#holland
Tires hum, backs are bent
clouds of words drift along:
cyclists skirting along the sea
They pedal and talk
but don't smell
what I smell
don't look like I look
They sweat out fragrances
repeat their fiddle-faddle in monologues
They feel important
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 3:14 AM UTC
Not living for later
but together, social
and respected
The king loathes it
He takes palaces and farmsteads
His taxation breaks
the compliance, cold
causes hunger
Threat of war
Propaganda points the way:
there is a saviour, a Father
of the Nation, he protects
the refugees from Antwerp
and the trade, he will
drive out tyranny
that beheads dukes and puts
believers at the stake, that makes
the country pay for the oppression
May 6, 2023
May 6, 2023 at 3:44 AM UTC
My icy looks
your icy soul
Inhale and exhale
Inhale and exhale
In - oh, ****
The windmills laugh at me
two at once
The house, the sunshine, the harsh wind
Limited space
horses get lined up
then they get shot.
Eyes meet and hearts part
dark-haired and street smart
"You look at me like I died ten years ago"
you tell me, your voice suave and low
And I thought
**** that was poetic.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
Mustard sweaters in the Mauritshuis,
scattered ashes at the foot of our bed.
We run, run round in circles,
till the stars drop out of their cat's cradles and into our laps.
Empty paintings and glasses frames,
dozing atop anarchist literature in the back alleys
of some distant treasure island.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 11:06 AM UTC