duets with other poets – Simona

Note:  Simona is presently a regular follower of my blog.  I make a habit of visiting the blogs my readers.  The photography at her beautiful blog is sensual without being pornographic and her gorgeous prose borders on poetry.  Upon submerging myself into the artistic ruminations of this Italian muse, I found myself inspired to compose a sonnet (below) in this ‘duet’ with a beautiful rose.  I encourage you to visit her blog.  –dafree whitewolfe


Ci sono momenti in cui si deve vivere la vita attraverso la vita degli altri.

Altri che soffrono,

altri che ti hanno aspettato a lungo,

altri che dopo anni di silenzio finalmente parlano.

Altri che hanno bisogno di un compagno nell’attesa delle loro attese.

E altri per i quali il tempo che passa nell’aspettare è già un dono.

Non sai bene se la vita è viaggio, se è sogno,

se è attesa,

se è un piano che si svolge giorno dopo giorno

e non te ne accorgi se non guardando all’indietro.

Non sai se ha senso in certi momenti il senso,

non conta, contano i legami.. Simona ♥ http://imieialtiebassi.wordpress.com


shades of melancholy

(to the Muse of muses and her shadows)


« Ci sono momenti in cui si deve vivere la vita attraverso la vita degli altri. »  -Simona



there are moments when one finds oneself pausing

the senses tentative uncertain frozen

one finds oneself in such moments pondering

memories crushing the senses come unbidden


dansing through beethoven or perhaps schubert


clarity in a delicate pas de deux

with obscurity allowing silence to speak

of others who have or are and will suffer too

whose expectations are suddenly not oblique


rushing through chopin perhaps gushing through liszt


others who cannot meet lover’s expectations

whose expectations  are lacking understanding

whose ambitions exclude being blue companions

but include mistral words unveiling
coy angling


pulsating through debussy or perhaps ravel


if our lives are a journey why all this scheming

if what one does or does not seems not to matter

is it amidst such still moments of our dreaming

that one perceives that all crystaline dreams shatter


as music stains the rose shades of melancholy


so when one pauses pondering the senses sensing



the rose commences her withering and  fading


chrétien marc valentin

((© 04 août 2014)

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duets with other poets – madstoffa incubating

No. 117.2.

this wilde dog – dafree whitewolfe –  finds madstoffa to be a wave of talent rising into a tsunami of artisty…so, unbashed word-smasher that we are, we asked him for permission to improv a duet on this new gem…while graciously granting permission, he informs us it is a work in progress…a diamond in the rough, not yet polished…

so, therefore, meanwhile, because melting into endless howevers….this, the dafree whitewolfe, is content to wait until our brother of the sacred packe, that madstoffa, finishes his current  opus before leaping  down the rabbit hole following in his trackless tracks…

before dipping our teagle’s quiver into his shivering inkspot of exaltation that is the aspiration igniting genius in this gem, we his  brother of the sacred packe, prefer to let his madness be a lamp before our feet so to speak (we are a poet don’t ya know it)…any and all lovers of growons are invited to follow the dafree whitewolfe following madstoffa down the rabbit hole…a duet is incubating amidst the gathering stardust…eventually, followers become leaders…madstoffa is already such madness that intoxicates…invitations are not required…you cannot crash this party…all you need is a hat to become a mad hatter who delights whimsy among the awareness of wolves….lol!….



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duets with other poets – weaving new threads (la brujitaaa iv)


awakening star of the east

(to the Muses of muses  and her shadows)

“Your word is a lamp before my feet and a light for my journey.” -Psalm 119:105


Wolkje aan

cloud in

De lucht

in the air

Zal ik op je

i shall upon you




En neem een vlucht

then  with you take flight

Kraaien kauwen raven

raven of ravenings


Vliegen mee

fly with me

Door een wolken

through this cloud

Haven heen

into the haven of havens


In de verte zien we

on the horizon we see still

Een mooie ekster

that still undiscovered country

Op een zilveren

a shimmering sapphire


star of starry nights


Kom met ons mee

come fly with us

In onze wereld

into our new realms

Van magie

of magicke

Daar wacht jou

wherein your beloved

Mooie ochtendster


ghimmering star dawning

awaits you with opal breasts and onyx wings 

La Brujitaaa http://lalocabrujita.wordpress.com/



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ancient threads in the tapestry – the wisdom of dafree whitewolfe

goodmorning1 La Brujitaaa http://lalocabrujita.wordpress.com/

“Allow yourself to yield, and
you will be completed.
Allow yourself to bend, and
you will stay straightened
All yourself to be empty, and
you will get appreciated.
Allow yourself to be exhausted, and
you will be restored.


