Eighty-ninth say

One of my old poems made into a little art video by Pale Goose productions

F*cked up

Pieces of stone, dropping on my body
The cold touch giving me chills

Red meat filthy teeth
a bite through my skin,

Stop, train, go, jump
Don’t wait for me

I dont wanna try anymore
I just wanna be myself

like me

love me

trust me

live for me

please dont hate me

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Eighty-eight say

How do you want to be remembered
when finally your soul is tempered
when rest and peace fall on to thee
then what will be, or not to be
if when there is nothing left to see
and we cry rivers into seas
because the mist of autumn trees
and the humming summer bees
your spirit lifts so magically
salt of earth be born in thee
but if death takes you ruthlessly
and when your soul is finally tempered
How do you want to be remembered.

~ Victor (unknown) from the interview with Ruby Wax in College Tour (The Netherlands)
http://collegetour.ntr.nl/page/detailreacties/790344/Ruby%20Wax
Skip to 46:00

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November 3, 2013 · 10:58 am

Eighty-seventh say

Mask

She hides behind her
canvas of happiness
To mask the cold
truth of reality

Sometimes it cracks
like a vase
All those cracks
ruin her grace

The perfect picture
you thought she was
turned out to be unreal because
finding out she is a broken doll
would make you realize
she’ll never have it all

All she has,
is a painted smile
I dare your kiss
to hold for a while

-and tear it all away

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Eighty-sixth say

I care so much
but dare too little

My need to control
leaves me stuck
I should let go
and depend on luck

The weight called failure
cuts like a blade- of disappointment
The bold sign of forgiveness
leaves me cold like mercy.

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Eighty-fifth say

Lost

I lost something
in the attempt
Something got lost
inside of me.

A gloomy me was born
The hole made room for
emptiness

Useless fear
took over me
Provoking grief
fought its way through

It took me long
to see, –
a broken strainer is my soul.
the fix is not for free.

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Eighty-fourth say

Bleak and Sour

As I turn on the faucet of grief,
I learn we’re out of salty water.
Merely dirt comes
out of the open tap.
Anger, aggravation and jealousy.
A bad replacement of the
miserable silence of my grief.

Empty

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April 18, 2013 · 9:35 pm

Eighty-third say

Confusion

Defining the unknown
Being discovered,
but remaining
undiscovered

Figuring out
for the sake of discovery

-and not for solution.

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Disaster Skies

One of my poems made into a little art video 😀

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January 14, 2013 · 7:08 pm

Eighty-second say

Confusion

I think I know
where my room of dissolution is
but whenever I see the door
I’m not sure whether I have the right key

I have sweets
I think I want chocolates
but how different is my choice? 
Do I want sugar or sugar?
Do I dream or do I live?

I don’t want to be stuck
I don’t want to move from this
moment of euphoria
This rubbing of my eyes,
for unknown reason
has such defining pleasure

Defining the unknown.
Being discovered
but remaining undiscovered

Figuring out for the sake of discovery

and not for solutions

Anne’s says

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Eighty-first say

A warm cup of soup
is
like
a good friend at home
excellent soup
is
like new family

~ Ischa Meijer

 

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