You emitt a sense of dignity
You display beauty and excitement
Your appearance is a sight that can heal any brokenness
Your spine holds together all the stories of your innermost being.

Your structure aids your courtesy
A flip-style lid that uncovers all your experiences
A passageway to your inner workings.

Your appearance is mostly a façade;
One that enlightens and softens the viewer
When the lid is flipped and your inner self uncovered, everything seems different.

Your inside displays short bursts of anger
Punctuation is used all over
Complexities in understanding display uncertainty
A sense of broken and relentless suffering;
One that is nothing less than negative.

The shell around this inside is solid, rigid and safe.
Without opening the lid up, the inside would not be exposed.

These two entities are completely different and independent from each other.

You are like a book:
The outside - the lie
The inside - the truth.
Rote, just for you.
I can't help but
bear repeating.
What's gone cold,
is worth reatheating.
Speech is there,
in silence it drowns.
All I do is,
think and stare.

An eye for an eye,
across the room.
Or should it be;
A you for a I,
and I for you?
Asiah Jun 11
Believe in me as I believe in you.
Broken in but never healed.
A novel never finished, but a page never unturned.
BW Jun 11
You touched the dark side of my moon
And you set it on fire.
You were born into the dark side
But who doesn't crave for the light?
One fleeing glimpse. Your eyes met mine.
Our hearts tumbled and then lost.

You loved me mad, and they say I was out of
my mind.A Lady and A Peaky Blinder.
Decadent, romantic, roses meet guns
My pretty face was the glamorous facade,
Standing behind me was you with uncleaned blood

You said I was a lady. Your lady.
High society's darling sweetheart.
They have never seen the devil
Until an angel tears off her mask.
0.3 calibre, Louboutins in check, rouge
on my lips, warm crimson filling my pond.

La Reina. The Queen. They whisper
little birds travel far on the backstreets
Just you see.
In love and revenge
I am always more barbaric than men.
This is a poem inspired by the famous novel La Reina Del Sur, or "Queen of the South" in which Teresa, an ordinary Mexican chica and the beau of a drug-dealer flees for her life, only to become the biggest drug cartel leader between mexico and the USA.
PoserPersona Jun 10
Black and white country
Novel youths hitchhike state sites
Kodak Kodachrome
Digital photos
Novel youths hitchhike websites
Black and white country
The seven walked in fury,
No more a land called their home.
Forced many miles dreary,
All for a place called their own.
In a searching journey on,
They seek lost treasures hidden.
Each land to step, cross and come,
These exiled souls forbidden.
A rescuing hero large,
He seeks to redeem himself.
Even if till a last charge,
Saving souls fighting their Hell.
Kingdoms to come together,
For peace and love forever.
And the epic saga continues...
Goes to the cemetery to see his father, sitting on long solar gloomy. From a snowy mountain peak bravely he attaches to his return, his spirit, part of the sleeping immaterial life; My daughter resting under his feet, returning to his waking body, from her home. This sees abandoned, comes directly addressing the courtyard, there is a tendency and sleeps the days he was not.
Miriam ...(In the dream) ... "Father yet I have you gone, sometimes you hear me come at night, slept more I thought you were not and you just saw it with my neighbors put your white shroud for your rest...
She Turns, kisses the earth and see the tower, climb the steep rocks without spilling any of his ancestors, in the cold stones seemed to portray their faces doubt. Heavy rocks taken from Migdal, from their own ancestors, as if each stone should appear the illusion of taking the petrified intra bodies. Reaches the top, and a gale brought Galilee praise in his voice came. Then interrupted a manly voice ... "From here started the silent sound that opened my ears to want your divine fire, as they came from Galilee, went to fetch a big challenge to Palmahim ... astral and spoke Jofat dominated by the silhouette of Miriam "
And the a woman of Magdala returned where his family, with his tower that never stopped jealous of her, because it was so high ... that everywhere is watching him... and thus the mayor twin towers built to accompany her and Jamal gave him work to generate music and accompany him in his last days with the burning heat on his forehead. Provided, Miriam take charge of covering the children with high structure, similar in nobility Miriam attentions.
Since then, would come as a faithful Jofat sent to tell what made this high tower in his heart, as if the glowing words premonition glad to Miriam. To Migdal Jofat had traveled with a caravaner, a week after Miriam left.

