Ik draag en leg de stukken,
niet weten dat sommige
verdraaide prutspuzzels
nooit kunnen lukken.

De andere wel, de ene,
ik leg, ik spel, ik reken,
laat het leven loodjes leggen
tot ik hersenen voel breken.

Krakers kraken en bunkeren
zich losjes vast in mijn hoofd.
Ik kan alleen maar hunkeren
naar de oplossing die je had beloofd.

Over twee dagen of een week,
ooit zal je weten wat je wilt.
Dan zal de zon nog steeds hetzelfde schijnen
maar het wolkendek verdwijnen
als de tranen van daarstraks.

Ik zal dan een kaarsje branden,
voor jouw vis, je kabel en je kat.
Nooit meer zal je vergeten
wat je toen
aan jezelf had.

Suddenly it's four at night,
the bursts of lethality
slowly lower their productive kite.
You are left with less obsession,
less manic tendencies
for at least the month to come.
It's just amazing how the
sword of bread can crumb
and not be rebuild to be
its past delight.

It's four o' clock at night
and everything feels right.

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.

I'm like your little teddy bear, you
dragged me around whenever I was
needed. Now I'm not, I'm hidden from
your sight. When something wasn't right

you held me, cried and told the tales.

I'm like the pet dog you had for a while
we would walk and run, mile after mile,
when done, you'd talk about a girl of somewhere
I don't know. Now you're on vacation.

I feel like the lice that needed your hair and then you shaved.
Or more like the used tissue when you watched a movie about charlie.
I'm like the old and rusty bike after the cyclist bought a harley.
Or the surfboard and the flagpole and the kitten you saved.
I could think I misbehaved or craved
too much attention.
Sightless pozzo, I'm your lucky. How unfortunate my fear is greater.

I'd listen all the time and open up, tell a rhyme and fill a cup
with sublime wines from another country.

I used to be quiet, did not feel the need to share,
now I'm bursting with emotions, places where
my mind can rest, should have been with you,
somewhere in a cosy nest.

This lousy world with lousy people, lousy conversations,
lousy remarks and lousy relations,
stop this pain, end it now, or save my life and renew a vow
of dedication.

We never know what to say,
they never know how to feel.
As nothing seems real,
as we all fail to grasp what may
be tomorrow,
our words stay drenched in sorrow.

The moment is frozen and time stands still.
What no one has chosen will
happen right when no one needs it to,
persistently followed by a shrill
shriek.

I shouldn't speak. I'll listen. You don't have to tell
me anything. Just know I'm here in case you do
need or attempt to
unravel.

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.

Bedek toch je gezicht!

Our fortune is the open sky,
clouds come and go, and in our
darkest hours, stars come by
as shinier and they tower
high over and above us
thus
don't get frightened because
the road is long and boring.
along the way we choose
and we find exploring
to give us far more views.

Hoge tafels vingen wind,
droge vlagen, 'n zingend kind,
durven vragen
wat ik van die dingen vind.

Het raakt me,
als een vuurpijl
op een bosuil.

Elk dag alles achter laten,
is ook vertrouwen dat er
morgen nog wat is.

Achter laten is dan oké.
De pijn komt pas van weten
wat er nooit opnieuw zal zijn.

Het moment is aangebroken,
tijd voor jou om te kiezen,
liefst al meteen ingedoken,
vanavond nog de biezen
pakken of nog even blijven
plakken, rond drijven
tot de keuze zichzelf komt presenteren.
Wat prioriteit is zal de tijd ons leren.

Ik doe allang niks nuttigs meer.
Mijn woorden werden zachter
en dat doet me maandelijks zeer.
Was ik maar wat meer gedreven.
Dan voelde ik me misschien weer even
wat doordachter of bedenkelijk net zo warm
als de grote boodschap van
Dirk De ******* Wachter.

Probeer het eens, neem
een hap, witloof, spruiten,
knolselderij uit den boerenbuiten.
Het zal even kauwen zijn,
even wennen voor je jezelf,
met gekookte lekkernijen,
exotisch kan verwennen.

Onder onze vleugels,
ik neem je mee naar huis
zachte schokjes aan de teugels,
maar altijd welkom thuis.

Ik ruim jouw rommel op,
roep regelmatig stop,
toch kan ik niet zonder,
mijn lieve levenswonder.

Door je eigen vleugels gedragen
vlieg je door mijn levensboek.
Ik durf het zelf haast niet te vragen,
wanneer kom je nog eens op bezoek?

She lived right across the street
I imagined it was fate for us to meet

She sat next to me in class
another one I had to pass

She was in the distant corner of a playground
I thought it was treasure, what I had found.

She walked around in the same halls
as it turned out I never took her calls

She was in the same place
but I figured she was lacking grace

This girl lives close to my home town
I'd never want to see her frown
because of me.

