I am called love
I’m in your heart
and in your soul
I’m very close, but often times twisting myself out of your reach
I’m love and I am often accompanied with fear.
.
I am called fear
I’m in your mind
and in your eyes
I’m just a heartbeat away putting destroying seeds into your brain
and once they blossom, I nurture them
and once my seeds of fear a big enough, I bring grief.
.
I am called grief
I’m your favorite emotion
I hurt you with every loss
no matter how big or small
I am by your side – always.
I keep you in a firm grip,
that is only released by anger.
.
I am called anger
I’m just a triggering word away
I make you act irrationally
I make you scream and hurt other people
but I am never alone
I come with anxiety.
.
I am called anxiety
and I make you worry constantly
I make you doubt every step you take
and if you refuse to listen to me
I make you panic and I force you to listen
I am not alone though. I come with surprise
and together we can get you down into a long winding downward spiral.
.
I am called surprise
I am not mean
I come to you suddenly
But usually, I prefer to be good,
I have powerful friends on the dark side, though
and I can’t resist temptation very well
I bring trust along with me, just to make you see that I don’t mean any harm.
.
I am called trust
I am rooted in your heart
and in your soul
close to love and just like her
I am never far away and still often out of reach
I am complex and I refuse to be given away freely
I am frail and break easily,
but I work well with love.
I am trust and I come with love.

nothing to write?

Three days since I wrote a poem or flash fiction. Three days. For me, that is a lot. It is often associated with bad moods, self-doubt and whatnot. But honestly, this time is different. I am just overworked and I didn’t have the time nor the chance to be inspired by my environment. It’s Wednesday today. So far, I worked 28 hours this week. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but… Usually, I only work 20 hours week in order to have enough time to spend with my kids. 10 hours will be added until the end of the week. I don’t have time to think about other stuff than work, the wellbeing of my clients (babies, toddlers, children) and the wellbeing and organisation of my own private life take up all my time. I need to say though… I love my job. I love the way we work and the way we interact. Amazing.

For other people the whole concept of work is trivial. For me it is not. I was a stay-at-home mom for more than 8 years. It defined me. And now things are changing and my work is beginning to define me. I am 4 months at my job now and I am only now getting more used to it and also I am getting more independent and sure of myself and my actions. It took me a long while. But I am there now.

Between October 2016 and January 2017 I worked at another place. They told me that I am not made for this job, but in the end, they didn’t give me the chance I deserved to prove it. Their loss, I’d say. That, and the fact that they didn’t want to keep me on the team helped me to find the best team ever. (For now).

My mind is really tired and preoccupied with work. 🙂

In other news: I preordered a record a couple of months ago. The record was released on June 9th. Until now, nothing has shown up in my mail. I refuse to listen to any songs on Spotify or YouTube or wherever. And yet it irks me that I will receive a preorder a week after the record can be bought in stores. And it is not because I am living so far away… Mail from the UK can be delivered within 2 or 3 days. I know it because it happened before. A well… It will come and I won’t rant. (much)

My head is full of random thoughts. Some were written down now in the hopes that I will find some much needed rest.

Goodnight! 

rant

I am beginning to think that people like me better when I am melancholy and sad and unsure of myself. How is it that people seem weirded out when I am bubbly and in a good mood? Urgh… I know, I am often tired and my mindset is most often not the best, but give me a break! I am allowed to see the light too. I am allowed to be content and serene and okay with the fact that some people are meant to be distant satellites once in a while.

That is where I am right now. I am okay. I am well. I am fine. I really am. I still love the same people and I still have an open heart and an open soul. And I still keep my thoughts on my sleeve and my feelings too. 

I am just me… Good moods, bad moods. Moody all-around. And yet, a good person.

unlocked cage

I still taste you on my lips, you, the one who left me reeling
I cherish what you left and accept that you don’t share my feeling.
I push you out of my soul
If it just wouldn’t leave a gaping hole
But it is okay
What else am I supposed to say?!
You vanished in thin air
Where you ever there?
I guess I was in this alone,
Available for a couple of moans.
I say goodbye for now and erase you from my page
But I admit, I am still waiting in your cage.
How is it possible that I fell for you?
Someone who knows only his own view?
You brought the light and stole it again
You were the ink in my pen.
Did you ever appreciate who I became for you?
Or was I right and I am one of a few?
I let you see me in all my glory
And shared my life’s story.
I was too blind to see that you never cared about me
That I was just another fish in the sea.
I am done waiting for you to use me again
Forgotten. You. Me. Us. Goodbye.

Hurricane

Hush little sweetie…
Under these covers we hide;
Ready to experience our secret desires.
Raw and feral lust overtaking –
Inside of me everything is overheating, pulsing
Continuous moans whispered in heat
Ah… Don’t stop the waves from flooding my body.
Night and day and dark and light
Everlasting lust ties us together in this hurricane love.

