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Showing posts from November, 2018

In silence

never would there evermore
a song upon a breeze
for music has forsaken us
went lost among the trees

now darkness has surrounded us
and vanquished all the light
in silence now we just await
the visitor in the night

Wat altijd zal zijn

nu het donker wordt en wij ouder
kijk ik terug - niet achteruit
zie de gloed van jouw gedachten
zo warm en zo mooi
als een brug van wat eens was
naar wat altijd zal zijn - jij
een zachte trilling in de lucht
als van een vleugelslag - vrij

Vultures

perched on a fence
birds of prey incite others
~take no prisoners

Creative passion

burn me with fire, muse
for I have failed to set aflame creative passion
dull dreams filled only with crippling fear haunt me at night
I might as well be dead
decaying in my bed

Vlieland

Dit is geen afscheid
Mijn naam geschreven in het zand
Dit eiland een rustplaats

Het zand schuurt mijn ziel
en zo blijven kleine korrels zijn
altijd achter,
groei ik wortelloos,
heb geen vat op mijn bestaan,
neem geen bezit,
maar zwerf zonder lichaam,
raak aan wat mij doet dromen:
de schoonheid van het wad

My own blood

red sticky strings draw a pattern on my skin
portraying madness in chaotic lines
I rage against my own blood
it should be beautiful, but it's not
the bare truth is staring me in the face ~laughing
a flood of thoughts scream inside my head
these are the signs they say

Call my name

call my name
even if everyone keeps still
please ~call my name

call my name
even if your voice will waver
please ~call my name

call my name
even if I do not answer
please ~call my name

call my name
even when I'm already gone
please ~call my name

just call me by my name




Trouble

He gazed upon her, his eyes dark but his face impassive. "You can flirt with disaster all you want, you won't get it, I'll make sure of that." She liked the threat it implied. She liked taunting him. She wouldn't get into trouble. Yet. She smirked. He sighed.

Schrijver

Wie schrijft die blijft.
Zeggen ze.
Maar daar ben ik helemaal niet zeker van. Want wat als je geschreven woorden meteen bij de enige print in het verkeerde keelgat schieten? En door de rest van dat lijf, dat aan het keelgat vast zit, worden vernietigd? Dan ben je alweer weg. Behalve dan in dat hoofd dat bij dat keelgat hoort. Maar je kunt er vergif op innemen dat dat hoofd met zijn mond niet gaat delen welke woorden bij hem in het verkeerde keelgat zijn geschoten. Of wel?
Dus het spreiden van je woorden is de beste optie. Maar ook daar zit de venijn in de staart. Neem nu het wereld wijde internet. Hoeveel woorden staan daar, en hoeveel daarvan zijn er nagenoeg onvindbaar. De hoeveelheid aan woorden zorgt ervoor dat jouw woorden een speld in een hooiberg zullen zijn. En dan niet een gewone hooiberg, maar een hooiberg in de grootte van, pak 'm beet, China. Je woorden kunnen ook snel in de vergetelheid raken, want wie maalt er om een paar wijze woorden geschreven door Pietje Puk in NL …

Stormy weather

the trees are moaning
a storm savagely torments
saplings break, giants fall




It was all today

always remember us like last December
it was all today and will always be the now
the way we love the snow and how it falls on our faces
the way we embrace ~ our bodies intertwined
don't think about the madness of tomorrow
stay with me now ~ only in our memory

Cat

she's not really here
eyes the color of the leaves
she plays hide ~ not seek

Saved by music

tune thy cello
let dark tones rumble low
like slowly rolling thunder
to soothe my aching soul


A gift

between silken sheets
presented perfectly to him
a beautiful mess

Not nothing but trouble (workingtitle)

This is a tiny piece of a larger story I'm writing. A memory of one of the main characters.

She was playing with matches. He'd left them carelessly lying about. Like he always did. He cared for nothing but his booze and his smokes. He'd been gone for a long time already. She knew that when he came back he would stink. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of that. The matches smelled nice when she struck them on the side of the box. The scent made her smile. It made her think of good things, she just couldn't remember what those things were, just the feeling they'd left behind. She was hungry. Her brother Daniël was not home yet. She looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall and tried to concentrate. The two hands of time stood very close together on the bottom side of the clock, to the left. She started to be nervous. Daniël always protected her and he wasn't home yet. Maybe daddy would come home sooner. She struck another match so maybe the good feelin…

1996: Eurovision Songcontest: The Voice

The voice - Eimear Quinn 🎶

Back in the day, when the Eurovision Songcontest still had a lot to do with the actual singing-quality, this was a song that touched many people's hearts. The voice of an Angel. She had my vote. I even bought the CD-single afterwards.


