Knowledge
Of Less
Importance
Copyright: 2011 Serge Seveau
All rights reserved.
Book ISBN: 978-0-9871623-0-4
3rd Edition (Revised - 14th of March 2015)
~*~*~*~
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the ‘store’ and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
~*~*~*~
Dear Reader,
If you would like enlightenment to the more ‘cryptic poems’, navigate to seveau.net, you will find some clarification. Keep in mind that as a reader you will capture your individual ‘feel’, interpretation, parallel, analogy or even paradigm shift for each poem; and as such, you may not want to read the footnote - that can be a good thing.
Serge
~*~*~*~
Dearest Reader,
A poem can be like opening a door hinged on both sides. Some share the visions seen through windows of wooden glass. Some torment so much, they cause you to sleep with both ears on the pillow. But, they all germinate and grow to their death.
So take your eyes out of your pocket, read with your ears and wave Me goodbye as I permeate Your memory.
Serge, 13th of October, 1988
Table Of Content:
Mummy? Daddy?
Disrespectful dominance
Nothing's left
Palms must meet
Daddy's dismissal
Happier Sadness
Aurélie cheats
Knowledge of less importance
Souls alike
The poor chair
A why to WHO!
Just a thought
Silicon Teachers
Oui for We
A romance out of tune
Pillow of love
Ma terre Natale
ver Geai nittée
Amour sans frontiers
Mummy? Daddy?
If it can't be found in life what is worth,
And if the given sex is the curse,
The scalpel will make you chuckle
As you claim to have a traitor of a mirror.
It seemed that only opposites could attract;
Now they ‘give birth’, condemn to this earth,
A child with maternal/paternal indifference;
Cursing the scalpel as a “satanic entrance”.
Serge, 10th of June, 1987
to table of content
Disrespectful dominance
Please lend me your hand,
I need someone like you.
But anyway, I am a 'man',
I can pick and choose.
It is not my fault
if this disease I got
is forcing me
to plead with thee.
Please be my friend
and lend me a hand.
I can not offer in return,
but we will learn.
For years I will be in pain,
but from you peace I can gain.
First we make you high,
then we take your life.
We will experiment,
make you transparent.
And thanks to your pain
I promise I will gain.
You show no expression,
sorrow is out of the question.
You shed not a tear,
nor do you show fear.
But if somehow I could explain,
I am important, a right to gain.
Your life on this earth
shows nothing that is worth.
I am better now, thank you.
But the least I can do
is mention your name;
say you lent me a hand.
If on me at work
they want to try something new,
I'll say don't be a jerk,
I'm not the guinea pig we once knew.
Serge, 8th of June 1987
to table of content
Nothing's Left
And now you are gone,
I feel so alone;
I might just as well be a stone.
I know I did wrong,
I guess I'm not strong,
now too late to change my song.
You see, she does please,
but a yard up my knees
is all she fucken’ sees.
And now you are gone,
I feel so alone;
I might just as well be a bone.
I lay all alone,
pretend nothing's wrong,
as beside me lay's my wrong.
If only I had seen,
your love was so clean,
you I never should have deceived.
And now you are gone,
I feel so alone;
I might just as well be a clone.
Me you called upon,
you turned I was gone.
now by the Lord you're called upon.
As I strum for thee,
your love comes to me.
but your smile again I'll never see.
And now you are gone,
I feel so alone;
I might just as well be a throne.
I guess now it's me,
Through time I will see
what life has install for me.
Like before, once again,
this blood, my child to gain,
hope this time there'll be less pain.
And now you are gone,
I feel so alone;
I might just as well be a stone.
Can I ever be free
of all this misery
you suffered cause of me.
Sometimes I look to see
if you ever forgive me;
but these visions are not thee.
And now you are gone,
I feel so alone;
I might just as well be a bone.
Good times we did share,
bad times and despair,
but my trust was not there.
When two ‘worlds’ become one,
I seek; you're the one,
again we will be Father and Son.
Serge, 10th of January, 1987
to table of content
Palms must meet
Tomorrow becomes yesterday
as I wait, endure my stay.
