With the past, I have nothing
to do, those times were
different and they are over

Wash tub, bleachfield and garden-toilet
in sepia with a jagged edge
behind modern colour photos

of my own life in the progress
of the nations to the romanticism
of amusement parks to participate

in Romans or Indians
farmers and old crafts
from the Middle Ages

my own life
as a real explorer
who explores the Celts

and the Batavi, smelling
their life, the pine needles
swampy grass, smoking fire

charred food, wet clothes
and the self-dug poo pit
that I already knew from the photo

Life is good
in Brussels and Amsterdam
thanks to people who do their job

without headlines and footnotes
without indolence and excuses
in advance

Work and rules change
but everyone knows for themselves
what it takes, voluntarily

under the yoke of cooperation
and service, which gives
unsuspected powers of satisfaction

Each time the customer king for a while
and both human
with each other

After his death
we talk
My warmth searches
for bridges and contact
across the emptiness

Rituals are too cold
for my soul
I want to be closer
in the underflow
of being there, feel

and receive together
the confidence
that we will reroot
balanced side by side
You are where you were

in the middle of the circle
next to the open space
which we preserve
for beloved flowers
to bloom

The smiley faces on my screen
are always the same, without wrinkles
The eyes never wink

I am often here, alone
though inseparably
we have become distant friends

So I like to smile a Good Day
at strangers in the street
I'm a good neighbour

and I think about it
that I am so selective
protecting my noble heart

with sensitive antennae
for who oh who
likes to make time for me

The pale one is watching me
with her big sad eyes
Ashamed I look at the manure
in which I live with Nena

Never should she, like me
be orphaned, daddy why
did you co-operate, why
didn't withdraw me from that honour

to make money in the temple
of the mother of us all
where men come
and pay for the fertility

of their cattle, oh heifer
I don't want anymore, but you
must be on heat again

otherwise you are more useless
than I, cast, thanks
for services rendered

Once the earth was flat
under celestial spheres
then it became a globe
in the void

with countries proud
to be big bigger biggest
fighting together, up
to the planets

Some say turn turn turn
the world upside down
the Land of Fire on top
Thule at the bottom

but Bucky knew better:
with twenty triangles
he made a new model --
the flat globe

and it may be the future
he shows, with America
opposed to the rest
of the world

For half an hour already
Mimi is purring in my lap

on the toilet
where I am stroking her
because of the lightning

No fear for her
I am a good person
I know that myself

my side is the right side
of the line under the door
the blue light

of the bolts
and the rumbling thunder
the sword of Michael

that separates evil
from good in a time
we all know

as our own time

What does it matter
how old I am, whether I have sisters
and children, where and with whom?

These are not worth knowing
In any kind of clothes, I am
with legs, torso and a face

my heart, desired or not
I want your imagination
to make appear the world

in which we can live
be freely safe and
kneel without finery

for the others, dear heart
together we can undertake
everything we wish

I can do anything to myself
get me stuck in dilemmas
ponder myself sick, activate me
or do nothing and wait
alternately on the couch, my bed
or hanging in the garden
between oak and lime

I can worry
about my health
and you, endlessly
make considerations
and decisions

     At least, if that is true
     because thinking is re-
     flecting, chasing after
     the events, telling myself

     that I have control over myself
     that I can make plans
     about my work and my life
     with you, now that everything changes

     and yet later will turn out
     to have stayed almost the same
     but then without this job
     and without you, only

     the transition is uneasy

I stuff my ears
with prefered sounds
I fill my eyes
with statuses and trivia
and sometimes I see the light
of today far away
in a picture

I ignore the people
around me, that's how
personal my life is
completely custom-made
inside my head

and confirmed
by my friends
who touch me and are
touched exclusively
on the friendship spot
where our two worlds kiss
each other autonomously

If you are a bad child
in the eyes of your parents
they sigh
oh, what shall

become of you?
Others are harder, they scold
you and demand respect
for the authority

of faith and customs
They think you are a nihilist
because they don't understand you
and because you do understand

you cannot argue with them
But you try
to explain -- no matter how nil
the rules are, there is one anyway:

do the others justice

Don't look at the past
with statistics that must
rise, deepening the abyss
in which we dare not fall

