Divergent gabor patches,
now go and find the snake.
I bet you'll never search
as much as I did.

I know you will never
understand how a simple snake
kan raise the stakes.
When they search it never takes
that long before they break.

And when you think the line is done,
there is yet another patch
to make you reconsider.

You never told me exactly what you
were thinking, never made me feel
like a difference in your life. Am I
that worthless or is it not your style?

We've been with eachother for a while
and after all these years or days, do
you still adore me, touch me , love my
every move? If I'm the onion, peel,

my every layer till you see the center.
You can change me on the inside.
But you never grabbed your chance.

It is your heart I wish to enter,
open up your thoughts real wide,
I'll make our love continue the dance

Bashing the walls never saved her,
she never got out and I got used
to the screaming.

The room, opposite of frigid, steaming.
It abused insiders, visitors and people seeming
touched, by the history it carried.

It buries more than most can handle.
But a place does not feel pity,
you can not blame the city.

The pressure of a chance at being blind after
makes the ability of dreaming so
much dafter.

He died today
years ago
I think I would
not have liked him

Just my own sense
of jealousy, wanting
some of his talent

People of his time
Are not just people
They shaped this world

just like they used to
shape fragile statues
of marble, letters of
simplicity, filled with so
much significance

He misses being in love
nothing else to think of,
******* in the ropes of affection,
he mops the lost perfection
of the girl he once adored.

I have to write in my diary,
I have to tell someone what's going on
I have to watch a motion picture
I have to finish tasks for French and Dutch.

Having written, having told, it's gone,
having watched and having finished, priory
fruits in life start growing, how to pass a stricture,
because a girl out there, forever unknowing, simple touch,
is so cryptic, close to crime.
I hate time.

Wat zijn mond vertelt, verschilt
van wat zijn ogen fluisteren.
Hij tracht daarmee te verduisteren
dat hij tijd aan anderen verspilt.

Een chirurg, een dokter, neuro-loog,
die met een verpleegster, echtgenote,
zonder het te zeggen, z’n vrouw bedroog.
In de gangen van het ziekenhuis
vertelt men dat ze tijdens pauzes echt genoten

Nu heeft zij het al gezegd, de hare wist het al,
hier was iets niet pluis.
Ze noemde hem haar zwijntje
maar hij hield haar aan het lijntje

Zij weet het nog niet, maar binnenkort
keert hij terug naar zijn eerste wal,
terwijl langzaamaan haar vrucht verdort,
zij, eenzaam, neerdaalt in het diepste dal.

I can hear you play the first songs
he taught you whilst I write this letter.
Because I cannot bear it anymore.
I have to tell who made you sell
to stay alive.

I strive to lead a better life
to be a better husband to my wife.
As I buried the writings with their mates,
I cried.

My reasoning states
that I never lied.

Choosing a girl to love is like going to the store.
You're carrying 99 cents and all you need is just one apple
You search and search and there it is
This apple is perfect, no brown spots, perfect.

You take it to the cashier, she smiles and says:
'What a wonderful choice young man, that 'll be one dollar.'
You cringe, you thought this was the day.
The day you would return home with the perfect apple

Make sure you get enough money in time
Cause when a guy with 5 dollars swoops by
He might take your perfect apple along with 4 others

You run home, searching every corner and every spot
Nothing, return to the store, begging for that apple
'I'm sorry to say so but I sold that apple a second ago.'

A contrast so subtle almost all
those in its circuit forget and get
lost. On each side a pulsating wall
and the floor is drenched and wet.

My best and oldest friend gave me
this book. My girl gave me a page
marker. My brother gave me a book-
case. My mom the ends, to support.

Who am I to judge and say and
realistically tell my hypocritical view,
point and vision. The tape holds this
poster on the walls with extra glue.

The moistness almost made it fall.
It will, sooner or later, your call.

He is an ugly man,
hard to
connect with.

he gets neglected,
or plain rejected,
he doesn't see
what really matters

He is a catcher, angry at batters.

A man to avoid, a man who is better,
he does not fulfill any need, hopeless by
greed and troubled by green.
The last day he was seen,
he carried a stone, to resemble his heart
when he fell apart.

