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Arse poetica

Show, don't tell. A poem is a painting. Would you paint a blatant heart or skull in your  scenery if there's a way to polish it up until it shines again? No-one likes dust on canvas. Be that Gustav Klimt.

It's a wrong thought that just refuses to die: a poem doesn't have to be beautiful. If a poem needs to be surrounded by thorns, has to scrape your skin till it bleeds, then the poem must never be beautiful. Keep this in mind: the poem always has to be good.

Rework your poems. Think of the person you could have been if your mother could have been able to give birth to some drafts of you, improving some flaws each time. An unstructured poem is a sign of utter weakness.

If you tell an anecdote, the reader must feel like he's drawn into some surrealistic, or even Dadaistic scene. Be intimate, tell details, try to get them out of the context so the reader can only guess what the realistic imaginary means.

If you let the surrealism flow, the reader must feel like you're telling him some all-day tale. Or a drinking story. Never run out of drinking stories.

All sound is music (if it is good music, well, tastes do differ), but mind not all words are poetry. But they can be.

Do read. Don't try write a poem if you don't see that often how a real poem looks like.

There's nothing wrong with being sentimental, but never ever write like American-style post-grunge powerballads. They remind me of that anecdote, in which a women told me her husband only once said "I love you", once was enough for her whole lifetime, he answered when she asked about it.

Words make love to each other and to the reader. Many self-called poets only masturbate and that can be very enjoyable, but only for one person. Nobody likes to see someone masturbate in public, although there are perverts who actually choose to go to the mall with their pants down.

When my writing desk starts feeling as an instrument of torture, than I am tortured. When my writing desk starts feeling like an instrument of enlightenment, I don't work as hard as I should.
Ten short points on writing poetry, my Arse [sic] poetica.
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Ian Curtis as a poète maudit

Joy Division in my youth

Long before I self-diagnosed myself during Dutch classes as an incurable Romantic or before I heard the term "poète maudit" (it translates as "doomed poet"), the music of Joy Division touched me somewhere in my heart, in a place were later only spare room came free for Leonard Cohen and Charles Bukowski.

I was 14, heavily melancholic and despite of my normal appearance, punk as fuck. Someone in my class used to refer to me as "Sex Pistol", after the band. Rotten sang "No future" and I had no future, I just kept on keeping on, as Vic Chesnutt would tell me beautifully when I was 18, four years later. I didn't have any "real" problems, except for problems with socializing and my strong tendency towards spleen. (I was introduced to that term at 18, again, by Charles Baudelaire; talkin' about revelations.)

In this period, I started discovering Joy Division, formed after a Sex Pistols gig. I remember the first time I saw Joy Division; it was the video of "Love Will Tear Us Apart" on TV, with an informative cadre, which renewed itself after some seconds. Formed in a grey, British industrial city, singer Ian Curtis committed suicide, etcetera. I only knew that one song, their one and only hit (and just in the UK), but I was immediately hooked. This was my kind of band.

The poète maudit in historical view

But what exactly is the so-called "poète maudit"? The term was coined by the playwright Albert de Vigny around 1832. Wider use of the term came after poet Paul Verlaine released the anthology Les poètes maudits in 1884. The more known poets included are Mallarmé and Rimbaud, especially the latter was a typical doomed poet.

What were the traits of these poets? They were bohemians, placing themselves outside the society. This was often caused or led to alcohol and/or drugs-abuse (absinthe, opium). Baudelaire, a proto-doomed poet, cherished crime as if it were of some heavenly beauty. There was another factor which was very important: the life of sin would lead to an early death.

We shouldn't judge or hail poets just on or by their lives; their work deserves the most attention. The poètes maudits all emerged from the Romanticism, using this very energy in forms as surrealism, Symbolism and decadentism. Common themes: Human decay, striving to the ultimate beauty in art, "not caring about if it came from an angel or a devil".

Ian Curtis as a poète maudit

Did Ian Curtis fit as a poète maudit? As he was called a precursor to Jim Morrison, a very clear example of a doomed poet in rock, it is likely to call Ian one. Keeping his suicide at 23 in mind and the thought just won't go away. Egocentric and maladaptive behaviour? Check. Taking the name of the band from a group of sexual slaves for the Nazis (it came from the novel "The House of Dolls")? Finding beauty in utter most evil.

As I said before, we shouldn't only judge the poet on his life. When listening to Curtis' lyrics, we see wastelands of decay and loneliness. Many people can't even listen to the posthumously released "Closer" without searching for suicide-hints. Lyrics such as "Atrocity Exhibition" and "New Dawn Fades" sketch the tortured brain pulled inside-out. But, Curtis didn't display any real traits of Symbolism and surrealism. His primary literary influences were Burroughs, Kafka, Nietzsche and Ballard; a Beat, a surrealist (but for people in the Soviet-Union, he was a realist), a nihilist and a sci-fi postmodernist. He might have taken some Rimbaud-influence through Burroughs, or both Rimbaud and Baudelaire via Jim Morrison, but it is not likely the classical poètes maudits have influenced Curtis.

But did Curtis turn his back towards society? He didn't, at least, maybe only in his mind, but not radically in real life. He had an own house, was married (but he cheated on her, though) and had a job. Playing in a band was his bohemianism. Yes, Curtis drank, but not incredibly much and the drugs he took were against his epileptic seizures. This wouldn't make him a poète maudit very much.

Can we consider Ian Curtis as a poète maudit? There are no strict rules to claim this title. His strong inner life of depressions and decay created strong poetry which indeed let the listener believe he was dealing with a doomed poet. His eventual suicide took away all of the doubts about this: Ian Curtis was a poète maudit in the modern form; not walking away from society, but feeling the rot inside his mind.
An article about Ian Curtis as a počte maudit.

