Out · of · the · Blue

all broken hearts and broken skin
eventually need some medicine
eyes dull and brain coughing up
images of pain
nerves taut and ears sharpened
to the point of no return
now only the path
leading towards madness
is the easiest road to take

your hands could mold love into perfection,
or break every
single
thing.

here is a woman's framework
set up by her father
he made her nose and ears
and probably her fearful
though unavoidable,
perseverance

here is a dancer
made by her mother
she has lips and eyes
just like her
and is possibly never careless
about her appearance

each part individually
make up her entire complexion
her eyebrows frown like a man’s
her lips pout like a woman’s
and she dances
with the tools she has got
she laughs
with a voice she recognizes
as her own,
the tone exuberant when she is excited
and low when she is alone
a mix of people inside her
all feel at home.

she talks with a voice that is
on loan,
for the time she is here,
in this world
she walks,
with her mother by her side
curled up in exotic release
when she dances until she cries
and her father by her side
when she can no longer hold
the people inside her
close
a battle she will lose,
the day she dies.

he made her out of stone
then she molded her to dance
each part individually
make up her complex heart
but always work together,
even when she is alone.

it was cold outside,
nine o’clock in the morning
the wind blew through the
open windows of the construction workers’ shed
you walked past in your long leather coat
it was nine o’clock sharp,
like always.

i winced when the cigarette in my hand
accidentally burned the tip of my finger
observing you i exhaled a breath
and tried to soothe the pain
with my mouth

somewhere inside
the building you entered,
a woman sat in her office
her legs gracefully folded in
anthracite stay-ups
she cried silently
for the sadness no one shared with her
but pushed upon her,
every day

now i remember
you left around five in the afternoon
and i cared about her,
she was precious to me
even though she cried sometimes,
at least she did so (silently)

but you left
her,
like always
ignoring the wind, the time, the fire
in her eyes when she lit a cigarette
or cried it out,
in her office
and so,
the monotone routine of the day
marches on and on in long coats
through demure buildings,
in black suits and under grey skies,
through strong winds,
with blind eyes.

i want to die and be reborn
and then i want to write a poem
that makes me happy
instead of feel ashamed
that another tiny lonely part of me
has won it from the rest

yet, again.

it is like two people talking with full mouths
and purposely empty eyes
it is like the dog that barks
but never bites
it is like the bird that sings
in an unfamiliar language
it is like hands that touch you
but eyes that never see through
it is like ears that sharpen
but do not seem to listen

you desire recognition
but people barely seem to give you
more than the superficial part
of their time of day
but you yourself cannot see
how you are caught in your own deception
of what they seem to say

eviltweeter © 2009

jij bent jij
en niet you
want ik denk nog steeds
in het nederlands

maar ik schrijf (over) jau
zoals ik dat graag wil
en of ik nu de hele weg ga of niet,
wat maakt het uit
het is geen vraag maar
een retorische
opties open houdende
stelling
vrij vertaald vanuit
een taal die mij zo bekend lijkt
maar eigenlijk helemaal niet bij mij hoort.

dus verloochen ik mezelf
dan? daarna?
wat betekent het eigenlijk
hoe of in welke taal
ik het schrijf of zeg?

jij bent jij
en niet van mij
maar nu denk ik nog steeds
vanuit mezelf
en dat leidt me naar de grote vraag
die onbeantwoord blijft
is betrokkenheid een leugen
die regeert in mezelf
maar nooit de macht zal krijgen
over allen in het spel?

vraagtekens achter elke zin
lijden, het leven
naar achterlijke waanzin

maar ik ben slechts ik
en jij niet

eviltweeter © 2009

so now there's nothing left to wish upon
except the passing cars
the good company of city lights
is drowning out the stars
this parkbench is a lifeboat
and the rest a big dark sea
and i'm just gonna lie here
until something comes and finds me
-- Ani © 2009

i don’t really care whether or not
people understand this
i got things to say that need space
and this page is all i need
and they might laugh because
my definitions might show my age
but then,
are you ever really wise enough
to shake the thought
there’s always going to be
someone wiser than you
who might know and see and do
much more than your age
can pretend to see through?
oh, it is so relative
the moment you employ the argument
of age
to strengthen the point you wish to make
it’s hard to see how a wise you
cannot miss the security it fakes
so i don’t really care whether or not
people agree with me
as long as i know why i agree with
my unencumbered self
also embedded in social reality
but able to see the bullshit
through all the trees
able to see age,
for what it is

a number and not a language.

eviltweeter © 2009

i don’t love you for your
compliance
your agreeing nature
or your forced finesse
i don’t love you for your
pretended mystery
your imagined rationality
your complicated emotional
yet unconsciously
manipulated strategy
i don’t care much for your
silent inhibition
your intended ambiguous rendition
and of course,
insecurity seeping through
all of these obscure views
you penetrate heavy minds
with your intelligence
but the thick headedness
of your reasoning
leads you to unimpressive belligerence
i don’t care much for your denial
of my emotional depth
i don’t care much in general
for abneural
ignorance

eviltweeter © 2009

the scolding is continuous
this story far more true than the one
i told you

my body pulses like a
pavlov dog
i swear that like a cat
i have nine lives
so i imagine that
the pain does not matter much
except for when it’s a prelude to
my death
but then still,
i’d have another eight left,
it’s the mark written down
in the top right corner of the page
every time i automatically
jump up to fetch the reward

still,
this beating is continuous
and i cover up bruises
with the make-up of clowns

i don’t understand how you can still love me
after this insanely true story
of the never ending way
i undermine myself
with insecurity

this beating is continuous
the pain does not matter much

i anticipate and fetch the reward
for my good behavior
but i will never resist the urge
to punish myself,
afterwards,
for what i don’t think i deserve.

eviltweeter © 2009

my heart was cut open
and i can't say why
because you would laugh
and not understand
either way,
you were the one
who sewed it closed again
using a tiny needle
you replaced the big black hole
with tiny insignificant ones
through which a cord was strung
crazy tight
so my heart sings now
whenever you're around

my eyes were blinded
and i can't say why
cause your eyes would smile
and i wouldn't understand
why
either way,
you saw me
you lifted up more than my shirt
and looked underneath
actually, i don't know how you did it
it was not a thought experiment
you simply touched me
and i could see
again

sometimes, though
what you see is not what you get
and what you feel might not be
submissive enough
to the concrete power
of the mind

this is what you told me
i pretended i couldn't hear you
but how could i not?
there was nothing wrong
with my ears
even before you came along

you are unavailable
and i am not
but a thought experiment
might get us past that
so i will thank you for your help
i will not kiss you goodbye,
i'll shake your hand
bye, teacher of matters of seeing
bye, teacher of matters of feeling
our minds are intelligent enough
to fantasize about what we can't be
doing

eviltweeter © 2009

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