Written silence

No comments.

No value
No interest
Nothing
worth noticing,
Not a word
to be wasted?

No comments.

No joy
No pleasure
Nothing to treasure
In your heart,
Not a sight
From where it might be difficult
To depart?

No comments.

Not a clue
As to how I should react,
As to how I should address you.
No vocabulary
No grammar
Can help me get through.

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

Games people play:

I want to talk

but I never listen

to what you have to say.

And your silent refrains

are no match

for my legitimate complaints.

Games people play:

I try not to judge

but there you go again...

why do you have to be that way?

And your sensible advice

is useless to me,

so don't give it twice.

Games people play:

I do what I do,

you do what I say.

Disbeliever

I live in the dark,
you say.

Well, I am accustomed to it
and, thank you, I can find my way.

As to the light
you offer to cast
upon my life,
I find it far too strong and blinding
for my material eyes.

Welcome

Welcome,

my prince, my life, my joy.

I hope I can make you happy,

my sweet little boy.

A teacher's complaint

Miss them already.

I worry and complain...
Feel, sometimes,
that I'm going insane.
I grumble and moan,
Wish I could run away
and be alone.

But when they're all gone
from my life,
When I realise
I mean nothing to them
And they don't give a shit,
I can't avoid the water
Running to my eyes
And wish I could quit.

I'd love to be a man

I’d love to be a man
even if just for one day.

To be able to sit back
and relax
while pots and pans stir,
the scent builds up
(“what a lovely combination:
the kitchen and her!”)
and a meal is created
like pure magic.

To be the one to ask
with a nonchalant smile
“what’s for dinner today?"
And hear my sweet,
priceless wife say:
"your favourite, dear" –
Her grudges and rage
well tucked away
under layers of tame, tame love
(not fear).

Oh, yes.
I’d love to be a man
in a man’s world.
To be the hungry,
lazy wolf
pampered by a dove.

HEY

You, out there,
on the other side!

Nice to know you care,
even though you tend to hide…

I know I’m not alone,
I feel your presence.
And it brings me such comfort,
such solace,
That even with no sign from you,
I sense your essence.

elusion

I've written so much
and yet

words elude me
like grains of sand
slipping through my fingers.

NOT TOO LATE

Let me out of this darn cell.

I've been in my head for too long,
I'm tired of putting up with me.

I've found no reason to stick to this mind,
This is definitely not who I want to be.

I've still got some life left, so please,
while I'm still sane, allow me to be free.

Me

A miracle,
an accident,
a speck in time.

An incredible experience
a trip on the planet
which might result in victimhood
or in crime.

CURSE

Cursed be the men who hanged him
for they are no better than he.

When I take your life for taking the lives of others
For good and evil, we are bound as brothers.

PATHOS

s
s
s
(Illustration by Rien Poortvliet)

s
s

There is something poetic
about my death
Something outrageously beautiful
about my very last breath.


Audaciously sad,
this longing to grieve
my own pain
rejoicing at the thought of others
mourning in vain.

I am curious
about this suffering
I and they
will have to endure.



But to draw any conclusions
at this stage
would be premature.

OUR EYES

Our eyes
tell the happiness we share
when they smile together.
And I can feel you feel
my smile is brighter
when you are there.

THE SKY IS THE LIMIT

Yes, my house
is falling apart.
They said it was unwise
to stay inside
but I don’t consider myself
that smart...

Besides,
where else
am I going to fall sleep
whilst watching the stars?
Why should I come
down to Earth
when I can live in Mars?

Others see curtains,
stained glass
and sorrow
when they gaze at their windows
from the outside.
But I see infinity
in shades of blue
I am happy and free
When I come home to you.

A SHADOW

(Beautiful drawing by Rien Poortvliet)




Who's there?
What do you want?
The morning mist
confuses my eyes.

How do I know
In this strange light
Whether you're friend
or foe,
whether you've come to help
or fight?

Cute and helpless

Cute little helpless creatures, we say.
And we tend to forget that we, also,
In our own complicated way,
may not be exactly cute
but are definitely as helpless, today,
as when science and religion were mute.

Damp feelings

(watercolour by Rien Poortvliet)


The rain has come down upon the earth
And turned my home into a dirty pool.
The world is now a sad, smelly place
The grey clouds seem to me so cruel.

I look around and sigh, feeling vaguely sick
The ground is soft, but treacherous and cold,
Is this a plot against me? Who played this dirty trick?
My strength is gone, I must have grown old.

WORDLESSNESS

Not that I am not thinking
Not that life is passing me by
Not that I don’t want to share
Things that make me smile and cry


But I have come down
With a strange illness
My tired brain is dumb
In a kind of verbal stillness


I think and feel it all,
From excitement to sadness
But I can’t seem to express it
I’ve been struck by wordlessness.

Restlessness

Restless, restless,

My heart runs along,
while my soul finds no song to sing.

Restless, restless,
My heart runs on,
Not knowing it has a broken wing.

Faster, forward,
Sometimes looking back,
Tripping over stones of loss and sorrow,
Humming to itself, carrying the weight
Of the grudge against my soul
Who finds no song and no reason
To run along with him.
(She knows she has no wings...)

Restless, restless,
He sings. But his song lacks
The power and the grace
To make him fly

And so he must die.
(1995)

TIMEFRAME

Maybe if I put a frame
around this moment
Time will stop.
Maybe if I sit still
If I don’t talk
Things will stay the same.

Maybe if shut my eyes
You’ll be here

Maybe in disguise
You can come near.