Superficial understanding
can be very demanding
for the 'I'm still standing'
part inside me.
For I have yet to discover
how I went from I won't bother
to I have to smother
to yet again a ****** lover
of the art I suppose
to produce in prose.

My caring for sharing what's inside
has chosen now to hide
for at least a little while. You see,
my care used to but stopped being
free.

And I'm not sure about who I want to be.

Outcomes used to rule,
inconvenience smiled,
they reconciled in the unsafety
of a pool, used me as a tool.

Eager, desperate for compatible
masses, as time passes
in this changing state.

Games, denied of their existence,
yet with undoubtable resistance
against persistence took away
the passion solely based in joy.

I can't stand to see your face
I feel as I invade personal space
and you hate it
The driver was right
I have to get you out of sight
because I can't stand to see your face
anymore.

How she skated,
gracefully evaded
falling down.

She twirled and danced and slid
without ever getting rid
of her precious glow.

The lanterns were lit,
it started to snow,
she hopped off to sit
but I had to go.

Faam en ik zijn slechte vrienden.
In de spots, op de planken,
bang van uitgekienden,
gedwongen af te slanken,
zou ik kwijnen, stilaan weg,
wachtend op een teken,
tot iemand start met preken:
'Handel pas als ik het zeg.'.

When the climate becomes dry and cold,
when my hands and mind are slipping,
I do whatever's left to keep on gripping,
to stay on the line, even if it is on hold.

There's still chip shops, souls
and hip hops and soles to burn
on pavement or grass.
There will always be ball games,
small names and big days.
I see windows, I see doors,
I see mine and I see yours.

We're not doomed, well yet,
we're alive and as I've said,
there are sundays, there is sun,
still so much that can be done,
which feels nice when it is,
with my legs up and my head at ease.
Then I see, life can still be a softly soothing breeze.

I raise my glass and brows to certain teas,
we are blessed to have dogs barking, sweets
and care. I raise it all to some certainties,
laying down and tucked in in these blessed sheets.

Her body is my desire, her thoughts
connected, more than one wire, admire
her feelings, rarely shown. And with lots
of protection, lots of walls and to inspire
every wake moment spend, thinking,
revising what to do, how to act. Mystery,
cryptic, intriguing riddle, almost blistery.

A special case, a pretty face, she expects
but does she accept with whatever complex,
proposal I continue? Nothing however checks.
She must be, kidding, riddling, skating.
As all, freud said, desperate for mating,
doesn't seem, blow off steam, let it go, I can't
enchanted. Challenging, intriguing.

Is this
real?

My whole life has lead to this.
Someone else's business is
mine. In return I too get to
grow.

I de- and re-construct
to revive the stuck,
to uncover and *****
a brand new artifact.

As leaves they meet, in flight,
in fight, as soft and coloured,
sifting through the slashing sound
until their brown and crunchy remains
fall onto the ground.

I break down to build and then
watch as it breaks down again.

Every year some artist makes changes.
Every time they do, we do.
In notes and lines and flags and mines,
game, with song, intertwines.

All times are strange, depending on your
perceptive needs and the range
of what we can bear before it bleeds.

The boldness of genes,
the whatever that means,
the finches, the flinches, flight or fight.
We'll never know who was truly right
about the meaning of it all.

The best part is we can choose,
the worst is that we must
or decay and rust
force us to lose.

Too easy, always breezing through, eazing,
comfort, soft, cheeky squeezing,
me, this week, weaky, meek pleasing.

I was never sick
      Not like them.
It never sticked
      Like it did to them.

It grew, the fluke, blew up,
no backs, to the past that lacks
this new disease
        may be my last
                 before I drop the stacks.

Banner, seen at four,
didn't know
what, twenty, still no gut, no go,
from the get-go, no strut
again.

Manners maketh man!

No more greeting at the entrance door,
no meeting on the seventh floor, en trance,
no chance to meet your father, son.

What's wrong, how long
have I been gone, for,
twenty four, will I see?
Dealt a bad deal, who can I be
during the war
behind the banner's door?

Drop the act son,
you shouldn't ask, wouldn't know
how to react, son.
Better crawl, easy kid, better crawl,
like I did, better crawl, never done, kid,
we'll see if you deserve it.