"Here are the young men, the weight on their shoulders
Here are the young men, well where have they been?
We knocked on the doors of Hell's darker chamber
Pushed to the limit, we dragged ourselves in
Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying
We saw ourselves now as we never had seen
Portrayal of the trauma and degeneration
The sorrows we suffered and never were free"
- Joy Division
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Among undertakers

(act 1:
a graveyard, a tombstone, a hat
three undertakers: Victor, Markus & Willem)

Willem: "There were less heavy exemplars."
Victor (mockingly): "Our youngster."
Markus (more mockingly): "Bury the grudge."
[passes the hat to Willem, who puts one coin in it and takes two coins.]
Willem: "The old age is none of my business." [pokes Victor in his side.]
Victor: "Distillate the potatoes of life well, son."
Willem (realises his comment was not very polite; humble): "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in that way."
[Victor taps Willem on his shoulder."
Victor: "There is no country for old men."
Markus: "That's why we are sailing the seas of gin." [laughs]
Willem (relieved): "Well, that's fixed then, I guess."
Victor: "It's only fixed when ye're dead."
Markus: "The undertaker degenerates to a corpse, in the end, just like the carpenter will become a wooden coffin."
Victor (gets the hang of it): "Or the butcher who will become a piece of cold meat!"
Willem: "Lord Byron became a poem, carved in a rock."
[Markus and Victor look at each other, burst out in laughter.]
Markus (sneeringly singing): "He's Lord Byron"
Victor (idem): "He's Baudelaire"
Markus (still singing): "In church he is Piet Paaltjens and he is Slauerhoff when on a ship"
[Willem is looking uncomfortable, Markus and Willem stop singing.]

[Curtain drops]

(act 2:
Willem, sitting on the tombstone, Markus and Victor aren't visible, but their voices are audible)
Willem: "When I die, the world will not end with a whimper, but with a bang!"
Victor and Markus (agreeing, but somewhat ironic): "With a bang, not with a whimper!"
Willem (raises his voices): "No disease, no old age; not to die of, not to live with!"
Victor & Markus: "Hope you'll die before you get old!"
Willem (screams): "My death will be one that's epic and compelling, my death will be in the middle of an orgasm of ripped open cars, trains, airplanes and/or ships!"
[Willem falls off the tombstone.]

[Curtain drops]

(act 3:
the three undertakers, the tombstone, the hat)

[Willem passes the hat to Victor, who puts two coins in it and takes one.]
Victor: "One. Two. One."
Willem (catious): "What about you, Victor? Do you ever think about your own death?"
Victor: "Yes, boy, that's what you do at this age."
Markus: "Our Byron has just told us, do you want to talk about it now?"
[Victor is staring in the distance, preoccupied.]
Markus: "Victor?"
Victor [starteld]: "Oh yes, excusez-moi. On my age, death does not exist as an incident anymore, but it exists as a system. Have you ever seen an elder reading a death announcement?"
Markus: "I remember how my grandma took up the postcard, the death announcement of her neighbour, and she said: "Let's hear what she's got to tell today.""
Victor [laughing]: "Yes, so it goes."
Willem: "Is there any fear?"
[Victor turns his head to Willem]
Victor (carefully): "Being afraid for dying is not human. Look at yourself, Willem, black-romantic gushing about an early death. You aren't afraid, you long." (looks at Markus) "And for you, death is a gossip that sometimes comes close, but never too close. Dying is other people (sic)."
Markus: "And you, Victor, why aren't you afraid?"
Victor: "Dying is just an even like all others. Just like your grandchildren who can come to visit you, but this happens just once, of course."
Markus: "It would be a more than reasonable rule to thumb: being a grandparent and then die."
Willem: "But not directly after becoming one, of course."
Victor (sighs): "And those who stay alone? And the infertiles? I would have longed to be castrated in that case. Just a small sacrifice."

[Curtain drops]

(act 4:
Victor, sitting on the tombstone, Markus & Willem not visible, though audible)

Victor: "I've died a hundred times, if not thousands."
Markus & Willem: "Bet he practised enough."
Victor (raises his voice): "Each passing car grazed me fatally, but I never realised. I just kept walking or driving, not aware of the fact I had died another time!"
Markus & Willem: "He couldn't go to sleep with that knowledge!"
Victor (shouting): "Dying is what happens when it's done, not earlier and hell sure not later. Not warmer, nor colder than love, because the Grim Reaper is our last lover. He is polygamous, as a fuckbuddy, sometimes he takes more than one at the same moment, especially after all kinds of disasters. But he isn't a romantic person to love: sleep once with him and he's gone!"
Markus & Willem: "Grim is a bastard! Fuck once and he doesn't even stay for breakfast!"
[Victor stands up and grabs theatrically towards his heart.]

[Curtain falls]

(act 5:
a graveyard, a tombstone, three undertakers)

[Victor passes the hat to Markus, who takes two coins and puts them back again.]

Willem: "Now it's your turn, Markus."
Markus (sneering): "Well, you two aren't dead yet as well!"
Willem: "Didn't Victor just grab to his heart?"
Markus: "You didn't throw yourself for a car yet."
Victor (smiling): "Markus, you silly bugger!"
[everybody laughs]
Willem (curious): "Markus, come on, tell us."
Markus: "Our youngster wants a story before bedtime. His last bedtime."
[Willem tries to hit Markus in anger; the atmosphere gets grim.]
Victor (pissed): "Stop that and I mean the two of you. I thought you would be wiser, Markus."
[Markus keeps silent.]
Victor (soothing): "Don't let it bring you down, Willem. Markus can be a very difficult person."
Markus (very angry): "Oh, pick out your scapegoat!"
[Markus throws the head on the ground in rage and runs off the stage.]
Victor: "If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen. And you mostly think it's too hot."
[Victor takes the hat and counts the coins.]
Victor: "Five times, just like when we began. Everybody seems to look in a different way at the offertory."
Willem: "We'll never get any further this way."
Victor [looks up at Willem]: "The difference between tolerance and acceptation, well, that's food for thought, son."
Willem: "We never accepted Markus, we just tolerated him. If we would have spoken out our dislike for Markus, things would have gotten far worse."
Victor (puts things in perspective): "Markus wasn't the best man we've ever lost."
[silence] "And not the worst man, either, I must admit that."
Willem (laughing): "Who said you must admit that?"
[Victor laughs as well]

[Curtain falls]

(act 6:
a graveyard, a tombstone on which Markus is sitting, the voices of a choir of drunks)