      Then arrived was found that was prey to night, from home to tavern and from there to the tower, where he went with his black veil, to comment to family getaways immolated in the Babylonian regime. I was telling her trapped perennial faults and virtues.
and this way Jofat tells us of his life, and that Palmahim saw her back by a circular faces that invite to help those in need.
Jofat...: What faces ... they ask me anything and not to do them living in your back ...!

Sherom and Moshe speak very distressed ... Sherom finally ends.  Sherom..: Jofat lived twenty years in Magdala Miriam beside the washing their hands as they that day at sea. She sheared his sheep and shepherding their flocks. Until one day came to the villa at night and found a body that assembled at the edge of the tower; He said fear approaching her name and sheep surrounding his body, knelt and prayed Jofat in silent, then climbed to the top floor and shouted to the wind ... "Wind will not see ... for once ... bring it." Jofat germinate saw her pale face in the sky and then disappeared falling to the mortuary ritual. To next day, the funeral fell into the strong blows striated by the Sirocco, right next to the red earth, in the rest of Afad.
Jofat fathered two children, one named Saul him and she Magdalena, some vicissitude by the people they lived. Jofat for many years lived in Magdala and her children went up to the lofty figure in spring to see her mother's face ... Miriam, coming down the Palmahim beach with a stick in his hand and a brown dress. Jofat behind them, saw the whole family of Migdal  live ...

Moshe and Sherom  embraced the gentleman outlaw who treated them kindly and paid them generously. The after going to their chores, returned where the Canaanites and told them he was called Hurián, son of the brother of Afad. Moments later, the colorful sky Inked his walk to the house of her father's brother. He came and saw Jofat, Magdalena and desserts Saul dined later prayed and asked the Lord, so that nothing is missing them and had a good year.

Hurian greets and sits silently beside him. Jofat takes the tools; Saul his staff for sheep and Magdalena stays at home to knead and milked the cows.  Hurian thought of taking his horse from Jordan to restart it left but a warm sea air caressed her face, staring putting their eyes on the tower.
Hurian ...: Jofat I stay ...!
Jofat approaches him and hugs him tightly, so does Saul leaving the cane. Magdalena in the window, smiled thanking above the illuminated tower.

" Although many centuries later Migdal was taken by Pompey in 63 b.C. and became a Roman province, never razed the supernatural Migdal’s  Twin Towers. Sand that a centurion and his military company entered the Migdal trying to desecrate the ancient tower; rich in precious metal objects, but jumped reddish sand in their faces. In addition, it is darkening leaving an asphyxiating atmosphere.

Few has lived with reddish sand ... Afad, which like a giant ant hills between excavates the desert mountains, throwing sand to the whimpering tower to hide her tears. So Sirocco ally with the early rain of blood, bathe the Roman heritage and sanctify the true legacy ... the soldiers and builders Migdal well as The Kalebi...!.
Lily Apr 5
Do I love you too much?
Am I supposed to feel this much?
Because every time I think your happiness might be
In the slightest way impeded or stopped,
My heart lies smitten, its beats off and tormented,
The muscle itself not knowing whether
It has enough strength to continue with
The next beat.  What is there to live for
If you are not happy?  
If tears fall down your face, who am I to smile?
If your mind is tormented by nightmares,
Who am I to lose myself in daydreams?
If you’re anxious about the world,
Who am I to enter it with confidence?
Because I truly love you, I have no choice
But to put your happiness over my own.
It feels as natural as that favorite shirt,
The perfect opening to a novel,
Sunlight streaming through the window on an unmade bed.  It feels so perfect, so right, that I can’t help
But shed tears when you do,
Experience terror during your nightmares,
To wallow in your uncertainty.  
Do I love you too much?  
Am I supposed to feel this much?  
Because I do.
poet Mar 29
the keyboard
the pen
the pencil
the notebook
the computer
all the magic is here
all the magic runs through my mind
it travels down my veins
i can't stop thinking
it keeps going
i keep using my tools as wands
i've fallen in love
with two concepts:

the story

and the writing.
Lights sputter,
Ringing in your ears,
Held tight in hope's embrace.

Tears pour,
Muffled screaming,
Everything you knew is gone.

Ground is shaking,
Dust in your fingernails,
Blood on your arms,
Curled up, you pray this isn't real.

A bright flash.

What happened?

~Robert van Lingen

A poetic prologue to One Year,
a short novel by Robert van Lingen
A poetic prologue to One Year,
a short novel by Robert van Lingen
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