THE ANARCHIST

Roland Michel Tremblay

Black Poetry

Warning: this book is not for anyone I know, anyone who has aged too quickly. I have no need for your judgements, keep them for yourself!

RM

44E The Grove, Isleworth, Middlesex, London, UK : Tel +44 (0)20 8847 5586, Mobile: +44 (0)794 127 1010

[email protected] www.crownedanarchist.com

http://homepage.virgin.net/roland.t/Anarangl.html

THE ANARCHIST (the ones included are in blue)

The Collective Soul Is Rotting 1

No Faith, No Hope 2

I’m Corrupt 3

Being Nothing 4

Let's Go To Mass On Sunday! 5

Your Children Are All Empty Vessels 6

The Anarchist 7

Have a Nice Cup of Tea, My Dear 8

I’ll Tell What’s Normal 9

I Fucked the Town Slag 10

It’s Par for the Course in New York 11

Drink Up Your Whisky, Old Girl, and Cheat Death 12

We’re Not a Lost Generation 13

The Alchemist 14

HELL HELP 15

I Strike and I Kill 16

Outside Buckingham Palace 17

Flush it all Down the Loo 18

Stop Puking all Over Me! 19

God Loves Me! 20

My Life Is Ruled By Sex 21

Poor Little Thing 22

My Head’s About to Explode! 23

I Pissed on the Sorbonne 24

I Love My Sugar Daddy 25

In the Depths of the Marais 26

Vaginaphobia 27

Church Street 28

What I‘ve Found in the Holy Bible of the Hotel 29

I’m Your Leader 30

I’m Unreachable 31

I’m Irresponsible 32

My Mea Culpa 33

My Devolution, My Revolution 34

Throw Me Away After Use 35

Step Into My Hell 36

Come With Me and I’ll Show You The World 37

For God's Sake, I Have a Life to Live! 38

I Went to the Chapel of Rest 39

The Existential Crisis 40

The Bloody Meat 41

The Hen-House 42

Beef Curtains 43

I Will Not Pose Naked for Your Beautiful Eyes 44

Mummy, Come Get Your Son 45

The Annoying Guy 46

Put the Tourists to Death! 47

You Want an Orgy? 48

Take Me to See Ireland 49

I Float in Space 50

Is it My Fault If I Don’t Get a Hard On? 51

Flee, Flee, Flee 52

I’m Going to Shoot Myself 53

Your Flowers Smell Like Christ Decomposing! 54

You're So Sweet! 55

I Go from One Extreme to the Other 56

Go Fuck Yourself, You Ass Hole! 57

In the Heart of London 58

I Can't Endure You, But I Would Sleep With You 59

You Raped Me 60

You are a Fucking Bitch 61

I am Incompatible with Life 62

There is no Noble Sentiments 63

There is Nothing Worse than People with Principles 64

The Policy of Truth 65

Go Wash Yourself! 66

Sex? Here are the Contracts to Sign... 67

Stop Saying that I am a Naughty Boy! 68

Being Extremist 69

The Annoying Big Pigs 70

From the Moment That... 71

Close all my Accounts! 72

You Old Skin, Get a Life! 73

Berlin - New York Via London 74

You Flushed Me, That Fucked Me Up Completely 75

I'm Connected 76

Out of My Sight, Out of My Life! 77

Love is Beautiful 78

I Have No Taste 79

I Finally Found Happiness 80

No Pity for the Rejects 81

I am Just a Pretty Face 82

Fucking Immigrant 83

26 Cameras Supervise Me When I Shit 84

A Big Bomb In There... 85

Too Many Stupid People Around Me 86

I'll Kick Your Fuckin’ Head In 87

You're the New Love of My Life 88

This Evening on Oxford Street 89

Bitchy Woman 90

Fucked Up 91

A Fat Dog's Cunt, Mother of My Child? 92

Is It Your Wife Flat on Her Ass on The Floor? 93

Revenge Always Comes 94

Marianne Faithfull In Russell Square 95

Too Many Lovers In My Life 96

Crabs, Crabs, Crabs Again 97

To Die In Peace 98

I am Making History 99

I am God 100

The Collective Soul is Rotting

Perverted animal, knowing the whole world of sex

I’ve thoroughly penetrated you and I remember

This makes me just as perverted as you

Aren’t we happy together

In our slum, forever arguing

And getting nowhere

Life is sweet when there’s nothing but perversion

To lead us to the heights

Being there with you I meet human consciousness head on

Observing, recognising itself, and dying with us

The collective soul is just as rotten as ours

Because we are its progeny

No Faith, No Hope

Ah, I must empty my heart

Of all its rottenness

I’m so far from fulfilment and inner peace

I yearn to die as I yearn to kill

No light on the horizon

And yet I know all about mysticism

Know how to reach spirituality

Find God

But it’s all from the mind

Nothing from the heart

I’m incapable of love

But capable of death

My sensitivity is useless

I could destroy humanity with my violent thoughts

No faith, no hope

I’m Corrupt

I’m corrupt

As corrupt as you could have wished

I’m corrupt to the marrow of my bones

I suffer from an incurable disease

Fluttering in my brain

Gnawing at my bones and offering me doubt

Pain, unhappiness

I walk with the weight of my guilt

Through streets punctuated with churches

Knowing right from wrong at last and doing wrong

They’ve got me

My thoughts are no longer my own