Rather turn around, step back
live like old people
simple, without illusions
about what you need

Take so many steps back
that you have time again
to do nothing and can pay
more to others

Join the splinter party
for public facilities
in the margins of the world
and choose the future

The defects themselves are not as bad
as the memories of the time
I didn't have them, but

well, if that is all
what it is not, time after time
and yet I keep thinking it

sometimes wondering if
and where there is a limit
to rather give up

there's still só much I want
see flowers and release balloons
around the world to touch

people with a caress
of soft thoughts and
moments of peace

Beyond the Gateless Gate
I gave my stuff away --
homeless I roamed under Pisces
in the sky, their time is a long
time on the clock of the earth

The cities were founded quickly
in Aries' short hour --
but Aquarius, your centuries
are still far in the future
after the strong men

You and I don't wait anymore
we gain, in our meantime --
it is no different, changes
happen gradually, even
what dominates is only partially there

Now we have some stuff again
and we no longer roam, we are --
stronger than the strong men
water carriers for each other, at home
beyond the Gateless Gate

Bridges are no riches
anymore, they don't offer space
but rush

over my head, they separate
people and confine them
to an island without energy

a void that exhausts me
and that I cannot fill
with the contacts I make

over all the bridges
with which I make shift
for lack of time

to go out the door
and explore my island
a while without agenda

having casual conversations
and meet neighbours
who I can touch

In the evening we dance
free expression, I am
free and safe in the camp

There is only one lock, one man
who has the key, because
who would want to leave?

Come and take a look
through the fence wires
we don't hide anything

Shirking, sneaky
stuf, a rape, everything
is seen and then

the police quickly take you
to the decision square
that has no facades

There are always people passing
by the houses without outside
walls and without back rooms

seeing if you are doing your best
keep on working and are proper
in the picture and in the toilet

The world reflects everything
from everyone, but luckily
we see very little of it

Except, unfortunately, the queen
who gains in beauty every day
But young men don't see it

They shout: the princess
is more beautiful - their fantasy
of daily pleasure, a dream

of effortlessly becoming king
So Helen does not trust herself
She looks in the mirror

that lies a false truth
she walks to the lake
(guards follow her remotely)

Her eyes search the water
her lips talk to the wash of the waves
her hands reach for a golden fish

Not unmoved, sitting still
standing still, I can do it
though not that long

in the same position, but I do it
finally, without interference
everything is going on beyond me

the light, the clouds
smells, plants, and animals
I know roughly what will



Wait and see is enough, wait
for what comes back, like memories
that repeat themselves, the sounds

every day again, at home
in my mind knowing
what we are all missing

the feeling of being missed
when spring comes, summer comes
everywhere we can't be

Hey, there you are again
What a coincidence. I am here again
Well, we both are, like yesterday
Are those rolling motion shoes?

Oh, that's a birthmark
here, you mean, you point
right here? no
don't come any closer!

     You're already scorching me!
     you ignite my imagination
     it starts to burn
     the smoke clouds me

     and I like to blaze splendidly
     until nothing is left of me
     and then arise again, jump
     again, into the fire

     of desire
     dance in the flames
     glow together forever
     Where shall we meet?

     I'd like to get to know you
     although I wonder:
     does fire know the bodies
     to which it jumps?

We are close together
without touching each other
we do that underground

in the airy worm bed
far from the chattering magpies
on our arms, the arrows

of the squeaky parakeets
with the news of the day
and the screaming gulls

We do it in the dark
licking each other's juices
and we intertwine

Ants, we don't tolerate
nowhere on our skin
they have to go elsewhere

where the parties are
fungi and lice galore
not here

We swarm across the border
where the threshold was a wall
the guards are large-sighted
the farmers plow on

We push our way out of the cold
through the roses on the right, the lilies on the left
red and white the leaves
swirling behind us

We are many
more tomorrow
thunder rolls through the clouds
the children become restless

the parents get them home
on the way, they still glow
with freedom, at home
they close the doors

with infected hands
there is not enough soap
and not enough stock
to keep us at bay

