I didn't feel any

pain, but now I see some blood --


on my upper leg.


Ik heb er niets vanIch hab nichts gespürt,
gevoeld, maar zie nu wel bloed --aber jetzt sehe ich Blut --
op mijn bovenbeen.an meinen Beinen.

Poem S2730
Amsterdam, 2025-06-22
Underland (Alma Mathijsen) - 2024
Novel "Onderland", second chapter
Collection: Truder
Tribute to: Mathijsen, Alma 
 

My body isn't mine

anymore since he took it --


Not of importance.


Sinds hij mijn lichaamEr nahm mich, meinen
nam is het niet meer van mij --Körper gehört mir nicht mehr --
Niet meer van belang.Er ist unwichtig.

Poem S2731
Amsterdam, 2025-06-22
Underland (Alma Mathijsen) - 2024
Novel "Onderland", chapter John
Collection: Truder
Tribute to: Mathijsen, Alma 
 

She keeps repeating

her instruction: you must say --


it's not real. Not real!


Ze instrueert mijSie weist mich immer
keer op keer: je moet zeggen --wieder an: du musst sagen --
dat het niet echt is.dass es nicht echt ist.

Poem S2735
Amsterdam, 2025-06-22
Underland (Alma Mathijsen) - 2024
Novel "Onderland", chapter Mandy
Collection: Truder
Tribute to: Mathijsen, Alma 
 

He tears me apart

wildly without the mercy --


that I die from it.


Hij rijt mij openEr zerfleischt meinen
zonder de genade dat --Leib, ohne die Gnade, dass --
ik eraan doodga.ich daran sterbe.

Poem S2500
Amsterdam, 2025-01-06
Art & Lies, A piece for three voices and a bawd (Jeanette Winterson) - 1994
Novel, chapter Picasso #2
Collection: Truder
Tribute to: Winterson, Jeanette 
 

Zywa Haarlem Smileys

My hand wants to know
what I, what they
want, do, and to
understand what is happening

to my body, and what
it has to do with me

My soul also wants to
know in order to know
and to laugh about it
when I think I know something

Laugh relievingly

Think about why

others do what they do
and then, what hold
my hand has
to help

I think ahead
behind my clouds
the sun shines
the sun smiles

Poem 5246
Amsterdam, 2023-06-26
Tarot 19. Sun
Prometheus thinks ahead
I too work according to plan
I think

Collection: Bruises
Dedicated to: Maria Godschalk 
 

In how many beds

would a girl be lying now --


crying for her fate?


In hoeveel beddenWie viele Mädchen
zou nu een meisje liggen --würden jetzt weinen im Bett --
huilen om haar lot?Warum? Warum sie?

Poem S1361
Amsterdam, 2022-03-20
My true story (Karin Bloemen) - 2019
Autobiography "Mijn ware verhaal"
Collection: Whirligig Scribbler
Tribute to: Bloemen, Karin 
 

I was never there,

I did not feel my body --


Afterwards it hurt.


Ik was er nooit bij,Ich war nie dabei,
voelde mijn lichaam niet meer --fühlte meinen Körper nicht --
Erna deed het pijn.Danach tat es weh.

Poem S1356
Amsterdam, 2022-03-17
My true story (Karin Bloemen) - 2019
Autobiography "Mijn ware verhaal"
Collection: Whirligig Scribbler
Tribute to: Bloemen, Karin 
 

He rips up my dress,

my skin turns into hard bark --


my blood into sap.


Hij scheurt mijn kleren,Er zerreißt mein Kleid,
mijn huid verhardt zich tot schors --mein Blut wird zu blassem Saft --
mijn bloed wordt bleek sap.meine Haut Rinde.

Poem S1278
Amsterdam, 2021-11-04
Metamorphoses (Ovidius) - 1
Apollo and Daphne
Column "Het hout" ("The wood", in nrc; 2021, Ellen Deckwitz)

Collection: Whirligig Scribbler
Tribute to: Ovidius 
 

Knowing, not really

wanting to know what happened --


A play without end.


Weten, niet willenWissen, nicht wissen
weten wat er is gebeurd --wollen, was doch passiert ist --
Spel zonder einde.Spiel ohne Ende.

Poem S1178
Amsterdam, 2021-05-19
Last Year at Marienbad (Alain Resnais & Alain Robbe-Grillet) - 1961
Film "L'Année dernière à Marienbad"
Collection: Truder
Tribute to: Resnais, Alain; Robbe-Grillet, Alain 
 

I was not present,

so I could not make a stand --


I was bodiless.


Ik was er niet bij,Ich war nicht dabei,
ik kon me niet verzetten --konnte nicht widerstehen --
ik had geen lichaam.ich war körperlos.

Poem H2846
Amsterdam, 2020-12-10
Vanishing point (Wytske Versteeg) - 2020
Story "Verdwijnpunt"
Collection: Truder
Tribute to: Versteeg, Wytske 
 

Zywa The year 2000 -- and then a new century

The music is calling, celebrate it
with me, with all of us
I challenge you

don't touch me
it's not your concern
why

I rather don't
even want to
know it myself

What I understand of it
is not up for discussion
Don't touch me

the scars are more sensitive
than I can bear
I don't show them

The music is calling
I challenge you
I challenge you

Poem 2943
Amsterdam, 2020-04-20
Collection: Bruises
Dedicated to: Maria Godschalk 
 

Zywa The alarm went off

The alarm went off
in my belly, I thought
but it was already blasting

much earlier on my skin
for puzzling danger
Then I would run away

strike out or clench
like an iron clamp
I was a walking fortress

disguised as a girl
longing for contacts
that I could not bear

without necessity
and hard agreements
I still don't want to

be cheated
by understanding and sweet words
my body tolerates nothing

certainly no expectations

Poem 2945
Amsterdam, 2020-04-20
Collection: Bruises
Dedicated to: Maria Godschalk 
 

Zywa I am not like that

The doorbell rings, an unexpected visitor
Dad is afraid and does not want to open
The man at the door asks me

to come with him for further investigation
You must come, he says, there is no choice
Don't you make it worse than it is!

Dad, dad, why? Where
will they take me? Whatever they say
I didn't do it, I am not like that

The guards are silent, my heart runs
away from my legs, but it is not far:
three blocks away they leave me behind

in a large mansion, I am saved
the housekeeper says it too
as long as you stay within these walls

Here, the research is at a standstill
You get nice clothes and
the yeoman is a tender lover

He loves pretty girls, sixteen
you are, be happy and do as he says

Two long sleepless nights

Mr. Investigating Judge lies in me
He loves sixteen pretty girls
locked up in his house two by two

Dad, mama, I disappeared, fortunately
you don't know anything about all
I have done, because I am not like that

Poem 2050
Amsterdam, 2019-01-23
Spain (Zaragoza 1711 - Inquisition)
Omphale Valabriga

Collection: Short Sermons
 

Shed.. my tears of grief,

rested.. with my misfortune --


Forgotten.. myself.


Mijn verdriet gehuild,Mein Trauer geweint,
in mijn ongeluk berust --in mein Unglück mich gefügt --
Mezelf vergeten.Mich selbst vergessen.

Poem H1987
Zandvoort aan Zee, 2018-01-29
Collection: A Home
 

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