Yes, my soul shall be free;
like a butterfly from it's cocoon.
Yes, my soul shall be free;
as my body rots I'll fly over the moon.
The sun rises once again,
then the moon; what's been gained!
Another day full of death;
whether it be Flaura,
Another day full of death;
whether it be Fauna.
We spend time to assimilate,
only to find we degenerate.
A mechanism churning beauty to feaces;
Was there a need for that Rose's death!
A mechanism churning beauty to feaces;
Upon our pallets we justify death.
Now it's Big Bang verses God;
No matter, death makes you sob.
One day I will light my last cigarette;
In the soil my body will rote and stay.
One day I will take my last agonal breath;
And upon my grave I will see you pray.
Serge, 14th of October, 1988
to table of conten
t
Daddy's dismissal
My knuckles turn to white
As the blade enters my flesh.
A tear now blurs my sight;
These memories all so fresh.
The point pierces my heart
Because we were torn apart.
My worthless existence
Must now meet termination.
Even as this blade makes entrance,
You are my only meditation.
My Child, my only Daughter,
Nothing in this world I would rather.
I remember your first breath,
The first sweet sound of your voice.
To my soul you brought health,
A Daddy to you – proud of God's choice.
So many plans for us I made,
Only to stand back; watch them fade.
Only three summers we did share,
As came the next, so did the door.
Our marriage she had to tear;
As for me she had love no more.
A Daddy to you I seem to no longer be,
A life-time of winters is all I can see.
Is she the one to blame?
I guess it matters not.
I now am wounded, lame;
Must finish my life's anecdote.
You are my Golden Beauty,
Without you life is paltry.
Serge, 12th of November, 1988
to table of content
Happier Sadness
To the left I push the hands,
shall return to my antipode;
must escape this burnt land
that has turned me so cold.
I leave behind this land
in which my father now spoils,
where my mother seeks the guilty hand
awaiting he return to the soil.
I leave behind my Golden Beauty;
she is surely part of me
and my pear shaped lady;
the bitch that never loved me.
I'll be there in less than four face-full,
on my emotions no more I'll pull.
I can see my land I call beautiful,
but all I see is concrete – nothing to drool.
I stepped into this grey hexagon,
for my blood their veins I searched.
Found memories I thought all gone,
and the coded gene for which I searched.
But life here orbits money in shame,
and their tongue clumsily tingles
as they ask how much is your name?
but their ears frown as my pocket jingles.
I am so good, such a Lady,
I dress with jewelry, wish you could see.
But I don't want to be a robbery,
so at the bank I hide my glory.
“I am a man – not a fool,
work very hard, enough tax to fill a pool.
But wait, this is all very cruel,
maybe not a man – just societies tool.”
Each other at their throats like dogs,
to this, Dear Land, I can not lift my hat.
You see, Mother France,
I arrived here sad – but cold for cold
Australia my wife is my preference;
as with her my soul won't grow mould.
Serge, 7th of September, 1988
to table of content
Aurélie cheats
Aurélie lights a cigarette,
She turns to me and sighs.
……..Je veux…....Je veux
Aurélie had her heart set
To have a child; I enter Her thighs.
……..Ton bébé......Ton bébé
But Aurélie is in chains,
The gift to reproduce; she has no right.
……..Je veux……Je veux
Aurélie please don't live in pain,
Slide over here, hold me tight.
……..Ton bébé…...Ton bébé
But Aurélie, form life, had nothing to gain,
In my arms she puts out the light.
……..Je veux…...Je veux
Aurélie please don't leave me so,
Our love so brief, no time to grow.
……..Mourir……Mourir
Aurélie decided to go that day,
Opened her veins t'ill the end.
……..Je t'aime......Je t'aime
Aurélie I wish you would have stayed,
In my heart your love won't end.
……..Je t'aime……Je t'aime
Aurélie, I now walk alone,
All desires for life have gone.
Serge, 4th of October, 1988
to table of content
Knowledge of less importance
One thousand and fifty years;
My! But you are an old tree.
