maandag 22 augustus 2011

A world of stone

As you move, packing your stuff, you find sometimes long forgotten things. Old pain perhaps, or even better little treasures. While packing for my new home i find such a little treasure. I knew i have it, i hadn't forgotten about it, but it was hidden. And suddenly it was there, time to rediscover. A little black book, made by my youngest sister Vera containing a poem of her for me and photo's of me from a photoshoot we did in those days. 1980 My God, how young i was.
"Is that you?" my youngest asked me with BIG eyes.
"Yes dear, your mother was young too, long time ago." i replied him. Still young at heart though.
The photo's were taken in the garden of the old medieval house i lived in. A house where wandering ghosts were trying to get our attention.
It was the time i left my parents home to build my own life. That home wasn't a safe home, so i had to move away from it, a confused, shy girl afraid of the big world. It was the time i met my love Jan, also a bit confused but not afraid of anything. I'm happy he's still my life companion.
The house was squated and we lived there with some other youngsters and two old hippie junkies. We didn't have a shower and no toilet. We pissed in a bucket and if we had to, well you know shit happens, then we ran to the shopping mall around the corner to go to the toilet there. At night we shitted in plastic bags. Everyday we went to the swimmimgpool to take a shower.
It wasn't a very happy time. Our days were filled with drugs and madness. And this period ended with serious insanity, but we survived. We moved along to Arnhem, where i went to artschool and a better, happier, creative time began.

A sentimental poem for Monica, to remember friday october 10th 1980.
Words and photographs by Vera croese.

A world of stone
Your back against the wall,
you feel the past but you don't look back.
Your eyes looking down
hoping to find a desired now. 

The blue skies above awaken.
Doors open and you're still hoping
but the shadows of the grey rooftops
shading this desire.
"Mirror mirror in my hand
take me to another land."

Your face is pale
a crack comes to light
while around you the world disappears.

Slowely changing surroundings
white like wings around you
as you escape in a warm red haze.
Because you don't wanna sink
you don't wanna drown
in these walls of the world
as cold as stone.

zondag 17 april 2011


Probably this will be a rambling post, and it is, because i'm confused. And sad. Most of all sad, heartbroken. I have to write my thoughts down, to let it go, for comfort maybe.  My thoughts are wandering and spinning. I don't know where to begin. There is no begin and certainly no end because of all the questions who never will be answered. Maybe the best thing is to write this down sec and clear. To assure myself that this is the truth. The naked, hard truth.
Last friday my eldest son brought home some terrible news. He phoned me from school. A schoolfriend of him took his own life. A cry (What??!!), disbelief, silence. Because there are no words for this. And suddenly the sun was shining too bright. I tried to comfort my son, but how do you do that after such tragic news? The teachers took good care of the students and the kids also took good care of each other. Ofcourse everybody was in shock. I couldn't wait to have my son home and take him in my arms. His friend was his age, only fourteen.  
The last view days we have such beautiful weather, but i couldn't enjoy the sun, i couldn't enjoy the happy people on the streets. It all seems so unfair. I worry about my son because at moments he feels very angry or depressed. Understandable ofcourse. Fortunately he knows that his parents are there for him.
What breaks my heart most of all is the understanding that this kid didn't feel he was worthwhile, that there were people who cared. To imagine him climbing all the stairs. And he had done that before several times so it seemed. What went through his head? This loneliness is almost unbearable to me. And there was no note. Only silence. And questions who never will be answered.

Ofcourse you are trying to find some explanations. So you can try to understand the why.
my son said
"maybe there wasn't enough love for him. Maybe the love of friends wasn't enough."
My heart broke. And i know for sure my son is heartbroken. I only can take away the pain a bit with love and understanding.  But my son's search for an explanation somehow comforted him. He can understand it a bit if the reason is a lack of  love. Because everybody needs love.
And i realise this so clear; even gawky kids in their puberty who act indifferent and if they don't care at all  need  a stroke on the head once in awhile.  Even more perhaps. Although they are tall and in between boy and man, at heart they're still a child. I didn't know this kid very well, i mean i didn't look at him very closely. He was like the other kids, like my son: tall, indifferent, funny also and playing tough. I feel sorry i didn't see the little boy.
I feel heartbroken for all kids, the lonely ones ánd the happy ones, because life sometimes is so very confusing. I feel heartbroken for my son, the brother and sister and most of all for the parents. I do hope they allow the sun to shine in their life, although it shines too bright now. I can imagine. I feel heartbroken for the kid who was so very alone his last steps, his last thoughts. I hope he can feel love now and the feeling that he's worthwhile. Always......

