Overblog Suivre ce blog
Editer la page Administration Créer mon blog


  • : Le blog de danielle vioux
  • Le blog de danielle vioux
  • : Extraits de textes (théâtre, nouvelles, romans, fragments,poèmes, chansons) textes brefs et chroniques, Liens avec d'autres sites d'artistes croisés sur ma route. J'attends d'autres rencontres artistiques, d'autres projets, des propositions pour créer ensemble.
  • Contact


  • danielle vioux
  • .J'écris pour le théâtre, et des romans, des nouvelles, des scénarios, de la poésie. J'ai enseigné l’anglais et le théâtre en lycée,  Membre du Grete ( théâtre / éducation) , Présidente des Eat Méditerranée 
Lectures, mises en espace ou mises en scène, stages.
  • .J'écris pour le théâtre, et des romans, des nouvelles, des scénarios, de la poésie. J'ai enseigné l’anglais et le théâtre en lycée, Membre du Grete ( théâtre / éducation) , Présidente des Eat Méditerranée Lectures, mises en espace ou mises en scène, stages.


/ / /

extrait de:

Alice’s new and modern adventures

In 1derworld


(originally written for  Artistic Caravan)




Smiling cat

Don’t  ever


Do that again

I mean

Try to grin

Like me

I’d take it personal

I would


And leave

Only just a trail

Of tears

Only joking

Of course

Follow me

This way

If you dare








We’re all in it together

We are

You can do as you please

You can

Pretend you have no responsibility

In the building up of this world

You’re only fooling yourself


What’s your fuel ?

Money ?

Power ?

Lust ?


Who did you last torture

Blood under your nails

Who did you last betray ?

Lies lingering in your dreamy eyes ?

 Who did you last sell

On the market of evidence

In the funfair of human flesh ?

Don’t be shy

Revel in your long-lost innocence


Your body is your vehicle

Treat it well

Embark on a journey


All is possible

Or possibly





Before it’s too late



Before you regret

Your choice





Voices in the dark


We want

A soft




Is your last act of



They forgot us

And left us


In time



Is the key

But the keyhole

Is gone


The keyhole

Is the key

The question

Not the answer



What papers

All we need is


In the theatre


I love

Your velvet


And the gurgling sound

It makes



we are born



Never answer

When they knock

At your door


Never ask

When offered

A ripe mango

On a tray


Bite in





3   Alice   makes up her mind



I hate crossroads

That’s why I vote for substitute fathers

Or mothers, for that matter


They free me of cumbersome will

They decide, I follow

They order, I obey


Sometimes in naughty dreams

I imagine I could  silence their voice

But it never lasts


The thing is :

Whenever I choose,

The things I have not chosen

Bear so much weight  in me

Drag me to the bottom of the ocean


So I stay here motionless

I dare not say : This way


This way I have not explored yet

And at least that’s one good reason

To try



Know what ?

I think

I can do it

This time


I look through the forbidden hole


And I don’t die




   In the   magic garden



Well, I might as well run far  away since I’ve started running. There’s no point in disobeying just a little. Plus, I have to run faster than others. Be better. More  agile. More supple. Younger. The youngest fastest strongest highest best fugitive in the world. Beating all previous fugitives. My name in the book at the top of the list. A source of inspiration for schoolchildren and movie-makers. I’m the Alicest of all Alices. I’m unique. I’m me.


In the distance I see a moving crowd. I’m beginning to suspect there’s something wrong. Where are all these people going ? Billions of little ants running in all directions. All of them vith Alices’ heads and foreign languages . All of them disobeying orders given in such soft voices ?




Work harder

Don’t speak to strangers

Dont’ help illegal  foreigners

Protect your property

Hatch it like a weary hen

Close your eyes

Close your house

Shut your mouth




Did they mention


Luring away poor sailors ?


This key is mine

This key

Is a spaceship

To the stars



Don’t  drink or smoke 

If you haven’t been introduced

Don’t follow beautiful strangers

Into foggy  theatres

Don’t  trust anybody

Speaking of freedom

Don’t share anyone’s food

Or sleeping space

Or body

Or heart

Or soul



I need a drink

In this desert


Have dried

Wasted away

I need danger

I need



I need

To build up my own epic

At last


(to be continued)





extrait de:    "Be yourself"


( à écouter  sur onceuponapodcast.com )








Marianne, 27

Nancy, 73

Len, 26





Scene one : Supermarket cash-desk.   Sound : cash machine, sirupy music. Voice in loud-speaker: “Your supermarket is now closing its doors. Please proceed (move on?) to the cash-desks”


Marianne , (27), I’m sorry, Madam, I think you still have something in that shopping bag of yours…..Madam? It’s ok , you can still take it out and put it on the desk, no problem…… …………………..   Madam, sorry, I just have to………………………… (whispers) Why do you have to do that to me just before closing time? Do you think I want to  stay here after bloody work-hours? …..Madam? Would you mind listening to me ? …….It’s going to ring anyway………..  And they have cameras everywhere….don’t want to lose my job..(hissing) Stupid old hag….(then shouts) MADAM!   Open your bag, will you?


Nancy (73)   It’s that boy over there.


Marianne      What boy?


Nancy         That young man  in baggy pants with the cap.


Marianne   What about him?


Nancy     He put it into my bag


Marianne  He put what into your bag?


Nancy   That disk


Marianne  That album? Why should anyone in their right mind put a  Dvorak album into an old lady’s bag?


Nancy           I’m not that old


Marianne      Who’s that Dvorak anyway? Never heard of him.


Nancy    And I like Dvorak.


Marianne    I hope so. He just got you into real trouble.


Nancy: That boy put me into real trouble, not Dvorak. He must have wanted to steal it, then he realized he was being watched, and he got rid of it  by putting it into my bag.


Marianne:  A delinquent, hey?


Nancy: Exactly. Here he is anyway, walking towards us with an innocent expression on his young delinquent’s face.  I’m sure you’ll sort everything out, or I’ll have to call management and  complain.


Marianne: Madam, I’m sorry to tell you that but that boy works for management.


Nancy: Oh……………………I see. A cop. (whispers) A bloody fucking traitor to his class.

( louder, deliberately dramatic) Well, that’s it then. Take me to jail. I’ll serve my sentence for the sake of art in general and music in particular.




Scene 2   : A car in a street at night. Leonard/ Lenny , the young man who works as a cop in the supermarket, is driving. Nancy is sitting next to him. Jazz music on the radio.



Nancy: It’s nice of you to drive me home


Len: It’s all right


Nancy: You didn’t have to


Len: My pleasure . Shall I go straight on?


Nancy: Yes. Do you always drive delinquent old ladies back home?


Len: Only when they used to be my teacher.


Nancy: Your teacher? …. Oh…….What’s your name?


Len: Do you remember all your students’names?


Nancy: No, actually I don’t. But when I hear one again, sometimes it rings a bell. You’d be surprised at the tricks memory plays when you grow older.




(   to be continued....)


Partager cette page

Repost 0
Published by