Markus (sneering): "Here I am, lonely sitting on this stone, instead of lying under it."
Choir of drunks: "Death is not the end!"
Markus (contemptuous): "The end is an empty liquor cabinet!"
Choir of drunks: "Amen, brother!"
Markus (contemptuous): "Hand over the bottle."
Choir of drunks: "Hang yourself to that tree! Not only because of the descending blood you'll get an erection!"
Markus: "Anybody carrying rope around?"
Choir of drunks (sneering): "Hear him talking. Just like carrying rope around is a trait. He scorns the drunk riffraff, but he doesn't know no fuck. You are working class as well!"
Markus (begging): "Is there really nobody who has a rope?"
Choir of drunks (contemptuous): "Your laces, bastard, your laces."
Markus: "But I will need those!"
Choir of drunks: "You won't need laces. You will need a coffin. What you will get is a farmer, who cuts the noose loose and will find food for the pigs. The heavenly feast!"
Markus: "Don't you just know it yet?" (cunning) "Jesus' father, his adoptive father, I guess we can call him that, was a carpenter, but that didn't make Jesus a workman."
Choir of drunks: "Immaculate conceptions are no good for DNA-tests!"
Markus: "Wasn't Jesus longhaired, lazy scum?"
Choir of drunks: "Blasphemy, you infidel, blasphemy!"
Markus: "Religion, always a cumbersome topic."
Choir of drunks: "Isn't "cumbersome" an archaism?"
Markus: "That's what we gave to God, after He created us, while He was a successor to our heretic tensions to put our surroundings into perspective."
Choir of drunks: "Amen, brother, God after the concept and the concept after humanity, after God, amen, brother!"
Markus: "Willem seemed to be right, even how much I hate to say that. Christianity is a play on paper, without any flesh on or in front of the stage. Pretty theory, but without any human failing it is static and even deathlike. Here is where Willem's gushing rears its head, because it's clear about what the most heroic death was. On the cross. I guess that was notably painful. Whatismore, wasn't Jesus 33 when he died? Dying young; check. I don't have anybody to crucify me, this drunk scum wouldn't even find their own cross and if they did, they wouldn't know what to do with it. Rope is enough, when combined with a tree. In the end, it is about the wood and the age of 33. Didn't the priest tell me I was a son of God? Well, this riffraff is going to see the prove that the working class can take part in the Resurrection as well! It's a shame about my laces, but didn't Jesus walk partially on sandals and partially on water? Suicide a sin? The priest lied, suicide is the limbo of the Resurrection!"
[Markus sits down, looses his laces and starts taking them out of his shoes.]

[Curtain falls]


20/06/2010  – 20/07/2010
As promised, the play about three undertakers who fantasize about their own deaths after a funeral. Please enjoy. My original Dutch version can be found here: [link]
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ik wil je graag zeggen, dat ik nog nooit iemand heb ontmoet zoals jij.
zonder het zo te zeggen
ik wil je graag zeggen, dat ik aanwezigheid waardeer
maar dan wat fraaier
ik wil je graag zeggen, dat ik het leuk vind dat je soms net zo denkt als ik
t liefst toch op een andere manier
ik wil je graag zeggen, dat ik graag zou willen dat je voor altijd de mijne zou zijn
wat ben ik toch naief
ik wil je graag zeggen, dat je me behoudt van alle dingen te zeggen die ik je zo graag zou willen zeggen
maar dan wat minder ingewikkeld
ik wil je graag zeggen, dat...
ik van je hou
(maar dan wel heel gecompliceerd)
liefde is zo'n ontzettend slechte inspiratiebron

-- xx* voor mijn vlinder *xx --
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vlinders, vanille-ijs en vakantiedagen
zomerzon met frisse wind
lichtjes door je haren

ik, vooral jij en wij twee samen
vol mooie momenten
met vlinders en vanille-ijs op vakantiedagen
Het blijft een slechte inspiratiebron.

Ik twijfel over de een na laatste zin, wat denk jij?

-- xx* voor mijn vlinder *xx --
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lachend gooi je je hoofd in je nek wanneer het zoveelste woord dat je nodig hebt zich weer eens niet in je woordenboek bevindt en de concentratie zo ver wegzakt dat je zo wanhopig ben dat je als afleiding nog liever iedere haar op je hoofd er apart uit trekt en om de lieve vrede maar daarvoor kiest in plaats van dat woordenboek de kamer door de smijten en het liefst tegelijk het raam uit  en wanneer in een vlaag van ijdelheid toch overweegt om het boek te smijten omdat je haar vandaag voor de verandering eens geen slechte dag heeft want de innerlijke mens in je voelt zich de laatste tijd al zo fantastisch en het liefst liep alles op rolletjes maar wanneer uit wanhoop over woorden die niet in een woordenboek staan en nog tal van andere dingen je zelfvertrouwen even in een even diep dal belandt als het minumum van de sinusfunctie die je voor volgende week ook nog moet kennen slaat de wanhoop toe met tranen en een onjuist gebruik en een compleet gebrek aan interpunctie als gevolg

Door onthouding van middelen, intoxicatie met middelen, metabole stoornissen, immobilisatie, infecties, dehydratie, ondervoeding, blaas katheter, ernstig ziek zijn



Oriëntatie stoornissen
Geheugen stoornissen
Soms agressief



Onderliggende ziekte behandelen
Voor het verminderen van de onrust:
-Haloperidol (0,5 tot 1 mg oraal of intramusculair) of quetiapine of risperidon of olazapine
-Bij delerium door alcoholholonthouding of drugs/verdovende middelen onthouding: lorazepam (0,5 tot 1 mg)
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"I don't want you anymore" was the cry.
"Good!" I screamed.

Our first goodbye.

"I'll leave, move out, and never come back.
I'm serious you know."

Like a heart attack.

"I know you are" to silent surprise.

Words hurled with anger,
now no more lies.

A slowly dying masterpiece
of life and care
will have to cease.
Strangled by the unkind word.
The steely glance.
The voice unheard.

The love
The pain
All the passion
Fade away in just this fashion.
Not in chunks of anger and hate.
But in small spoonfuls
We create.

A new beginnings ending starts.
A softly rising horizon parts.
A foggy veil disappates.
Revealing thoughts now radiate.

Who am I now?
What do I know?
When will it be?
Where do I go?

I'll tear this life apart once more.
To find my way to farthest shore.
This journey's charge is only me.
No companions sail upon My Sea.

The search begins once more anew.
My crooked lifeline now askew.
Once again I question why.

And journey begins,
with first goodbye.
A very personal poem. Unfortunately, its's still relevant.
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Moving now from place to place
from a day of peace
to one of haste

People blazing brightly
across your sky
make a brief appearance
burnout, and die

Others linger longer
steady, stronger
impressions more subtle
though deeper they lie

More grains to fill the glass,
each adds its weight to the others
Making movements slower, harder
as we wade though all its brothers

Places and faces
that have come and gone.
Or have they yet to come along?
We love the life before us
Is it wrong?
To wait for one to come along?