Having little, you can receive the gift of giving much.
Having much, you can give the gift of receiving little.
-Lao Tzu (transduction by dafree whitewolfe)

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Zionist Crackpot Outside Kedem Shop in Manchester

Zionist Crackpot Outside Kedem Shop in Manchester.

…luv madstoffa! i am both jewish (polish grand-mother survived the pogrom) and catholic, but was an evangelical ASSembly of God protestant: I militate against Fundamentalism wherever I encounter as does my brother of the sacred packe, CP! watch! enjoy! silence your mind open your hart! we are all in this together! violence breeds violence! the sacred warrior has beaten his sword into a cross! …further up & further in…^^~~~~ dafree whitewolfe

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Ebola Outbreak

Ebola Outbreak.

Here is poet with a prophetic soul: A man unafraid to stand up and cry out at mendacity when he sees it! Deep bow, my brother of the sacred packe! …further up & further in…~~~~^^*^^~~~~ dafree whitewolfe

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weaving the tapestry – reweaving threads unweaving

the incense of suffering

(to the Muses of muses and her shadows)


“There is nothing in my self that can be relied on.”

 -St. Teresa of Avila



my hart said to my harts

there is nothing

at the hart of the rose

nothing is here

but the incense of suffering


the diamond hart of kwan yins

seeking nothing

she floating on water

finding nothing

her hart of all harts still weeping


the tears of black madonnas

speaking of suffering

the rose within roses

heaven still sorrowing

crowning warriors kings hanging


the sacred hart of harts

suffering nothing

he walking on water

seeking without fearing

the fragrance of a burning rose


the subtle minds of bodhisattvas

finding truth ennobling

on lotuses dansing

sufferring nothing

still their unworthy hart leaping still


smoldering tears  washing my cheeks

unworthy as we are if not

serving the midnight rose

we are nothing if not

the incense of love suffering


nothing is certain while nothing is suffering


within the immaculate hart of harts

something comes from nothing comes compassion

goddesses awaiting gods returning home



so i follow the incense of a smoldering rose


chrétien marc valentin

(© 08 août 2014 – 1st draft 04 septembre 2003)


*The Life of Saint Teresa of Avila by Herself, Chapter 5

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duets with other poets – abichica

last touch 

“…something is there
within in the deep
but whose childe it is
we do not yet know…”
-Lao Tzu


First Touch…

“I’ve never done this before”.. I whispered more to myself than to her..

and so narcissus steps into the bottomless pool once again sighing


“I’m glad i’m your first” She murmured..

ignorance is not bliss you are neither the first nor last to taste transgressive fruit


Distracted by the sound of my dress hitting the floor..

such disrobing unveils not glory but mere carnality


She watched me…No.. Gazed at me..

the nefesh soul loves to wrestle in the mud


Eyes glazed over in lust.

but we have opposable thumbs not fins


Pure unadulterated desire..

regression is an endless temptation


Taking everything in as if in a trance..

losing myself in a can some pr man called earthquake


As if I’m the sexiest vixen alive..

but you are not because opposites restore equality


She sat quietly as I took off every stitch of clothing.

and now we submerged ourselves in pathetic pornography


Letting them fall one by one..

where is that can of an earthquake we prefer to this


Exposing myself to her hungry stare..

we used not to call this satan now we call it boring


Until I stood in front of her with just my heels..

oh so now our hooves are our horns our primitive urges


As she strolled towards me..

it is impossible to danse with two left feet


Prowled more like

the ruach soul is not a panther


Focused, sexy and confident..

rather just hungry so lacking compassion


Like a panther stalking it’s prey..

exactly lilith seeking whomever she may devour


Ready for the take down..

satan’s mistress will ultimately be taken down


A slight shiver of anticipation runs though my body..


my neshamah if it was lacking compassion would be boring me


As she stops in front of me she ran her hands over me..

too bad for you prefer intoxity to reality


Leaving goose bumps trailing behind her caress..

oh my goddess…you are lost in the deep throat of pornography


Starting at the nape of my neck..

working her way down into something not poetry


Down my arms..

into an unfertile crotch


Touching the side of my breast..

where a child is supposed to suckle


Barely grazing my nipples..

men have nipples too


“So beautiful” She said sounding amazed.