I’ve fallen into their net

I’ve listened, swallowed, digested

I suffer from an incurable disease

Called God

Being Nothing

I’m an explosion of places

A multitude of times

There are several versions of me

I follow this path or that while believing I’m following my destiny

But it makes me suffer so much

To know I’m following a beaten track and living too intensely

I try to accept, to experience, everything

Although I could easily spare myself

I’m an explosion of places

A multitude of times

I chase all sorts of possibilities

I follow this path or that, I’m my own destiny

It makes me suffer so much

But I’m learning to get acquainted with life

Acquainted with the lives of others

They’re just like mine

I’m an explosion of places

A multitude of times

But I still feel I’m nothing

Grubby and ugly, empty and worthless

How can such a heap of meat follow a destiny?

Let’s Go to Mass On Sunday

I went into a church on Sunday

With the latest edition of Let Us Pray in Church

I kissed the congregation, fulfilling my destiny

Doing a favour to those in need of love

The priest smiled broadly, delighting in this joyous Mass

He thanked me and absolved me from my sins

Absolution, nothing too wicked for God to forgive

I went into a church on Sunday

With the latest model of a gun

I fired on the congregation, fulfilling my destiny

Doing a favour to those who no longer saw clearly

The priest smiled broadly, delighting in this deathly Mass

He thanked me and absolved me from my sins

Absolution, nothing too wicked for God to forgive

Your Children Are All Empty Vessels

(and Sex-Obsessed!)

I’ve watched them, hyperactive and spiteful

Utterly empty-headed, blissful in their ignorance

Vegetables, like me, in the scheme of things

Learning stupidities for filling little pitchers

But they’re all cracked, spilling their contents on the floor instead of being able to act or question authority

Not one of them who doesn’t dream of flying out the window

Or making love with the person next to them

Most of them are already on drugs

And you, for the love of heaven, want to see these empty vessels do well

Your empty vessels will be successful and cracked at the same time

No matter, your children will be cracked for all eternity

How beautiful life is when your truth pours out from the mouths of your children

The Anarchist

I sacrifice myself for one and all

I come forward telling the truth

Bearing witness, as I must, to my experience

I describe my perversion, my immorality, in detail

Listen, they spit on me, trample me, and I don’t give a toss any more

I’m here, it’s today

I’m not, unlike you, a mass of defences, ready to spring into action

A tissue of falsehoods for justifying my failures

Fifty-six ways to camouflage the truth

Here it is utterly naked in front of you

Open your eyes and learn a lesson from it

You’ll never be better than me

You’ll never be worth more than me

I’m the one who confronts life

I’m the one who confronts truth

Have a Nice Cup of Tea, My Dear

´We don’t need all this violence, this rowdy music, these indecent picturesª

´When you’re older, you’ll change, you’ll understand, I hopeª

´You’ve got two choices left: law or medicineª

´You’ve got to have this diploma and these qualifications at leastª

´What you should do now is watch others and do as they doª

´Why aren’t you doing it?ª

´Where were you last night? Your life is ruled by sexª

´You don’t dabble in drugs, I hope. Remember alcohol’s a drug tooª

´You have no idea of right and wrongª

´You must keep trying, one day you’ll get it rightª

´Have a nice cup of tea, my dearª

And choke on it!

I’ll Tell What’s Normal

It’s the truth as you’ll never know it

It’s serial infidelity by women as much as by men

It’s such a revulsion with life that a whole chemist’s shop couldn’t cure it

It’s separation, divorce, depression, abortion

It’s short-lived affairs where sex is what matters most

It’s a decent bottle of Scotch or of Cognac

It’s a packet of cigarettes harbouring cancer to gnaw at your guts

It’s random, street-corner death for a thousand and one reasons

It’s a struggle for power or money where no one’s the outright winner

It’s a high-class bitch who knows everything and subjects you to her morals from hell

It’s a whore who’s been humped by a businessman and dies from an overdose of coke

It’s a gaggle of neuroses meeting up to reinforce each other

It’s the Pope saying the opposite of what he thinks in the name of we don’t know what

It’s a country owned by big, rich companies

It’s lives in hock to banks

It’s ubiquitous hypocrisy

It’s institutionalised slavery

It’s political corruption at every level

It’s God dead and buried