Ze wilde boer worden

Huren een tuin:

Elke dag water geven,
Het geduld dat je nastreeft,
Onder de zon, weer tegen de wind.

Er groeit iets!
Heel groen!
Blij totdat je merkt dat het allemaal koriander is.

Gaan dan naar LIDL,
Kopen wat carbonarasaus.

May

It got me wondering.
But I asked nothing;
I remained silent.
As I needed to hear-

the claws creeping,

the air caressing,

the leaves widening.

And while I was laying down, frantically,
on the softest of the pillows,
I heard-

your footsteps approaching,

your whispers rising,

and your ocean eyes tiding over-

mine.

Inspiration from Tom Disch

Number 22

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder how long is far!
Has your light be stolen or what,
Whilst my eyelids down they shut?

Tinkle, crinkle, little star,
Shake that dust off your scars,
Have they ever, ever yelled at you,
"Who am I talking to?!"

Whittle, sprinkle, little star,
Sow the pledges of a racing car,
Of a marriage that finally ends,
Of a show that never commences.

Tremble, brittle, little star,
Don't fall now, stay where you are,
It's your light I cannot bear,
All my skin of you is aware.

Now pause your whims, little star
I swear, this time
I'll pause mine,
And to this night again
I'll sleep just fine.








Cast No Shadow

The seagulls above my head,
Your hand on my skin,
The heart that is concealed by it
is the rhythm
I fail to hear.

I am the grain of salt
you placed on my tongue,
I am all the languages
I’ve ever thought
-but can’t speak now,
And the day is too long and

I wanted to cast no shadow,
I wanted to feel as nothing
ever belonged to my lips,
my limbs,
I craved for them to be drenched,

For my head to be too heavy
to look up,

My arm too weak to retract from your grip,
My ears too lazy to all the sounds
my body and yours would make.

I wanted to cast no shadow,
I wanted the moves
I am projecting onto the universe
to prove me I am wrong,
That I am made out of nothing but

What perpetuated
in my head.

At the fastest pace

Superficial magazines, poorly distributed
Evenly, around the moulded bench
Headlines about anything different,
And nothing that was about to happen.

I was encountering my nightmares
And they were hands I could shake,
The validation of a pair of eyes
The same colour of the shadow swallowing them.

Scraping the bottom of one barrel,
The print on a shirt I imagined to tear up,
Dressed by the lady I didn’t want to be friends with.
The lips were numb against the wind
– and the cold,
and the silence.

I yelled at you,
As you were the only face to see.
But mine were the legs that wandered at the fastest pace,
Finally surrendering at the perimeters of a seat.

And again I waited,
Tracing the rituals of my curse,
For the heartbeat to pass and for you to be back,
To return to the nightmares.

Quite yet, yet it disappeared

Would there ever be 
Ever, not soon
Enough plasticity of the mind
Allowing one – me – to figure out
Each one of the weapons?
I believed it firmly,
It felt no harm,
It carried no shame.
I could have battled
Many more million years.
And yet-
Quietly,
You were there plenty
And quietly,
You were not enough of.
I haven’t noticed the exact,
Precise moment

Silly me!

As you unfolded,
Waned
When I was looking elsewhere,
When I wasn’t ready
Quite yet.

Me, and the trees

I always longed to make my roots somewhere.

To feel I was belonging to someplace. Having the conviction I could find peace when in a precise spatial delineation within the universe, coordinated by geographical points;

And nowhere else.

Then I heard life saying:
The trees, they are outside!

Grab your arm. Clench it: it hurts. Skin changing color. Flesh sweating, swelling, smelling.
Arms pointing, holding who you love, stretching to turn off the air on the plane that is only on your face, stretching when you wake up in the morning. Those branches you possess unravelling towards the above, the undiscovered, the infinite possibilities, collecting the oxygen that makes your blood run, faster;

And I looked around, and I was possibly by myself, surely within myself: but nowhere where I had to be.

Number 21

Melting words,
longing arms –
wrap now my waist,
squeeze me
with your care.
Barefoot,
I am riding
the glass line
of the Equator.

Pour me wine,
let me clean
the corner of your chest,
you did not bring
any armor today.

Turn my face,
approach my lobe,
suck out
the thoughts of you
I fail to conceal.

My forehead staining the window:
pointing at
patchy meadows,
smeared clouds,
rolling mountain ranges.

Still, I am overjoyed:
my mind on the prelude
this is
to us.

Number 20

Rise!
     I’m standing already
     I didn’t see you coming
Do you want me here?
     What am I now?
Can I hold your hand?
     Please go, bring your affections with you
     I don’t need any
Are you angry?
     It is my face, it can’t wrinkle in a smile
     Why does it hurt
I brought you chocolate
I brought you an addiction that doesn’t bleed
     I am sick and tired of compassion
     Please wake me up
Do you think you are the only one?
Don’t you think I’ve thought about it too?
     I didn’t consider the now
     Now that it all returns back to me
I mean I’d never, I guess
Did you mean it?
     How fun
     It’s sunny today
Please let me believe you were asking for help
     It feels warm on the tip of my nose
I would have come anyways
     And it is November
I would have swiped your troubles away
     I thought it was winter already
I would have at least tried to
     Those flowers next to my bed
     Have no roots
Try to let me in
     You are not my family
Yes! Look at me
     I feel cold now
Don’t ignore me
     Get me the blanket
Why did you give up
     Those blank spaces
Take, you are shivering
I still need to fill
It is never too late
To be happy again
     With more chapters of a life
     I am afraid to continue

 

Number 19

My dad as Donald Trump
threatening the world to a massacre
My dad
pressing on the acceleration pedal
when me and my sister
are afraid of the wind
of the hair on our eyes
preventing us from seeing clearly
the car in the opposite lane
heading towards us