And fill your life with transitions.

Faster now, flying a furious pace
From place to face
It must be slowed about

A whisper not a shout

Feelings in transition
Not the mission
You thought you were dealt
You search inside yourself
Intuition tells you differently
Barriers melt

The path becomes clearer now
But more narrow and tangled somehow

...and time runs short.
Musings on life changes...
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I never held a raindrop
Made cold from quiet fear
I never touched a tender heart
Unblessed by silent tears.

A moment ends, the setting sun
A memory disgraced
The light, a slowly fading nod
It's touch, our sorrow's soft embrace.

I never knew but one time touched
The Rose of Innocence
Would shed its petals evermore
And Fade from brief existence.

Once more I'll whisper sentiment
Once more so much to say
But words will only shadows cast
Of my souls bouquet.

I never wished for sacrifice
To stain our hallowed breath
Or linger in the depth of us
And feel like welcomed death.

In time my voice will travel down
To ages yet unspoken
Its song will fill the world with hope
The trail remains unbroken.

All is fleeting
so we weep
do not cry
though we sleep
precious moments
time's forever
the saddest words of all
…I never.
Hmm...I'm not quite sure what to say about this one. I really like it. It was an amalgam of three poems. The one I liked, and the two dead-end jobs. Create your own meaning, I have mine.
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See I'm not like other girls.
I don't fall in Love with every cute guy I see.
See, but on the rare occasions that I do fall,
I fall hard. See in my fourteen years,
I've only fallen twice.

The first time, I was falling for quite a while.
Like Alice, it never seemed like there was an end.
But I was soon face down on the floor, dropped flat on my face-
Left there, without a second glance.

After that I hardened myself,
No more, never again I won't fall into that trap.
It was a few weeks and no problems had arisen,
But then he came, oh yes you knew it was coming.

He was different,
And he liked me- that being different in itself.
He was her cousin, funny and comfortable.
I tried to hold back- not wanting to get hurt.
But here I am, letting my pain flow onto paper.
Physical hurt- searing, sharp.

What happened to the late night texting?
What happened to you and I?
What happened to me being so sure?
What happened . . .
I'm so sorry!

#38 100 theme challenge
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Even when she was small, she loved the words.
They would swirl around on the page; making pretty pictures for her.
She would watch and listen as the pictures formed tiny movies in her head;
That only she could see.

As time grew on, she loved the words more and more.
She figured out how to bend them to her will,
She could create and discover through them- and them through her.
In her childhood they called her skilled-
And watched her carefully.

Time passed, and she found peace in the words.
When she was hurt or afraid or alone- the words were there.
Soon she became dependant on them.
They could never leave or she would crumble and shudder until they came back.

No longer did she love the words, she craved them.
People would stare at her as she would walk around muttering to herself.
She tried to rid herself of them-
but she would slowly become more and more weak until she was forced to submit.

Now they consume her, eat away at her.
Now there is little left, she is gone, stored away- the words are in control.
She is fighting it, pushing them down, only to be knocked away.
And she remembers all of it, and cherishes it-

For the love of the words.
I have become too dependant on the words.

# 80 in the 100 theme challenge.

I would like to note I do not write poetry solely for the purpose of the 100 theme challenge. I write and scan the list for a match- please don't let it take away the meaning
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I can feel it you know, my deepest desire.
I feel your lips on mine, can still smell you in my mind.
I feel our hands intertwined, fingers lacing together.
I see your eyes, can imagine you standing next to me.

I long to hear words I've been waiting on for months,
Even just to hear your voice would be heaven.
And to be close to you would be bliss- no matter how long it lasted.
Silence is often loud-  this silence between us is causing me to scream.

I long for you, I wish to see you.
I pray that soon I'll get to hear those fateful words.
I wonder if you too want all this, if I mean as much to you as you do to me.
But for now, I guess I'm stuck craving kisses . . .
mmmm I miss him
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Jesus shot himself in the throat
bled out on the hot Israeli sand
because we are so fucking evil

A minotaur came to my door
I rode into the exploding sun
firing my pistols like a madman

Some people hate The Wasteland
they don't know what brilliance is
fuck them

I have been crying for so fucking long now. An 18 year old boy reading Sylvia Plath. What the fuck am I? This has been written before. Gibberish and pathetic whimpering. The ice cream melts on the metallic ground. Letters makes words that makes sentences that make excuses for all of my failures. Girls hate me because I am so fucking cocky. Inferiority complex. Fuck you. I am better than all of you.

Arabic girls with headdresses
so beautiful in their culture
I want to make them mine

I am such a possesive bastard
fingers running through greasy hair
bugs running through sharp grass

Lines in my palms foreseeing the future
I used to wear glasses
but now I don't

The middle of the earth is filled with
every demon we are afraid to confront
we were made from the same clay
Writing Under the Influence
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Inside Pandora's
Box there is a noose because
Life's a paradox
Pretty self-explanatory
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Adam and Eve
Eve and Adam
They lived in Eden
They left saddened

The elephants receded as
the hummingbirds jetted away
in cool blue streaks
firing away into the background
of extensive nature

A colossal stone sphinx said
-There isn't any way out.
The sharp sun danced on his
spotted soft coat he licked
his paws between purrs that
shook the plates of the earth.

The rusty garden gates swung in
sardonic intervals. Air rushed out
as all living things slipped into the
vortex of sin, and when Adam and
Eve landed on the other side they sat
naked in the dusty landscape of eternity.

