Out of the Blue

starting with a blank page
on which i cannot find enough space
on which i cannot really extent
on which i cannot reinvent

after 5 more minutes
only tears mark the use of it
and dried ink only repeats
what they said

nothing could be more alive
than your breath, your smell,
your thighs

as they push up hard against my rhyme
as they brush against mine
crossing the line

as they dictate my way to write
and define my things to prove
as they decide how i get through the night
and direct my way to move

starting with a blank page
that could never capture this view,
or the feel of your lips, your thighs
your hands
that could never really capture

you


Eviltweeter © 2003-2009


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why do i lock my door,
all the time?
the visitors don't come anyway.

there’s a red letter
sitting on the edge of my desk
and I’m sitting here,
staring at it
yesterday I passed through the hallway
I met you again
we walked to the elevator
and exchanged warm smiles
you asked me how I was doing
and how my difficult choice was
coming along?
I told you it was not
so easy to give a clear answer to that
I told you I’d written the letter
but had not posted it yet
we got on the elevator
you asked me where I was going
I answered “to the ground floor”
you questioned my choice and said
“now why would you want that?”
I told you how
this would be a red letter year
so I need my feet
planted firmly on the ground
and need my head
out of the clouds

eviltweeter © 2009

I finally came across
a new world
when you fed me with your
dreams.
I took a peek from
underneath my own freedom
and emerged from Plato’s cave
to see you there.
really, I,
always knew you would come,
one day
to sweep me off my feet
and inject passionate love
into me.
really, I,
always knew the day would come
when our worlds of freedom would collide
and we’d no longer only live inside
our shells.

eviltweeter © 2009

drip. drip. drip.
they said they wanted out
but i wanted them back,
in.
they leaked onto the floor
spilled over the tub
and the edge of my coffee cup

then they started being careless and said:
“let’s go for the cliché”
and finally made their way
down my cheeks.

no control. no control. no control.
you accused me of having too much,
but,
I don’t understand how you can miss
the point so greatly.
don’t you know that wanting control
might mean that one lost it,
somewhere,
along the way?
down my cheeks,
a long, long way,
until they shattered when they finally
reached the ground.

it’s quiet, now.
here, at least.

I wish you could see me now
with dried tears on my cheeks
and a body screaming for
release.
they said they wanted out,
and so they went, far and fast
for the cliché.

but you would never guess me for
an ordinary girl.
because in your eyes,
I make a rational choice
and you hear nothing but your own voice.

eviltweeter © 2009

there once was obsession
then along came choice
now the only thing left
is consequence

strong will flourished
through ability
weak heart suffered from
humility

but obsession yielded
a difficult choice
and in the here and now
i still hear my voice:
“just shut up and do
what is expected of you”

oh, wrong choice
i want to go back in time
and unsay both of
these terrible lines.

eviltweeter © 2009

yesterday i took off my armor
and stripped off my clothes,
i was naked while i stood in the spotlight.

it was a risk to catch your eye,
at the same time,
but i did it.
you returned my smile with a look of
ancient suffering in your eyes
you recognized my crime because,
while i stood there naked
i saw the pictures of forgotten times
roll in the reflection of your iris.

you left early and took my armor
with you
underneath your arm you carried it.
you barely registered its heaviness.
so when we ran into each other again
downstairs,
right before we both left,
you were able to tell me:
“i can always fake it”
when i told you how your enthusiasm
does miracles for those
who are not able to recognize
the vulnerability you’d been showing
ever since you took off your disguise
so many years ago
and mistakenly,
people still thought that
it was all part of the show.


