Geraakt.... Touched.... (English version below).

Dan ben ik één

            geworden
    en
                geweest

        als doel en weg

tegelijk worden en zijn 

        stil

                geluid

            stiller

                   niets

                        stilst

                                geen

    gedachte

                            ontspruit

        

                    of eindigt

            buiten mij

verstild               mijn intuïtie

            zonder oorsprong

    vloeiend

                eindeloos

         ineen

            klankvol

                zonder stem

 

 © 2024-12-31

Sleutelwoord/begrip:

- loslaten, ontketenen, raak;

- inzicht zonder meditatie;

- ondersteunend gereedschap: pijl en boog*

* of inkt en penceel of vaas en een bundel bloemen**;

** on/stoffelijk.

Translation.

Then I am one

            have become

    and

                       have been

        like goal and path

to become and to be all at once

        silent

            nothing

                more quiet

    

                       no

thought

                         sprouts

                    or ends

         beyond me

tranquil            my intuition

            without origin

    fluent

                endlessly

        united

            sonorous

                        mute

 © 2024-12-31

Key word/concept:

- release, unfetter, hit (target)

- insight without meditation

- supporting tool: bow and arrow*

* or ink and brush or vase and a bunch of flowers**

** in/substantial.

A Tempest Of Dreams

 

So he found himself waking in a rowing boat

manning the oars of his destiny

on that river of life amidst all other creatures

A river, ocean wide, with passages narrow

rowing with his back to the future

and his eyes on the now and past of man 

His neck rigid as if blocked by osteoarthritis 

preventing to see destiny too clearly 

watching all the fellow rowers and plodders

Those in the now, in boats, rowing or steering

passenger or participant or drowning

already. This ocean of life has rough currents

Rowing he realised he's in need of a clear mirror

to look at what's ahead, into a future 

for this roar he heard, a horror, an abyss sensed

Neck hairs standing on end, where is he heading

could he afford a pause to have a glance

and in a blink, out of thin air, a passenger's there

She, the one that had entered his boat, mirrored the to-be

his visitant tells him that She'll be his cox, his mirror

for the fullness of time, first and foremost mirroring his self

And he's afraid to see his imperfections in the eye of the sacred

as he deems himself unworthy for the task at hand

and while that's how he perceives himself, it's not the cox's view

The unearthly visitant tells him that that's not how She sees him

and shows him in mirrored-eyes how he sees Her

now he's a mirror as She sees herself through his adoring eyes

As he's transcended in being Her mirror reflecting love's perfection

his chosen, essence, his guide, archangel, Jophiel

saying his projection of bliss's making Her radiant, seraphic, divine

And unrivaled by Her love did he see his self, loving, satis perfected

so he rowed that boat sensing more than seeing 

the kaleidoscope of man's past, its thunderous present, and a future

 

Heading for the abyss, yet She smiled lovingly while She mirrored all

and every living thing as he rowed steadily his boat

ahead, but never neared, as so many passed by ..and.. dissapeared

In this mirrored future as he rowed. rowed, rowed his boat to that ultimate ending

the apocalypse, in which so many, but not him, plunged

as he looked at his boat and oars, unmanned, and where he was he, there was I

Looking in on a dream, that he dreamt, while She was roaming freely in my dream

filled with this wordly vergangenheit and current decline

of ever increasing decay, of social breakdown of plastic soup and of pliable minds

And so enabling such waterfall, this planned destruction of life in sequential stages 

and he saw those made for the gallows but not to drown

witnessing all these characters and souls from William's dream of heaven and hell

As he sailed life's oceans from Lear's storm to tempest all prewritten and played out 

and even did he meet the few futured in Momo's seven levels

yet the mob the many just drowned in their numbered days of lust, greed and vanity

And he, in my dream cringed, recoiled, from every hurt, from Mazen al-Hamada's murder

kindling this guilt of ours of remaining safe, passive, inanimate

as Mazen's dream ended I woke with just this light osculation of Her on my lips and heart

She, the incorruptible watcher, limitless, inimitable, termless, infinite particle, immortal, mirror

sometimes, Lou, I do have the weirdest dreams possible he said

so, in my anomalous occult enigmatic singular living dream, my preternatural consciousness

© 2024-12-14

He did ask....