If only you could tell me,
What it is that you have ‘seen’.
Now, after the press, you come to me,
And with my pen I write on Thee,
Only for another to look and read
What it is that I could see,
But not the years of mystery
You could have shown me.
Serge, 5th June, 1987
to table of content
Souls alike
She lays there, relaxing, resting,
Her grey old snout upon Her paws.
Her black chest slowly inflating, deflating,
She sleeps; life's momentary pause.
A sudden bark she does let out,
Then Her paw reaches mid-air.
So many memories lives that old snout,
A dog's life She has to bear.
A dream to me is spirit sought;
Inner feelings reaching our conscience.
An uncontrollable freedom of thought;
Unexplained, even by science.
My soul awakes my dreams at night,
As does Carmen's, it's all so bright.
Serge, 12th of November, 1988
to table of content
The poor chair
Here I stand looking into air,
Hoping that you walk away in despair,
But life to me is not fair,
I can do nothing but be fair,
So I get a scare,
I'm but a poor chair,
Please don’t sit on me
And pass air.
Serge, 5th of June, 1987
to table of content
A why to WHO!
With heaviness upon her eye lids,
Dusk hushes all sounds.
Clouds come to rest upon the hills;
No-one now is to be found.
Petaled bed, incense flows, she sleeps;
Lullabied by natures sweet sound.
Of her reins, Glowing Beauty, she dreams;
If only she was to be found.
Awake! Birds of night!
For once your question is true.
Do stare at such a sight,
Only once comes such a view.
Maybe before, a vision so bright
Left you in frantic wonder – WHOO!
Serge, 15th of October, 1988
to table of content
Mr. Paddock
It's a hard task, but it must be done,
Without such an occupation, the world is none.
So they get up, as the sun creeps over the hill,
They sharpen their tools, made of such hardened steel.
They step into their scissors and off they go;
These people work sun or snow.
”How would you like it today, Mr. Paddock?”
”Short back and sides, you know the habit.”
Yes, today’s Farmers are the earth’s barbers.
Serge, 13th October, 1988
to table of content
Silicon Teachers
What is to become of us,
We are so vulnerable, touchable.
How can we even compete,
They are so calmly achievable.
br /> Oh yes, how they sit there
In brilliance of knowledge;
All these highways leading back and forth,
Such a resemblance to our fragile cerebrum.
They do not strike; except for black-outs,
They don't even take time to eat;
Well, that is unless it comes to chips.
They don't even sigh nor smile.
They teach, but do not learn at will,
Their intelligence is a reflection of its informer.
Such a nice symmetrical
Well balanced teacher.
They shall be the end of us poor cytoplasmic teachers.
No more shall the child feel a shiver
From the blackboard
As his eyes begin to sore and water.
Serge, 2nd of July, 1986
to table of content
Oui for We
Why can't you see you’re meant for me,
And yes it's true, I'm meant for you.
Don't be lonely, come and see me,
It's up to you, I'll come to you.
And why deny, you know that I
Can make you smile, give us a try.
Your hair is long and so blond,
Your eyes are blue and all so true.
You talk so fine and are so kind,
I can't resist, I need your kiss.
You’re in my dreams, I'm in your dreams,
Why disagree, our love can be.
Serge, 12th June, 1987
to table of content
A romance out of tune
Why must it be a tragedy,
after all, it could never be.
You seemed to have an eye on me,
or was I just in a day dream.
Now I've got the fears,
You've got the tears,
and this romance could never be.
And now you play my favorite tune,
but it will have been borrowed.
and who gave order for this croon,
to have my heart further sorrowed.
Now I've the tears,
You've got the fears,
and this romance could never be.
You made him first, he had the thirst,
Now you want to hide as he takes pride.
You see, I never did aim to flirt,
get up your skirt or make you hurt.
Now I've got the fears,
You've got the tears,
and this romance could never be.
You seemed to have confuse me for another,
The one that has more than one lover.
So now, lets just leave it as it is,
It's not worth, not even a kiss.