The more I know you
the more I don't.
The woodworks might is fading
in dust and cracks bading.
How I wish I could revive.
God, I would do anything to keep
this embodiment alive.

But change is inevitable and all
I can do is confess my love for you
and hope for the best.

For all the years I stayed alone,
and all the times I thought I'd fail.
For every day you kept me from derail,
I guess there is no need to tell you thanks..

You know we both need help,
helping eachother will lead us through.

His hand is steadily reaching out.
The bench is warm and seated,
one place winters power was depleted.
The hand has reached her mouth.

His finger slips on her upper lip.
Scarves become alive. Breath turns
vague. As if someone is trying to equip
them with knowledge. Their heart burns.

His mouth has arrived, his tongue
has followed. Cheek by cheek,
their love, so punctual and young.
Without thinking, no need to speak.

Her head, pulled away, her feet,
now cold, are facing another way.

Imaginary affection, illusionary connection.
I am lost in the worst of more than one section,
my cloud is separated from my ozon layer
and the longer I wait the farther and stayer.

Explanations are immortal to those who stare,
entranced and smoothly picked from the bunch.
What would your answer be if I asked you out for lunch?
I'd like to know before I ask for real, seems fair?

Comparing to analogous past situations, habits
and negations, what did I do wrong? I read,
people, all around me, examining to grab it's
full potential. Sometimes it hurts, once it led

to girls who fled, feelings of regret, hardship bled by
the dead, spread, on the deficient bed of newly wed
sensations.

Anticipatory sensations
ahead of preparations,
all I wanted was to feel secure.

It didn't matter with who
back then it had to be now.
It's one thing I will not redo.

I'm clean,
I hope you're too.
It was not my intention to be mean
and now I have my cure.

All I wanted was to feel secure.

Attention unclaimed, easily distracted,
along the way I may have contracted
some sort of disease, nothing to please
my set of emotions, set out to tease.

They say time heals everything, but
I'm concerned it doesn't, afraid to shut
my eyes, as it passes, someone loved
dies, next thing for them is to be shoved

into the hole of bitter forgiving and forgetting.
Time is only just a pain killer, not letting
pain control, still the actual disease keeps
spreading. Pain was killed and shoved into a hole.

When I remember all the loved ones, all
those parted ways, all who left before
their final days, I shut my eyes and stutter,
when will I fall, my blood be drained in gutter.

Not shaken, endlessly, mistaken, dead.
In nature I am sly,
when thinking rather shy.
Decisions in less than a day,
like whether or not you're going to stay,
should all be made alone on roofs.

I am the one who goofs.
Now please don't run away.
I can also take the check and pay.
You think of saying bye,
your clock says time to go back to my
not taken, hopelessly, forsaken, bed.

I met you in the hallway
the other day
when you were cleaning.

I've been looking for a meaning,
a reason of some kind
an excuse to make you mind
my existence.

But we seldomly cross each other
and I am not used to the pressure
that comes with talking to
beings as pretty as you.

Losing pieces, meeting long lost nieces
on the worst of family parties, lots of
family, much less party, I get drunk.

Meadows, long wet grass tickling my legs,
every single creature around here begs
for my inexhaustable attention, selfish.
The buzzing calls of nature soothe, me
not everyone.

I don't have to talk because it helps me,
I just want to talk to you, but I see
how it is.

My hands are tied, they say I lied,
my brains are fried, they say I cried
for help.

Damaged goods, baggage lugging,
in desperate need of comfortable hugging,
every night, every time until she knows,
any way it goes, it will all be just right.

Socks mixed with pants and shirts everywhere,
she needed structure, someone to care
for her and her impeccable disorders,
with a mindset that borders
on pathologically obeying to any kind of order.

I tore myself away back then,
three years ago, when
all you had to do was say hello,
when all your wishes were granted,
movements were enchanted,
ideas implanted
in a dream, an idea,
never what it had to seem.

Gone you were so proud,
apart you were so happy,
when you chose, even more than when not,
it resided in knowing what you've got.

On the edge of giving up,
rekindled, almost certain.
Grab a blanket, fill a cup,
put it on and close the curtain.

The marathon has started.