 

....did he ask me

    if i could weep

    and shed some

    tears for a life

    gone to waste

    for he knew he

    could've been

    ..(and done)..

    so much more

    than just living

    plane old Jay's

    invisible me is

    what he asked....

© 2024-12-13

Part of the sad cycle.

© 2024-12-18

  

On Limitless Rhyme & Riddles

'Entschuldigung', I thought at first. For it did not hit me right away.

A gated vault, yet paradise isn't locked and I'm looking out, not in.

As for paradigms, do you think paradise and heaven to be similar.

© 2022-12-30

Paradise is in me

It's what I am

Why so surprised

© 2022-12-31

If a paradise were in me

would I exclude

those that hate me for it

© 2023-01-01

As this paradise is limitless

would a second

be enough for you to enter

me, I never left

while you refused to leave

your private hell

© 2023-01-02

 

Three Favoured Poets

One poet, a prince, walked a sea, travelled a desert and came from a mountain with wisdom

One poet, a carpenter's son, descended a mountain, wandered a desert and baptised a river

One poet, an orphan deserted, strolled down a mountain and recited his verses to his friends

© 2024-12-10

One poet, 

a prince, 

walked a sea, 

travelled a desert 

and 

came from a mountain with wisdom.

One poet, 

a carpenter's son, 

descended a mountain, 

wandered a desert 

and 

baptised a river.

One poet, 

an orphan deserted, 

strolled down a mountain 

and 

recited his verses to his friends.

 

Ultimate Emancipation of Life

Would death be the ultimate emancipation

would it be relief, release and redemption 

would it bring freedom the final liberation

would it be all of that and bring salvation

and if so,

would it bring you to change your ways

would you love your neighbour despite

the colour, race, gender or confession

and make you lastly accept this truth

all's one.

© 2024-11-12

Note.

I'm glad that The Guardian has joined me in the boycott of X 😁

Miss(ed) Universe

 

Had she not had those fabricated eyebrows

or that excess of paint on her face

and had she not lifted her buttocks and

had she not used fillers and botox

the woman might've actually been attractive

©  2024-10-31

Note.

I'm glad that The Guardian has joined me in the boycott of X 😁

Erosion of thought III

 

Part III

Just put a pebble on my rock

as a memento of that indelibility

He'd laid gently on my frailty.

Have I not climbed the mountain

and descended in the heart

You opened so knowingly to us.

And then you spat us out

from a womb through the cervix

In a myriad of quaqmires.

Never to return through the neck

of her bottle rocking at sea

In an ocean of sand and drought.

Hardship's what you offered 

but also the speech before the book

So Ali and I were free in law.

Not a prophet would ever aspire

a life you deem necessary

Yet freely we bow and serve you.

Had I ever thought to speak

and say this Israel has joint Azrael

Death, destroyer of children.

And the price we pay for this all

is exclusion by choice

Society's like that you well know.

Once touched is cursed twice 

by word and speech, dream and truth

Seeing through façade and lie.

In the midst of society yet not fitting

always partly distanced 

As the mind's eye looking from afar.

2024-09-11 © 

Note.

I'm glad that The Guardian has joined me in the boycott of X 😁

Athens

 

Where once I landed 

spirited from a silvery shining bird

I roamed your streets

Now clouded in orange dusts

this pearl of philosophers

cradle of democracy no more

From the top of the roof

I looked upon the Parthenon

and squared Syntagma

An iced coffee on the table

served with courtesy

and flair but well overpriced

History a tourist attraction

to the mainstream of trending void

without a love for science

Athena daughter of wisdom and art

how I loved to wander

your ways  your plaka  your heart ..

© 2024-09-01

Note.

Philosophy in ancient Greek meant: love for science / wisdom.

PS.

Feel free to boycott X (formerly known as Twitter).

Erosion of thought II

 

Part II

His bony tentacles scraped 

the withered red oleander flowers

of the green synthetic grass. 

In the distance waved a tree

its leaves at him. It was the last true

part of nature in this quarter

where even the neighbouring

twin girls had turned largely factitious.

