An ageless old shaman hands me
a cup of imortality .
Waking dream ,the bitter herb .
Mystic introspection .
Symphonic offering .
Alone conductor with this audience
of myself .Inner philarmonic .
Would I be praised or shamed ?
I shake the hands of a first violin skeleton.
My turgid baton awakens a camp fire
around which a solar gypsy girl twirls...
Cosmological bolero ,invariable tempo ,
undecent sensual crescendo ...
I am Ravel conducting an orchestra of demons,
Divine chorea ,drags me along,your body inspiring me
an indicible champagne bubbling .
Maestro you no longer respect the final accelerando !
Corpses spin like dolls on orgy night !
I\'m just melodic photon swept away by waves of madness,
a bewitched jerky rhythm light a blaze in my neutronic suburbs.
Here,I am , diatonic and incantatory god !
Convulsions of an agonizing bemol ,high priest !
Instrumental reflection , crazy wizzard !
Lyrical violence in C major, unchained storm...
Soprano sax ,cymbals and tam tam
furiously bicker at each other ,
bassoon courting clarinet ...
Last mezzo forte before the collapse
in the musical scripture ecstasy ...
Only a soft whisper under the galaxy ,
public rising up ...
I survived this bitter herb concerto .