As we develop,
come outside and
leave our scallop (shell),
we need a hand
in swimming through,
migrating as we do,
to the land
of our fate.

Depending on the time
of our departure,
our destinations
change. The range
is fixed betwixt
some viable
in less or more
and starting at the core.

During that journey,
some come together,
some leave forever,
others doubt whether
they are fit to stay.
Just remember to not
mistake this cutting
for decay.

Healthy is a different word.
It does not help the living.

Healthy is a strong word.
It does not suit the giving.

Being raised by people, risen,
it's a gift to those uncertain,
a curse to others, cut off,
by unspreading, closed curtain.

We'll get there
when we get there.
And when we do
I'll light some candles
just for you.

All ******* in ropes and knots,
strapped to gifts and lots
of feelings, peeling further beyond
tolerable pain to be this eagerly fond
of what our images are giving us.

You parked your bus,
put up your shields,
I have no idea what your intention yields
yet I miss you
and security.

I wish things were certain or at least the next step,
You know yours but I'm unclear about my rep.

Help mij dan, zie je niet
dat ik gewond ben
zie je niet dat ik bloed
waarom sta je stil
het is oké dat je niks doet
maar waarom sta je daar
boos.

Zeg nu iets, roep desnoods
of ga voor altijd tuimelen
Ik voel de hele kamer,
het allemaal rond mij
verkruimelen.

Was ik maar weder onbezonnen,
vond ik maar de weg terug
naar waar we allen zijn begonnen.
Die tijd, helaas, lijkt achter de rug.

Verantwoordelijkheid snijdt mijn
tijd in twee, werken en plezier,
met het deurtje naar de luierik
altijd op een kier.

Heeft het zin om mee te doen
met deftigheid, blijheid en fatsoen
als dat stiekem niet de waarheid is?
Heeft iets nog zin of ben ik mis?

Het twijfelt en het wiebelt, wankelt
door mijn hoofd.
Zal ik maar gewoon weer verder werken
aan wat ik heb beloofd?

Doet uw best en niemand doet de rest.
Leer daar maar mee leven.
Leer daar maar mee raven.

Tel in ruïnes van oud fabrieksterrein
in micro-dosis hoeveel we van onszelf
verloren zijn.

Bouw huizen voor de duiven,
die duizend huiverende fuivers,
de kruisbestuivers die *** muizenissen
en de duigenvallers uit het
geheugen willen wissen.

Soms maakt het weinig uit, welke
stijl, welke aanpak, hoevel keren.
Als we al iets doen, presteren,
uit fouten leren en opnieuw proberen.

How it all can change, gradually
behind the curtains, abruptly
in the trees. The log cabin's set
on fire and anything to admire
is lost. The cost of great successes
blesses us with the greatest joke of all.
Thinking you are different, without the
potentiality to fall.

Ik steek over, kijk met opzet
langs die grijsgekleurde rover,
zet mijn stap en passen, pas
dan op, roept iemand, stop!

Plassen bloed, kil, het is te laat,
de wereld eens zo luid, stil
op straat, enkel iemand die tegen
de hulpdiensten praat.
Hij zegt:
'Hij had die auto niet gezien, wilde
oversteken, leefde met te grote teugen.'
Daarmee zonder zelf te weten,
zonder zekerheid, een omvergeblazen
leugen.

Even op te klaren, het is wat
zeveren en maren, zeggen dat
en dit en broer enzo. We hebben
allemaal ons eigen leven, onze zaken,
onze tijd om er wat van te maken.
Ik wilde slechts observeren, niet verwijten,
irriteren.
Want ik ben dankbaar dat je ooit voor mij
wat hebt betekend. Dat draag ik voor
altijd mee in wie ik ben en wie weet, mens,
zeggen we ooit weer meer tegen elkaar
dan een vlugge verjaardagswens.

She wanders, all day,
she roams and walks and strays.
She browses, loses interest,
yet she does not give up.

Some would lose their temper,
others feel uneasy. How can she
stay so natural, breezy.

I swear I wasn't staring,
I tried to restrain.
Honestly, but you know
how I react to smiles,
as beautiful as yours.

I don't regret that I loved you,
that I kept trying, I do.
It is the time of breaking ties,
stop the telling of those lies.
I'll regret that.
The laughing when she saw a cat,
the looking down,
the pity,
the storytelling, enormously furious, yet careful eyes.
I'll miss you.
I'll regret it.

In jouw lieve woorden
heb ik moed getankt.
Het rolt op wieltjes door de
duwtjes in de rug. Bedankt,
door jou heb ik mijn
reisplan terug.

I've seen and heard,
enjoyed and purred
at the stories of old,
the silence of mold.

I've folded and weaved,
gently miscleaved,
broken and barren,
answered to Charon.

My bed is too small
and my rope's a bit tight.
I bring justice for all,
even just for one night.

Repeat me, keep the cycle going,
endlessly rowing up a waterfall
or when my mother feels the urge to call
all day and ramble on.

