Louis Philippe Romer

Not just a sneeze,
Just the burning air,
Warm, fleshy, awaiting Escape.

Take my mouth and drink a little poison,
Skin peels away to find,
Your home again.

Let the dark ocean take me away, 
Drowning in warm undercurrents, 
Let them bring me home.

Home, that dark hole with the pearl, 
Deep inside that moist expanse. 
Get that little blue stone out, 
Squeeze and crush it into dust.

Nothing but fire, 
Slowly building. 
Blue painted red, 
We'll burn the sky!

No sneezing necessary.
What is more exciting than the smell, 
Of burning flowers in the wind?

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Römer, Louis Philippe. P’e Flor Pèrdí: It’s Too Late Now. De Curaçaosche Courant, 2004.