I love You, a Thousand Times.

Leaving your house
after the weekend
always feels a bit
like dying

until it’s done.

I have my routine now.
I hoover the rug
my dog shat on
at our first date
because you always
do the cooking.

I wash the bed linen
because the stains of our
love making
bite the fabric.

I smoke one last cigarette
that you left for me because
you know I suck at quitting.

I write you a poem
and leave it on your bed.
And when there are no words
that rhyme or have rhythm
I simply write

I love you
I love you
I love you

a thousand times.

Small Town Dying

on monday
we are hungover from
that weekend
when we lived

on tuesday
we wash our car
because god forbid
the car next door
shines harder

on wednesday
we mow the lawn
and throw the apples
back over the hedge

on thursday we pay
our taxes and fuck our wives
because this needs to happen
once a month

on friday we eat fish
and i think jesus
had something to do
with that

on
saturday
we die

Violated

he looks like
an army vet
like in one of those
american movies
we watched

pilot glasses
porn moustache
trucker cap

he rides a mobility
scooter
and his wife rides one
too
while his granddaughter
bounces up and down
a makeshift trolley

i wear a sleeveless shirt
and he looks at me
with that disgusting man face
some of them make
while his wife complains
about the weather

Summer in Autumn

it is summer
in autumn
because climate change
is only a hoax
when you are
a millionaire
and your head
has been crushed
by the paper
you made
underpaying
the women
that sew

for the rest of us
it’s wildfires
and tsunamis
while
you set
a nature reserve
on fire
to reveal the genitals
of your baby
like gender
is still a thing
worth celebrating
instead of
a bunch of cells
sticking together
in a womb

i take of my shirt
and look at the brown
leaves on the curb
wondering when
we all die
in mother nature’s
final attempt
to salvage the planet

White Privilege

his skin is
beautiful
but he speaks
of the colonialism
that’s embedded
in it and
the oppression
he was born
from

his skin is beautiful
but his mother
preferred the
milky white tones
of the other boy
she birthed
and made sure
he knew it

his skin is beautiful
but the white man’s
ignorance
is grand

he tells me he works
in what his
white peers
call ‘the exotic room’

this makes me want
to cry
fragile white tears

his skin is beautiful
but i don’t dare
tell him that
after the talk
we just had
my whiteness
wrapping its
hands around my
throat and squeezing
so hard
that my
vocal chords
fall out

I wasn’t aware of my own ignorance and privilege until I talked to this boy. I have posted some tools on how we as white people can become an ally to our black communities. Racism exists everywhere, even in a country that I thought was pretty liberal. I am Dutch and the more I learn about our country’s history, the more I realise I know nothing. Stay safe, be kind and keep and open mind and heart. Listen.

Ametisto

the stone
in his hand
is pure
purple
magic

he tells me stories
of its birthplace
spanish flowers
in the mountains
women dancing
in folk dress

and i can feel
something
growing
as the purple
rests on
my chest
for the first time

because a necklace
is never just a necklace
but a whisper
of a promise
planted softly
on bare skin


This poem was written about a piece of jewelery created by Joyeria Ramos.

Eindhoven in the Summertime

he asked me
if i would go analy
she said
while crossing
the zebra

there are three
of them
all blond and giggly
and i probably
wasn’t supposed
to hear that

i’m walking around
his city
which used to be mine
long before he
arrived
all hopes
and ambition
and with an accent
that makes my knees
shake

it looks like it is about to rain

i pass a striped top
with big tits
under the bridge
she reminds me
of that girl
who told me
my ex was still
living
with his wife

i text you
that i’m horny

the sun reflects
on the pavement
and the statue
of a maiden
pouring oil
for all eternity
catches my eye

i will sort you out
when we i get home
you say

home

i listen to the tapping
of a blind man’s cane
against the curb

the uber eats biker
pulls a face
and i give him
the finger

home
you said
and that’s exactly
what it feels like