One kind of Love

Romantic love
the one, the only!
which comes and goes
which changes and adjusts
a life time or
stays dusty and dogmatic all
those years filled with
romance with secrete encounters
and lust and desire and a deep
connection an inner peace an
inexorable play of copulation

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Pieces

A piece of it
comes roaring back
pieces of it come
crawling back
pieces come floating
back at me

I hardly identify
I hardly identify
I intensively identify
those around me
in turn I can hardly
identify what makes
what makes it worthwhile
what makes it
a choice to come
roaring back
to come crawling
back at me
floating before the skull
behind the eyes

stretching out the
next piece that keeps on
being stretched out
and chewed on and torn
apart, apart from the next piece
united in dismissing
pieces and bricks and signs
to lead a way through
pieces roaring back
pieces catapulting and
diving through matter
I hardly identify
I hardly keep it together
while all the time
breathing steadily

Utrecht, January 2011

Don’t buy Cucumbers

Strikingly clear
all this confusion
tells tales
heart warming and coated with
bloody liquid shit
liquid shit covering crusted
cone heads
heads bigger than their contents
civilizing a rotating piece of expanding
headaches

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Theory and Action

As soon as you make something concrete
it dies.
If you know what’s coming,
How can there be change?
If you know what’s coming,
How can there be change?
Change your attitude, make something concrete.
Change again and leave it behind.
How can there be change,
If you know what’s coming?
Theory and action, action and theory.
Separate yourself from theory.
Yourself separated from theory,
You will never die.
‘Cus as soon as you make something concrete
it dies.
We don’t wanna die!
We will never die.
We are not concrete.
This is theory.
This is dead.
So I say:
Go and change

Utrecht, Spring 2010

Written on the 1st of May with a Broken Back

Dear bold bearded black-rimmed person
on the porch
behind the keys
through the microphone
in words, sentences, the universe
at our feet
dear old young man

I’m never looking for you
between the tangerines
in the supermarket
I’m staring at you
in my dreams between bodies
I’m meditating on you
and your breathing
exercises a hush
of sentiment
staring at you

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Ginsberg rehearsed

I’m starting off with others. Today I discovered the American artist Eric Drooker. I later read that he was also the one who animated Howl. I browsed through some drawings and came across a lion. This drawing in turn was inspired and connected to Ginsberg’s poem A Lion for Real which I read for the first time today.

They knew each other for a while. Ginsberg on Drooker.