Screaming their lungs out as

not a single parent had ever

made the effort to stop them from

yelling at the void of a world.

Watering the oleander shrubs

in the earthenware pots from a basin

underneath the plastic blades

of grass, he sensed a vacuity

in this minute preservation of nature.

Had not all become dystopian

as the fighter jet curved over

so low that even the twin's screaming

and his thought were outcried

© 2024-09-03

PS.

Feel free to boycott X (formerly known as Twitter), Telegram and the like....

Erosion of thought

Part I

Erosion of thought. 

My first erosion and thought 

on this Jacobaea Vulgaris 

between a river and sea

have been blotted out.

©  2024-08-18

Note.

And do visit this website: English | standing-together

Erosion of thought - Revisited

Some six years after the killing of the Rosenbergs

well, it's said their murder

It was in the very heart of Jerusalem that I was born

this Jerusalem of the west

And yet my cradle stood in a cold and darkened north 

in this grandparental home

There where my Zeyde and Bubbe taught both their sons 

about life, study and honour

In the port of Amsterdam in Brell's sixties I stood at the helm

of that whaler ship Barentsz

And not much later that child carried the sword up ancient steps

of a castle in his young heart

Blond and overly active pulling at my parents hands to go forward

to the exitement of growing up

(how) did I ever get home

Was it aged nineteen or at twenty that I tried to die crossing the road 

just in front of the speeding lorry

Or was it that starry, frosty night that I buried myself in a heap of snow

with an alcoholic haze for warmth

As the one thing in me that froze and died (that night) was the cerebrum

but the body kept for another hour

                                                a year

                                                    a decade

a lifetime with a heart, yet without a brain

have not both of us in all gone to extremes

(how) will I ever get home

"Somebody's done for" penned Sylvia mulling

(  ) and I believe it to be me

Perhaps my dead body will be perfect

© 2024-08-31

Note.

To the memory of the brilliant Sylvia Plath.

Jerusalem of the west a.k.a. Amsterdam.

This is an unfinished work of art

..it is..is it..isn't it..

© 2024-08-11

PS.

Feel free to boycott X (formerly known as Twitter).

For A Tikkun Olam Broken

 

We agreed

that this earth

was unfinished

not the perfection

my creator required

And He had errands elsewhere

So it was

up to us, me

you, and them

to build, to repair

but we sadly failed 

While He had errands elsewhere

Where did we improve

his creation or ourselves

in society or on battlefields

like Somme, Kursk or Gaza

fratricide didn't stop with Abel

By now Your errand is down here

So the servant is telling

his Master to end the tour

and come home to the mess

we made when He went away

to clean house purge the temple

All descendants of Abraham look up

© 2024-08-10

Note.

On tikkun olam and/or islah: it's our moral imperative to perfect the world, to improve and to repair what is broken. Look around you, how many of us, as a collective or individually, match 'if you save one life it is as if you have saved all of humanity'. 

Yet you decided to live your lives 

from games to party to festival 

from pretentious to depraved 

from disregard to contempt 

from fraticide to femicide 

from racism to fascism

from war to genocide 

from pride to greed 

from spite to hate

from void to hell

and all this while making selfies to boost the ego even further

to quote a popular song from the nineteen eighties: 

"....don't stop us now, we're having such a good time, we're having a ball....".

Yes, you may call me a killjoy, yes, I am spiritual, self-conscious even, yet not a Pharisee. Look up, children, look up!

© 2024/08/08 ©

PS.

Feel free to boycott X, Telegram, Instagram, TikTok or whatever halfpenny social media.

A First Ghazal A Last ؎

When you're dead tired of the long wait

looking up at the sky carrying the weight

The seagull was soaring through doubts

floating on gales in my everlasting clouds

Drops of dew glistened on her rose of flesh

birth, growing out of earth's innermost dress 

Planet blue this beacon for those who travel

universes He created ancient spirit to unravel

Who is this Hasan this sheikh spelled Hassan

thought of, and by, himself willful as a brahman

Was it drought that'd cracked all soil in this heat 

like a mirror hit by the bullet of that soul in a beat

It never is your fault is it, that's always your shield

it's hers, his, theirs, but in or after life you will yield

And finally He who need no son adopted one to tell

a strange child who cursed and loved a forever rebel

© 2024-07-24

Note.