zondag 6 februari 2011


Lately my restlessness is driving me crazy. And worst of all: i'm suffering from that of which i thought it would never get me > old age. 
Old? Old!!?  I'm only 52, the devil is old, right?
Old age means melancholy. Such a beautiful word. Sometimes, very rarely, i used this beautiful word to express an intense feeling. What did í know? The meaning of this word, the deep intense meaning. The bittersweet emotion it gives you. I didn't know it. I thought i did, the arrogance of youth, but i didn't know the meaning and the emotion. Far from it. Far from it.... 
The true meaning, the right emotion i know just since a short while. But then again.... Maybe this emotion, of which i think i can see through its meaning,  is but a very small atom of reality. What is reality? See?  I think and i think and i think. 

Just right now there  was this song on the radio. A clear girlish voice sings about a lost love. And what girls do when that happens. That's what single girls do, lala lala....  I started to cry. Just like that. That happens more often lately. Crying about nothing. Crying about everything. 
I'm not a single girl. My love is walking my road for a very long time now. Our road. Still, i have lost a love also. The love from the girl inside of me. Or no, i haven't lost her, i'm still a girl at heart and i'm grateful for that. But the world doesn't see the girl because she is hiding herself in this body of mine. This aging body. 
I used to laugh at women who were complaining about aging.  
"Come on, get real, it's part of life. I wouldn't be such an exagerator."
Today i say; sorry ladies, that laughter of mine was the arrogance of youth. I didn't know any better. I didn't know the meaning of aging. The melancholy it brings. I didn't feel it. Far from it. 
And now it has taken me by the hand.  It devours me. I feel it. Heavily. And i cry for the girl in me. I laugh at my ignorance. I cry for nothing. I cry for everything. It aches. It feels good. It aches.

woensdag 19 januari 2011

Afternoon song

Photograph: Russian by Mooreno

Though your wicked eyebrows call
Your nature into question
(Unangelic's their suggestion,
Witch whose eyes enthrall)

I adore you still
O foolish terrible emotion
Kneeling in devotion
As a priest to his idol will.

Your undone braids conceal
Desert, forest scents,
In your exotic countenance
Lie secrets unrevealed.

Over your flesh perfume drifts
Like incense 'round a censor,
Tantalizing dispenser
Of evening's ardent gifts.

No Philtres could compete
With your potent idleness:
You've mastered the caress
That raises dead me to their feet.

Your hips themselves are romanced
By your back and by your breasts:
By your languid dalliance.

Now and then, your appetite's
Uncontrolled, unassuaged:
Mysteriously enraged,
You kiss me and you bite.

Dark one, I am torn
By your savage ways,
Then, soft as the moon, your gaze
Sees my tortured heart reborn.

Beneath your satin shoe,
Beneath your charming silken foot.
My greatest joy I put
My genius and destiny, too.

You bring my spirit back,
Bringer of the light.
Exploding color in the night
Of my Siberia so black.

Charles Baudelaire

Oh how i dó love the poems of Baudelaire. So much! In it's original language it's so hunting. Beautiful dark, hypnotic words....... More translated Baudelaire poems you can find here.

vrijdag 15 oktober 2010

The maid of the sea

Art by Gordon Nappier

Come from the sea,
Maiden, to me,
Maiden of mystery, love, and pain!
Wake from thy sleep,
Low in the deep,
Over thy green waves sport again!
Come to this sequestered spot, love,
Death's where thou art, as where thou art not, love;
Then come unto me,
Maid of the sea,
Rise from the wild and stormy main:
Wake from thy sleep,
Calm in the deep,
Over thy green waves sport again!

A beautiful poem, but i don't know who wrote this. If you know, please inform me, so i can mention the poet. Thank you!

donderdag 14 oktober 2010

The pearl

Art: The siren by Horrific beauty

Said one oyster to a neighboring oyster;
"I have a very great pain within me. It is heavy and round and I am in distress."
And the other oyster replied with haughty complacence;
"Praise be to the heavens and to the sea, I have no pain within me. I am well and whole both within and without."
At that moment a crab was passing by and heard the two oysters, and he said to the one who was well and whole both within and without;
"Yes, you are well and whole; but the pain that your neighbor bears is a pearl of exceeding beauty."

Words: Khalil Gibran