Makes a mere winner a record breaker
and the first loser’s silver gold.
90 fucking seconds
Suffice for the goodbye kiss of two friends
Though fall short to inspire spontaneous dance
(or violent making out, pick whatever applicable)
90 fucking seconds
Enough to cross central station, when deserted, not during rush.
When it allows a belated bloke a glimpse of his missed train.
90 fucking seconds
The difference between nice, hot, consoling coffee
and the tepid shit you gulp down to satisfy your dependency and barely function
90 fucking seconds
A delay allowing an old lady with a red coat to catch her bus,
closing someone else’s window of opportunity: “we don’t hire tardy candidates, sorry”
90 fucking seconds
With no strangers that know reanimation, the right circumstances
as effective as a death sentence
Fucking 90 seconds
A transformative and irreplaceable memory, he greeted a world, she just opened.
Forgettable disappointment to the adventurous willing complicitor she had become.
What convictions
shall today reduce
to insignificance?
To whom the gift of believing
was not granted,
though they are equally in search
of consolation,
of a palpable,
graspable peace.
That they will not recognize
when it hits them right
where they are hurting
navigating their unknowns
Stepping forward
might have just as well
been backwards
The treatment of truth
as quintessential as it is dangerous
Should we tell them that we too
don’t know?
Keep moving, nothing to see here.
His a land barren, dry
dust covered it, that
She had prayed to be
Come
fertile soil, find
what little I can sow
His heart hardened
by the drought
yet still able to yield
ache and sweat,
digging for mere moist.
On stolen time
To hold a pause
to consume a now
somewhat longer than it lasted
Nature’s not to cheat
He drew floods, massive
uncontrollable, rivers full
drowning her.
Through spoken word solely
void of touching,
sparkling dialogue is warming
- without your knowing,
immediate as much as ever.
Our boundaries marked in ways
most resembling the implicit
perhaps even the by accident.
Speak! I want to hear again
do not ever hold your peace;
If I could thread on the implicit
I'd find a way to stop this ending.
Not a fiber wants to further
a seemingly causeless
destiny lacking course
Cold from core to skin
willfull self-deceit failed
praying to a known false god
did bare no substance
of void filling quality
Every cell perceptive
of its stretch from realness
in as much as one can measure
warmth through frigid and presence with absence
Laat me tot het licht geloven
dat ik voor altijd naar je ruiken kan
Zoals een kind zich onder dekens voor ‘n draak verstopt
wil ik me veilig met je, in je, begraven
Zachte, ronde, warme, is waar te wonen, aan te liggen,
veilig, robuust, vertrouwd deinen je ademteugen
Morgen zal een wekker kraaien,
en ga ik de draak weer tegemoet
Eager to end,
kill, contradiction.
Coax counterlogic meticulously,
take no prisoners, nor allow the weed of doubt
to grow, collaterals tolerable.
Shall no paradox live
compensatory measures taken
against them. Forever unlearned
their lessons remain as a bloodthirst
- though striking terror in its instigator
executioner and forthwith willess subject -
will have its way.
Her feelings fetus-like
unborn, unfinished, unphrased,
in bad faith, ill-conceived
Via an almost infertile thoughtstream,
with nearly fruitless yet violent current,
it entered her
Forbidden Kingdom
Increasing pressure made her deliver
that which the flood procreated,
made its way and
she regained her formulation ability
voiced an answer (in silence)
to unasked questions.
Now to speak it out loud, or perhaps just one scream,
was all she desired and would forever onwards crave.
What ought to be a clamor
of decisive forte
was dead
and void.
An afterbirth of what-ifs
tasted bitterly.
My gut feeling
I ostracized
I demoted it to an expatriate
And
now it joins the foreign legion
which consequently attempts to conquer
My ratio
That pure residu
I attempted to extract, remain with
I am unsure if it is strong enough