly punch drunk face lobster head?
he said you cant go preview. Its either now or stuck in the side.
In the street. She wished. Her heart crumbled.

Okay, let's lied down. Reach for the big winding of your arms and leg, stretching the night, shipped by the pure breath of its heave. Her breath is counted out in his. Breath take breath and breadth to every sedentary soldier.

Half your pants are wet. You stay you weigh the finger against the chesterfield. It's a bad word you're not supposed to say it.

Her thong comes off. You think she's a mail-order verse?
Her breasts are mouths asking . Asking. Asking.
Her ass is round as huffed trees.

What does that mean? it says yer desire is tougher than words.
Beckon. Come over. Take off your clothes. I have daisies in my feet.
They're for you. Is this a viola a guitar you're strumming.
Come around that waist. He stand. he stand. He pant. Pant. Her hair pants.
It's the moment where the middle aged lover takes back youth. A
word said saying unspoken forbidden. come gather your adjectives
you know there's no way to hold your horses,
and pull together your string.

Strong arming wont do. Except for punctuation he knows nothing. Else.
You 've wanted all day . You're him. It's your sex penetrates.

Penetrates? why this pirate of speak easy?

Continue my horny love. Bury your patches. There are rainbows in this.
Not bodies of pleasure windows of colours, but this real
smelling scented body.


Say what you mean.
Come home. She 's undressing. The blue of her dress. Glitter.in dark. It's fulsome breast.
Aching. Wanting to say she say say say tell bad . Enough . Word. cut in dark. Her
beast plenty yuletide. Her lover. In darkened. Not coloured by air. Oraccounts payable as any lover does. Fulltime. Rested the part-time.

' Estelle au vent

Tu villégiatures le vol- Tu brigandages virtuelle- Tu mottes l'instant
des bosquets- Tu matronymes le quidam au néant- Tu vous tout jouir- Tu
pénombres- Tu humides à sourire- Tu kyrielles, claire, ces culbutes
aqueuses- Tu merles l'âme- Tu de justesse treilles une conscience
tangible par reflets- Tu aubépines d'opale- Tu humus les sens- Tu
sérénites mon magma- Tu hydromêles l'artère pôlaire- Tu cavernes
l'avenir à braiser avec un narcisse tatoué sous les paupières-Tu jus
l'usufruit en extase- Tu paysages voluptueuse- Tu muses- Tu adeptes des
peaux- Tu démones- Tu chiennes céleste- Tu harpes la marche orageuse- Tu
 pandémises nos cernes déconcentrées à l'illimité- Tu verdures
polissonne- Tu talentes tout- Tu vagues et creuses jouissive- Tu
cardinales suave sans carte- Tu ons légendaire- Tu définitives ainsi
quelques egos- Tu ne m'as pas mangée parce que tu es ma mère-







Étant les formes, il est autant Elle, que l’amnésie, sa gestion.
Les âmes boutiquières se reconnaîtront, l’ayant déjà exploitée, cette unité multiple dont elles veulent tirer à tous prix quelques conforts calculés.
La maîtrise, le domaine, la marge bénéficiaire qui enchaîne ce qui se déroule pourtant jusqu’à l’autolyse.
Pour survivre, pour s’inscrire au sein de cette immortalité cancéreuse de ceux qui se croient eux, après la raillerie de l’inflation originelle.
Tu n’extrais de ce qui t’entoure que tes propres creux.
Dans le cochon, tout est bon.
La science intrinsèque, aphasique, aveugle d’Elle même et de celui titillant toujours le téton, beuglant sa maturité d’enfant gâté.
Mais il est aussi Elle.
A la limite du frisson, de la perception.
Et dans le cochon tout est bon !




 bissecta et  auddie

Ethersex”, le miroir d’une époque. (Travaux en binôme basés sur la transfiguration de la réalité plate de tout un chacun en phénomènes sexuels, et inversement). Par auddie et bissecta.

“Ethersex, la masturbation des psychées castratrices et civilisatrices actuelles (Baise binomique balancée sur la giclée des constructions mentales de tous les pseudo egos, et retroussement).