We escape time and time again
nail open new houses
dive inside
and unleash a flood

Sometimes you look up, listening
whether there is anyone, then I don't fall
into your arms, we are not so
intimate with each other
regardless how much I love you

I get as close as possible
I whiten my shadows, bath me
in the scents of your home
and sneak around like a ghost
without a sheet

Sometimes something creaks
then you look up for a moment
without seeing where I am
and I answer your thoughts
with Chance

and the feeling of being alone
peacefully alone at home
there is no kissing
no sleeping together
and no one is missed

It's over, foreign interests
rearrange everyday life
and clear old wisdom

The children adapt
They don't lift a finger
at the dust and the leaks

They shrug their shoulders
about the salty sea breeze
and don't see the bugs

They are amazed
when the door is open
and the aisles are full

of trampled papers
as fuel for a bonfire
at the Sun Gate

They have not the faintest idea
what was of value
to the thieves

The robots are served
by me, I have no choice
They squeak horribly
when I don't do it well

Then I hear the people
who don't get enough
They are entitled to their dose
of electronic alcohol

and to a nice development
of their plants, growth and
flowering with artful scents
controlled in the room next-door

After the beverage sensation, there is a choice
between avatars and dreams
with or without sex --
everything Bien de Luxe

After work done, it is sweet
to rest for those who are in the pass
of electronic life
that knows what is good for us

Groups of people attract leaders
give them power, and that power
attracts people

In new times, power melts
Supporters drop out, so
the level drops again

Thus the masses push and thrust
the waters of prosperity up and down
as if it were happening to them

Far away the sea moves with it
bringing drought or flood
and tormenting people until they unite

in a countervailing power, bringing their
well-being and downfall upon themselves
with all its consequences

Why are there people dreaming
of hell, a formless world
with leafless trees, beastly

people, thirsty victims
theatres where the murders are real
and of slogans written in blood?

Why do they fantasise like this
about a better life
about a new beginning?

Why are there people dreaming
of freedom, equality, fraternity
without prelates and politicians?

Why don't they sing
the song of humanity
Why

do they numb themselves
to explode
their pettiness?

Live! Not dying
like all the sad-eyed people
but like the dog
that dances in the window

Wake up and look
There's sun, there's stars
there's daisies
and it swirls
in your sex

Wake up to a poem
Your blood flows
Spring comes and
there's bread in the oven

I'm not saying anything new
My words are clear
as water, as your soul
The sea falls and rises
but man is cruel

Insatiable angels float
through the park, wearing wings
of fear and a crown that hurts
Their heart is wounded, lonely
and it no longer knows who it dwells in

The trees cannot help them
Pickpockets lurk in the bushes
of hidden love
The alderman sends police
into the night with handcuffs

People are closing up their homes
They hear, see, and speak no evil
An owl in the hollow of a tree
calls the hour of truth
and my eyes start to water

My ear is colour positive
the red rim boils
from your words, a bright
light bursts from the auricle
and hangs in front of my mouth

in front of my held breath
my lips not quite open
my thoughts unspoken

my look colour negative
with well blooded brains
crossed arms, glowing
with suspicion and defiance
with the desire to attack

You won't get away with it
you won't get away with it
you won't get away with it

Outside, the street is full of roles
barbed wire, you don't see them
behind the blinded windows
of formal peace

Inside everyone walks naked
in their clothes around the tower
of stacked seats on which
the Commissioner is sitting

He wiggles, the mouth full
of national interests and mutual care
The walls are decorated with names
Out of politeness I note mine

in the guestbook, sixteen pages
after a woman who has become famous
I leave my borrowed laurels
I don't want to rest on them

I am as I used to be
cheerfully my mind flies
in front of the group, to the sun:
I receive a laughing hat

Goodness, what big eyes you have!
To look all day
and make me think

about my familiar self
full of action and attention
full of inexhaustible energy
until the reaction comes

to all those wonderful particles
in my blood and my body
runs off track: should I

smile and prefer to keep
the mean tediously, heading
to a smaller, inner happiness
I do know it all

so well, but it is a fight
for who I am, oh doom, oh wisdom
of my mind