They cried
made love
and declared
the rulers
of the curse
given to
them by
A lot of animal symbols.
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"Nothing is more powerful than the words of a broken heart.
The best inspiration is found when you truly fall apart."
The heart of a shattered girl, written out on paper.
At three in the morning under the light of a single taper.
The tears she sheds, as thick as ink.
As her sanity is brought to the brink.
She may not cause herself physical harm.
But for anyone who cares, there is still reason for alarm.
Inside this girl, she's so sick of trying.
Wishing that she could only be dying.
Just read her words, they're written everywhere.
Can't you see she just wants someone to show they care?
But you'll never see the pain she locks inside.
All the nights she stayed up, and just cried.
She'll be with you all day,
Pretending everything is okay.
But if you look deep within,
You'd see what lies underneath her grin.
The heart of cold she does not show.
No one really has to know.
Her writing's back again, better than ever.
For a while there, it had begun to wither.
Happiness had taken hold.
But now her heart is black and cold.
Full of insipiration, where to start?
Her words are as strong as her broken heart.
Written half an hour ago.
Pretty self-explanitory. :/
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Inform the papers, it's another lie
Another day I spent trying to fly
The currents of the issue wouldn't help lift me
Sorry friend, it's the end so please let it be
Seal your lungs if you breathe towards the good times
All I took from them was bad wine and cheap rhymes
'Someday I'll be proud of what I have done'
Thoughts of pride shoot me down with a loaded gun
Tell the sun not to set now
It's too early for my bow
Static plays beneath my eyes every night
When I turn my head I lose the fight
If cold thoughts of mine could break your quiet tongue
I'd think aloud of all the songs I could've sung
Back when we were young and our eyes were wide
Taking my time, but I couldn't choose a side
What do you want and what do you need?
Do you need another hand to help sew your seeds?
Plot a garden, plot your words of remorse
Map out your life to mirror his course
My minutes start morphing into years
I've taken ages to conquer the fear
Of growing old and being sold away
The countless sellers have debts to pay
Felt like writing. That's about it :|
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Lovely little mistakes fall onto her face
The clouds fumble around, sitting in disgrace
Married to the sky for too long of a time
Crying their eyes out, trying to get by
She's sleeping nights and days looking for a better way
Can't be awake to put in her say
Walking around the drug store, looking for something more
Reasons to stand up or to give into to the floor
Such a bore to sit and stare
Will I worry or won't care
Solitary man confined to a steel cage
Metal bars protect them from his blind rage
Nothing but a rope hanging from the ceiling
He won't try to escape the feeling
Hopeless and loveless, drifting to the next shift
Nine to five undead creeping in so swift
Tired eyes stare at life and all of the broken lies
Slowly breathe in and out, shut for the last time
I've just felt so blah not writing anything. I kind of lost the spark :/
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They walked together in the crowd
Acknowledging no one
An old man passing them smiled
Their lives have only just begun
I watch on with my deranged brain crumbling
Another happy couple? The thought leaves me stumbling
Voyuer to a life that doesn't need it
Watch you watch me trying to find a way quit
This pointless occupation I gladly take
Observing the romantic stings left in your wake
Coming home to an unfamiliar past
Dial tone in my head keeps my breathing fast
I walk on a knife's edge between want and need
One raw step disconnects me at the knees
Fall down to pray to a god I don't know
Fall in line, seeds falling in a row
Give them water to drink, give yourself time to think
What you've done to them sets you up to swim or sink
Apparently I'm wrong to categorize
See 'evil', but my head is feeding me lies
The crowd needs to separate
Before I do
They keep asking for my head on a plate
Instead I rip my body in two
Thank god for dictionary definitions. I'd never be able to come up with titles without them.

Take what you want from it. There are no wrong answers~
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Mijn ziel zit gevangen
achter mijn lach.
Een heel kort gedicht:)
Maar die zijn vaak het mooist.

Ik hoop dat jullie snappen wat ik er mee bedoel.

Ik heb eigenlijk een best wel lang gedicht gemaakt. Beginnend met deze woorden. Maar die vond ik uiteindelijk toch niet mooi.
Misschien, heel misschien ga ik die ook online zetten.

Ik kon geen goede titel verzinnen. Heeft iemand suggesies?
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Would you still be my friend?
Would you still hug me goodbye?
Would you be uncomfortable around me?
Would you still look at me the same?
Would you stick up for me?
Would you listen?
Would you still say 'love ya'?
Would you accept me?
Would you hate me?
Would you yell and scream?
Would you hit me?
Would you try to understand?
Would you see I am still the same person you knew at age 3?
Would you talk about me behind my back?
Would you say it to my face?
Would you tell me how you really feel?
Would you lie to me?
Would you think about the past and try to see it?
Would you laugh with me?
Would you laugh at me?
Would you cry with me?
Would you cry for me?
Would you believe me?
Would you pray for me?
Would you still be my friend?

If you knew the real me?
Just something that came to me.
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Will I always be alone?
I ask myself this often,
knowing where my heart is and how I feel.
I love another.
Love can cause pain.
Sometimes great pain.
To love one who belongs to another.
Which is worse?
Wondering what it would be like to touch you?
Or knowing what your touch feels like
only to never be able to feel that again?
Will I always be alone?
As the days go by
lying in this bed
night after night
I feel the answer is yes.
Always alone.
Now and forever.
Popped in my head tonight.
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There was a legend known to all Lunarians of a silver crystal with untold powers. Whoever was able to find this crystal and wield its power would become the ruler of the Moon and be able to defeat Chaos and bring order to the galaxy. Things are never simple with legends and the silver crystal was no exception.

Only a woman could wield the power of the legendary silver crystal meaning the ruler of the Moon would be a woman, which did not sit well with the elders of the clan. Once the crystal was in the possession of its rightful owner the woman could only bear one child and that child would be a daughter. Finally, using the crystal to its fullest power would mean certain death for the wielder.

Anyone could hold the silver crystal but it would only react with the rightful owner. This meant one could pass the legendary crystal all their life and never know it.

                                       *        *        *        *

Selene and her friends were in the village listening to the elders speaking again of their oppression under Chaos. Selene had golden hair with streaks of silver and pink that fell about to the middle of her back. She wore her hair in two pigtails with her hair folded into stars at the top so that made the length of her hair look shorter than it was. Selene’s skin was pale and her eyes were as blue as the planet Mercury.

“Hey Apollon,” said Selene.

“What?” asked the tan boy with yellow and orange hair who was about five years older than she.

“Did you see that?” replied Selene.

“See what?” Apollon said confused.

“Did you see the stone on the Grand Elder’s staff?” answered Selene.

“It has always been there,” Apollon remarked.

“I know but for a moment it seemed to flash all the colors of the planets,” Selene replied.

“You have been listening to too many stories about that crystal of legend,” said Apollon with a laugh.

“The crystal is real and one day someone will find it and rid us of Chaos,” said Selene. “I just know that someone will find the crystal. I do not want my parent’s death to have been in vain trying to protect this planet. My heart will never give into the darkness that breeds from it.”