To quote revered Shams - i - Tabrizi (translation by W.C. Chittick): 'If someone passes by the Quran after he has come to know the Speech, he will not be in narrowness, because, before he found the Quran, he had found spaciousness. He knows how to explain the Quran.'

PS.

Feel free to boycott X (formerly known as Twitter).

Somewhere - anywhere.

This simpleton at a crossroad

keeps watch on all that drive by

his stern look is as void of thought

as that of most who pass him by and

look down on him from their busy lives

and wonder who truly stands God's bliss.

© 2024-07-17

From a night of dreams

 

Would only your world be mine

as I drown in your eyes 

could I just be part of your universe

and submerge as colourless 

as my skin in the depth of your moist lips

for, yes, how I lust for your love

and sure consider me blessed with this burden

as I am burdened with this blessing

my tips touching lingering musing mulling ecstacy

your inner matching, meeting exaltation

could but your eyes be mine as I drown in my dreams.

© from a night filled with dreams up to 2024-07-17

Speaking on his behalf

 

I have been so often insulted

by the way in which they

in word and manner

spoke my name

....

not to mention the atrocities

they committed in my name

....

© 2022-12-24

Just because you do not see me

doesn't mean that I'm no (t)here.

© 2024-07-01

PS.

Boycott X (formerly known as Twitter).

 

Expressing negation or absence

 

When the messenger 

has become bigger 

than the message

in the eyes of all 

faithful puppets

there's no fall

not summer

nor spring

all winter

climate

beats

soul

-

not, non, no

-

soul

beats

climate

all winter

not spring

nor summer

there's no fall

faithful puppets

in the eyes of all 

when a  message

has become bigger 

Than the messenger 

© 2024-06-30

 

Prophets of Antiquity

 

They never wrote

a letter or syllable

not a single word 

© 2024-06-30

You

 

I am a blurred

part of your essence

mirrored image obscured

© 2024-06-30

From the Beginning

I never needed this life

to learn to be your friend 

perhaps you needed it

to proof you are part me

© 2024-05-04

An Abominable Poem

 

On his retina he sees the child with a bandage

on the stump of his wrist where once was a hand

and another where once was a leg, a foot, both legs

and some say these are the fortunate for they still live

In his ears ring the blasts and sounds of bombs exploding

and of children crying and then -under concrete- dying

some insist this isn't genocide, no crime committed

He looks at the secretly taken videos and photographs

of the men and women -of whatever age- imprisoned

from Gaza or from the West Bank, labeled Hamas

as if that would justify any terror, torture, murder

There's no poetry in here, no, for a world such as this

it does not rhyme

As his eyes search the sky, he prays, for a future free 

and peaceful Palestine

Note.

This truly is an abominable poem, for there shouldn't have been a reason to write it,

as I ask, can there be greater guilt than for a nation that emerged out of a genocide 

colonising a land, committing ethnic cleansing & war crimes adding up to genocide.

© 2024-06-08

PS.

Feel free to boycott X, facebook and all other trashy (social) media.

A not so random thought, 3

 

I am movement

if none speak of me

it's okay for I am simplicity

I am so much more than one (we)

when you're no longer bound

it's okay for I am growth

I am free in tradition

for (t)his lore is infrangible

it's okay - as I do make sense

I am always in motion

once you do not hear my footstep

it's okay - I am serene

I am quite untamed

how could you not love me

it's okay - I am afire 

- at ease -

That is             What

        I am love

That is              Why

        I am loyal

That is              While

        I am truth

© 2014-10-23

A not so random thought, 4

I am - call myself - a (re)searcher

so to speak a seeker's what I am

but actually I am saying with this

all  is  that  I  want  to  be  found .

