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The Recycled Pirate

Rebel by Cause | Warrior by Choice

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Poetry

Grow, from a boy into a man

The candles that melted, smoke that lingered and the wine that has accompanied the adolescents didn't bring much good. They were a whirlwind of emotions that I never understood. Why, was I thinking this? Why, was I feeling so much? Why, was I the only one?

Antwoord

Zenuwen splijten, mensen zeuren of begrijpen. Wat niet weet, wat niet deert. Hoor je ze zeggen. En, wat men wel weet, is in gedachte vaak verkeerd. Alles lijkt zo makkelijk te vergaan, in dezelfde gedachte, maar niet in het bestaan.... Continue Reading →

Waker des dagens

Als een vreemde bespied ik mezelf kijkend in de spiegel zie ik een oudere man waar gister nog een jochie stond. Ik ben al honderd keer gestorven, terwijl de radio nog hetzelfde klinkt. In die zelfde nacht is mijn spiegelbeeld... Continue Reading →

Dushi ku bo ta

Dushi ku bo ta pretu bo kabei pretu bo wowo. Dushi ku bo ta den mi brasa bo por deskansa. Dushi ku bo ta ku tur bo amor mi rason pa biba Den bo brasa, mi ke landa... Den bo... Continue Reading →

The whispers of a nutcase

Have you heard the words every time she comes by the whispers of a nutcase with a heart full of nothing and a nothing full of heart Like an occupation I long for the magic letting the words divide leave... Continue Reading →

The poet in me

The poet in me doesn't like to call himself a poet, nor a writer. (He loves to be called one though.) He doesn't like to make too much fuss about words or grammar. (About anything, pirate remember...) Those are rules for other mortals that I don't abide by.

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