eviltweeter © 2009

the picture of a blessed and happy little girl
perched upon the old black window sill
is what catches her attention,
when she shakes herself out of her reverie

the girl has grown older in the picture that
hangs on the wall, accompanied by
other memories of long lost times:
she smiles on all occasions

then she turns back to the window and thinks
about how it is a strange thing to change
and how it is strange that we only
care to take pictures when we are happy

the girl in the picture has lost some
along the way to where she sits now
perched upon the edge of the couch
she bought on a happy day

she notices the pattern, but is not afraid
of how the first picture stands alone
how those on the wall have grouped together
and how she sits here, now, alone

perched upon a couch the girl sits,
looking at herself through past eyes,
through future eyes as well:
now she will not take the picture

she saves her smile for happy times.


eviltweeter © 2009

sometimes i wish there was an insect
that likes to suck the fat off my hips
and sting until i would finally be able
to control this obsession,
with food.
like when i nearly lose control
and you push me hard
up against a wall,
without mercy
and afterwards
are shocked that you did.
your eyes betray how you don’t understand
my willingness to let you,
or, me taking a liking to the fact
that you did.

my dream always ends right where
the realization dawns and shows
up on your face
oh how i wish it was truly in your nature
to push and push and push me
until i would lose control and cry and cry out
and live.

but i’m looking for solutions
in wrong or utopian places
and every time i wake up
i merely see your serene face staring back
at me
and i don’t need to look
underneath the covers
to realize how i wish i wasn’t

hungry

today.


eviltweeter © 2009

she is contained and caged
by her elusive self
she does not like that about herself at all,
but she wants you
and you want her too

she is deeply attracted
or attractive,
she has a childlike quality
and eyes that betray a fantasy
not a word about her body
because she wants you
and you want her too

you kiss her lips and taste her
complexity
you feel more than physical
attraction,
but she is contained
and caged,
by her elusive self
but who cares because
she wants you,
she wants you,
and you want her too

eviltweeter © 2009

i have wanted to write this poem for ages
never, though, have i really been capable of
finding the right words to express what i feel
in my heart whenever
somebody takes my hand and leads me places
takes my head and teaches me things
that need to be seen and taught
and it makes me happy

so even while i’m writing this now
i realize i have not found the right words yet,
but this will have to do
like madonna says
“express yourself, don’t repress yourself”

i’m sitting here now with a burned out cigarette
and an empty cup of coffee
i am alone, like most of the time
but times like these i don’t feel lonely
only disappointed

again, somebody took my hand
he showed me things that elicit sighs of bliss
took my mind and kept it from closing
cause it was about to do just that

but then,
even though i have not found the right words yet
(this i must emphasize over and over)
i must say this:
a recurring pattern of abrupt goodbyes
of people scared of confrontation
has left me here, with a burned out cigarette

not lonely at all,
just very disappointed.

eviltweeter © 2009

can i have a conversation with you?
i think to myself,
we met each other two times now
on the same day
and each time i forgot
to look at your face

three times makes the best timing
for our little conversation
i ask you why you were not there
you do not answer me straight
but then, you do.
“i never go to these things”
you say
i don’t know if you say that to
legitimize your absence
i ask you “why, you are too shy?”
you joke and say: “yes”, but then begin to
digress
because there is no honest answer
to my ambiguous question
i am not looking for one anyway

you ask me “hey, what about
this and that?”
so there is something else
you want to know,
now we are talking anyway
you ask me something about something
i do not know much about
but you mistake my honesty for
disguised insincerity
and then you stare me down

i'm not alone,
there,
with you
the moment you employ your eyes
to do the job your mouth should do
sometimes i wonder how
people can have such different conceptions
of how things really are
but this time the third party notices
and sympathizes with me

i think you are a self-interested coward
with a misleadingly charismatic brain
but my fellow student thinks
you are a “father figure”
i barely contained my laughter
when i heard this coming from her
but maybe it’s the true vibe that she gets from you?
maybe you send me different signals
because that’s just what you do?

how come we always end up speaking
but never really saying anything at all?
i think all these things, when you smile and say:
“i have to go, now”
i think them always, but never speak them
while i smile back and wonder how

eviltweeter © 2009

we all have our sores
the body pulses
when we take it personally

we all have imperfections
the brain wracks
when we think it over
too much

i could be offended
by your absence when i thought i
had it all figured out
i could pretend i know how
and why
and when,
about you.

