Bonjour chacune, chacun
Tos mes voeux de santé, paix et liberté pour 2015
Que la joie de la création soit dans vos coeurs
A bientôt
Jean
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est literature. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est literature. Afficher tous les articles
mardi 6 janvier 2015
Philip Beitchman: The Play of the World and the Expiation of the Real: Acts, Approaches and Inebriations
The Play of the World and the Expiation of the Real: Acts, Approaches and Inebriations. Palo Alto, Academica Press, 2015. 304 p., with index and bibliography.
These basically are essays in English and American (Shakespeare, Coleridge, William Burroughs), French (Sainte-Beuve, Proust, des Forêts, Villiers de l'Isle Adam), Russian (Solugub, Briusov, Bely) Literatures, with some ancillary divagations on medieval Cabala (Zohar) and contemporary. French theory (Baudrillard on 9/11).
For a more detailed Table of Contents, plus more description of what's inside, probably the best place to go to is Amazon (no endorsement implied!), where my publisher has made such information available.
Philip Beitchman
mardi 18 novembre 2014
Lectures croisées Karin Huet / Yves Artufel / Jean Azarel le 6 décembre à Boulbon
Chères toutes et tous,
Retenez d'ores et déjà la date !
Le 6 décembre prochain à 17 h 30, je vous donne rendez vous avec Karin et Yves à La Petite Librairie des Champs à Boulbon pour donner à entendre les poètes de la Beat Generation et nos derniers recueils, avec un hommage particulier à Alain Jégou pour qui j'ai écrit "Love is everywhere" aux éditions Gros Textes
A très bientôt
Jean
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* Zone d'Autonomie Littéraire 2013 - SQUEEZE - interview Jean Azarel
jeudi 11 septembre 2014
A.D. Winans: Pre Labor Day Poem
like pulling a wisdom tooth
like an attack of sciatica
I sit here lost
in the attic of my mind
like an attack of sciatica
I sit here lost
in the attic of my mind
the fog rolling in
slips through the crack
in my living room window
slips through the crack
in my living room window
born at home premature
under the light of a full moon
I walked the jungles of Panama
Fed off Beat Mania in North Beach
under the light of a full moon
I walked the jungles of Panama
Fed off Beat Mania in North Beach
Shaman poets sang in my ears
under a bed of stars
young women with dresses
that clung to firm thighs
under a bed of stars
young women with dresses
that clung to firm thighs
damp dark cavern
wet as morning dew
peach fuzz dinner
drew me in devoured me
like quicksand
wet as morning dew
peach fuzz dinner
drew me in devoured me
like quicksand
the sweet fragrance of the past
swirls inside my head
mates with comrades long dead
as I walk back into my birth
work my way through
the sound of water
the wind sharp as a knife
propels me toward my destiny
swirls inside my head
mates with comrades long dead
as I walk back into my birth
work my way through
the sound of water
the wind sharp as a knife
propels me toward my destiny
my boyhood gone
like an old jalopy used-up
rusting in an auto junkyard
like an old jalopy used-up
rusting in an auto junkyard
I head toward the comfort of the now
nailed to the cross of the past
in the language of the present
with no words to light the fire
as I carry the memories
like a mountain climber
with a heavy backpack
nailed to the cross of the past
in the language of the present
with no words to light the fire
as I carry the memories
like a mountain climber
with a heavy backpack
vague memories of my mother
singing me to sleep
and the chill of waking
the tongue of dawn
cold as dry ice
singing me to sleep
and the chill of waking
the tongue of dawn
cold as dry ice
the hawk sweeps down
for the kill
a dog howls at the moon
a cat yawns in boredom
the universe draws a new boundary line
fragile as a new born child
for the kill
a dog howls at the moon
a cat yawns in boredom
the universe draws a new boundary line
fragile as a new born child
the careful academic poet
weds the careful language poet
vie for who is published the most
in Poetry Magazine
weds the careful language poet
vie for who is published the most
in Poetry Magazine
the monkey rides the master’s back
the coo-coo bird moves backward
into the clock
the coo-coo bird moves backward
into the clock
fearful police lock and load their guns
black boys moving targets
in the night
black boys moving targets
in the night
voter suppression laws
to keep the voting down
southern barbecues
with rednecks hungry
for “nigger” steak
to keep the voting down
southern barbecues
with rednecks hungry
for “nigger” steak
gone the passion of revolution
sell out satisfaction
to the status quo
sell out satisfaction
to the status quo
the night hound of death
stumbles into the day
the rich roasting the poor
like a pig on a spit
stumbles into the day
the rich roasting the poor
like a pig on a spit
labor unions turned
into mannequins
the war machine money makers
fuel the cash register
with the blood of our youth
no guilt no shame
into mannequins
the war machine money makers
fuel the cash register
