Alea iacta erit [Een dichter]

A trumpeter ascends the hill,
declares the conflict war.

A power-struggle thus begins,
axioms will shatter.

The challenged equilibrium,
once truth, and whole and nothing but,
becomes a battle’s centerpiece.

I am prepared to hold our ground

Despite her

soldiers wearing unobstructed reality
for uniforms.
Mine wear ideals, stone carved convictions
which are unmaneuverable.

Nothing but a Phyrric loss seems possible.

Untitled [Een dichter]

What they call chemistry,
I’d want in man-made
measured quantity.

The often praised mystery,
let me consume it unravelled
unburdened of unknowns.

It is too important
to know

How to differentiate these:
close distances unbridgeable,
potential of far fetched proximity.



Stripped [Een dichter]

Stripped of protective garments,
naked, there Truth stood.

As an unwritten manifesto,
testament to the manifestation
of two defenseless incarnations
of desire;

Prepared to engage.


Edward Munch – Amor and Psyche

Exchange rate [Een dichter]

I construct conscience castles
on undeveloped Hell’s hills

(The concrete one can buy
at the price of peace of mind of sanity
is really quite excellent these days)

Untitled [Een dichter]

My fountain pen is inked
I want to bleed my soul
Hope to start it flowing
Crave the sensational sense of some control

Being in my know
Knowledge of my how
or her’s or universe’s

To frighten the fear

with answer

Haiku: Winterreise [Een dichter]

Schubert wrote goodnight to
winter cold’s snow white beauty
played as best he could

Machinery [Een dichter]

I mimic a heart’s movement
being moved
In an idiosyncratic, externalized way,

by mind power’s fuel
I demand, I command, me
my machinery, to progress

get going, a starting process
defined as to feel, to move
from a logically comprehendible,
binary like state: to feel or not to feel.

I move to, strive for
the latter
run as if for a tomorrow to come
a feeling needs to form

it my master, I surrendered,
to the self wanted, self induced
self created entity it is, to experience


untitled [Een dichter]

She asked for a reason: “Why do you seek, why do you always seek?” She probably expected that even for this question I’d have a considered answer, a reasonable thing to say, something that would originate from the domain of reason, an explanation, something logical, a simple thing, a rule compatible, not contradict with my existence / existing set of rules, the set that is the sum of my ego and some might perceive as a book easy to live by (or for, for that matter.) She was not entirely wrong to expect what she expected, to look for what she sought, I did expect to find an answer, myself, and hell, I wrote the rules by hand, know them by heart. I would probably answer that I just want to hold someone and be held, that I somehow need to be part as if unable to be whole solely on my own (merits). Yet I am quite uncertain whether that counts, whether it suffices as a valid answer, nice to say perhaps when trying to appear deep. An answer that seems deep at the surface, but in it’s attempted profoundness defies logic, as well as the parts of me I know and understand, somehow it seems unexplored territory. (Is it at all possible that it is never explored, that I never attempted to describe it, never endeavoured to put it on paper, due to the fact that it is physically impossible to describe the nature of a cavity?)


Plus est en moi [Een dichter]

They say darkness is the absence of light, but doesn’t light owe 
it’s existence to darkness, after all, are not both of them of equal 
importance to get a sense of difference?
 I am probably more of a reflector, rather than a source of light
 myself, not out of intrinsic inability, although neither a choice
 My light’s surrounded by walls, carefully crafted throughout the 
years by uninvited strangers accompanied by a whole crew of 
builders formerly known as loved ones, alienating
 themselves, brick by brick, impeding the weakening attempts
 of my light to escape their fortress
 Silence, total silence, as well as darkness, complete darkness have 
a thing in common, both are
markers for the absence of their, generally more positively
 regarded antonyms, but there is another common denominator:
 they both terrify me
 I need music because I cannot cope with the meticulous and 
everlasting solo concerto of emptiness for a ticking clock;
 and sleeping feels like surrendering to the unknown,
 the nothing of a hollow darkness
 I am not a real night person, it’s just that surrendering to sleep, 
entering the gaping black, is way easier exhausted then it is at
 reasonable times, with fighting energy left
 Some people shine, others add to the shadows
 In my fortress, at least some bit of - false - comfort can be found.
 I regard the importance of the question whether it’s com-
fort is just a self invented illusion, or an actual reality as bearing
 the same weight as the meaning of the debate whether light
 needs darkness or the contrary,
 precisely: none, whatsoever.

26Alea iacta erit
3Eigen werk
21Van God los
25Exchange rate

27Haiku: Winterreise
15De Toeschouwer
2Dure fles
30Tabula Rasa
22Plus est en moi
5Orpheus / Opus 23 / in a-klein

10Nachtwandeling / liefdespad
10Wie is ze?
10Een wolkje