The Honey Bee

Little buzzing Honey Bee,
Honey sweetens me and thee.
Thou art busy all the day;
Busy Bee, thy wings are gay.

Flowers bloom and showers fall;
Spring is springing over all.
Thou shalt work till daylight's end.
Golden Bee, thou art my friend!


The Beekeeper

Little buzzing Honey Bee,
Thou dost make my gold for me.
Labour, Bee, because thy toil
Buys my meat and drink and oil.

Thou art mine: what thou dost make,
Slave! to market I shall take.
Mine the Bee and mine the Earth,
Mine by right of Human birth.

Te veel, te weinig,
Alles of niets.
Waar uitersten elkaar ontmoeten,
Het midden bestaat voor mij niet.

Dieper dan diep,
Starend over de rand,
De donkerte in,
Voorbij mijn grootste angsten,
Waar alle muren zijn gevallen.

Vind me daar,
Waar ik helemaal naakt ben,
Kwetsbaar.

Te veel, te weinig,
Alles of niets.
Ik ga helemaal—
En anders niet.

Redacted*

I met you when I was sixteen,
a glance, a laugh across the room.

Weeks passed, yet every step I took
was searching for you in the crowd.

We went for coffee—
I hated coffee, so you ordered mine.

The worst drink I'd ever tasted,
yet perfect,
for it carried the thought of you.

Wallet in hand, money on the counter,
yet you paid.
Illogical, I thought, strange—
but now I know,
logic fades in your presence,

and only one truth remains:
Because you're you,

and I love you.
So here I am, saying it again—
I love you.

I bled.

Warmth seeped into my cold arms,
The vivid hue a reminder of life within me,
And me within life.

No pain—only a thought:
Is this the shade of burgundy you love,
Or is it darker?

If I were to capture it in a painting,
would you hang it?

Would it move you more
if you knew the source?

For even my emptied veins, a sacrifice,
Remains unworthy of you.

At night hours
When moonlight glows
I come by the sea
I look at its costs
In the deep I see shining richness of salt
On the other side -
- millions of grains of sand
Which reflects the glow casted by sun
Shining with secrets keepen thru times

Which foots had stomped you
Artist, poet, king?
Which body is buried beneath you
Soldier, priest or nun?

As the sun rules over daylight, our happiness, lives and time
The moon keeps silent watch under the darkest sky
One of them skorches water with relentless heat
The other calms down the tides, restoring ordeal

Just like people
Ones burning with desire
Won't stop from anything, even incincerating you with fire
Others - silent, gentle folks
Come out at the night, sheltering from the fervour

As I'm walking down the shore
At the day I have to turn back from the blinding waters glow
But at the night I can freely admire beauty of sea
As moon restores its peace and returns dignity

It is a fair assumption
To believe that truth is habitually withheld,
In the daily routine of "inconsequential,
Miniscule" white lies.
As in larger defeats
Where the sting of humility or embarrassment linger,
In plans gone awry.
To understand this is not to condone this,
But never to engage in it.
To do so any different
Would only prove otherwise.

Berlin, Berlin,
contradiction city.
Grey concrete hulks stacked around
old buildings rising pretty.
A never ending construction zone
that tries to top the past
while dancing ’round her history
whose pallor shadows cast.

A marble altar
in a gilded Baroque church —
Poor babe in manger