Scars


I sometimes feel your fingernails digging deep into my scars, as if to claw out the darkness inside and to find it’s roots, then root it out and plant orange zinnias there with kisses. Sometimes it’s just a soft touch at the nape of my neck, where I’ve hidden the last of my innocence. So very innocent like a child with only two teeth. I hope you never find that child.

You have always known that my heart is a sparrow trapped in an abandoned tower, who knows the tower way too much, who has studied each and every one of the paintings in it’s wall and is not afraid to spread it’s wings and touch, each one of the cracks in those whispering walls and who is painfully waiting for the walls to fall down so that it can escape the tower, which even the dragons has abandoned. But if the tower falls down the sparrow dies. That’s the end.

The only place in my body without scars, is my heart. That is because scars are wounds that are healed and the wounds in my heart still stays afresh, hence there are no scars. And that’s why I never let anyone touch it, not even love. You can claw at my scars as much as you want but not my wounds, because it hurts and I am still alive, therefore I’m afraid you can still hurt me and I’m afraid I might let you. Because love does that to me you see! You don’t believe me, then look at my heart.


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©The Rendezvous Club 2019

All Rights Reserved!

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Deatheater


My body is a death finder
It finds death in the stains on
The paint cakes in the walls
Eaten by termites.
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Death is the predominant essence
In the garden rosemary
Which flavours the murdered
Chicken’s stock, which I cooked in the pot.

A tree planted by me
Bears flowers only after midnight
The flowers dies at the soft touch of strangers hands
While they begets cuts on their palm lines.

And I eat only rotten apples
Which falls to kill the worms inside
Reminiscent of sin, paradise lost and
The vulnerabilities of each human flesh.

I am the deatheater.
Death doesn’t eat me, I eat death.
I tear them off from paper towers.
And chew on them, until a dark room
Get stuck to my throat.
And I give birth to them again
On paper notes
And then kill them again
With ink.
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© The Rendezvous Club 2019

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Death songs for lullabies


Yesterday Mamma said
That she wants to die.
Mamma is more courageous than me
She speaks her mind
While I’m a coward,
Who writes death notes over paper
Fold it in half and swallows it.
There’s a book in my stomach
Which has death written all over it.
And when it opens I loses my appetite.

Mamma pushed my sister
Off of her and went into the room
And closed the door and I let her go.
My sister says, if she dies, it’s on me.
I know nothing will happen
Suicide is a sin, she had taught me that
And she always says
She can’t live in two hells
Earth being the first.

I wandered around my house
Examining each room carefully
Knowing not fully well
What I’m looking for.
At night I sleep next to Mamma
She says ‘Death’ far too many times
In her sleep.
I pressed her against my heart
Hoping to ease some of her pain.
Then I lay awake listening to her Death chants.
I’ve always heard
Death songs for lullabies and
I’ve seen more mournings of people who are still alive than mornings where the sun is bright.
I don’t know why pain seems to follow
Even though everyone else leaves.


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©The Rendezvous Club 2019

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What good will love bring?


I think I love you

But I would not tell you.

You have places to go

And I have eyes to meet.

Our desire part ways

In the crossroads.

Our love unties

As future stare at us.

What good will love bring?

When I need you,

Yet not want you.

When I love you,

Yet need to part you.


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©10/04/19 The Rendezvous Club

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Do you see love?


We yearn for love

From centuries ago

The pure kind of one

We read on books,

From hundred years back.

But hundred years from now

People then will look back,

At us and our love

Just the way we have it now

And maybe they’ll think the same.

So now look into my eyes and say,

Do you see love?


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©15/03/19 The Rendezvous Club

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Before I was dead

When I die

You’ll find my diary and

Written inside it’s pages

Are words that will make you

Despise me or love me

But either way

I’ll be dead and

I wish you would have

Read, loved or hated me

Before I was dead.


©14/03/19 The Rendezvous Club

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Rooted in heart


You planted a seed in my heart

It grew tall, it grew wide

The roots went deep inside my heart

Flowers bloomed and fruits it bore.

But when you left

You cut down the tree

Timbeerrr. . . . . It fell

Now without the tree and it’s roots

The soil above my heart erroded

And the blood inside it corroded

And my love went stale.


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©7/3/19 The Rendezvous Club

All Rights Reserved!