LOSLIPPIG

I am writing. I am philosophizing I am shifting I get what I want I ask for what I need And I would love Happiness and vulnerabilty And bravery founded inside. Curiousity is lost, when there is nothing To look for, anymore Please, There is always something Asking to be found

I was born with a skin created from a mixture of  black and white whom equally decided to turn gold I developed silver curls that desperately tried to escape my mind like thoughts or snakes I grew and saw with green eyes the color of poison,  the luck from a four-leaf clover perhaps combined  I am living with a mind that dreams deeply and writes lightly  while the ink of my lefthand  feeds the paper spirit  I was born sometime and when everything is stuck, the spirit leaves unseen knowledge keeps expanding 

soms druppen tranen  zo uit mijn bolle brein mijn keel in huilt dan mijn geweten of het achterste stukje idee van de herinneringen aan toen het allemaal precies hetzelfde was? 

1.  I could still feel his lips. De iron taste and the orange color of blended blood. His eyes were brown as old golden My nails under his skin  and my eyes saw the darkness,  Kitten.  I felt the passion in the color and the taste and the feeling of blood that darkness showed.  We were so afraid it hurt our ribs my nerves anemic caused by thoughts  of losing everything but him I needed to get rid of the atmosphere  a wild cat can find in a cage Passion, freedom, all we could want but love, love is not yet needed.  2. Knisperend in mijn gedachtes als snijdend bliksem door mijn ademloze lichaam Doorzichtige tranen vullen gesloten ogen en de lippen smal van het zout.  Gouden krullen bevrijden zich van het brein en het zonlicht kleurt ze zilver zacht.  Wilde bloemen groeien in een tuin gevormd door de grijze sfeer va...

written by me, Augustus 2014 ---- Magnetic Musicians Their suffering sounds of loneliness Their watering eyes watching the darkness of distance with fast beating hearts Their rhythmic fingers dance over my body But the kisses they throw everyone else. ---- Later is a long-lasting lie It's an elusive kiss floating through the air of time And like these butterflies, it disappears. Later is who you become, I have become later. ---- I once met happiness. A stranger looked me straight in the eye and told me about himself. At the end of the street, he stopped and smiled at me. My story was softly told and doubtful and when I looked up Happiness disappeared. 

Vroeger wilde ik altijd dichteres worden. Dit begon in 2003, toen ik dus een zesjarig meisje was. Mijn dromen waren groots en de kinderen in mijn klas begrepen niet wat ik daar mee bedoelde als ik in de kring vertelde dat daar mijn lot lag. (Ik besef nu pas dat mijn juf ook wel heeft moeten denken dat ik niet helemaal spoorde). En soms op slapeloze nachten krijg ik inspiratie, net zoals dat ik deze blog eigenlijk altijd op de meest onhandige tijdstippen schrijf. Ze zijn dan wel niet meer in het Nederlands, maar Engels met grammar mistakes telt misschien ook wel. i. The cigarette is stuck Between my blood red lips And its smell left on my tongue But his fragrance is still in my bed, so I won't come there again. ii. A secret within My lifeless eyes The thousands thoughts Of breathing air And the sweet and innocent skin Became a painting in itself. iii. You are to me A beware awakeness Into a night full of stars Whom will never shine bright ...