i could think i don't pretend,
but really know

yet,

your absence is all i need
to see clearly how
we all have our sores
and could care,
less

about showing them,
knowing them,

really outgrowing them.

eviltweeter © 2009

it’s a melting pot and an opened slot
two qualified concepts to rot,
away in the never ending conversation
of our bodies.

you come with your appalling eyes
and non-existent eyebrows
what makes you think i just want
alien fingers on my ass?
makes you think i want
desperate views of my crotch
magnified in your iris
when you come so close with those
appalling eyes?

you always care to emphasize
how you’re able to read between the lines
but my body is not a good representation
of how my heart likes to be worked
you have not figured out yet,
what the difference is,
i know.

you think if water makes me wet
gestures can have the same effect

so you come on too strong,
with your appalling eyes
giving a clear view of what goes on
in your body, in your mind
what makes you think i want
to just be considered an opened slot?
while you melt and melt and melt
and my heart lies there
to rot.

eviltweeter © 2009

you can come, if you want to go in
my arms are wide open, the fire’s on
my eyes are wide open, my body’s warm
i welcome you and your insecurity
into my arms.
come, if you want to

you can come, if you need to
cry when you can’t do so
love when you can’t want it
i welcome you and your inhibition
into my arms.
come, if you need to

you can seep into me, if you care
about me when you say you don’t
about love when you say you won’t
i welcome you and your denial
into my arms.

come, without fear,
come, without shame,
come and attain
your love in my arms.

eviltweeter © 2009

he was having a hard time
his speech slurred,
his body purred;
his heart was on the line

a gentle breeze kidnapped
his voice,
a vision in front trapped:
no choice,
his truth was cold
but his heart was not
no vision, no courage,
no line of thought

he was having a hard time
stuttering occured,
his vision blurred,
his heart left behind

eviltweeter © 2009

what touches you,
when you don't know it at all?
how does it touch you,
when you want what you can't have?
does it touch you,
exactly because,
or in spite of that fact?


_________

papa, ik mis jou.

for Helena

her voice soothes me
words profound but body far away
a kindred soul willing to offer spirit
telling a life, with such verve
willing to listen to my dreamy babbles
that never quite capture reality
on the verge of insanity,
it is her voice that keeps me sane

she is my sister
we share not blood,
not clothes,
but substance and dreams
we share an abstract reality
that unfolds the moment we open
and lies dormant when we do not speak
that sparks with electricity
when her voice and mine
tangle and unwind on a stormy evening
and after one and a half hour,
merge together to not confuse
but acknowledge substance,
not deny,
but embrace its dual nature

when we speak,
we tangle a bit more each time
we do so to mature,
and then unwind

eviltweeter © 2009

our discussions sweep through obscure dark alleys
you know, the ones where dirty old men hide
and look you up and down
keeping their hands in control, behind their back
while their eyes suggest
a lot of effort is put in that

your voice is a one way street, generally
mine always stops at the end of a dead alley
then turns around only to find
it has lost its way
my mind trying to catch up in the process
where my words are leading me

complication is not where i consciously
collect my hopes when we talk
but my mind gets lost while my voice just
talks.

honesty is not a luxury
though i cannot really grasp
the necessity of the good,
you give it to me freely,
while i can’t.

i wish i reciprocated a general sense of importance
while running through this street
aimlessly just running,

any place it leads me.

eviltweeter © 2009

this poem reads you
while the windows conceal me
and our child is reflected in the
fluorescent light of this computer
screen.

a dangerous tango of thoughts
several spiderwebs removed
from the scorpion's sting
oh, what can i say
i'm obvious and careless
while you restrain
your madness.

push your mouth away from mine
take your hands off my life
now put your ear to my chest
you'll understand me better

this beating is continuous,
my love is never going to
die.

eviltweeter © 2009