Year after year.
You pop up once in a while.
Messaging me behind the many masks you wear.
The choke hold of me you will not let go.
The grip of your lifetime self hate.
Suffocating yourself while standing in my shadow.
It is not even me you try to follow.
And I do not wish for you to be dead.
Because you already died many years ago.
Mona Lisa
“The story behind the picture to sell, is often not the story the lips will tell.”
M.P.Yasmine
Da Vinci
“Mona Lisa smile, Mon Salai cry.”
M.P.Yasmine
Life
The urge.
The itch.
Scratching layer after layer.
I’m angry and totally sick of it.
Punching the ball of rage.
Blunt, bruised and blackened.
Through healing I’m bleeding.
I cry oceans from grief.
So I can swim my way to freedom.
And one day be weightless.
No urge, no itch.
Featherlight and fly.
Living my life.
M.P.Yasmine
Balance
The sound of life seems out of balance.
It is shallow.
An obscure silence in music.
An absence of existence.
Nothing in everything.
But when the sound of life strikes me.
It is overwhelmingly heavy.
Bright colors in vast darkness.
Tears filling pools as huge as the universe.
Everything in nothing.
M.P.Yasmine
Water
In water you can find me.
My dreams dream gardens with pools.
In different shapes and sometimes empty.
In or around water is the place I’ll be.
In the world of my sleep I often slide down.
Diving, breathing and laughing.
Under water I’ll swim.
And sometimes in my nightmares I drown.
M.P.Yasmine
Us Fools
People discussing and fighting over things they can’t control.
And the Grim reaper is watching us fools.
Ready at any given moment to take our soul.
M.P.Yasmine
Humanity
The process of dying is what makes me living.
Living with unkind humanity.
Death smiles at me.
Like no human does.
M.P.Yasmine
Space
Bruises cover my legs.
I’m bumping into life straight ahead.
Tables and cabinets I do not see standing.
my vessel stumbles in to taking her space.
I even stomped my foot on something stubborn.
It left me purple and doubting.
Reclaiming your space can be scary and hurting.
M.P.Yasmine
Insomnia
Insomnia hits again.
I’m sick of the bad dreams hunting my distorted brain.
My eyes want to sleep so bad.
But my heart feels deeply sad.
Because sleep for me is like a trip to hell.
Because sleep only has horror stories to tell.
M.P.Yasmine
Good days
The good days have come.
Sunrise in my eyes.
Love light beams reflect on my skin.
Voices from around the world entering my mind.
Laughter loud together.
For more good days will come.
M.P.Yasmine
No.7 II
Written and read, so you will not forget.
That I would live on rhythmic sounds.
Touching, tragic, jovial and timeless.
Play this musical movement.
When death has collected my debt.
M.P.Yasmine
Stockholm
I knew this girl.
I knew her well.
I lived with her broken spirit for quite some time.
And with her judgement many more years.
Sadly she never got the chance to meet me.
Only the version of me she was told I would be.
Now she lives in Stockholm.
Once in a while I feel the urge to bring her home.
But then I think clearly again,
With the authenticity of my blooming soul,
That she will never be able to see.
Without knowing the real me.
Without my judgement.
For her Stockholm is the place to be.
M.P.Yasmine
Greed
Greed is a heart issue.
And mostly speaking from the face.
M.P.Yasmine
Tears
The pain of the world I will and can not carry.
I do not watch nor read the latest news.
My tears are already that heavy.
They clatter with such gravity.
In a river of old misery.
Crying daily for others pain.
Would make me drown.
In an everlasting rain.
M.P.Yasmine
Debt of time
I can’t imagine living without the debt of time.
Not caring or daring to waste it all and let go by.
But the fear of dropping dead.
Makes living with time a nightmare.
And brings shivers down my spine when planning my life ahead.
M.P.Yasmine
Stilte
Het loslaten van de stilte duurt jaren.
Stil zijn.
De identiteit die ik wil bedaren.
Door te durven spreken.
Stil zijn.
Uiteindelijk te doorbreken.
M.P.Yasmine
De zon in huis
De dag breekt later aan.
Dan dat ik deed verlangen.
De koffie staat koud te worden.
Net zoals de stenen in mijn tuin.
Grillig in alle staten.
Ik mis de zon in mijn huis.
De zomer van al mijn dagen.
Ik zal eens roepen.
Misschien dat hij op wilt staan.
M.P.Yasmine
Blossom tree park
Pink blossom catching my eye.
Flourishing in small beams of sunlight.
The trees wake up underneath the cold sky.
Girls with horses, photographers and couples early in love.
In spring I see them all come by.
M.P.Yasmine
.
“No.”
M.P.Yasmine
Never marry a Poetess
Hopeless as he can be.
This crying creature.
Wishful thinking and reverse psychology.
This man is writing Poetry.
His words she turns into books.
What a beautiful tragic irony.
M.P.Yasmine
Doors
“Growth is closing doors and open new ones by yourself.”
M.P.Yasmine
Morning
Icy flakes dropping down.
Neighbors houses locked up heavily.
Window blinds all the way down.
I’m looking outside 6 am.
Drinking my coffee, searching something.
Maybe tomorrow 5 am.
M.P.Yasmine
Snakepit
“You can not see in a snakepit. But if you do, get out!”
M.P.Yasmine
Noise
Earth’s noises haunt me in the early morning darkness from night.
People a few, driving their vehicle to nowhere.
At least in misery of the starting day.
The trees can’t even sing.
They cry in agony for a long time now.
It’s hurting listening,
but I can’t cut off my ears.