This ain't it, I said, as I watched
my childhood hero, whom I'd adored
clearly before, make bored
faces at the performance he'd botched.

There's a general case against
the meeting of said heroes.
I believe there is a condensed
advantage in discovering the zeroes.

It humbles, fumbles with your brain,
perception grows, the self then knows
there's no such thing as a perfect being,
which on its own is very freeing.

Always remember good and bad are stored
at different ratios in everyone, hated or adored.

Your understandable uncertainty
is messing with both you and what I get to see.
I haven't and I have done stuff I may regret,
felt things that may have gone unsaid.

You're like a pack of smokes,
attractive to young blokes,
expensive and rewarding
yet a tad bad.

In time I'll know if she will be
the last unhealthy
cigarette for me.

A change of heart has to be made
by them and me. It has been laid
into my hands, I have to act before,
it stood, now it fell, before even more

of my kind get hurt. But all I can do
is nothing, I can't alter their desires.
A click is on their to do list, but who
has already made one? So our wires

can be crossed and our paths connected.
I don't want to keep being neglected
by the girl I love so much and I don't
want to seem desperate but I won't

be able to not be, I am less than common,
just like the girl I'm looking for, a woman.

Rejected, if not misunderstood,
these girls do me no good,
in groups in pairs, no one cares,
they're pretty, that's enough.

Relatively speaking, the floors
are squeaking in this house of
lies. She stands so close to me,
she's looking, I cannot respond

She seemed not very fond of
who I was and what I said, but
signals are mixed and misinterpreted

by both, or not, it is the fact not knowing
that ruins this situation, overshadowing.

Before we'll watch this movie
I just want to say, make clear, honestly
tell you I've been thinking way too much.
Yet not about the right things
filled with unfortunate timings.

Now I've thought it through,
finally tried to understand what it may have done to you.

I want to excuse myself
for invading the space on your highest shelf.
I went too fast, forgot to build a past,
made too much plans for us to live
because I have a lot to give.

I get the fact it came as overload,
less spontanious, kind of crazy mode.
I've never had a thing like this before,
you were so tasty and I wanted more.

It grew after a while
instead of emerging as massive piles
of burning smiles.

We don't have to plan
anything for our future days.
I've gained patience in such ways
and I've learned you'll come when you can
and want,
and to trust you when you can't,
when you turn to silence, silence I now get you need.

If this is where you end indeed
I'll feel remorse in our fate
for understanding our source this late
and what went on inside your mind.

But we'll see
In the end it'll be
all ok, we'll just have to see.
I repeat, again, we're only nineteen maybe twenty.
Let's just watch a movie.

Snapping, bopping her lips
with her precious fingertips.
Blushing when she notices
that I noticed she
was different.

I smile, she giggles, roughly
scanning other presences,
to spot that I
am different.

Later on she lost attention
harshly breaking tension
with her unsure eyes.

She confronted me
with reality.

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.

Things I deemed irreplaceable,
choices, acts, unexplainable,
words and sightings,
breath taking lightings
on a statue under cloth.
My sloth got the best
of me, my eyes the rest.

I took you in and let you touch me
get me, see me, you were holding
every string, pulling ever so slightly,
making me dance, making me sing.

I forgot how we were equally the same
I removed the drapes much too late,
the statue had gotten into a rotten state,
decayed, nothing stayed except its frame.

Pedestals, forged without a sound,
rose and carried you up towards the stars,
where you belonged, where all could see.
Yet as you went, I frowned,
my dreams fought wars
with the harsh reality.
And I begged of you to show your face,
return to the ground or leave no trace
behind, my mind devoured beauty
as if it was breakfast, as if it was his duty
to make things up and mourn the loss
of any unimagined creature to come across
this lonesome land.

With a rope in hand
we seek perfection,
instead of growing,
fill the void with thought
to end up throwing
art in bins, for nought.
When we get caught
for all our sins
that's when actual love begins.

Orange and green were melting
together, seen almost as a pelting
of connections, flooding like
paint, mixing, touching, unlike

what green had thought,
two colours already made of
combinations, don't blend
don't spend
time
when orange has chosen
to follow instead of make
her own
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.