Envole-moi!

Elle s’envole sur les ailes de ses rêves sans jamais avoir peur de perdre la réalité.

La où tout a commencé, tout va finir.

La voix silencieuse ne cesse pas de la faire souffrir

Mais toi et ta présence sachent enlever le voile noir de ses pensées.

Reste ici avec elle, dans le pays des merveilles.

Elle voit ta beauté dans tes mots et si elle ose de revenir sur terre,

C’est pour que tu sent que tu est aimé et désiré quand ses yeux touchent ton corps.

Son âme et le tien forment un cercle infini.

Be safe

In a world were every morning is starting with the news of yet another terrorist attack (and/or threat), I just wish you to be safe.

No matter if we are or were friends, please be safe.

By the way, while the event in my mind this morning is clearly about the London Bridge attack, I am also thinking about the 1000+ injured in a mass panic in Turin/Italy during a public viewing of the Champions League finale yesterday. 

Wherever you go these days, please be safe. 

Cathy

the road

I’ve been on this road for many years
Trying to forget all those tears.
And in the deepest low
Behind the darkest glow,
Hope was always hiding
A light was always shining.

I’ve been on this road, walking endless miles
Ignoring the past’s echoes and its cries.
And as I stopped and sat down
It took me a moment to understand that there were new friends in town.
My restless travels and my frantic searching were in vain
This was where I wanted to be stayin’.

I’ve been down that road so many times
Creating stories and words in my minds.
And in the shining sun
When I felt like I needed to run,
I found solace in my broken thoughts,
Tying together their fraying knots.

But this is not the end of the road,
This traveler’s pace has just been slowed.
Soaking in the beautiful landscape
Even the one that was manmade.
Just resting my weary eyes
And listening to the path the soul takes when it flies…

Spirits in need near the edge of lust

Spirits in need
Under crumbling bridges.
Bring back whatever it is you stole;
My love, my lust, my gentle touch.
Iridescent stars light the way
Shining on – and guiding our lost minds.
Souls meeting in silent understanding,
Intuition tells us what we need to do.
Our selves lose importance
Near the edge of lust.

(could this poem be an acrostic?! Yes, maybe, certainly, it is!)

untitled (suggestions welcome)

Leaves dancing in the rain
Sun licking the morning dew;
Reflections in the window pane
Grey skies turning blue.

Behind a concealing mask
Feelings are an uncomfortable mess,
To understand is an unbearable task
And it’s easier to leave than to stay, I guess.

Toxic thoughts and actions;
Driving​ so-called friends away
Understanding their reactions
But missing them forever and a day.

More light in the dark
More tears in an ocean
Another life’s mark
Overcome by emotion.

A head full of spinning thoughts
Cowering in the corner of my mind
To unfurl their knots.
Once again, I am left behind.

A soap bubble of for never
Floating up to the clouds
A memory to stay forever
Hidden from the crowds.

I am the shadow in my light
I am the hope in my despair
But after my lastest sleepless night
I can say that I am still there.

epiphany

I am my own worst bully.

I am the voice in my own head telling me that I don’t deserve this or that. I am the voice in my head pulling me down and belittling things I am passionate about. I am the voice in my head telling me that I am not good enough. I am the voice in my head telling me that I will never succeed. I am the voice in my head telling me to be ashamed to be seen. I am the voice in my head telling me that I don’t deserve happiness, joy, or the men in my life. I am the voice in my head that keeps me from daring things. I am the voice in my head overthinking every little thing until it is blown out of proportion. I am that voice in my own head.

I am my own worst bully.

I didn’t ask for advice

What a title, right? Well it is true. I am not very skilled at taking advice I didn’t​ ask for. Today I was told that my poetry could be better if I was more ambitious. Sad truth is, I am not. And the last poem I shared turned out very well. In my opinion. I don’t aim higher and I don’t​ try to become better. I just write. I disregard style and form and I just write. I don’t question what I write either. I just do. And sometimes it’s mediocre and other times it is brilliant. It is always filled with emotions (my emotions) and often, it is quite impulsive too. The poems I write might not always be about myself, but the feelings are still real. Poetry is something I write for myself. There are words and fantasies and stories that want to get out and this is my momentary outlet. Of course, I like it a lot when readers can relate. When I wrote something that I like a lot (like the last poem I shared here), praise means even more to me. And I am someone who needs that praise. I need to feel appreciated. There is no bigger downer for me than being invisible, not seen. It shouldn’t, but that messes with my head. I have a fragile mind, what can I say?! 

I never thought that my poetry is bad, but right now I do. No, I am not ambitious and I am not trying to actively improve my writing by using complicated words. I am a simple person. And I like simple words because they can have as much or more impact than the ones I have to look up in a dictionary. My writing was called bipolar, which made me chuckle. It was referring to the fact that I improved a lot and apparently, I often regress too.