We lost our purpose, filled with shame,
returning, horseless, to where we came
from, what I've heard, some mysteries
have fallen and words were broken down.

When she is around I feel like the clown
dating back from long ago, history's
ill remembered stories still told today.
I would make it all undone, if you say

so I will do so, all if it could change, strange
how during I was so proud and sure
but now I cry out loud looking for a cure.
Walking around, gazing upon the sky,

why did I have to act, with sorrow, is this my
best as possible? Because then I fear tomorrow.

Piles of work, my desk is bustling,
while outside the leaves are rustling,
The seasons are mixed up, the world
is different, time has been hurled

right passed me, like I don't exist, at
least for some. I'm shaken in ways that
I did not foresee, I cannot flee, to me,
this is prison. Come and hear the sound

pounding, from underground, wanting
to be found. A daunting feeling, taunting
my decisions, working ahead, time misled

me once again. Can't you go in my stead?
If not my life will go too fast, slow me down,
I want to go but I am not ready to leave town.

Piled up dust, dark shades,
lack of colours, thought fades.

Imagine living in a coast town
Every day you'd get to see
the endless sea
how insignificant you'd be.
A single wave could mean your end,
send you down,
never to return from the depths of its magnificent cold.

Imagine living there,
having nothing left to touch,
to feel with your fingers, your hands, to hold
but loose sand, slipping through, ever fleeting, as dust.
Playing the piano would turn into a must
to survive. One final grasp on the thinned out strings of life.
The steel and copper wires forging dying fires.

One last press yet no rebounding sound.

At least you'd be alone, crazy but the only mad one with grace
for miles around, as your knees sink into the ground.
As you stare at the waves, calling out your name.
As you realize to them life is just a game
and you are just a waste of space

Down with the winds, down with all
covering blankets, take it all down.
I am hooked on things you frown
upon, carelessly, aware of the naked fall.

The fall is near, so very near, my eyes
were twinkling, godsent happiness and lies
mixed and all is good when he flies.
Strangely hidden, somewhere, he cries.

I believed and worried, remember that
it hurt. I believed and worried, recall
that I hurt. To be real, and love, is what
I mentioned, but I can only crawl.

Do you remember, do you recall, I plead,
begging to be your only, different, need.

You smell of ***** and strong drinks,
I realise, disregarding what she thinks,
I'm in love with her, deeply, stronger
than those beverages. I've been longer

than I'd like to admit. She's wild and
untameable, uncontainably pretty, beaches
with filth and stones instead of sand
on sweaty summer visits. It teaches

me to carefully enjoy instead of rushing.
I can't refrain myself from blushing,
but standing ground on not kissing,

because your state is not as in my dreams,
I, longing, desiring, have to keep missing,
your lips, my inner obese man's regimes.

I need this, I must have it right,
it has to work, it has to be, as planned.
Guidelines, steps and plans have died.
The dreams I had were canned.
Sold for a place in society's race.

I'd have to run to turn out first,
I'd have to finish to quench my thirst.
All I'd win would not be worth any more
than the dreams I had before.

You make my mouth leak.
My eyes sneak around to
catch a glimpse, a peek
of what you could make me do.

Looking at your picture,
my brain turns into a mixture
of fried and sizzling cells,
your face alone tells
me all I need to know.
Your words kept coming
and not one thing was wrong.

It could seem slow
but no matter how long
I already saw
you are a mess
underneath a fuzzy blanket
yet a lady in a dress.

These rhymes are simple,
arrangements easy.
They are us for now.
So I don't want to make rash
decisions, less well planned incisions
in this young and partial certainty.

Move faster, keep moving, keep running
like time is, out. Out of all there was, stunning
how we doubt. I feel pain in my left foot
while the right one has no place to be put.

I'll count the days until it's over,
walk the miles in the stover
of the crops we used to grow.
By any means I have to get
back to some kind of flow.

I won't be the one to regret, it's this I'll let you know,
in a way you've helped me become a tad more slow.

Isn't it so that love was in it's prime
25 years ago. When you met someone
it was different, better, more special.
I can't stop thinking about when I play
a game, I feel the need to have done
every single thing, to have seen every
single ending. Life is nothing like that,
no redo's, sidepaths or bossfights.
Well, maybe some bossfights.

