bad


hey you, I think you placed yourself on a pedestal
too-high without taking any measure of security;
otherwise, how am I supposed to explain
the cause of yours getting in free fall and
putting me in the position to wonder if is it wrong
to stretch my hand to help you or is bad to want to
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi
Striking Matches 

all your love


the manner I love inspires birds to be coded,
distills light of flowers to grow up my dreams
as then to be wrapped and folded with them
and any emotion to be assumed, balanced and

all your love‘s choreography to pulsate for me 
©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi
Flight Facilities ft. Dustin Tebbutt

listening


Cosmic Journey in Music by Tatyana Markovtsev
in the canyon of sentiments,
music conquers you
through genus of its species
as if she is the one
which is listening to you…🎧
‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎
Marian Hill ft. Steve Davit

silently


magnetic, — nonmagnetic

properly, — improperly
constantly, — inconstantly
least I love you, — I do… ;))
I devour you silentlyhoney
‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎
Sebastian Roca
magnetic, — nonmagnetic

little girl…


Life looks like a carousel…
No, it didn’t get me dizzy.
Was just barely warming.

Your majesty, another tour.
And please, don’t stop.

As a privileged one,
my inner feelings
are a tribute paid
in coins with the taste
of colors, music, love.

It’s an entire patrimony
always rewarded  with
a ravishing smile
of the woman
and of that little girl
hidden inside me…

©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

Joe Bonamassa

all that will be…


All that will be is written
up to the last word…
If you fall asleep dreaming the love,
you will wake up crying.
And all that will be is written,
but if I have to cry,
you have to know, my tears
are not gonna remove any line. Ha!
all that will be is written…
And not long ago,
while I was G, [ground]
I couldn’t touch you no way, but
I loved you… I loved you in my mind.
And I came to the world,
and they gave me a name
and they gave me a voice
to can answer you,
when you ask me why fairy-godmothers
don’t fulfill all the dreams.
The answer is in,
lyrics, lyrics, lyrics… Ha!
all that will be is written…
all that will be is written…
And not long ago,
while you were just wind,
I couldn’t touch you no way, but
I loved you… I loved you in my mind.
And you came to the world,
and they gave you a name,
and they gave you a body
and the face of an angel
to can look at you and hug you,
and when I will be G [ground]
to cannot forget you. Ha!
Good morning!
You,
good morning…
All that will be is written
up to the last word…
If you fall asleep dreaming the love,
you will wake up crying.
And all that will be is written.
And for those who cry,
you have to know, their tears
are not gonna remove any line…
not any word…
Firma

translation‧‧‧ ©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ ↭ un p’tit je ne sais quoi

i’m not a saint


Butterfly Kisses by Dita Omuri

lovely fairy fingers, —

mine…
tight waist with bust of a beam
and a cup of nectar, —
my seductive attire…
fine gold thread, — my ankles…
nice and petite crystalline, —
my laugh…
born the colors of his eyes… —
the one I belong to… —
I’m not a saint, I’m better,
I am his… forever
‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧‧
un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎
Billy Raffoul │ Nicole Atkins

Joe Bonamassa 🎈🎸


— What do we need first
 for our sins to be forgiven?
— First of all, we need to sin.
— And after that?
— And after that, to send your love
at this very moment time on this
very magic day for his Excellency
Joe Bonamassa, the huge guitarist
of this present, the best ambassador
of the blues, wishing to him: —

 Happy Birthday!♪🎈

_____________©ᵏᴼᵏᴼ

fire in the heart


Désir by Sarah Fecteau
On the tiptoes, slyly, without looking back but just scrolling down
you’re going forward through one diaphanous steam.
The breath, the eyelids are wrapped up like at the beginning
of the world without having burdens, without nothing but just
moving ahead guided by the purity of light in pictures of any day.
The paintings are shaped with sounds. The brush
seems more that’s comforting us rather than giving us colors…
playing so tenderly with us, with a thin fog, with steam,
with a black and white, where time doesn’t exist
in the morning galaxy, but just a 6 am & do it again instrumented
with the fire in the heart in an equitable tint of the transparency.
On the tiptoes, slyly, to not shaking life, we look to find ourself
for not to waste a classy love under a deep feeling that unfolds
without being rather than be in waiting for falling stars,
for making happen, for taking a fragment, which even if is there,
it’s perfect for being held, and it looks almost like a happy time
that was and with another one what’s to come and that
kind of brush named love… a majestic brush that comes
to bring us light to remove the shadows and to teach us about us
and about the mastery of love letting us understand its colors…
On the tiptoes, slyly, we’re moving ahead to not break anything
from what it was not, but it will be about this faultless love of us…

un p’tit je ne sais quoi © ᶜᵒᶜᵒ ;₎₎
subject, — Désir • #art by Sarah Fecteau

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