Haiku variations. Onrust 1 - 8

Yes, Yes, Yes for Milco!

Often you walked around unshaven 

So your dark jaws seemed to look
Schoolfellow and classmate, cheerful chap

We drank many a pint
And often walked to the Uni together
Alas we lost our contact

Not quite, I traced adds
From afar I watched your dreamed life
While I fought my disorder

You made passion your profession
I discovered leadership but also a conscience
Therefore that talent freely abandoned

Me frequently troubled with life
Not you and yet yours was cut
But not your beautiful heritage

As I married my destiny
You have known your muse, your Boudi
Old Testament, two become one

Yet, you departed too early
A world without Onrust1) what is that
Other than a lot poorer

For that I will ultimately
Overcome my shyness, take up my brushes
And just sign wit YYY

1) Unrest

© 2016-11-19

Dodendroom

Do not humanize the devil 

With that you do him a favour 

Instantly you are his accomplice

Co-perpetrator of evil and stupidity

Although humanity no longer is more than 

Just a destroyer of life 

If I had the choice

Then surely in my death I would

Rid the world of you

You, men, I would forget

In my 'dodendroom' you would not exist

And thus I saved life

Elephant, whale, tiger, monkey, owl survive

Room for innocence, life for all others

An earth free of mankind

Haiku variations, When I was young, V

I celebrated with previous stanza´s 

The past of my wild, young years 

I leave them easily behind.



©

Haiku variations, When I was young, IV

She knew me from school

When I kissed her she said no

My kiss slow, hers quick

©

Haiku variations, When I was young, III

Feet in socks in boots

Flowery petticoat with jeans-jacket on slim shoulders

Striding step with wide hips

©

Haiku variations, When I was young, II

And if I call now

To my heart in your warm breast

Remember then our earlier collision

© 2016-09-11

Haiku variations, When I was young, I

Dreamy Marisa from the past

If you wonder at where you are

Ask me to help you

© 2016-09-04

Teenage Rhymes: a teenagers ire in one sentence.

Don’t think I’m emulous of your misery even though you out-scream yourself about heaven in your holiday camps full of luxurious adds that corrupt the mind of so many others than the easy to victimize mob of hate voting lower and middle class intolerants who sell themselves at any price that is offered by a dilapidated and impotent society only to be able to purchase the drug that is the new consuming and although I twaddle too often rubbish and prefer not to think, at least I play-act not to, in order to prevent me from breaking and surrendering my soul to the consumer-whore exposed in the shop window as the seductive promiscuous man or woman of the Babylonian multinationals and yet with pleasure will I blow out my final breath when I regenerate as a heroic anti-consumer. 




Author's note.
To believe this was written some 40 years ago and just last decade I was able to....well....to let go....

Not nothing

Not all

Not all what you think

Not all what you think is true

Let alone

Let alone that what you speak

Let alone that what you speak is what you feel

Not every pain

Not every pain or wound is bad

Not every pain or wound is bad or kind or evil.

Original ending: Nothing is evil as long as you do not do it to someone else.

Manic and depressed

Sad and painful it is

When you can't help the other
That is how my love must have felt
When I had a manic nostalgia to a future.

And now she has longings to a then

Now I am the one that wants to comfort 
But can not. That’s how the prophet must've felt
As his people looked back depressed at a rich, lost past.

To the divorced

And in his mind it all faded into nothingness

She threatened to leave
In the absence of hope for change
He focused on the nothing
The matter
Sticking to possession
That what she was once too
Where it went broke
Love dies as soon as degenerated
To an object
Together sharing the home
The steady base
Being elevated to a battlefield
If the other takes another
But the opposite as an ally
Can not be
In the war
Against the emptiness of existence
And how do you feel
If the void is defeated
And you realize that you left
The other without relief behind
Have you won ?

Some wild flowers

He sat in the garden and

had no eye for the roses.
I saw him strolling in the garden
when Annette visited
to pick some wild flowers.

It drizzled when she walked in the garden

gently touching the roses.
Being part of the landscape
for a moment even part of his world
Annette and the roses and I paid no mind.

The mirror of frozen dreams.

Die
He said as he looked
with a frozen mask
in the mirror of dreams

Dye
you poet
of sparkling
ice coloured words

Paint
your poems
in a cold spring
of joy

Depict
the feelings of
unnatural loveliness
that glitter in neon light

Specify
every detail of
your unlit love 
for life and passion
for her the non-existent

Remember
the days yet to come
for the pent-up life
you now live
is a slow
and ongoing suicide

Death
he says as he looks
in the mirror of mirrors
and sees the tension rise
in the face that reveals nothing
not even the smallest expression

Colour
these words
the way you want them to be
in a state of perversion

Shatter
the frozen mirror
in this sparkling
hallucinatory dream

and then just this

End it all ends 

but it could differ

open up finally

pick up that phone

©

NB.

