Animator January 1991

My potential's still inside
Patiently below my skin
My fur feather hide
Bast yes all I've been
Will be and am
Collection of beast and bud
Organic chemistry
Dismiss Ovid here
And there
And everywhere
& note addition is the word
1, 2, 3, 4
A life time of seven score
Is filled with precisely what
Am ount of animality?
What's the sum of animae?
I clutch the twig with my paws
Twice three nails razor sharped
I feel I'm clutched by sparrow's
Paws
Similtaneous cross-reference of
Being
Of being me, yours truly, blahblahblah
A volcano gathering momentum
Festering boil set to erupt
Pressure mounting
Surface tight
a sudden push can do the trick
As can a last secure squeeze
The thickened smelly fluid flows
It oozes down the moistured skin
Cocktail of blood & sweat & pus
Microcosmic judgment day
The Kraken multiplied upon itself
Unlimited in the deep
Still inside
A part of me
Apart from me

(This old poem already hints at my conversion to Hinduism in that there is indentification with all things living, the so called oneness. The end however goes very much against Hinduist believes. As long as one believes in separateness there will be no unity and unity is the path to Heaven.)

To P.L. (& Me) November 1989

I wish I could write poetry
In some new-invented style,
Where rhyme is not a necessity

To hand & head's creative force.
There needs must stay fixed rhythm,
Abolishment here comes not as bills

That gas & electricity
Create. Keep sending me those
Boring links with the big outer world,

And I will counteract thereto
And emphasize my pers'nal
Self designed & desired intertwi-

Ning of inner world with outer
World: the place that I call home.
Where books & paper cover table

Chair, & (of course) book-case that's
Given temporarily
By parents of my young extreme love.

If what now follows should become
A description of my cell,
I must not forget the long-dry clothes

All withered like a granny's face,
All sweet & nice of smell but
Sometimes just a small bit in the way,

The which at once I do forgive
For love's full will bears like a
Young pregnant girl expectations huge

And hindrance & annoyance &
Boredom to utter limits
Which at the moment-supreme vanish

As sugar in a nice cuppa
Tea that I made for me alone,
In a kitchen where the pile of used

Dishes grows & grows & so on,
Amidst a dirty fork &
Buttered knife & plate of cold spaghetti.

Alone & wilfully forlorn
I wait my tossed love's return;
A black telephone that seldom rings.

 (This poem was written when I was just twenty-one. It reflects me and the appartment I used to live in back then in a not so nice neighbourhood of Rotterdam.)

A wise man said Renounce and Rejoy 15 January 2006

Oh Lord of Love let me know you
I'll renounce my earthly possessions
One by one
If that's what it takes to know you
I'm searching for self in a sea of
Separateness
And I hurt so bad
And I hurt so bad now
They tell me Lord of Love
That you and I are one
Yet knowing is not feeling
and I think that there's
The rub
(Now I have to rephrase my first line)
Oh Lord of Love let me feel you
In my heart
(That's more to the argument)
From this: When you and I are
One
Then what I want to feel
is me
Yet this is not an egoistic
Exercise
But a longing for self that is
Beneficial to all
As all are
One
And I hurt so bad
And I hurt so bad now
Oh Lord of Love
OHM
Shanti
Shanti
Shanti

(This is my confession. This is my belief.) 

Led Zeppelin 12 June 2006

Do you possess the knowledge
Of the secret words that can
Stem the flow of my
Unending tears that
Form this internal river
My sadness needs escape
Relieve from mounting
Pressure building up inside
The valves about to burst
Are you my saviour
In these troubled times
Unvoluntarily I think of this
Tiny speck of green in this
Emerald isle
Where euphimistically they
Referred to all the
Killing agony and bloodshed
As
The Troubles
Well, that's where I'm at
Right now, dude
The Troubles
Capital T
Anyone care for some
Tea or Troubles
Whatever takes your mind
Off things
Such as taking in lots
Of port in a short
Space of time
As a medicine against the
Big angry world
Sedative
Effective
Albeit for only a
Couple of hours oh
Happy hours
Is that where the commerical
Public expression comes from
To be happy in the haze
Of a drunken hour
To hide your miserable
Presence (thanks Morrisey)
How naive and
Immature of me
To hope for this pearly
Princess
This vision in white
To come and kiss it all
Away
While probably it's more
Like the old time classic
Television show called
This is your life
Well, I'm welcome to it
No solution

A temporary state of indifference
Which is or feels like
Happiness'neighbour
I have my alcohol and my
Music
Led Zeppelin right now
With their Custard Pie
A track taken from their much
Acclaimed Physical Grafitti
Album no# 1
(I must find out which year
They came up with these
Goods!)
So while all kinds of trivial
Thoughts enter my brain
And I am still able to
Write down these words
In a frantic pace
They keep me occupied and
Distract me from my
Heartfelt desire to have
This Dark Angel come and
Rescue me
Take me away from all
The crap
I seem to be swimming in
Hello
Is that you a-knocking?
If so
I'm more than happy to open
My door and say
Please be
Welcome
My saviour
My angel.

 (I was close to being drunk when I penned this late at night, or, early in the morning.)

How hard

To fight the need

To talk for hours

About the big things

In life

While the only

Window of opportunity

To express anything

At all

Is limited to mere

Seconds

Minutes if I'm lucky

And this

Time constraint

Causes

Misunderstandings

That make

The connection

There is

More murder

 

(Written when I was thinking about contact with far away friends.)