Now I've the tears,
You've got the fears,
and this romance could never be.
Serge, 9th of May, 1987
to table of content
Pillow of love
Got home late last night; and we had a fight.
We argued and argued, most of the night.
Then she came to me with a rolling pin,
Quickly I thought, said with a grin;
There ain't no use bitchin' to me,
there ain't no use to beatin' me,
there ain't no use ignorin' me;
Cause lovers quarrels always
resolve upon a pillow.
Well, the very next day, to make me pay,
She got drunk, stunk like a skunk,
Like all the time, we had a fight.
She started swearing', I started sayin',
There ain't no use to start drinkin',
Just go and put away your Gin.
There ain't no use callin' me names,
Cause it just don't involve no pains.
Cause lovers quarrels always
Resolve upon a pillow.
Later that night we had a fight,
She said she'd be on the next flight,
But from her draw she pulled out a saw.
To save my life, I said with a smile,
There ain't no use to leavin' me,
Like usual you'll return to me,
There ain't no use for a lawyer,
There ain't no use for a jointure.
Cause lovers quarrels always
Resolve upon a pillow.
The next day was her birthday,
Took her to dinner; said I'd pay.
When the candles disappeared,
I leaned over, whispered in her ear;
Lets go and do some lovin',
We need no fight to get goin',
Theirs is a pillow of pretence,
Ours is a pillow of romance.
Serge, 26th of April, 1987
to table of content
Ma terre Natale
Me revoila, 17 ans plus tard,
Je suis revenue en France,
Et comme je ne suis pas batard,
Vais conaitre mes alliance.
Je vai m'amuser; sa sera bien,
Avec les enfants des parent qu'on baises
En même temps que les miens.
Mais, Je me suis tappé toutes les Mémé.
Alors me voila dans ma terre natale;
Mais tout d'un coup, 'le telephone arab',
Touts mais relation me disent 'a table',
Un besoin de me render conaissable.
Persone est pareille, mais, indifferent,
Chaque 'port' la même histoire.
Une bise par jou en les 'reconaisents';
Je ment, que je ment, “quel mémoire!”
C'est incroyable, je vous le dis,
Mes oreilles me font trop mal!
Toutes ces histoires qu'ils ont vomi,
”Oh putin!, je te conais!”, leur veux brutal.
Chaque étape, du plaisir ils veul que je pass,
Chaque éscale beaucoup j'ai apris.
Mais 96 heurs lentement sa pass,
Dans 4 murs, costume raillure, sans capris.
S'il y a une conversation commencée,
Je vous empris, eviter,
Dans les yeux de les regarder,
Si non, a la conversation vous seré colé.
A une chose on ne peut pas échapper,
A la bouffe il sont luire.
Mais moi, pas d'heur pour manger,
12 et 7 on est gaver; presque on piss de l'huile!
'La vrais verité' je vous las dis,
Vous voulez changer d'air, d'avis,
Enconre une fois je vous le confie,
Venez paz chez ces con de Français pouris.
Serge, 3rd of October, 1988
to table of content
ver Geai nittée
Si tu me veux, si je te plais,
Bien dit moi le, Mais s'il te plais,
Ne me ragote pas que tu m'aime;
Une anecdote tres ordinaire.
Si tu savez, tant de garçon
Ont essayé, mais cette chanson
Ma Épuiser, même sur mon cœur
Elle a graver de la douleur.
Jamais je ne comprendré
Comment il peuve confondre avoir aimer;
L'amour pour moi c'est sacré,
Pour eux sa veux dire d'ètre alonger.
Je me rapelle ma Mère ma dit;
Ils viene toujours vers loiseau encore au nid.
Mais les gua sont plend de capris,
C'est une leçon j'ai vite apris;
Qu'il ne faut pas croire touts les mot
Qu'il sorte ces gua, c'est des echo.
Des écolier dans leur folie.
Mais maintenant je les conais,
J'ai que 16 ans; mais rancunier.
Jamais je ne comprendré
Comment il peuve