I am in a state where I am debating to just stop. If I am not good enough and if I am not aiming higher, why should I keep using up space? What good does it do? There are tons of people out there writing better words than me… None of them uses my voice. None of them feels my emotions. None of them deserves my space and my place. And yet… And yet… Maybe I overstayed my welcome and it’s time to let go? 

It sucks to suddenly doubt something you never doubted. But this got me at the wrong moment. Could I even exist if I said “fuck it, I am logging off”? Would I exist if no one knows that I do?

All these pieces, the  writing, the doubting… These are pieces my real life friends don’t see too often. Some know that I wrote, but most just belittle it. None of my friends ever asked to read something’s I wrote and I am not someone who asks others to read… And maybe they wouldn’t understand anyway. On the other hand, this is a huge part of who I became and I think it’s quite sad that they aren’t trying to be a part of that…

Too many thoughts… 

At night everything is different

Gloomy thoughts
Under lilac trees
No orange hues
Illuminating the streets.

Heavy scents
Leading the ways
Enchanting words
Enticing games.

Pictures that no one will see
Songs that will never be heard
Nonsense makes sense
And she loses direction in life’s labyrinth.

Hidden messages
In plain sight
Words whispered
In the stillness of the night.

Walking under shadows
Past willow trees
Invisible happiness
Found on her knees.

Iridescent internal life
Completed by imperfections
Darkness becomes light
It has always been you.

a brief conversation with my son

 

Today, my son asked about the stripes on my arm. I told him that they are scars. My heart began pounding… I am not ready to have that conversation. Not when I am still dealing with it.
I am not ashamed. I am just not sure how to explain it without sounding pathetic and at the same time, teaching him that it is a harmful way to deal with pain and frustration… The above is an exact transcript of what was said.

xx

 

(On this picture, you can only see the bigger scars, there are faint ones you can almost only see when you really look for them… apparently, he did. Also, I am not sure why the scars are this swollen today)IMG_20170514_194638201

Please, don’t disappear

Pure lust
Left our hearts bleeding
Ends came too soon
And I keep wondering if I bruised your
Soul more than I will ever know.
Everything happened too fast.

Did we play a game and lost
Or did we fall and failed to be caught?
Not you me? Not me you?
Talk to me!

Dreams were shattered
Ice cold water drenched us from within
Seldom did I feel this protective and worried
And I want you to be here
Please, don’t disappear.
Pounding hope, inside
Eyes filled with fear.
And I wish I could 
Reach out to make you see they way I see.

Fragile

IMG_20170430_120144_852.jpg

Wrapped in a blanket of tears
It came without warning
And makes no sense at all.

The guitar is bleeding
And the ink is drowning in a well
So many untold secrets.

Tighter
Again
Again

Where have all the voices gone?
Maybe they found the noose?
Because nothing was ever enough.

Woven memories that we don’t remember
What are we looking for?
Decaying thoughts with no meaning.

Higher
Again
Again

Do we want more?
We want less
Of everything. Of us.

Our footsteps are blown in the wind
Dust and forgotten souls
We are dragged forward to meet our final day.

Wider
Again
Again

The wings of our souls are spread
Reaching but never quite touching the other within
Endless tries to connect.

Reasons ceased to exist a long time ago
Hollow shells wandering hand in hand
Turn into lightening in the sand.

 

 

the storm before the calm?

My mood is a weird one. I don’t trust it. I feel serene. Guided by the light. I am satisfied with me and who I am. I am standing behind my words and believe what I say. My own wisdom surprises me and makes me uncomfortable too.

I am wondering… when I am like this – when I am the light, I wonder if I deserve to feel it. I also wonder if I am more attuned to other people’s moods then. I am always quite aware of the people around me and of their moods but maybe I am just projecting. Who knows? But yes, when I feel the way I do now, right this moment, I wonder about these things. It isn’t happiness I am feeling. But a calm. A calm before a storm? I don’t hope so… but as it is, I cannot control my emotions and I lose every reason and every rationality when they are involved.

And I also wonder if I stole someone else’s light. Did I suck it out of someone who is falling into the dark now?

I know that I am weird. But I also know that I have a huge list of qualities. It’s sad when people reduce me to one thing when I am so much more. In a way, I am complicated, but since I am very understanding and most times quite easy-going and relaxed, I am easy to live with too. I have a great sense of humour and I am interested in many things – from music (duh!) and books to politics and randomness. I am opinionated and intelligent too and as you can see, I am very modest too, lol. I am talented in many domains, I am spiritual and rational at the same time and did I mention humour? I like to laugh about myself.

Sometimes I think that we should take more time to set up a real connection with the people in our lives. Sometimes, we should dare to drop every mask and be who we are without holding back. No matter how intense or dull we think we are. After all, as long as we don’t show who we are, we cannot expect that anyone will understand us and wants to get to know us better. And maybe everything we dislike in ourselves, they’ll adore? Who knows?