Originallly (written in the early 1980's by a disturbed law student):

pent-up = quiet

ongoing = sexual

perversion = deprivation

and 

the last 5 lines were added before publishing on AllPoetry.com on 2022-10-29

Silent silence, still she died

When you are no longer here

The silence will be overwhelming
My voice will fall silent
And stillness will be all that I will

When you are no longer here

Even my muteness will hurt
My eyes will rain noiseless tears 
And I will dream a life in my delusions

When you are no longer here

Sound is deadlier then a quiet refrain
Where life's merely bitter, no longer sweet
Desolate energy, why then yet courage

When you are no longer here 



© 2016-06-26

                                                          

Black, a dark poem.

    Black
as black
as a night

as a licorice

as your soul

as dried blood

as scorched earth

as a collar of a shirt
as the edges of  nails
as the sole of a booth
    that walks over you
as the inside of a bomb

as the flag of the us of a
as the beard of a woman
as hunger in North-Korea

    and Yemen and Tigray or

as murder for an empty creed

as coalminers pneumoconiocis

as the edge of a mourning card
as children's play on the Westbank

as an orthodoxe woman denied divorce
as every female genital mutilation    

     and any other kind of rape  

as the flam of any politician

as a tire that is snapped
as the devil in his hell
as an all white school

as a midnight mango

as blackboard black
as murder in Oslo

as a TV that’s off

as black as
     Black

Of War And Peace In Our Time.

The war that ends all wars
What a rotten lie

Peace alone can end all wars

But at what price
What is peace when slaves voluntarily
Follow the sly savage beast
Fascism is a popular movement, embrace it
And you have your ‘peace’ forever

Not the shark, but the fearful man

Is the most dangerous killer
But remember that only when you no longer consume
What they feed you daily
The peace within you becomes reality
Yet then you will truly look death in the eye
Because you only have value
When you grant these merchants their fee

So choose the offing outside facebook/linkedin
As a rambling computer-illiterate fighting for freedom
You can do without their ‘sea of love’ or followers on twitter

What-aboutism

There are people that make the difference

But you are not one of those.


If there are gourmets that avert life

Then you must be one of them.


I love people that make up their own mind

But you definitely do not.


I refuse to just blindly bow to the opinion of any one 

No need for this since you are doing that plenty.

Fortunately I have trouble saying not a thing

If I have to use words for that.


You on the other hand have trouble saying nothing

When silence is mandatory.

In A Dutch Forest (Hessenheem-Markelo).

Walking through the forest
I see from the corner of my eye
Half a man
When I look up
He cannot be seen

All of a sudden in front of me in the scrub
A rapid dark phantom
¿What?
A shepherd or a wolf
When I look up he is not

Blond just for a moment
He was there
A golden hound
Next to the path
Where I walk

I call my companion
He does not notice
The shapes of the yonder
Sees my four-footed friend not
And when I look again me neither

Fairytale forest or tumor
What does Radium
In the head
Of a seven year old boy
With irradiated pins up his nose

Fall in southern Danubia

On the couch
Dog at my side
Outside frost on the trees
Fog is in the air

Grey for weeks on end

Only just a few days some sun
Danubia in the fall
Wish it were winter already

In the garden burned wood
As low stinking clouds
From the neighbours who clean up
Farmlife almost everywhere the same

During the winter I expect sun

And frost and now and again some snow
Thus was promised by the local residents
Soon it is Christmas with a mountain view

My dog stretches in contentment
Inside it now is propane gas warm
And yet firewood feels better
Warmer and more natural

Out of sight

Outside my circle
Is a world unseen
By self-imposed blindness
Rises the stench
Of neglected cholera

Out of my circle

Is willingly and knowingly
The free world being raped
Squanders queen Bilderberg
An integer Clause

Beyond my circle
Dreams Latin Max hail
To the grandfather of her blonde
Cries the Republic
For freedom of a free and not so global market

Outward my circle
Are the greatest revolutionaries
‘Heroes’ which only work on personal happiness
Work such ‘honest entrepreneurs’ at their own succes
Contribute through their own egotism to foreign prosperity

Outside my circle
Globalise numerous committees
Towards yours and mine extinction
Chatter these political men and women
The remaining hours full until there is none.