with the blood of our youth
no guilt no shame
the Roman Senate proceeds unabated
turn out gladiators
like machinery parts
turn out gladiators
like machinery parts
endless parades marching bands
waving flags, played out
like an amusement park
waving flags, played out
like an amusement park
slavery without chains
government without representation
this nation of criminal politicians
government without representation
this nation of criminal politicians
the ghost of Custer rises
like a creature from the lagoon
creeps through the night
like a faceless Santa Claus
with a bag of Indian scalps
like a creature from the lagoon
creeps through the night
like a faceless Santa Claus
with a bag of Indian scalps
Allah competes with the Pope
for the rights to the head of Jesus
beheaded by Isis barbarians
back from a night of slaughter
as the congregation stumbles
like a drunk into the future
carved out in the hands
of a gypsy fortune teller
as I wait out the night hours
in solitude
shut out the demons of insomnia
like a faulty night light switch
for the rights to the head of Jesus
beheaded by Isis barbarians
back from a night of slaughter
as the congregation stumbles
like a drunk into the future
carved out in the hands
of a gypsy fortune teller
as I wait out the night hours
in solitude
shut out the demons of insomnia
like a faulty night light switch
the holy of the unholy money exchangers
make and pass new laws
laws that feed on the bones
of the poor and blue-collar worker
make and pass new laws
laws that feed on the bones
of the poor and blue-collar worker
a future where animals
turn into animal crackers
and birds are served live
at holiday feasts
turn into animal crackers
and birds are served live
at holiday feasts
the angels occupy the cheap seats
at Yankee Stadiums
God sends down a bolt of lightning
dismayed at the flawed diamond
he created
at Yankee Stadiums
God sends down a bolt of lightning
dismayed at the flawed diamond
he created
vendredi 4 juillet 2014
A.D. Winans: FOURTH OF JULY POEM
REVISED POEM from a broadside originally published
by Bill Robert’s BOS Press.
by Bill Robert’s BOS Press.
FOURTH OF JULY POEM
stepped on pissed on
cheated and abused
taken advantage of blue collar man
caught up in the American scam
don’t tell me anyone
can be anything they want to be
if they put their mind to it
save your BS for right wing
hate monger radio hosts
hate monger radio hosts
it’ll never sell in the ghetto
or to the immigrants
you’ve turned your back on
take your message to the church
tell it to the men on death row
tell it to the starving poor
tell it to the sick and lame
tell it to the rich folks
tell it to the politicians
tell it to the serial killers
tell it to Wall Street
tell it to the man on the gallows
tell it to the chiseled faces
on Mount Rushmore
tell it to the last wino
on the bowery
tell it to the banker
tell it to the butcher
tell it to the unemployed
tell it to the panhandler
tell it to the million families
living below the poverty level
tell it to the con man
tell it to the baby found stuffed
in a garbage can
tell it to the displaced factory worker
tell it to the elderly
tell it to the re-po man
tell it to the last space alien
hiding out in Roswell
tell it to the militia
tell it to the FBI sharpshooters
at Ruby Ridge
tell it to the arsonists
at Waco, Texas
tell it to the junkie
with dry heaves
tell it to the farm worker
tell it to the dishwasher
tell it to the orderlies
tell it to the flag waver
tell it to the garment worker
slaving away in sweat shops
in Chinatown and the Latin Quarter
tell it to big business
tell it to corporate America
tell it to the Supreme Court
tell it to the Supreme Court
tell it to the blood stained
NRA
tell it to the Do Nothing Congress
tell it to the oil barons
tell it to the tobacco merchants
tell it to the molested children
of America
tell it to the priests
tell it to the Vatican
tell it to the pharmacy industry
profiting off the sick and lame
tell it to the millions of people
dying from air pollution
and a poisoned food supply
tell it to the man on his deathbed
not sure why he lived
or what he is dying for
tell it to Jesus Christ
shout it to the stars
line the traitors up against the wall
rewrite the Ten Commandments
and start all over again
jeudi 12 juin 2014
A.D. Winans: Strange Dreams & Rain Poem
A.D. Winans & D.R. Wagner
strange people have taken over
my body, shameless homesteaders
who stake their claim
my body, shameless homesteaders
who stake their claim
like old time California gold miners
the men are elderlywith grey beards
and drive horse and buggy carriages
the women wear dresses
that hug the floor
and drive horse and buggy carriages
the women wear dresses
that hug the floor
there are no children, no dogs
just one black cat with a pointed tail
the town cryer
keeps me awake all night
a court jester roams at will
a court jester roams at will
through my dreams
a king dressed as a queen
winks at me
an army of red ants
crawl inside my head
crawl inside my head
a monster lies under my bed
feasts on the living dead
feasts on the living dead
