Category Archives: Lines

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)
Skip to 46:00

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November 3, 2013 · 10:58 am

Eighty-seventh say


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


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

A gloomy me was born
The hole made room for

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.


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April 18, 2013 · 9:35 pm

Eighty-third say


Defining the unknown
Being discovered,
but remaining

Figuring out
for the sake of discovery

-and not for solution.

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Eighty-first say

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

~ Ischa Meijer


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Disaster skies

Pinch your eyes
to blur the sight
of the disaster skies
full of falling kites

Step out of bed
Walk into a fight
Run from the dream
cause they’re all white

… to cover up the
disaster skies
full of broken hearts
Those who once were
young happy and healthy
among the crappy and wealthy

Step out, step in
Close the door behind your mistake
Thundercloud hiding sin
to float above your conscience

Dare to live
but risk to loose
Dare to give

but risk the mice
nibbling your heart out
under the disaster skies
Full of lost souls searching for closure
Full of filled hearts
out of composure
Closure of what once was
Dark hidden far away in your head

Now it’s falling
from the top of the ladder
down is your imagination
That’s the first thing which dies
from the disaster skies
filled with hidden pressure
full of filthy flies

but know, every chaos
will be repaired
and no war, shall be declared

Every eye
Every heart
Every cry
Every start

All the looks
All the beats
All the tears
In the streets

– Anne’s says

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Seventhy-ninth say

`Our Passion`

Down on the top
of the mountain of love
around the air we
lie in tonight
your breath, my breath

Ice as warm as trust
consumed by our mouths
spoiled on your chest
melted by your
cold heat, my heat

Rain on a dry day
empty of boldness
transparent fear, to fall
on top of you
I fall, you fall

Knowledge of passion
like motion of statues
You won’t move, I won’t know
Your passion, my passion
Our Passion

 – Anne’s says

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