ⓒ

A Triplet On Three

Three X crowned, stoned or scented, I roam
Across dried out dikes and along stinking ditches
Grass green, a whirling oak leaf lands on my shoulder

Three landscapes in Holland, a meadow, a forest, a beach
And on my boat shoes I sail over drops of dew, like salty tears
From the North Sea that whips my face with fine sand from an inner storm   

Three holy figures float through my mind, abide my time, fill my life

Take possession of my legs, make me run through the ebb and along the tide
Back home, the trees waving at me and you are there, wet to the skin....but for me....

Two.2.The Stanza Came In Two.

Twins or just the two of us, a couple
Is a gathering in the mind of a maverick
A loner who has a look-alike is not really alone

Twofoldness or Janus face, sun or moon, day or night

When rising, the night ends in your brain whether it is dark or not
Awake then and fear not Deborah, she who sings with God is never lonely.

Just ordinary

I am just an ordinary man
And would like so much to be different

Something artistic or to save the planet
Because making it better is no longer enough

Not myself and not the world
I am just an ordinary guy

And I want to be different from what I am

A self portrait in shades of grey

While I have all the colours of the rainbow in me
And God created it as a sign that He is with us

That is why I sometimes am an ordinary man
And I sometimes sparkle like a rainbow dressed in grey.

Children of Astarte

Hard as granite, are the women in my family

But at least granite has its own beauty
The equation is not entirely correct
As is of course more in life
The world suffers from one-sided reporting
Journalism today is all about fables
Lied facts that in the old days were reserved for politicians.

What kind of mothers would the reporters of today have had

They too have grown up with vain certainties of the ‘I am right’
Or means her right only 'for my happiness, my will, my law'
And is therefore every tormented soul now an internet journalist
Can all be traced back to the unfree free childhood
Everybody unique in the same way, children of a stony mother
Only the poet disposes himself of the imposed truths....

....and slashes his way through the granite to his freedom.

Within a square mile of what once was my home / The traffic lights of Santiago de Chile

A man in his wheelchair
Prudently tacking through the traffic
Red the traffic light

Hand up to each window

Weary asking for a handout
The longer it is red, the better the proceeds

Window open or closed
Open, the car has no airco but does have coins
Closed, the driver can afford airco but refuses the beggar

Dark brown burned in the Santiago heat

No legs in the chair
The man is an ‘original’

There are original beggars
And there are, as they say, professional moochers
There are honest beggars who know no other occupation

Next crossing, an old man on crutches
And one too short leg
What else could this human do here

Friendly tanned face with a baseball cap
He blesses you if you give him some change
I encounter him during midday, limping towards the cathedral

Coloured balls holds the lad juggling in the air

Jesters bonnet on and whistling watching through the front window
Yellow light, quickly collected some small change in his bonnet

A pour child with or without a snot bubble nigh the torrid road

Nearly always a little girl
And mama begs along the waiting cars

Sometimes lottery tickets or candy are offered

A man quickly wants to wipe your windows clean
Also fresh fruits are a popular article

Some are worth the wait

Fresh strawberries or melons of the country
But the people who are offering still are tired

On the TV today proudly the topic
Of the original way the pour of Chile
Scrape together their pittance at the traffic lights.

Days of woe and happiness

When the European climate disappoints you
Tears of onions will rain in a Chilean vegetable garden

If a freezing cold in a wooden Finnish cottage

Dispels the summer season out of the heart of Sweden

When a smug Dutch lackey plays golf

On the remains of a beergarden in Singapore

If an Afghan teenage girl without burka

Speaks fluent Frisian and skates on thin ice

When Christmas in German style flourishes

In flowerpots on a wall of rice paper in Japan

If that is why the summer explodes in your heart
Aren’t you exactly at the place where you want to be

When you and I were

Doom
The sun is setting
Sky lines

I watched the birds

Fall into the sky
When you and I were

We did not stop

The world from
Growing chill and cold

Too busy with

Throwing birds
Into the sky

We fished

The leaves
Out of our hair

The forest deep asleep
We did not make a sound
When earth was leaving us

When you....[your name]....
And I....[my name]....
...[nameless]....were.

Family breakfast

The sound of boiling water
The smell of melting butter
In the frying pan

Just before the egg is broken

The alarm ticks

The yoke whole
Or yet to be scrambled

The water boils the T made

Rosy warm out of bed

The folds from the pillow

Still in your cheeks

Shuffling in your pajamas

Down the stairs to below
Can it be otherwise?
Look the sun shines through the windows

Mum and Dad already at the kitchen table.