-
Gone
My tears water the flowers,
in a weak sun.
Unconvinced by nature’s splendor,
I just survive.
Moving along,
I keep looking back.
Remembering the things we got,
wishing I forgot
-
Poet
I needed to unlearn everything,
the English teacher crammed in my head
to be playful with language
unfilled needs one to be get.
It’s easier if you forget the rules,
creativity needs little boundaries,
the freedom one of its pleasantries.
-
Debts
Some debts,
the tasty ones
need to be paid
in blood.
To drink from them,
is to feel vibrant
mighty
and alive.
-
Mask
The mask I wear,
it hides frustration
desire
and also, the hellish fire
of a wrath unquenched.
-
Burial
On our way still,
the stately feeling
caused by the walking
feet after feet,
behind the coffin.
Women with their handkerchiefs,
against mouth and nose.
Death is contagious,
keep it at bay.
Once dreamed up
the big, final word
shoes are to small of a sudden,
armpits sweaty
clothes drop to the floor.
We are all naked in the final hour.
The trees wave,
tears on his face
flowers on the departed his body
maggots waiting to hatch. -
Tease in the pool
I see take you off your sunglasses,
soaking wet
and with a grin.
We will be committing sin,
the moment the sun dried your skin. -
Translation poem from Judith Herzberg
There is enough summer yet,
it would be heavy, weighing us down,
grabbing it tight, lifting, what a toil.
If everybody wasn’t nice for everybody else.
We should carry other people on hands,
love is to short for hatred,
bury the hatchet,
ban the grudges. -
The day the earth died
That day,
will come in many years.
The sun will explode,
but it will only meet concrete and steel skeletons.
Because humanity will be long extinct.
They caused their own downfall,
a toxic cloud filling the atmosphere,
trees tumbling unpunished.
Factories breathing death’s breath,
cars clogging up the asphalt veins of a planet scarred;
The animals in zoos the only saved from annihilation.
Men thinks he is God,
God punishes hubris.
Like Icarus flying to high,
people will fall hard. -
Odor
The odor of death dwells,
in this old crooked house.
It’s noisy stairs,
the filthy kitchen with the dishes piled way up high,
Cobwebs down the living room,
and behind the bed,
filling a sane person with dread,
a hangman,
in it’s final stages of decomposition,
almost his rotting body
will fall to the floor,
not able to defy gravity anymore. -
Tablet
I glance at my handy tablet, containing a small library. I read the writing prompts. They were designed to give me inspiration. I entered the device with a fingerprint scan. I had a glass cover. I bought it with the New Year’s money from my family. It was love at first sight. It had a pen with which you could take notes. This prompt asked to describe it. Well it had a plastic cover at the back, storing the pen neatly in a opening that you could close off. I think such an amazing thing deserves more than hundred words.
My faithful companion,
easing my life,
letting me take notes.
Traverse trough Twitter and Instagram,
play a party of chess.
A myriad of options,
I love you more than any woman.
I know I am a nerd,
but I don’t mind it at all.
Poetry and flashfiction 