Rehearse, retry, redo, start over
and over, be gone, come back
and try again. When I'm gone
you'll miss the roaring sound
my belly makes, or our cats
when the dog mistakes the sound for food.

Laughing nor purring will make you feel
the same as I do.

Phonological loops,
again, again, again,
promises about change.

No semantic processing,
just a shallow layer of gold
topped with dust.

It's because I'm stuck for what seems like an eternity
in this 'awake at night fraternity'
where I do everything and loneliness is king
of all the dancing parts where one is forced to sing.

harmless like a cactus, refreshing my every thought
sliding, gliding my hand through very dry sand.
I am nothing like whatever my thoughts are now
Though  I wish I was, someway, somehow

A picture isn't worth a thing
when you're searching for someone
to defeat you. Never a thousand
words, never more than silence
in the streets.

Absorbed sounds, almost stolen,
when you find the one you need.
And you promised it would be
the last time. The last analysis.

In pairs, they're notes with perfect sound,
alone, they wander and look around.
When the relation begins and starts,
they lose their training wheels, supporting parts.
What's left is left alone.
What's achieved is now to hone.
The center of their circles is only a dot
in the next. A brick they do and I have not.
When I am what I don't have but need,
I have myself and greed.
I am left and left without you
like waste, like lonely residu.

Welke vragen zal ik stellen?
Ben ik dankbaar genoeg?
Durf je te vergeten?

Ik weet alvast nog de
dingen die me speten.
Ik had dat of dat kunnen zeggen,
de nadruk ergens anders
kunnen leggen.

Maakt het uit
over enkele weken?

If everyone took
a look at themselves
we wouldn't need bother
to judge one another.

We walked and talked our way
to see-through sights on hills.
We checked in and out the stay
before I took one too less of pills.

My head, it spinned and dark-
ness grinned so we returned
to safe and soundness park-
ed in bed to not get burned.

We walked and talked our way
again, refound the goal we had
in mind and had the perfect day.

As a curly moon loomed high above,
I recalled there's nothing to be afraid of,
dozing, safe and sound and filled with love.

I fell asleep, seated on a chair
beside your bed, softly loosening
the squeezing gripping of your hand,
picturing your auburn hair and
wind chafed skin.

I saw you levitate above the grass,
I saw you emerge from some frightening mass.
It was then, right there, when I suspected,
you could be the mongoose
and I would be the snake.

I got sent from place to place,
the other side of the city center,
to get some ink on some paper.

I got sent from case to case,
the inside of the love you lent her,
knowing you would want it back.

On that second day we are,
as free of risk as any day, but unaware
of the button to replay.

So we mutter on about
take it as it goes, what comes, he knows
whatever it is it'll be the right route.

And knowing is what lead me to her bed,
predicting as it was, seconds before, in my head.
I never told her what it was. I just accepted it.

There she sat, across me in this train compartment.
She was a lot like I recalled, daunting,
how she almost, besides changes in deportment,
stayed the same. I forever keep on wanting
to tell her the truth.

All we do anymore is say hi,
while we used to talk for hours,
it has become easier to say bye.
There are greater love stories than ours.

It dazzles me to come across the facts,
we care less and less about the acts
so poorly put aside.
I think I lost, my love, so I'll let it slide.

Hij vertelde *** de vork in de steel
of de wind in de zeilen.
Hij zei wanneer trop te veel
en wanneer wolken neerwaarts pijlen.

Als we niet wisten, naar boven keken,
handen in het haar, of muts, of pet,
barstend van onzekerheid, haast bezweken,
dan was er steeds dat paar oogjes vol met pret.

De waarman sprak de weerheid op
meer dan wekelijkse basis.
Hij, die de lucht, de druk, de mop
en menig fenomeen de baas is.

We nemen afscheid van jou en je praatje.
In thermometers reflecteert voorts jouw
schrijdend zicht, voor deze generatie
een boegbeeld, een rolmodel, een maatje.

Remembering moments, days
of birth, resembling collecting
anything of worth, resurrecting
old, navigating new in ways
to keep it fresh of taste,
to sit down and discuss
your day without haste
yet still creating fuss
around the stories, tales
you've heard before with more details.

Ze hebben dagelijks wat met me uitgestoken.
Dit is het resultaat.
Er wordt vanalles uitgesproken
en soms ook echt gepraat.
Confronterend om te horen
dat je deeltjes bent verloren.
Die worden hier vervangen
en nooit meer in de kast gehangen.

I do not understand my own sensations,
get hell-bent placing my frustrations
as I lay here, reminiscing,
drifting about, just a little bit,
as my thoughts leap
and I pretend to fight falling asleep.

I could spend hours trying
to decipher why I'm lying
to myself but as it seems
I'd rather keep myself engulfed in dreams,
haphazardly escaping the
reality.