Lyrics:

I hear the voice on the wind
And I hear you call out my name Listen my child you say to me

I am the voice of your history
Be not afraid, come follow me
Answer my call and Ill set you free

I am the voice in the wind and the pouring rain
I am the voice of your hunger and pain
I am the voice that always is calling you
I am the voice and I will remain


I am the voice in the fields when the summers gone
The dance of the leaves when the autumn winds blow
Never did I sleep throughout all the cold winter long
I am the force that in springtime will grow


I am the voice of the past that will always be
Filled with my sorrows and blood in my fields
I am the voice of the future
Bring me your peace, bring me your peace
And my woun…

A soloist

somewhere else hearts sing synchronously
love is music
her voice does not match
born a soloist
sad & silently she listens

Destined to darkness

within this cold night, between these barren walls and dying trees, evil voices from a distant past haunt my soul
there is little time left
for you are only embers now; the pale remnants of a fire that once was our blazing power

with hollow eyes you watch my movements
my lips part but no sound escapes from my mouth
I turn around, ashamed
how could I be so foolish to think myself worthy of you when I was destined to fail such a frail flower, beautiful, fragrant, fragile... now withering
still holding on to life you whisper: it awaits us all my love,
I don't fear it,
hold me now, then let me go

how could I, you should know I would rather die here instead of you
to bleed into the barren ground and watch you bloom once more with vibrant life from my limbs
but I obey
take your pale, powerless body into my arms to cradle you, protect you
for my demons lurk in the growing darkness
once you are gone - my light, my love, my life
- I will be lost to them

I will fight fiercely for you
until I loose and…

Heartbroken

he held her in sickness
but in health he left
afraid her vital heart might take flight
she died - heartbroken


The warrior

Wynn tried not to breath. He was standing at a mere ten foot from where she was hiding. Suddenly he turned and looked into her direction, as if he had discovered her, but he just stood there. Two swords in hand. He was lethal, and damn, he was beautiful as well.

De zee

mijn voeten aan de vloedlijn
twijfelen niet
en voelen zich stevig staan
in het natte zand

zij neemt me rustig bij de hand
en leidt me steeds dieper en kouder
naar verlichting
en als ik omzie naar het verre land
dan weet ik
mijn gebroken hart behoort niet daar
maar hier

en als zij dan mijn haren kust
met fluisteren mijn weemoed sust
geef ik mezelf voorgoed
aan haar

een liefde voor een leven


Let me hide

I cry in dreamless sleep
-not sleeping
-just weeping


Afraid of yet another day to come
-but unafraid to die
-not even knowing why


I blur the lines between worlds
-pretending not to be here
-making myself disappear

I wish not to be waking up cold
-or waking up old
-or waking up ever


Let me hide in my warm bed
Please
-let me hide in my own head



I want no one else...

I want no one else
and never would I too
so sleep relieved my love
your everlasting sleep
I'll weep
only for you

Dromen van winter

zomers droom ik van winter ik weet dat het niet geeft
dat jij beeft en ik je hand vasthoud
je loopt aan mijn arm
je hebt het niet koud

A bed of roses

on a bed of roses she lies
under a roof of glass ~ confined
staring at the stars she can never touch
she weeps
and never sleeps

Funny bones

a graveyard party
bones move to the moons rhythm
skeletons dancing

Winter

white fragility
the silence of frozen dreams
spring will wake flowers

In a beaten down box

in a beaten down box
in the dusty attic
my secret sorrow
doll-house furniture
almost tangible past

Dawn

when all is still dark
and the morning bird does not yet sing
a warm glow spreads slowly
at night's end
the horizon a fading shade of purple and red
whispering
wake to me - sleeping world
for a beautiful day lies ahead