Renée vivait sa passion des courses jusqu’à extinction de voix. Rarement gagnante elle persévérait, et faisait figure d’originale au bureau. Une originale peu dangereuse. Ce lundi-là, vers dix heures, elle rencontra Maxime, le technicien informatique de la boîte. Il avait toujours cet air envieux avec elle, élimant ses vieux discours plein d’assurance façon arrière salle des campus. Il la dégoûtait. Mais il était son allié, enfin, un allié aux airs venimeux. Immanquablement, la discussion alla droit au but:
- Alors, t’as misé sur “Demon” dans la troisième?
- Ouais, et j’ai perdu. Après j’ai gagné dans la quatrième.
- T’as vu le DRH aujourd’hui? On dirait qu’il va se transformer en toupie ?
- Ouais, nan.
- J’aime bien ton chemisier.
- Merci. Moi j’aime bien ta coupe hipster.
- hyp – quoi?
- Rien Maxime. Passes-moi le cendrier.

Dans sa monomanie projetée sur la cavale des dadas, Renée défonçait le stade oral en beuglant des gargarismes orgasmiques. Looseuse salivante, elle se frottait la génitoire subliminale et souhaitait fouetter les croupes claires rebondissant sur ces pelouses obstinées, espérant engrosser le culte de sa personnalité pas assez léchée à son goût pour être à ses tortures quotidiennes rémunérées prises comme créatrices de quelques flocons de neiges mièvrement merveilleux. Une schizophrénie lancinante signalée ainsi par ses collègues étriqués. Le jour de cette lune là, au milieu du matin nauséeux, elle percuta sciemment ce geek de Maxime. L’Éros de ce dernier laissait gicler une faim de stupre à peine dissimulée par la cravache ré-éducative de forums formatés au savoir du tout contrôle, arrières pensées ricanantes des blagues d’oeudipe avec vos mères. Elle, se liquéfiait de cette obscénité trop intime à ne pas la chavirer comme une chienne qu’elle camouflait sous ses airs de princesse congelée. Cependant, ce maxime était le bon animus à chevaucher, aussi bon qu’une morphine copine à l’obsession tendrement toxique. Et il fallait bien chevaucher ce shoot. L’échange verbal qui s’y éjacula toucha sa cible:
-Alors tu t’es mise le démon bien profond dans ton troisième trou ?
-Oh oui! Et je me suis faite éclater au quatrième.
-Le maître a-t-il exigé ta soumission aujourd’hui ? N’est-il pas la girouette de ses fantasmes à tête chercheuse ?
-Oui, et non, tu sais que j’aime ça.
-Moi, ce sont tes seins qui gonflent là sous le tissu que je kiffe.
-Laisse moi glousser! Quant à moi je suis addict de ta crinière bestiale à mouiller.
-Crinière bestiale trop mouillée ?
-Laisse tomber Maxime mais donne moi…

                                                                           Texte complet ici

 ---------------------------------------ethersex|f4 editions 


Orphéothèse by bissecta




Projet en danse de Noeso et textes de Noeso et bissecta sur l'Orphéothèse

charming buttocks

charming to percevoir les montres et montes tes fesses .
charming to percevoir les montres et montes tes fesses .
charming to percevoir les montres et montes tes fesses .
charming to percevoir les montres et montes tes fesses .

you've hidden
yer many shadyspotting
 lady of the hats
thy body is smooth as guilds
ive not forgotten yer dainty ways

“Ethersex”, le miroir d’une époque. (Travaux en binôme basés sur la transfiguration de la réalité plate de tout un chacun en phénomènes sexuels, et inversement). Par auddie et bissecta.

“Ethersex, la masturbation des psychées castratrices et civilisatrices actuelles (Baise binomique balancée sur la giclée des constructions mentales de tous les pseudo egos, et retroussement).





thats gonna change /as adding 'plane after plane' s gonna 'enrich ' it

thats gonna change /

dding 'plane after plane'


g 'plane after plane'