Getting up after
is worse than the fall
people are staring,
tomorrow they'll call
me loser or failure,
no, not out loud,
but I see them thinking,
afraid of the crowd,
this guy has fallen,
why sure I am glad
that it wasn't me
bruising my ankle or
wounding my knee.

Sometimes I run on grass to feel
the end of every story. I imagine
myself crawling on a sandy surface.
Breaks to plan steps or get a meal.
The schedule is without a finishing sin,
the road without a mark and helpless.

Are you waiting or
are you making efforts.

Are you running, is what I ask myself.
Motionless for more than hours I would reject,
even if you and I, we would connect.

I'll treat you as deserved when movement is observed.
I'll kiss you if you make your path.
Likewise you surround me as in lonely matter.
If I keep running you can call that my wrath.

With swerves and glides
and bolts and slides, they
danced on hard matrasses.

A hit, a punch, a kick,
a bunch of quick
dashes in rapid succession.

The fall from grace,
the blurry face and dartling eyes
the get-up and realize
everyone has a different pace.

I cannot catch a break, keep my **** together
No control when necessary, no control ever.
Like a small bird, that is taught how to fly
The little bird does not have the ***** to jump

He keeps procrastinating his jump. While others
born after him, already fly to the mountains and
back but this one particularly is still on that cliff
waiting for that moment, the perfect jump.

And the others keep flying further and further
away, losing their grip on their roots, not me
I am still waiting to jump, still not confident.

Why even bother trying. I'll never fly as far
as those other birds. Maybe I should give up
for a while, give myself a break, just wait patiently.

Standing in front of the fridge
staring at the food, unlikely to
like it, but hungry, so hungry, do
I take it just to have this itch

scratched? This moment is my only chance
the last time that I will glance
will tell me what to do or say
do I take this offer or should I stay

away from tension, possibly bringing
forth the hurt and pain of what's
never to regain, it's never the same.
I just listen and blatantly start singing

Along with the songs of love, that's
the error here, to me it's just a game.

Your country is unknown to me,
so are your inhabitants. I only recognize
your flag.

I wish I wanted to travel more,
or that you were a country more close to mine.

Yet water divides our common ground.

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.

Her eyes were shaking, pushing out
the salty fluid, gliding down across her mouth.
Her knees were trembling, trying to control
the mixed emotions, emerging in her soul.

She was losing it, I couldn't watch, bear her state
of being crushed. I rushed closer, held her tight.
Even though I knew in different ways too late
I felt she deserved more than just one night.

As pretty as she was, as loving and friendly, as so
she was not accepting what I knew she understood.
Deeply do I respect, deeply do I crave to
go back and change something. If I could.

I wouldn't have made it go away,
I would have wished I had different things to say.

I've always said I'd do what's right,
form a cross, ask for blessings
and kiss goodnight.
I never knew to be in love to be much of
a fight.
I never thought the hard-wrought fictions
carried wisdom more than foolery.

As it turns out I've always been
the fool I thought I hadn't seen.
I see now the mistakes of a path in past
and say, once again, this one was my last.

She took the swing, this fragile thing,
she took the shot and since then she's got
me jumping, got me running, hitting,
frantically searching, no time for sitting,
she's got me in this corner,
knowing all this time I'd have worn her
as a hat or red
cowboy boots.

Her being loots
my mind, my waking moment,
I want to hold, touch and kiss
engulf us both in bliss,
as we watch and comment
as we notice what the calm meant
when we finally found our seats.

Heartbeats chase us, take us
underground and up again,
shivering, trembling body parts,
these hearts, shaking, swinging,
without the need to plan,
keep my passion singing.

The core turned darker, crumbling
away, rotten decay, turned bumbling
by delay, started tumbling, started
falling, fallen, stopped
working.

Water reaches places, fire just can't,
to work poorly, to fail, to scant.
Replace the inner parts, at least
try to revive this metal fleshy beast.

If green is gone and brown has come,
you know you've stayed too long.
If your legs are flickering, turning numb,
you know it's time for a different song.

Dogs start barking, whistling strangers,
passed, tell me that my time has come,
however young I was or fast it went numb.
Horses all over are tied to their mangers.

Two men escorting an other, grabbing
his neck-piece, rapidly and furious. Run
before the dark is here, run from stabbing
criminals and switchblades or a harmless gun.