“Calm down Selene,” said the pink hair girl beside her.

“Sorry. I know it was not an accident like people say and that my parents were killed because of something they knew about the crystal,” said Selene.

Suddenly Chaos appeared above the crowd. “No matter how you struggle you pathetic weaklings will never be able to over come the darkness.” Laughter rang out as people ran screaming frantically to get away as bolts of dark energy rained down upon the people. “Run all you like. You can’t hide from a god!” While houses and buildings were on fire, the entity faded amidst the destruction. “In the beginning there was Chaos and darkness and there will be Chaos and darkness in the end.”

Selene noticed that in the commotion, the Grand Elder had lost his staff and that it was lying over by a burning cart. Picking up the staff carefully she walked over to the group of elders. “Grand Elder,” Selene said quietly. “I found your staff over by a burning cart but the crystal is gone and I did not see it near where the staff lay.”

“Thank you my child,” replied the Grand Elder smiling before being over come with a coughing fit.

“Leave us,” ordered the black haired elder.

“Please let me help. My grandmother suffered from the same disease. I can help try and ease his pain,” begged Selene.

“Fine,” said brown haired elder. “Only since your mother and grandmother were some of the best healers in the village and on the Moon.”

Inside the Grand Elder’s house, Selene waited until they had laid the Grand Elder in his bed and they summoned her. Selene put her hand on his chest to feel his heart beat. Then slowly she began moving her hands over his body starting at the top of his head and ending at his feet but never physically touching the Grand Elder.

Opening his eyes the Grand Elder looked at her. “My Child, Thank you for trying to help an old man but my time is soon. Please listen to my words.” Selene stopped her motions when she heard the Grand Elder speak. She nodded starting at the floor. “Child do not advert your eyes for I am not a god but a simple man. There is something special about you. One day long in the future when you great-grandchildren’s bones are dust you will be the one whom our people shall see as a goddess. A Lunarian’s aura is silver by birth but yours glows brighter than any I have ever seen.” Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath the Grand Elder reached under his robe and took out an ornate star shaped locket. The people had always thought that the locket was very feminine but was one of the symbols of the Grand Elder for as long as anyone could remember so no one questioned the status of the locket. “I am not like the fools that surround me. I know that one day the elder council will fall to give rise to a woman, a woman that can wield the power of the legendary Silver Crystal. That woman shall be named Queen of the Moon Kingdom.” Pulling on the chain, he handed the locket to Selene. “May this help you find the Silver Crystal so that Chaos will be rid from our land,” he said beginning to cough again. Selene turned to leave to fetch him so water. “Wait my child,” he said grabbing her arm. “This also means that by my giving you this locket that when I die you are now the leader of our people”

“Grand Elder I am a mere child who has only lived for fourteen rotations. I know nothing of governing nor will our people listen to a child let alone a girl.”

The Grand Elder’s gentle face turned to a scowl. “I am still live and I am still the Grand Elder. And while I live my word is law!”

“Yes Grand Elder,” replied Selene bowing and taking the locket from him.

“Thank you my child,” said the Grand Elder as he closed his eyes for the final time as his hand fell limp from hers. With tears in her eyes, she placed the locket around her neck and turned to walk out the room. Standing in the door was the Grand Elder’s advisor who nodded at her as he moved to let her pass. When she entered the main room of the house, the other elders gather around her.

“Why have you stolen the Grand Elder’s locket?” asked one elder with hair as black as the sky.

“I did not steal this. The Grand Elder gave it to me,” replied Selene clutching the locket.

“He would not do that!” yelled the man with hair of green falling past his shoulders.

Then a man with black hair lunged Selene trying to grab the locket. “Stop!” yelled the man with white hair who had been standing in the Grand Elder’s doorway.

“Second Elder Artemis,” the four men said kneeling.

“He did give me this,” said Selene. “The Grand Elder’s last wish was for me to have this.”

“Last wish,” whispered the elder with short brown hair.

“What,” yelled man with hair as red as the planet Mars along with the other three elders.

“I saw the Grand Elder and he gave her this locket. I also heard his final words. He believed this child to be the one who will have the power to defeat Chaos,” answered Artemis putting his arm around Selene’s shoulder.

“The only one rumored to do that is the one who possesses the Silver Crystal and I will never be ruled by a woman,” declared the man with black hair.

“We have always taken the Grand Elder’s word as law and his last words shall be treated no different,” said the man with brown hair.

Suddenly the black haired man produced a dagger and ran at Selene. Artemis pushed Selene to the ground while the brown haired man got the dagger away from the other man. “Some may think of you as a wise man,” Artemis spoke to the man on the ground, “It is a fool not a wise man who cannot see that all things must change.”

“We do not need to fight among ourselves when we are already oppressed by Chaos,” the brown hair man declared pinning the black haired man’s right arm behind him.

Looking at the three other men, excluding Artemis, the black hair man said, “You agreed with me that you did not want to be ruled by a woman.”

“Yes,” answered the man with green hair, “but Second Elder Artemis is right. We are fools if we can not see that change is necessary.”

“If you insist to go against the Grand Elder’s word then there is not place for you here.” Artemis nodded to the green haired man who opened a portal as the brown haired man threw the black haired man.

The four men looked at Selene who was still lying on the floor. “There is no way I can do this. I cannot lead our people. It was the Grand Elder’s last request so I will try. I want all of your help.” Turning to Artemis she said, “The Grand Elder believed that I can possess the Silver Crystal. Do you know of anything that might help me find the crystal?” Artemis turned and left for the Grand Elder’s personal library.

“Child,” Selene heard the brown hair man say as he led her to the couch. “We will be honest with you. It will be hard the kingdom to get use to a female ruler but we will do anything to help you. Our main goal is to defeat Chaos.” Selene looked at the red hair man and the green hair man as they nodded to what the brown haired man was saying.

“Please call me Selene.”

Artemis came back shortly. “The only thing any of his books say is that the crystal will react only to the right person and that anyone could posses the crystal and not knows it.”

“Well that help,” Selene mumbled.

“Go home and we will figure out how to tell the kingdom of the Grand Elder’s final decision,” Artemis told Selene as he pushed her towards the door.

Entering the house, she had called home ever since her parent’s death Apollon came running up to her. “Where have you been? Mom is going crazy thing Chaos had killed you and that she was not able to protect her best friend’s daughter.”