© 2014-11-12

A not so random thought, 5

 

Find your way back

it's not in your past

Who is it

it is the way

where is it

it is in many places

endless

so wide

and yet, so narrow

that few

handful

find it or walk it

it is he - he is it

and He is that way

me was given way

Out of your past

divergent in this now

radiant towards a future

© 2014-11-12

A not so random thought, 1

As was passed on in the early years

through our elders

he was once present and in our midst  

then he distanced

himself to observe, judge and inflict

man's final verdict

Yet for some his self-imposed exile is negligible

He is everywhere of course

in everything

but best you hear his voice

in the desert

where you will find silence

in the waste

of life, away from his world

© 2024-06-01

Note.

Just mixing a bit of Sufism with Taoism and vice versa 😊.

The Mysticism of Mikeah d´Enchvsa: [ A closure of ] (mikeah-d-enchvsa.blogspot.com)

A not so random thought, 2

 

A ring or a gem you cannot take

a home will not acompany you

Knowledge you can bring with you

even though cognition's relative

Love, true love you can take

albeit your heart remains

Will your memory pass the treshhold

or is it too burdensome to let it go

What is a soul, what is spirit, what is life

where or with whom you want to be

Open the arch, see beyond the light

and everything will be, unlike any 

© 2014-10-14

No Match For Each Other

*

He walked in front of her

him not noticing

her eyes pierced his back

she hated that

not being seen or noticed

so she lightly

kicked his booted ankle  

he stumbled

but did not fall and looked

back angrily

now he noticed her as she

smiled sweetly

telling him she could see

that he wasn't

used to being off balance

he just said no

but his denial was more

of a dismissal

worse than the not noticing

as he turned

his back on her wan smile.

*

He knew he walked 

just in front of that curly girl

his shoulders broad

trying to look a little bigger

o would she notice

and then he tripped almost

fell kept on his feet

looking back at her smiling

while he stumbled

he mumbled no so denying

her a victorly over

his too fragile teenage ego

locking others out.

*

© 2024-05-17

I Remembered To Forget

As you spoke

-in bile and spite-

I remembered Demise

As you spoke

-in love and wrath-

I remembered Creation

As you spoke

-in grief and sorrow- 

I remembered Fraternity

As I cut of this hand

-for fear of doing wrong-

life was no longer a Dread

As you spoke

-in a tacit lament-

I remembered Love

As you spoke

-of conceit in deceit-

I remembered Timidity

As you spoke

-vexed and pitiless-

I remembered Seclusion

As desire numbed

-forgetting to remember-

I uttered a dissenting Voice

As He spoke

-straight to the core-

I remembered my Dawn

As He spoke

-in the depth of self-

I remembered to forget Me

As He spoke

-directly in the heart-

I forgot all all of this Domain

Speechles did I recollect

-no words required, solely wit-

to forget as I remembered His Path

©

Note.

Do words hold knowledge -yes- philosophy doesn't entitle full comprehension.

Who are these seekers in need of certainty, tradition, ritual and yet not find Him.

To any of the poor -hushed, subdued yet risen- this speaks louder than a scream.

©  2022-07-05 / 2024-05-07

[ TAO Zero ]

 

Write an ode, an elegy, wail

for these ancient wise 

who pointed heaven's path

But to translate is to betray

a great scholar taught

as he versed his thoughts  

On the love and the ridicule 

of philosophers of old

about society's complacency

But with truths out of a universe

the aged morality preachers

only showed what was - before

And what is and will be and what will not 

the description of mankind's path

that will surely end, like the Teacher said

Demystified Zero - Old Long Ear's Sufi Trail

 

© 20211111 - 20220111

EJW75

 

Grey is the colour of my true love's hair

her face is now lined yet still so fair

soft her eyes and lovely to see

she's growing old with me

I cannot fathom her hold, her grasp

or why my sweet Lord bestowed

my life with a blessing earned

not, but by prayer, yearned

Grey is the colour of my true love's hair

© 2023-03-01

[ A closure of ]

[ A closure of ]                                                    'The 100 Project of T minus 1'

 

Read this last, a finalisation of the eighty and one

    * by the way absolute principles are given

For there are a hundred paths to reach him

    * where's said it's ninety-nine names

and only one of them is yours to wander

    * just a single'll bring you to him

simply bring up the courage to do so

    * when uttered legitimately

and realise this will be a closure 

    * with a sincere heart

of not so random thoughts

© 2024-06-01