Painted...

This painting was done by 살바도르, a friend of a friend. She based it on me... Made it after seeing un/going home (the docu that will haunt me for the rest of my life) now I don't look literally like this, but I like the stylistic me nonetheless ^^ Looks prettier than me actually I think. Anyways I wrote a poem...



- February 15th, Amsterdam -

I painted my skin
In flowers and patterns
quite literally, actually
giftwrapped myself
... with silver and blood -
drops, drops, drops
Never does it stop
take a turn
roll over
or ever play dead.

A thought came to me
gift-wrapped, not in silver,
bright colors
rainbows made of a thousand scents

I took for granted,
the smell of blood

Staring...

Okay... Little death-wishy stuff. I'm not the suicidal type but I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer for hours the night that I wrote this and I was feeling a bit Joss Whedony. So this is just a blue rant poem, I like it. Hope you do too but don't take the words for the meaning imbued. I so am not making sense...

- March 19th, Amsterdam -

An angel, silently she came
there was light, and dark
and singing

An angel,
pushed on my thighs, wet and unused
sat and held me down
upon the bed I screamed
but words, choked, left me
an angel, clawing
and hissing

The mirror, she stared at me
I turned away, my eyes would burn

My windowsill...

A birthday present for Orin... ^^

- Februari 22nd, 2008 Amsterdam -

Thinking of someday I fell asleep,
sitting on my windowsill.
Tomorrow rushed ahead
and I couldn't even catch up with yesterday.

I don't hear voices
or names, I see the sounds
in gold and silver linings.

I remembered years ahead
some vague phrase,
uttered, incomprehensible
but filled with love,
or a flower,
maybe.

Going home...

This poem is an old one, and I feel one of the better ones I wrote. Not so much because it is written well, but because it feels like me, it is me. It shows the feelings I am product of, and the arc in my life. If the poem sounds bit depressing, it isn't, especially the last lines can be interpreted very positively...

- November 12th, 2004 Amsterdam -

Three days, just one night
Took a train into my soul
No Idea what I would find
Three nights and I'm gone

A home in my head
I wish I could find
The way through hell
Then I'll never look back

Three nights, just one day
I stared into my soul
Missed the train
I'm going back home

Seven...

- Oct 9th, 2007 Seoul -

Seven needles pierced my heart
but it doesn't bleed,
it cherishes the edges
and there is no pain,
not one drop
of seven flowers.
a rose, two lilies, one azalea
two eyes, just one more for me

I hold on to the air
but it fails me
it doesn't mean to
it just feels
like seven drops of ocean...

if I would believe in god,
then would god believe in me?

Little swing...

Once upon a time in a land far far... More specifically June 2005 in South-Korea. I wrote this during my first trip their, for someone who's nickname just lingered on in my head. Maybe cause she was so kind to get me in a cab and pay for it when I was so drunk that I couldn't stand up. This poem is not her, it's only a tribute...

- Jun 4th, 2005 Seoul -

그네...

A swing on a playground
moves by wind and rain
it swings forth
but not back...

A girl once played
with a swing
on a playground
her footsteps are kept
frozen in the sand

A swing on a playground
pretending it swings
by the movement of a girl
that left long ago

That swing
on this playground
by wind and rain
it still swings
and plays
waiting for another girl

Empty Space...

I decided to post some of my old poems on here, since my old webbie is down. Hope anyone who reads is finds it nice.

- May 9th, 2006 Amsterdam -

Empty, filling up
half full and empty
a space is filled up

Empty, it feels
this space, looking at me
with eyes from walls so white
and air as hands, touching
and feeling, as empty
as ever...

Filled up,
half empty, yet so full
this space as life
so indecisive
and so true

A Korean artist friend of mine, Sanghee, used this poem in one of her
projects: "evening primrose" [달맞이꽃 / 夜來香] she did in the red light district in
Amsterdam. She gathered poetry from sex workers all over the world and projected
it on the streets and in the old church in the middle of the district at
night.

Parting...

A car drove by

a train as well

they ran into each other

maybe

someday they'll part again

Railroad sorrow

and backseat pain

turned around, collapsed

into each other they cry

Car and train, sorrow and pain

tears of joy, and smiling...

they ran into each other

maybe

someday they'll part again