“I have been with the Grand Elder since I was practicing healing from Grandma and Mom before they died. He had one of his fits and I thought I could help.”

“What is wrong,” asked Apollon. “It is not like you to space out like that.”

“Nothing, I just have a lot of my mind,” she said. Then looking at him with a smile she said, “Can we talk?”

“Always,” he answered smiling back at her. “I wanted to talk to you too.” Sitting outside Selene nodded for him to speak. "You go first," he encouraged her hoping she would say what was bothering her.

"I am not sure how much I can say right now. You are my best friend and we tell each other everything. I want to tell you so much and I will be able to eventually. Right now though I want to know how you feel about me." The last sentence Selene almost whispered.

"It will always amaze me how much alike we are. That is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Apollon said with a laugh. "You are a strong willed woman who is never afraid to speak her mid. We had grown up together. You have always been my best friend and at times like a sister to me." At this statement he noticed that Selene seem to sadden. "I would always protect you although you can take care of yourself," he said pausing. "What I am trying to say is that you are my best friend and I want you to always be my best friend."

"Always you know that," Selene said with a smile.

"Well when you hit the marrying age in two year I am scared I am going to loose you." Apollon looked at Selene trying to read her as he always could but this time he could not. "Selene will you consider me? There is no one who knows you better than yourself or who would care for you as much."

"I can't believe you are saying what I think you are," as she stood up.

"I have fallen in love with you," Apollon answered standing up beside Selene.

"I think I fell in love with you at some point too," Selene said closing her eyes and lifting herself up on her tiptoes to kiss Apollon.

The next day Selene and Apollon were having their first official date at the Sea of Serenity although the normally hung out there but that was before they realized their feelings for each other.

"I think the sea is even more beautiful," Selene exclaimed resting back into Apollo’s arms.

"You are more beautiful," whispered Apollon as he bent over to kiss her. "I forgot in all the excitement yesterday I found you a new stone. I know you love collecting all the many different Moon rocks and gems," as he reached into his pocket.

"That is the stone that belongs on the Grand Elder's staff. I had wondered where it had gone because it was not on the staff when I returned it to him." Taking the stone from Apollon, she looked at him. "Where did you find this? We have to take it back before they think we stole it." Upon touching the stone Selene began to glow with a bright silver white aura, the stone changed to all colors of the planets before disappearing, and Selene collapsed due to her body not being able to handle the power of the stone.

Apollon picked up Selene and ran to the Grand Elder's house. "Grand Elder," yelled Apollon frantically.

"What is all the noise," Artemis asked coming to the door. "Selene," he exclaimed seeing her unconscious in the boy's arms. "What happened?"

"I gave her this stone I found which she said belonged to the Grand Elder and we should return it. When Selene touched the stone there was a silver white light and the stone disappeared," claimed Apollon.

"The Grand Elder was right," whispered Artemis. Then looking at the boy he said, "Let’s lay her on the couch. Selene has a great power within her. We were so blind. The Grand Elder's crystal turned out to be the legendary Silver Crystal that has been waiting for Selene. She is the one who can defeat Chaos."

"She does not look like she is breathing," announced Apollon. Taking Selene's pulse and checking aura Artemis proclaimed, "She is fine. It will take two days for the changes to be complete. Let her rest here. Thank you for bring her to us but how did you knows to do so?"

Apollon shrugged. "This is just the first place I thought of."

                                       *        *        *        *

Selene woke up with Apollon sitting on the floor beside the couch holding her hand. Felling her stir Apollon called for Artemis. "How do you feel?"

"Like everything is spinning," she said sitting up. "Why is it so bright?"

"That would be because your vision is better. The Moon is a source of light for other planets during the times the sun is no longer in the sky," Artemis informed Selene and Apollon. "Selene you will hear the words form in your mind for the command to change into the fighter that will defeat Chaos."

Selene looked at both Artemis and Apollon and nodded. Holding her hand above her head and closing her eyes she yelled, "Silver Crystal Power!" A silver light engulfed Selene as ribbons of silver wrapped around her body. Raising her arms above her head the ribbons on her torso shattered into silver moons forming a white suit over her torso. Selene crossed her arms in front of her and the silver ribbons shattered into tiny silver moons forming white elbow length gloves with three blue bands on each glove at the elbow. Then she waved her hands across her calves and the silver ribbons shattered into silver moons forming pale silver knee high boots with a silver crescent moon on each boot. Bringing her hands across her face moon and star silver earrings appeared in her ears and blue star jewels in her hair. A skirt of blue formed around her waist, as did a red bow and red choker in a burst of silver crescent moons. Throwing her arms back a blue sailor collar appeared over her shoulders and a silver crescent moon appeared above her brow before turning into a silver tiara with a white jewel in the center.

"Selene," asked Apollon amazed.

"Yes," she replied happily.

"You look amazing," he breathed.

Sailor Moon, Apollon, Artemis, and the three elders ran outside upon hearing the people scream to see Chaos throwing dark bolts at the people who ran in fear for their lives.

"Stop!" yelled Sailor Moon.

"Who are you?" asked Chaos. "Who dares challenge me?"

“I will not allow you to terrorize the Lunarians people. I am Sailor Moon and in the name of the Moon I shall punish you!” Sailor Moon closed her eyes and called forth the Silver Crystal.

“What is that light?” Chaos screamed shielding her eyes from the blinding glare.

“Moon Escalation Sealing!” yelled Sailor Moon throwing her hands forward at Chaos as a silver beam of energy shot toward Chaos whom lashed its own power at Sailor Moon. When the two powers collided, there was an explosion, which shook the surround buildings. The battle raged on and just when Chaos seems to have the upper hand, Sailor Moon summoned the full power of the crystal based on instinct alone.

“No,” screamed Chaos over taken by the silver light unable to shield itself from the power which the crystal emitted. When the light faded, there was no sign of Chaos.

The people who had been hiding slowly came from their hiding places and cheered. “We are saved,” someone yelled joyously.
Exhausted from the use of energy the crystal pulled from her body Selene fell to the ground as her transformation undid itself. Apollon was the first to reach her. “She is not breathing,” cried Apollon.

“Selene is breathing but barely. She used the full power of the crystal,” Artemis said solemnly. “If someone gave up their life for her she might live.”

“I will do it,” Apollon said through misty eyes.