I am tired of these masks –  and yes, I wear them too. With these people I show more of that, with those people, I show more of this. And honestly, I am tired of it. Sometimes I pretended, in the past, to be dumber than I really am just to make the other feel better. And it shouldn’t be that way. It really shouldn’t.

I don’t want to hide who I am and who I love. I don’t want to repeat myself and my promises again and again because the other is even more unsure of themselves than I am of me.

There are times in my life when I am very submissive… Right now is not such a time. I am strong and I have the scars to show for it. I am a survivor and I can (and will) take charge of my life and the situations that need to be taken care of.

In a couple of weeks (maybe even days) I will be fragile again. I will break apart at my seams because the emotions and feelings are agonising, but that is not now. Don’t let it be now, please. I want to keep this calm feeling and put it in a box that I will lock. I will hide the box in my soul and when the world around me is raging I will open the lid and let some of the calmness cover me from within…

 

xx

a strange connection

There sat a man on the stairs. His hair was hidden underneath a black hoodie, and his pale hands clutched a mobile phone. His jeans-clad legs were bent, and his knees were hugged by his arms. His head rested on his knees. He looked like a tired, sad man. His eyes were at once empty and overflowing with a raging storm. Maybe he was homeless. No one could tell for sure. Appearances can be deceiving in this day and age.

A busker stood next to a pillar. His fingers picked at the strings of his worn guitar, and his voice pronounced every word he sang with as many emotions as he could muster that day. His guitar case lay in front of him; opened wide, so that passersby would be tempted to toss in some of the loose change they kept in their pockets. So far not many coins were spread out on the black velvet. The romance of busking in the underground and being discovered accidentally by someone influential was wearing off. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t quit his day job because of a fluke. He had, though, and there was no turning back. And now, he played for people who hurried past him without seeing him and homeless drunks like the one on the stairs across from him.

I stood at the busker’s left and observed both men. Both had a similar aura. Tired of their situations. Not of their lives, like me. I felt a momentary connection with these strangers while I projected my own struggles on them. The man on the stairs looked lost in thoughts and mesmerised by the busker singing and interpreting songs we knew from the radio. And rightly so. He sang a beautiful version of Mad World. I hummed along.

The man on the stairs moved his lips in time with the lyrics too. Three strangers who had no connection whatsoever connected over a song. It was magic. I smiled at myself. It was a strange and foreign sensation for me. During this brief moment of contentment, the man on the stairs looked into my eyes. He nodded ever so slightly and, to me, it seemed as if his eyes were less tired then. A glimmer of hope was shining through his eyes and enveloped my own hopeless self.

The train arrived and the spell that had surrounded us dissipated and vanished with the throng of people invading this space that had been so magical mere seconds ago. The stranger was swallowed by the masses, and when the rushing brook of busy people had turned into a trickle, he was gone, and the busker was packing his guitar away. I turned to leave too. Without direction, without purpose. I had missed the train.

the rainbow’s nook

Rivulets of emotions
Growing into a rushing brook
Year in and year out I’m going through the motions
Hiding inside every rainbow’s nook.

As the earth unfolds its verdure
The sun turns into a comforting embrace
The birds singing their songs without allure
And the trees are standing tall in all their grace.

I feel my spirits awaken
And letting go of winter’s thoughts
My foolishness forsaken
As I accept my lovable flaws.

The wind and the weather;
They cannot bring you back
My heart floats like a feather
Mending my soul’s crack.

The spring’s healing powers
Are filling my being
As I stop to smell the flowers
Finally feeling life’s new meaning.

I can breathe without you by my side
And push the clouds off my mind
I don’t need the rainbow to hide
Because spring finds me refined.

when the love has gone

There is an ocean between us
Filled with our tears
Sadness and regrets
All washed up on the shore.

The distance is growing into a road
Paved with silence
Thoughts and lost passion
Driving us farther away from home.

The bags on our shoulders are heavy
Packed with longing
Memories and grief
Bringing us down on our knees.

The waves are swallowing what is left of us
Drinking it in
Forgetting and forgiving
Until our path brings us together again.

The wind blows away our differences
Far far away
Higher and higher
Before they will vanish into nothing.

The ocean turns into a puddle
Obstacles easy to overcome
Past and future
And a friendship will bloom.

pleading to the full moon

The moon is blinding me
Hiding our sin
I am not sure if I am okay

If I could just see…
If I kiss the sweat off your skin
Could our love see another day?

If we drowned in the sea
Or let the sun wear us thin
What if the love let us sway?

How wrong could that be?
Would we believe the voices within?
And would we take a chance to let our love stay?

How many days until we are free?
How many lost battles until we win?
There has to be a way.