Niet langer lief

Ze is er zo moe van. Dat eeuwige gezeik aan haar hoofd. Doe dit. Doe dat niet. Je weet toch wel dat dat slecht voor je is. Dat doe je verkeerd. Dat mag je niet denken. Zo mag je niet praten.     "Fuck you!", zou ze willen roepen. Maar ze balt enkel haar vuisten wanneer ze alleen is. De middelvinger die de 'Fuck you!' perfect zou kunnen begeleiden blijft in de vuist verborgen. Uit het zicht. Ongezien. En ongehoord.     Waarom?
Daarom. Gewoon. Omdat het zo hoort. Omdat ze zo opgevoed is. Netjes, lief, meegaand, volgend. Braaf. Een braaf kind. Een braaf klein kind dat geen eigen mening hoeft te hebben. Een braaf klein kind dat in het gareel dient te worden gehouden. Voor haar eigen veiligheid. Maar die veiligheid is geen veiligheid. Het is schijn. Weerschijn. Een spiegel die gebroken dient te worden. In gruzelementen geslagen. In honderdduizend kleine stukjes.     Ze is geen kind meer maar een volwassene. Het poppegezichtje dat van was is gemaakt vertoont de scheuren van v…

The weight of water

lily-pads float languidly like they have no mass
no fear of sinking
fairies tiptoe carefully on the waters surface

but if I don't swim I sink like a stone
the weight of water heavy above me
I can already see from below
the show the fairies display
of walking on water

Angstig

Vermoeiend denken
De beer loopt los op de weg
Niet bang zijn - aai maar



Into the depths of...

into the depths of my darkness
my hidden corners with closets full of skeletons
I hide
so how can you be adoring me

Autumn's mist

green eyes stare longingly
grey air stares back
-autumn's gloom

Cornflakes

Kellogg's Toasted Cornflakes. Dat staat gedrukt op het gedeukte blik dat bovenop de koelkast staat. Maar het blik bevat geen Toasted Cornflakes. 
Het is ontzettend lang geleden dat ik Cornflakes in huis heb gehaald, en het blik heeft bij mij nooit cornflakes bevat. Over wat er in de geschiedenis van het blik is gebeurd omtrent de inhoud ervan, daar kan ik niets over zeggen. Zo erg lang is onze gezamelijke geschiedenis niet. Het blik en ik hebben namelijk heel lang afzonderlijke levens gehad. De eerdergenoemde deuk heeft het blik opgelopen in zijn verleden waar ik geen weet van heb. Soms zou ik hem wel willen vragen hoe dat is gebeurd, wat voor ongeluk heeft het gehad: is het van de kast gevallen, heeft iemand hem boos tegen de keukenmuur gegooid, is er iets zwaars tegenaan gevallen? Ook ben ik benieuwd wanneer hij voor het laatst de echte Originele Kellogg's Toasted Cornflakes heeft bevat. 
Eigenlijk is het toch een beetje raar. Het is net zoiets als dat je melk in een cola-fles…

In need of a doctor

You penetrate my soul. Take me to hospital. It hurts!

Shades of beauty

not all beauty is white as snow
it comes to us in many shades
open you eyes ~truly
these black feathers are perfect
can't you see
she's just like you and me
different but the same
name-calling is not a game
we are all beautiful ~like radiant souls

A little weird, but beautiful: I'm not ready to go yet

I'm not ready to go yet - Winchester 🎶

This is a weird song and I love it. The first time I heard the beginning of this song, it reminded me somewhat of the music that set the whole atmosphere for the cult series Twin Peaks: a lamenting high voice and strange music. But soon after, it changed to a more modern weirdness. I can't describe it more articulate than this: beautiful weirdness. Like you do not need to consume the mushrooms to space out. Just listening to the song is quite enough. Enjoy your trip!

Lyrics:

No more fear, it’s all said and done

Just watch as they fall, watch what we’ve begun


In the night, they watch as you sleep—

You opened the door, and they want you to keep


One small tear, watch as it falls.

Hung glass in the air, you care nothing at all


No more words, there’s nothing to prove.

Oh how could I choose? Oh what could I do?

What could I do…..

Spiegel mij

een kleine kus
ik geef je
ik leef je
mijn hart - breekbaar
als glazen bloemen
jij spiegelt mij
zoals ik van jou hou

Forest path

tucked between the trees
sunbeams playing with the leaves
hidden forest path

Empty

dust between the sheets
once a fortress of childhood
a bed long empty

Timeless

breathing water
I can feel the past pass me by
calling me from ashore
I need not touch anymore
the hours, the minutes

Final retribution

Her silver eyes fixed on the valley below, auburn hair blowing in the breeze. This was the time to prey on hunters. Stretching her bow she waited patiently for final retribution. If she should die, she would die victorious. They were going to fall, one by one.