Ik heb mezelf met pijn moed
Ingeschreeuwd, in 't oor, gefluisterd.
Alsook wanneer de zon de maan verduistert.
Zo ken ik mijn bereik maar al te goed.

Beperkingen in grond en hitte,
Waar een steen zo gloeit
Dat men met moeite zitten
Kan en het gewas maar amper groeit

Ik heb een glas ingeschonken
Paars, rood, wit en sterke geur
Uit diens droogte word ik waterig

Over doorzichtige vormen zie ik haar lonken.
Op haar gezicht de tweede kleur.
Ik herinner me die avond. Al is het katerig.

I'm not sure which one of us is native
to this country we are trying to found.
But we just can't understand eachothers
words, even signs are easy to misinterpret.

Linked but not knowing, just guessing,
looking forward to caressing, blessing,
every way that helps us find the other
half. Our plans, needless to say, creative,

aren't working for a single bit, but you
don't seem to care, then why should I?
Looking back to those days I had to count
every single second, waiting for reply.

Fire the interpreter, we have no further need of
him, we'll just make up our own ways of tongue.

Asleep they slither through these streets
as sheep they seem to sleep when their sneaky
snaking threat retreats.

Useless in a way, like ants yet not per se.
Souls have fled the circular pattern, almost
all of them need glasses, to see, to grow blind.
It's a miracle how one does not lose his mind.

It's a hunt, a search, adventure for the lonely,
routine to bands of others. For treasure not a single
one will find if not a change occurs.

My chair is comfort, a zone I will not leave today,
tonight, I may.

Love is scary,
not like betting,
a lot less dreary
and in a nicer setting.

It still is frightening
because of chance,
to lose this enlightening
essence called romance.

Once you have it,
you won't need more,
just can't go without it,
you know you're hooked right to the very core.

It can be polished, hidden, in frames and cuts
and boxes with lots of shining glimmer,
seemingly untouchable.
A simple cold could make it all grow dimmer,
simmering through the stems,
the second you lose these nuts,
your uncut gems.

What counts as love if we are
sick and twisted minds,
one by one, after another,
but never together, ******.

At night you stumble through
at night I whisper closely,
what the hell has happened to you.
Why are you like this, ignoring.

While I was snoring, flirting,
waiting you never seemed to
think about me. Now isn't that cute,
rather rude, sleep arounder.

Accept for once, dear writing man,
the social norms are too strong.

She had the guts ro rob me
of my most important days
for now. She didn't even say
why she left.

She wanted to get rid, afraid
to start another role, enlargening
her lies, making it harder to
accept herself.

I'm guessing the best forms
of inspiration are those
like storms, heavy, strong
and not that long. In time
she'll understand.

Beyond collaborations of strokes of brushes,
so much more than arranged word gushes,
she was a shipwreck off a rocky coast,
the work of art truly worth the most.

Different eyes adored her in different ways.
Still every lock of hair remained in place.
Humble in the walks she took, taking
every sound as evenly rare in making.

She was a mirror in a brighter light,
a piece of me returning, burning,
yet less prominent with every night.

Reeds de derde achter de rug
nog een vierde, doe maar vlug.
Alsof de tijd is opgeschoven,
teruggeschoven
en wederkeerde naar dezelfde momenten.

Waarom blijft een dier zich inprenten
als een beest, zuiders wild,
zelfs al heeft het nooit gemogen,
zelfs al is het nooit gewild,
radeloos maar opgetogen.

Doelen worden pas plezier
als ze bereikt worden.
Nadat we enkele maanden
heen en weer porden
en ons verliefd of verlangend waanden
keerden we terug naar de eigenlijke staat.

Elk van ons is en blijft niets meer,
keert weder, elke keer,
naar een staat in de natuur,
met meerdere deuren op een kier,
noem het zielig, noem het zuur,
we blijven niets meer dan een dier.

We fell asleep
Not that far away, separated.
I assured you
You could come and stay.
Gray
Areas, ambiguous designs,
My common sense resigns
Denies its whole existence
Evaded
Its persistence.
We fell asleep
After talking without touching
Without walking
Closer
We fell asleep.