The mist has found its way and clouds
have no secrets for this place. Droplets of
glorious rain make paces lower and a dove
hide. Some higher some fly in massive crowds.

The growth cannot be contained or laid still.
I'm held here, in a dark depression, against my will.

On the evening before a small disastered
day, I lay awake in bed with nothing but
my closest dear and thoughts in head.

The filters spread across the room,
the smoke signalling impending doom.
I know nothing except elations, insecurities
and misplaced expectations.

Mismatched socks in chests with locks
and understanding you can't be too
demanding, can't let everything bother,
you, can't have one without the other.

I turn around and **** the time that ticks.
I can rest easy, assured I know the greatest tricks.

Egoism kills, I read, when walking.
I continued, strolling ahead and talking
to myself. I assured me I was fine,
the problem 'egoism' wasn't mine.

At home, cozy, dropping kisses
to the missus
and the kids, amidst I stopped, I questioned
myself
and told them I had come up with a plan.
Do if you're strong and respect those who
do whatever they can

to spread the charisma of care-ism, a
way to think of the others and ****
egoism.

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.

We are all, in need of drama
searching for the most tense appearance
in a denser panorama.

I'm afraid of raising my own family
I have so much control
You can point your actions
to turn them in a better actor
for every single role.

We lack, he approves
we try to fill it up with empty moves
to make a better sound
to fake and turn around
the actions that we found.

We are conditioned like a hound
to work for a treat, deeds for conformation
and create an unreal feeling of elation.
Survival of the fittest influence leads
to hallucinating that this is right to do.

An illusion most complex,
so deeply structured, in a way
it wrecks and causes constant disarray.

A sun too bright, alone at night,
too much food for me to eat.
You are carried by such precious feet,
looking like the set of fears I couldn't fight.
Frightening eyes, stares and cries, out
into the emptiness, into all and loud.
Why are you not proud,
no one can read, do you feed
on agony?

Wreck me, nothing left, you did
destroy, and now it's to get rid
of me, my joy.

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.

Staat de keuken onder, is de rommel
van de kelder, zo naar boven, de trap op
met gestommel, kan je het niet geloven
of wacht je op een wonder?

Druk op de ketel, potjes koken onder
je veren en bezeren je schorseneren.
Dan moet iemand crisis interveniëren.

Liever zwarte randjes op je brood
of je vleesje iets te rood?
We hebben niks te kiezen
zolang we onszelf maar niet verliezen
in de heisa van het leven,
het sudderen en beven
en beleven van tijd tot tijd
toch wel geen nieuwe crisis
omtrent die deksels indrukwekkende identieketeit.

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.

Another morning up too soon
for the alarm clock to go off.
Another day to turn out rough.

Fishermen with new methods of baiting
tell me, teach me what it is to wait,
to patiently create
a small chance of catching
the right fish for tonights meal.

Any sound can obtain a meaning.
Any message can be leaning
towards another point.

Ik zoek een huisje in Parijs
voor het komende half jaar.
Het is een hele tijd op reis.
Misschien blijf ik wel daar.

Ik wil een open raam,
de Eiffeltoren zien,
het park en macarons kraam.
Als het meevalt, blijf ik zelfs, misschien.

Weet iemand met mijn vragen raad,
wanneer noch kaars noch bril nog baat?
Het is zoeken en het zal blijven zoeken blijven
met enkel jezelf om op te kijven.

Was ik een bal, zou ik rollen,
was ik tranen, was ik geld
of vuisten wanneer iemand over morgen
vertelt.

Overmorgen, over zorgen, over hoop.
Alles overhoop.
De één die sneed, de ander zoop.
       En anderen verzopen.
             Of weggeblazen worden.
          Erdoor weer onweer en toen het terug kon
                              weer op stap, op de lappen
             En zo jezelf oplappen.
Kon ik maar, zoals op tv, tussen de dagen zappen.

Dankjewel voor alle zorgen,
de zekerheid op elke dag
een goeie goeiemorgen
en een welgemeende lach.

Ik zou een bloempje geven
of de lucht op laten klaren
maar jij schonk mij het leven,
dat kan ik niet evenaren.

Daarom dat ik je hier zal vieren
en zo jouw dag hoop te versieren.