Crystals

the burden of gems
born beautiful but lifeless
perpetual death

King of the castle

rows of soldiers standing still in the dead of night
sandstone sentinels outside the castle's walls
I watch down upon them from the tower
expecting them to move as if they were real
as if they could protect my dreamworld place
for am I not King of this castle?
they should not just stand tall but fight the demons outside the walls
moving in the dark, advancing
I wait in vain, knowing my defenses will fall
soon I'll be run over, defeated
in the light of the full moon I'll wake again
into a world I wish to be no part off
not King of the castle
but a slave to the waking world
reality




Choices

In the face of it, well, it didn't matter. Not to me anyway. I had made my choice long ago; and whether he, or anyone else, was convinced it was the wrong choice I was bound to make. It was my choice to make, and mine alone.  So here I stand at this crossroad now, far away from what used to be my safe haven, to make another choice, all on my own. If I had listened with my mind to what they had said back then, I would not stand here today. And once again I have to decide if I should follow my mind, or my heart.  In following my mind; would that not make a sane decision but leave my heart scarred and with the passing of the years, with all the regret, make me insane, wanting to live outside of the real world. In following my heart; would that not make my heart grow stronger, but make me doubt all the time, for reason does not defy logic, while matters of the heart most often do. Why do I feel powerless now, unable to make a choice. Is it because the choice is so much harder to make, or…

Strijd

lang geleden stond er een huis
waar nu kraaien wonen
de stenen zijn gebroken
een boom groeit bij 't fornuis

je vraag: hoe zou het komen
dat hier eerst stond een huis
en nu wat jaren later
een ruïne met wat bomen


mijn vriend, ik zou 't niet weten
alleen maar dat de wind
hier samen met de aarde
hun kracht hebben gemeten

natuur heeft hier gewonnen
de strijd met haar produkt
de mens is ergens anders
weer met de bouw begonnen

De geesten om ons heen

nu de nachten weer lang zijn en de dagen kort en grijs
de dromen angstig in onrustige slaap

weet ik, het zijn geen spoken die ik zie
ze zijn net zo echt als jij en ik
ze dralen en dwalen

naast al daar
nog steeds een beetje hie
-tussenland

houd mijn hand vast want ik ben bang
laat mij niet dolen - helemaal alleen
verdwaald
tussen de geesten om ons heen


Musical Les Misèrables (filmversion): Empty Chairs At Empty Tables

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables - Eddie Redmayne 🎶
Les Misèrables is one of my favorite musicals. I've watched it in theater (London) many times and almost every time two songs made me cry. When the film-adaptation was released I was curious to how the actors would perform on the vocal parts. Overall I was very pleasantly surprised, except for Russell Crowe's singing. Sorry, he's a very good actor, but a bad singer. Eddie Redmayne on the other hand, wow! I've seen him in a couple of different movies such as Fantastic Beasts and where to find them and The Theory of Everything, both different kind of acting performances. So when I found out he played the part of Marius in this musical adaptation, I was intrigued. He has a bit of a strange voice, but very touching. His interpretation of this song is heartbreaking, filled with true emotions. 
Maybe you do have to know something about the events that inspired this song, so you can truly feel with him. The musical and the film a…

Heartbreaking: Everybody Hurts

Everybody hurts - R.E.M. 🎶

This song still gets to me. Big time. The first time I heard it was when I myself was really depressed after my mother had died. I was sixteen years old at the time. Later on I saw the really touching clip as well. During the clip you get to see heartbreaking inner thoughts of people. One of them hit home really hard. A little boy was thinking: 'You die, you turn to dust.'


Lyrics:

When your day is long And the night The night is yours alone When you're sure you've had enough Of this life Well hang on Don't let yourself go 'Cause everybody cries And everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong Now it's time to sing along When your day is night alone (hold on) (Hold on) if you feel like letting go (hold on) If you think you've had too much Of this life Well, hang on
'Cause everybody hurts Take comfort in your friends Everybody hurts Don't throw your hand Oh no Don't throw your hand If you feel like you're alone No, no, no, …