Little Boy Lost:

My little brother,

Lost at sea,

My little brother,

Come back to me,

Where could he have gone?

Where could he be?

He’s knocked out with amnesia,

All these years; ten and three,

(and not eaten by sharks after all),

Or faked his own death maybe,

Swim little brother,

Swim home to me!

Or maybe it’s time I start to see,

The sea wants what she wants,

Doesn’t she?

She’s not worried about the sorrow,

Felt by you and me.

lost at sea



Is anybody out there?

She’s watching over me;

My baby girl who thinks,

That because I disposed of her,

That I despised her.


She watches over me until I’m bones on the ground

girl and eye



Between my fingers:

She falls:

From grace,

From sight,

From God,

From herself.


It’s when she sleeps,

She meets them again;

All her lost loves,

The ones she let slip between her fingers.


girl and sleep

A new technique…

… that’s going to change her life,

From now on she won’t be able to remember,

The evil men, the nightmares, the monsters,

The Therapist promises;

From now on a new life full of hope & wonder.


She wakes up the next day,

Who is she? The memories have gone,

But so hasĀ she!

She has become a faceless being with no name.

girl - after the lobotmy, shes forgotten who she is



Daddy, I’m running on empty…

Is that you, daddy?

Is that you haunting me?

It’s time to say goodbye,

So take your noose and fly.


I’ll blow you a kiss,

But just remember this,

Don’t take it the wrong way,

Don’t make me regret,

Having my say.


Because little girls don’t know,

They just don’t know, daddy,

And I was just a little girl,

After all (I can’t make you happy)!


And because of you,

I can’t fill up,

Not even with the wrong men,

At the wrong time and,

In the wrong place …

girl running on empty since daddys curse


Sleeping with scissors:

Her beloved – dead and buried in the ground,

Sleeps in the next room to her,

To keep an eye on her.


She doesn’t like the growling in the night,

So she sleeps with scissors,

But apart from that, sublimely peaceful.

man colour



Fling me please:

Tiny morsels of hope spreading,

Through her entire being,

And Psychics weren’t wrong,

Were they?

Two more weeks,

Only two more weeks of this misery!

And then she would meet him,

The man of her dreams,

And, oh, if only,

She had a dollar for,

Every time she’d believed them!

Where else was hope to come from?

If she could fling herself through time!

But alas, that was how her life had vanished thus far.

she wishes to turn back the hands of time to when he was hers - loving her, making love to her, writing poetry to her mona


Did you ever really love me?

What chance did I have?

. . . and there they go,

There goes all of the people,

Like soldiers in the snow.


Down they go,

Straight into hell,

Gone forever from me,

(And yet still within),

Stinking up the place with their smell.


Little scars inside of me,

That probably won’t ever heal,

And now I’ve got writer’s cramp,

A numbness, an ambivalence,

But am peaceful in the Still.