Earth Hilje van Beijnum
Earth, where Hell becomes flesh
Where blood is sane 
Death our breath
Where glass is murder
Corpes, daily bread
Earth; a hell as paradise
Where Evil becomes angels
The sun means darkness
The trees are bare
The deserts black
Dreams will not come true
Illusions are mirrors
Our favorite spot
With  false masters
And pointless views


Soft and white
Deep, big eyes
Hidden worlds
What never saw the light again
Little teeth
So fluffy
Strong to withstand the cold
Little miracle
A creation 
Of land and sea
The key
The seal
To everything
To survive
Died in red, in blood
On a white plate of snow
The endless fall of humanity

In memory of the thousands slaughtered seals during
the brutal and cruel seal hunts in Canada 2019

"In recent years, hundreds of thousands of seals have been killed annually
in the commercial seal hunt. More than  one million seals have been slaughtered
in the past five years alone. These kill levels are among the highest witnessed
in Canada in half a century.
The last time seals were killed at this rate—in the 1950s and '60s—the harp seal
population was reduced by as much as two-thirds."
Source, The Humane Society of the United States 


Is it not tiresome
To lose all leaves and build up again
At blossom night
Is it not tiring to lose some sleep
To get up again
To read a book
What's not finished
To turn the light on
What's not there
A nail without a hammer
A saw robbed of wood
A lock on a coffin 
To see waves in a river
Fruits in a plant
Sand as earth
Oil as water
Salt as dust
The Devil in blue
Sugar as poison
And sleep as a candy store

See you in Autumn

I'll see you in Autumn
When the days are short and the nights long
Filled with words
To pick them out of the cold evening air
The air so thick, clouds packed with thoughts
The memories of Poe and Frost, so close by
Where are you, my Sylvia, Emmy and my gliding Lizzy
The smell of fallen leaves
Creating mountains to ascend
Taking the darkness in
The trees become brains
To cerebrate, to ponder
As mates
Now the air is thin, Spring arrived
Eyes everywhere
No more safely hiding 
Or a walk in the dark
The white, clean blossom, the green overwhelming
The light burning, day after day
Morning after morning
Night after night
Dreams lost, the field gone,
No more shadows to capture
Waiting for the dark months of pumkins
Hazelnuts, smelling woods and sniffing dogs
Colourful mushrooms, dancing dwarfs and elves
The morning melancholy mists
Thinking of her
Autumn is for writers
The black nights feeding them, pleasing them
With their touch and mysterious breath
Now there is only Blue
We put away our pens, till the next Autumn
When we'll meet again and dance in otherly worlds
Till the next winter
Longing for the first sunshine
Her brushes warm and tender
Outbursts of blooming
Dreaming of fields full of harvest
Are we here just to dream
And not to live it, when it's there
I'll see you in Autumn..


Watching me
Their eyes on my skin
My eyes meeting them, to drown
Pushing me inside 
Far away
In a deep corner
Provoking emotions
In pain
Losing hope
No place alone
Wherever I go
Hiding my face
Watching me
Their laughs sounding through 
As knifes, day after day
Saturday after Monday
What comes first..
Ask Alice or maybe the rabbit
Who looses time
Checking his watch
Their words
A hell of darkness
Skinning me, eating my flesh
With their looks, till we are
Only bones
Moving like stiff puppets
Searching for light
Reaching for my pen
Where a word creates a path
To sooth, to cradle my soul
To give more room
In my cramped heart
For salvation

Two coins

Two coins for the ferry
Tinkling in my hand
To take me across, the other side
I look into his weathered face
Storm, rain, to endure
The ferryman
A death wrap in black veil
Will he take me to the waters profound enough
To carry my soul, to deep dungeons
His mouldy clothes, smelling like graves
With rotten flesh
His dark eyes waiting for an answer
Restless souls crossing over
Is there a presence in there
Or will he dissapear
At the middle of the river
When I doubt and want to go back
The fog in my mouth, hard to breathe
Thick and white
The water black as an evening night
Looking for my reflection
My desperate face, pale and frightened
Am I already gone
Looking for my mirror in my pocket
No, says the ferryman, not at the water
The souls will slip in
You will see your future
And there is no turning back..