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Zywa Oct 31
Ambition is: not

valuing yourself enough --


It is a defect.
Novel "Requiem voor een vriend" ("Requiem for a friend", 2002, Han Voskuil), chapter 1951-1956, August 9th, 1954 - Amsterdam, Han Voskuil (and Jan Bruggeman ['Breugelman'])

Collection "Not too bad"
Zywa Oct 23
With a broad chest
a ******* tongue
beautiful feathers, a hot breath
and a forked tongue
they live on our skin

We little ***** rats in the eyes
of the screaming crowd
that rattles the fences
in the zoo, the cages
in which we are trapped

The gorillas who clear the way
the hyena who says she is helping
the peacock who dresses our hair
the dragon for our image and
the hissing of the tour manager

Don't step on their tails
and don't feed them, please
Just let their airs
explode, no more ground
beneath their feet
Novel "the ground beneath her feet" (1999, Salman Rushdie), chapter 1 The Keeper of Bees

Music album "Hot rats" (1969, Frank Zappa)

Collection "Low gear"
Zywa Sep 15
People's fame only

lasts a short time, that I learned --


from theatre plays.
Novel "The sea, the sea" (1978, Iris Murdoch)

Collection "Unspoken"
LadyM Jan 30
I wish, I could just fade, into nothingness.

Not to die, not to be aware of the end, but just to fade
and become merged with the rest of the universe.
My consciousness
part of the never-ending energy.
Then, I would not witness any more suffering,
or tragedy.

I would not be concerned with human ideas of war
and ideals,
for which countries and nations are torn,
for which the cycle of death renews.
It’s no news

that each, every so often
new powers rise and the old is forgotten.


I wish, I could just go far, far away.

Leave this Earth and all its destruction,
journey to a place with no caged birds, and caged people.
I don’t want to stay
amongst the ones who are caged inside their minds
thinking they own the world
and all beyond it,
when, in fact, the only thing they own is the production
of hate.

And evil deeds could write themselves one by one
onto their skin, showing the fate
of countless souls, like a tattoo
never to fade.

If only they would.
Maybe then, young citizens could
take some time to think about the rush
to honour the ‘duty to their country’.
Gun in hand, loyalty in the other,
all for honour.

Death is the greatest teacher, for in death we are all the same,
look it in the eyes, and your life will change.
If only it changed for the better
and not made the ground wetter
with blood of the ones honouring their leader,
when their leader does not honour them.

He lives on, while their lives
Are fading,
fading
away.
Written in response to the terrible things happening in the world.
Zywa Aug 2023
A living statue

bends over, taps my shoulder:


it wants a picture.
Colum "Bewegende standbeelden" ("Moving statues", 2023, Marcel van Roosmalen), in NRC, July 3rd, 2023

Collection "Specialities"
Ackerrman Aug 2023
Forlorn,
I sit and mourn
What could have been,
From the boundary, trying not to be seen.

Misanthropic.
A tiny nick
Has snuffed out my life,
Success always resting on the edge of a knife.

Melancholy,
I sit here pondering, sorry.
Should be out there fighting.
Every strike sounding like lighting.

Company,
I rushed too hurriedly,
Spurned our honour
And became connon fodder,

Because I got the plan wrong,
Sung the wrong song,
Overstretched,
Regret etched

Across my face,
Death dressed in lace,
Struggling on a sticky wicket,
I guess that is just cricket.
Sometimes you die before your time and then have to sit with all of the other dead souls. I suppose most people feel like they died before their time...
Zywa Mar 2023
Spotlights, reflected

off the gold celebrity:


image on image.
Collection "BloodTrunk"
Zywa Mar 2023
Emperors on their

pedestals look over me --


into an old time.
Collection "Secrets & Believers"
Zywa Jan 2023
The row of medals

divert people's attention --


from his worn-out suit.
"Frammento di cronaca di Marco Leccio e della sua guerra sulla carta nel tempo della grande guerra europea" - V ("Fragment of a chronicle of Marco Leccio and his war on the map in the time of the Great War in Europe" – V, 1919, Luigi Pirandello)

Collection "Appearances"
TheSanguinary Jul 2023
I knew life wasn't a walk through the park
I knew I had to make something out of myself
I knew I had to work harder than anyone else
I knew I had to learn
I knew it wasn't gonna be easy

And then she came along
We both knew we had skeletons in our closets
We both knew we had demons no one else had
We knew it wasn't gonna be easy
But she gave me the strength and courage
To man up, to stand up and know it's gonna be okay
She gave me the strength to give my hand to her and have her walk beside me
Just when everything was going as we envisioned
Who knew that life still had a trick up its sleeves
Who knew I'd have to leave her all alone
Who knew she'd have to cry
Without me there to wipe her tears
No one thought I'd have to die so soon
i had no idea what to call it so forgive the name if it doesn't do justice
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