“No,” whispered Selene, “This is what I was meant to do.”

The three elders came to them, “We will give our life force. We know the future of our kingdom is with her and in the service of our kingdom our lives mean nothing.” The three men began to glow red, maroon, and green respectively transferring their power to Selene. Everyone there heard the three elders’ last parting words, “By this act may our kingdom live strong.”

When the three elders disappeared Selene’s eyes fluttered open. “I was so worried I thought I had lost you.” Apollon hugged Selene and then kissed her.

                                       *        *        *        *

Watching the Lunarian people rejoice Chaos grimaced hurt by the power that the crystal had emitted. “Luckily I was able to get away before completely being sealed,” it thought. “A large portion of my energy was taken from me and it will take me a long while to replenish myself. I return one day.” Chaos turned and flew past the sun and from the solar system, which contained the white moon and its search to replenish its energy.

                                       *        *        *        *

As the people began to gather around Selene, Apollon and Artemis looked at each other. Artemis nodded and Apollon helped Selene to her feet. Artemis took her hand and led her to the temple where only the three were allowed to enter where Selene and Apollon were taken to separate rooms.

The sight of Selene astounded him. “Selene you look amazing.” Selene wore her hair as she always had in two pigtails with her hair folded into two stars. There were pearls woven into the star shaped part of her hair. Her strapless dress was white with diamonds woven into the fabric and the dress gathered slightly at the center of her chest. There was a woman beside Selene who was clasping a silver moon and star bracelet around Selene’s right wrist and then laced up the silver fingerless glove to Selene’ elbow that was on her left hand. The glove was not completely fingerless as the fabric ran up Selene’s middle finger to about the first knuckle. When the woman was done, Selene nodded her head slightly to the woman. “Thank you Luna.”

“You are welcome Serenity,” she replied. Then Luna noticed Artemis and Apollon and smiled. “Looks like the men are ready.” Luna had dark black hair in a double set of buns that stopped just above her shoulders. Her skin was slightly darker than the Lunarians, which indicated she was not born of the Moon and her eyes were a golden yellow. She wore a yellow dress that stopped at her knees and a delicate gold bracelet with a single crescent moon on her right ankle.

Artemis wore his silver hair down so it touched his shoulder blades and green eyes flickered when he saw Luna. Artemis had a white short sleeve shirt stopped above his navel and he also worn a white long sleeve duster jacket. His white gloves have a gold crescent moon on the back of them and they buckle at the wrist. He also wore white pants and white zip up boots with a gold crescent moon charm on the zipper.

Apollon wore a black shirt and black pants with a red ribbon around his neck, which held an ornate jeweled star at the end. “Why did this woman call you Serenity?”

“That shall be her name from now on,” answered Luna.

“Please do not think me rude of asking but who is this woman Selene?” Apollon asked.

Luna smiled, “I am the temple priestess who has been waiting for the one who could wield the power of the Silver Crystal. Now I along with Artemis shall be her advisors and you Apollon shall be her king.”

“She is only fourteen,” said Apollon.

Placing a hand on his shoulder Artemis smiled. “Relax Apollon. Selene has gone through a transformation. You shall be married in two years on the day that Selene was born. Selene by the power of the Silver Crystal is now the age of sixteen rotations. This is the only time the Silver Crystal will act in this manner.”

“How can you rob her of two years of her life?” Apollon yelled.

“Apollon please,” she said as he noticed maturity in her voice more than before. “I wanted this. Now we are not so far in age. I am just worried of how our people will react to me being named their queen.”

“More than you think will accept you,” said Artemis as he and Luna opened the door to the temple. Artemis stepped through the down and motioned to Selene and Apollon who came out arm in arm from the temple. Luna produced two crown from somewhere, Selene did not know how, and she handed one to Artemis. “The girl standing before you claimed the legendary Silver Crystal and defeated Chaos. It was the dying wish of the Grand Elder that she would one day be the queen of the Moon.”

After Artemis, finished speaking the crowd remained quiet so he nodded toward Selene who closed her eyes and summoned the Silver Crystal, which had bonded with her. When the crowd saw the crystal of legend, they all dropped to one knee before Selene. With that, Artemis placed the delicate silver crown on Selene’s head as the crystal was absorbed back into her body. At the same time Luna, place a gold crown on Apollon’s head. Turning to the crowd Artemis raised his hands above his head standing behind Selene and Apollon as a yellow odango haired fairy with blue eyes in a yellow dress threw moon dust on the couple. The crowd erupted in cheers and so began the time of the Moon Kingdom and the long line of Queen Serenity.
Here is my newest fanfic but don't worry Dark Senshi has not been abandoned.

This can also be found :iconmoonfeathers:

EDIT: Aug 9, 2009 grammar

EDIT: May 2009
Thanks :iconpoetesslaureate:

Other Chapters: [link]

Selene has been drawn by :iconsailor-aurora:

Sailor Moon ©Naoko Takeuchi
The First Senshi ©*DavisJes
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He never really understood her.

He thought he did, but that was just another of the fronts she put up.

It was an unexpected --and unwelcome-- surprise to find that she had just turned her feelings off for him...for everything, it seemed. He never thought she was the type to turn her back on the world.

He tried to talk sense into her (he was always good at that), but she wasn't having any of it this time. This time, it looked like she had gone too far to be rescued in one piece.

Oh, but he tried.

He offered her his hand through the darkness, a guiding light to salvation; she shoved him away with something akin to disgust. She began talking about him behind his back.

He told her to make up for her wrongdoings; she made several flimsy attempts and then gave up. He began to lose hope.

He left her side, just to watch from nearby; she let loose and ran far, far away. He held in his disappointment and hurt.

He waited for news of any kind whatsoever; she fed on her growing hatred for him and everything he represented. She had been tricked too many times to see straight, anymore.

He let loose his anger once, twice...but not to her face. She wouldn't have that. She stayed away from him.

His anger singed her like wildfire, and for a moment, all was clear.

But the moment passed, and she thought that nothing she could do would serve as the retribution he needed. She was wrong, but she couldn't change her thinking.

He finally turned away, bent and twisted, but never broken.

She carried on, flying into the open arms of another who might have better luck in helping her.

He longed for closure.

She longed for a day without pain.

He wished for change.

She wished to change her past.

He prayed to no god.

She fell to her knees and prayed to them all.
Inspiration knocks.
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