a midget woman courts my favors
offers herself in twenty-eight
exotic flavors
offers herself in twenty-eight
exotic flavors
we make love in a sea of hot lava
the night collapses like
a building under the weight
the night collapses like
a building under the weight
of a bulldozer
I am summoned to appear before
a military tribunal
a military tribunal
my good conduct medal called
into question
a rip tide tears at my brain cells
my landlord cancels my lease
the trial winds up in a hung jury
the baliff writes down
my landlord cancels my lease
the trial winds up in a hung jury
the baliff writes down
his phone number
tells me to give him a call
tells me to give him a call
he has a hot three-some
he thinks I might be interested in
he thinks I might be interested in
The son of Freankenstein
shows me the way to the roof top
shows me the way to the roof top
where down below
a faceless mob waits
with pitchforks and fire bombs
a drummer boy from the civil war
works his way into my heart
Betsy Ross hands me a confederate flag
works his way into my heart
Betsy Ross hands me a confederate flag
the ghost of John Wayne sounds
the bugle charge
the bugle charge
the night an insatible nympth
feasts on a bed of fallen stars
the storm
lets up
lets up
the birds
take flight
take flight
neighbors dog
sheds water
sheds water
drops in
sprinkler rhythm
sprinkler rhythm
a cavalry
of children
of children
magically appear
in rainbow splendor
in rainbow splendor
sun peeks
from clouds
from clouds
smell of fall
in the air
in the air
dimanche 25 mai 2014
Lectures et performances à venir Jean Azarel
Bonjour à tous
Quelques dates et lieux conviviaux (bien improbables pour certains, c'est fait pour) où j'espère avoir le plaisir de vous rencontrer
Lectures des auteurs des éditions Gros Textes à 21 h 30 au café-restaurant "Soleil Bleu" : .http://www.soleil-bleu-lodeve.com/
Extraits et signature de mon nouveau recueil poétique "Love is everywhere" dédié à Alain Jégou. Avec l'ami Yves Artufel et d'autres amis poètes et écrivains
Mardi 29 juillet à l'épicerie / café culturel "la maison vieille" à Roiron (Rosières, Haute Loire)
RV chez Tania Tourjansky et Bruno Goffi pour une soirée lecture "Beat Generation" à 20 h 30, avec si tout va bien en 1è partie à 18 h la projection du documentaire d'Alice Gaillard et Céline Deransart "les Diggers de San Francisco" (détail à voir bientôt sur le site : http://lamaisonvieille.fr/contact.html)
Samedi 30 août (date et horaire à confirmer) aux Journées Richard Brautigan à Veynes (04)
Performance visuelle et sonore autour de « Love is everywhere », « Tassage du mortel », « Papy Beat Generation ». Renseignements à suivre : www.journees-brautigan.com
Septembre (date et horaire à confirmer), au café culturel "La Claranda" à Serres (Haute Vallée de l’Aude, près de Limoux).
Soirée cabaret poétique à l'invitation du maître des lieux Jean-Marie Fraysse, sur le thème de la "Beat Generation, plus d’infos à suivre sur : http://www.laclaranda.eu/
Jeudi 11 Décembre : soirée hommage au poète marin pêcheur Alain Jégou à la Maison de la Poésie de Rennes, lectures d'extraits de "Love is everywhere" et "Papy Beat Generation" écrit avec Alain (plus d'infos à suivre), en présence d'autres auteurs amis d'Alain
Bien amicalement à tous
Jean Azarel
William Burroughs sur France culture: WILL L'OBSCUR :Burroughs aurait cent ans
Mauvais genres
par François Angelier24.05.2014 - 22:00
http://www.franceculture.fr/emission-mauvais-genres-will-l-obscur-burroughs-aurait-cent-ans-2014-05-24
Avec ceux de Keaton ,d'Artaud et de Beckett, le visage de William Seward Burroughs est un des plus anxieusement beau du siècle dernier.Face rayonnante et harassée ,anonyme et scandaleuse. Sainte face d'un monde sans dieu.L'auteur du "Festin nu" et théoricien de la subversion généralisée, compatnon de route de la Beat Generation, chroniqueur dantesque de la drogue et de l'homosexualité, aurait cent ans aujourd'hui. L'occasion pour Mauvais Genres de s'immerger ,le temps d'une émission, dans cet univers infernal et kaléidoscopique. Une immersion que nous accomplirons en compagnie de Marc Dachy.
Historien de Dada et spécialiste internationalement connnu des avant-gardes, il a dirigé le récent numéro du Magazine litteraire consacré au grand Will.
Avec la participation de Celine du Chéné, Helène Frappat,Jean Baptiste Thoret et François l'Yvonnet..
Chronique de Christophe Bier.
Avec la participation de Celine du Chéné, Helène Frappat,Jean Baptiste Thoret et François l'Yvonnet..
Chronique de Christophe Bier.
William Burroughs © Radio France
Marc Dachy
Thème(s) : Arts & Spectacles| Littérature Contemporaine| Littérature Etrangère
Lien(s)
Encyclopédie pratique des Mauvais Genres par Céline du Chené Encyclopédie pratique des Mauvais Genres avec Jean Paul Marcheschi www.marcheschi.fr
Document(s)
Le festin nu William BurroughsL'imaginaire,
- La machine molleWilliam Burroughs Bourgois, 2014
Listen to the program: http://www.franceculture.fr/player/reecouter?play=4852270
dimanche 6 avril 2014
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