Someone called

To see how i was

Doing

Fuck

I say

That's real nice

Of you &

Decent

But who are you

Anyway to

Infringe upon

My private little

Hell

Leave me

The fuck

Alone 

 

Summer is a splendid time 30 March 1993

My shades are just right
Made for me I'd say
This pair of China-manufactured
Mass production specs
I'll tell you why
Firstly
People cannot see through
Them cannot see
My eyes my pupils how
They blink & waver looking
All around at everyone
Looking all around at everything
Constantly checking the entire
Field of vision
And as the eyes give it all
Away
Need I tell you more on that
You've worn some sunshades
In your life now haven't you
I feel safe
Although
This same pair of diamonds
Guards against the outside world
Barely lets me see enough
To safely cross the street
Or even recognise who's
Walking towards me
I'd walk past my
Own mother not
Seeing anything distinct
Just a human shape
Sometimes I can't even
See whether it's a guy
Or a gall
So I don't try any come on
Lines at all you see
For a misanthrope like me
The summer is a splendid
Time to detach
Myself from those around
With the first rays of
Sun I put on my
Shades & I feel
Less frustrated It also
Diminishes the headaches
People give me
Just by being around me or
Near me
Fuck off the lot of you
Is what I actually say
I what I state when
I put on my diamond pair
So now you know.

(What do I need to comment on this. Thirteen years ago, this was how I felt. My feelings have matured/changed somewhat. But that makes sense, doesn't it.)

My city has no toppled towers
Left to burn
My search comes fifty years
Too late
The prestigious offices &
Sky-scapers
Cannot ever take their place
However much they seem like towers

I ride the bridge
Enter into the
Triangular heart
Where once the Trojan towers
Stood

The fire came out of the East
In soldiers' hearts & fighter planes
To pour their zeal onto a quiet soul
Half-asleep-amidst
The Towers
Hatred, nicely wrapped in bombs
Oh, the Towers are no more

(Note: My city Rotterdam was bombed terribly in World War II, with enormous loss of live. The whole centre was ripped out of the city.)

I know it has a quality
That cannot be expanded upon
In trains of boring destiny
From Leiden to my native town
Where sad red seats repulse my mind
To give imagination's reign
A free leash; creativity...
Complete the jigsaw later then
When peace & quiet have returned
And notions of iniquity
Have been removed from my fouled floor
'Pon which I need to build the whole
Foundation of my common state
That must be ruled by sanity
By love & hope & poetry
Alas CS comes nearer now
and my pen's ink must be contained
Within this pen for otherwise
I will arrive in Vlissingen
I greet me now and stop my...

(As a student I 'commuted' from my hometown to the University by train.)

March 1991

It's not a matter of making it
Understandable
Or to simplify
Hell no
Not a chosen method
Premeditated action
Yet I cannot use the terms
Organic
Natural
Innate
The way it grew up or
Out to be
For although I do not
Mind a linkage with
Romanticism
Wordsworth
Shelley & all those
scribblers who put the
I eye aye first
And dotted it all over
With sentimental
Sentiments
It does not describe it in
An adequate way
I cannot put a finger on it
Even if all ten are used
In short every other
Terminology one
Feels apt to use
To label me with or
To label it with (For it &
I are interchangable but at the same time
Complementary)
Will not succeed in
Covering the whole picture
Touching every detail
Every seemingly insignificant
Part particle etc
Down to the terms of
Chemistry
where atoms & the parts
Of atoms...
It's not restrictive
Ruling out
Rather rules are out
So ruling everything in
Every dot sigh leave
& I see you thinking
down the wornout paths
Trodding where so many have
& still I do
Not have the smallest
Inkling
To call it goD
To be continued yessir

(Oftentimes a poet's topic is what he knows or feels best. And writing about myself is one of my favourite topics. There's me in every poem, and there's a lot of me in this one.)