Wednesday, 18 October 2023

Can any title ever be adequate

 

There are days that I think I don't want to think

bury my head under fiery ashes, tear my clothes 

cut the lively locks of hair that curl along my temple


There are nights I dream I don't want to dream

bury my moon under pillows, tear my torrent tears 

cut the dead that haunt and dread inside my temple


There are lives I live I think I don't want to live

bury my faith under rubble, tear my hope all apart

cut the love that evaporates as smoke in my temple


There are deaths I've died I don't want to die

bury my throat under knives, tear my skinned soul

cut the heart sizzling on hottest flint out of my temple


There are faces I have seen I don't want to face

bury my truth under piles of lies, tear my sins from me

cut the beard every tongue that kills the truth in my temple


I think that there are days I think I think I don't want to think

I know that there are aeons I know of I know I don't want know

I want you to bury me, tear me, cut the life out of me I think



For what on earth are you people doing to one another?!



© 2023-10-18



Note.

And yet another ghetto   - from victim to perpetrator -   where fear and hatred have lead

On moral decay of (a) people, on hypocricy of nations the world over, on looking away from your brother's suffering and alas on '...of doing to others what you do not want others do to you...'.

Of utter disappointment in the state of Israel, turned into disgust, and of sincere and deep sympathy with all victims of terrorism and war crimes of whatever era on whichever side. 

I hereby propose to submit this motion to the UN General Assembly: either the UN resolution 181 of November 29, 1947 will at once be brought into full effect or it becomes null and void.

And should the latter be chosen, by choice or abstain, may God have mercy on all innocent for what must follow.  

My heart is with the people of Palestine, not Hamas, but with the Palestinian people. And with all the fine Jewish people that are still out there, silenced and in pain, I know you're out there.


© 2023-10-28





   

Wednesday, 11 October 2023

Grace before vengeance

 

Ah - my Fernando

That delusion of which you wrote isn't new

It's been with us since Adam's fall


The passed on victimhood cuts in on the other - it

Wounds, denies and considers itself a rigtheous avenger

The past reversed in repetition, other city, same kind of people


Victim becomes perpetrator becomes victim - degenerates

Surrounded by cannons. Sadly, here love is just a word

And so for peace. Hate is our normal, our one consistency


And truth, aggrieved truth, it lies in pieces - on the battleground

My detached poet, you wrote a long time ago 'let others die'

But you meant so much more and so much else than that


Brilliant Pessoa your versed letters sparkle to me - on white paper

Yet we, delusioned and living in error, know no peaceful christmas

We continue to follow false leaders on both sides of the spectrum


Note.

And I, my multiple I's, Fernando Pessoa, grieve for innocense, mourn all innocent, on both sides of the border, on both sides of prevailing unbelief.


© 2023-10-10



Vert.


Genade vóór wraak


Ach - mijn Fernando

Die dwaling waarvan jij schreef is niet nieuw

Deze heeft bestaan sinds Adam's val


Het doorgegeven slachtofferschap hakt in op de ander - 't

Verwondt, ontkent en acht zich een gerechtvaardigde wreker

Het verleden omgekeerd in herhaling, andere stad, eenzelfde volk


Slachtoffer wordt dader wordt slachtoffer - verwordt

Omsingeld door kanonnen. Hier is liefde slechts een woord

En zo voor vrede. Haat is ons de maat, onze enige consistentie


En waarheid, de gewraakte waarheid, die ligt in brokken - op het slagveld

Mijn onthechte poët, jij schreef lang geleden 'laat anderen sterven'

Maar jij bedoelde zoveel meer en zoveel anders dan dat


Jouw gedichte letters schitteren mij toe - op het wit papier

Maar wij, misleid, levend in dwaling, kennen geen vredige kerst

Wij blijven valse leiders volgen aan beide zijden van het spectrum.



Noot.

En ik, mijn ikken, Fernando Pessoa, die treuren om de onschuld, die rouwen om alle onschuldigen, aan beide zijden van de grens, aan beide zijden van heersend ongeloof.


© 2023-10-10




Tuesday, 10 October 2023

When Ghazal meets Haiku, a first.

*

Up in the blue skies

my eyes lure my immortal

for it never rests

*

My soul roams calmly

way down in the nebula

of cosmos unknown

*

His gaze penetrates

the mists of my well being

where spring is my source

*

In time as we meet

all opaque yet love so clear

there will be no if

*

Where there is no she

a he no longer exists 

and we do not mind

*

When glim merges dark

you a bloom and I a haze

oneness becomes light

*



© 2023-10-07