there is no tempting darkness greater than unfamiliarity


“Am I really all she says i am”

yep you can be a  slug in the mud if you must


my mind starts to wonder…

excuse me  you are as mindless as a snail says the raven


She moves her hands down my waist..

was it not the bard that said such a waist is a waste of shame


Grabbing my butt and squeezing roughly..

sadistically masochistically regressively


Moaning deep in her throat before her soft perfect lips

one slips not into vertuoisty but mendacity


crashed down on mine…

crashing is not uplifting nor exulting


All thought dissipated…

yes you found the bottom of brutality


All that mattered was this feeling.

and your chayyah evaporating into stupidity


This moment..


celebrating such narcissism



humanity abandons dry land and extinction returns


abichica https://chicpress.wordpress.com/2014/07/30/first-touch/


chrétien marc valentin

(© 2 août 2014)

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reweaving threads unweaving – with apologies to robert okaji

there is a cruelty to it*

(to the Muse of muses and her shadows)

“The life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.”

-Thomas Hobbes


we are born to strive to understand

without understanding the struggle


there is a majesty to it


we are born to seek a beloved

without a beloved to love


there is a cruelty to it


a ten thousand faceted harshness

keener than a sacred warrior’s blade


there is a majesty to it


a starry brilliance awaiting birth

hidden within the hart of darkness


there is a brutality to it


a compelling darkness arising

forcing us to seek without knowing


there is a majesty to it


a kaleidoscopic transcendence

a blissful danse so mysterious


there is a cruelty to it


love’s danse through brilliant complexity

compelling a brutal symmetry


is there not a majesty to it


can we not resist love’s cruelty

nor deny our love’s brutality


are we born of love to die for love


the consonance of gentle midnight

with the dissonance of high noon


to die for love are we not born of love


amidst dawn’s sapphire fluidity

embracing dusk’s amethyst finality


is it there beloved that we are yours


is there not a dignity to it

chaos integrally embracing order

is there not a finality to it


or is it here my love that you are ours


as you are not there so are we not here

sweeter rebirth dansing with bitter death

within the far edge of swirling stardust


must we always my love arise again is


there so little charity within our hart of harts

chrétien marc valentin

(© 2 août 2014)


*the unpublished first draft of this poem was first composed in 2005

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duets with other poets – Gaza, Robert Okaji iii (american corporate capitalisim)

say we were more decent (funny word) than wrote,  just another symbol, right?, joh stewaqrt


ai challenge this asshole to trump our  compassion with his quick but pretension  irony?

what a dehydrated robber baron he pretends not to to be…steven is too busy enjoying filling his bank account pandering to mendacity to keep his tesla  charged to think about social justice!?


”we are fairly certain he will never read this, but even so we re-dedicate this wilde & crayze poem to one of our many heros!  JON STEWART WE LOVE YOU! your permutations of integrity and compassion are endlessly delighting.  cobert nation eat shit and die (i am both jewish and catholic  – u are vulgar and narrow-minded not witty!)


amercican corporate capitalism
(for The Muse of muses and her shadows)

“…the larger your hoard the heavier your losses…”
-Lao Tzu



-marc chagall



wounded knee and auschwitz and nagasaki and now corporate depredations

We presume affliction by census,

we dawn ambivalences like flack-jackets resisting immigrations embracing opressions

whereas light

requires renunciation of atrocities and denunciations suchness  

requires no faith.

whereas remorseless curiosity requires selfless investigations

Is the roofless house a home?

is the empty cathedral a temple of a mere mausoleum

When you call

and we do not pick up the receiver who protects the museum

who answers?

when only nobody is listening to nothingness is it nobody if not

The vulture

absolutely not the eagle let alone the phoenix winging

spreads its wings

those are fodder for howitzers dragnets for drones so darkness itself

but remains on post.

posting shiftings ignorance prevaricating


equivocating bifurcating discriminating

I note minute of angle, windage.

taking aim you meet the enemy in your cross-wires


the undutchable enemy cannot be you lacking unamerican eyes have no

regrets, only tension.

the suspension of endless recollections of ultimate solutions

Breathe in.

breathing out extinctions

inhaling renouncing endless confusions delusions collusions

embracing differentiation within integration leap reaching

leaping beyond words annihilating annihilations assassinations

discovering endless migrations are timeless salvations

transfigurations transforming endless transfigurations


 -marc chagaall

as voltarie is still admonishing let us not forget the atrocities

Robert Okaji, http://robertokaji.com/ (July 27, 2014) 

chrétien marc valentin

(© 1 août 2014)


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