Speaking with hands and feet

with fists rain and furious storm

composing in passwords who I am

arm blows stamping no thinking



about who I am and if you fight with me

when there is a gale in our blood

you too are crying yourself free while you dance

my soul connected with your heart



heaven found each other's hands

our steps follow the sun

my whole body understands

who I am, feels what is moving me

This palace of mirrors looks quite
common because it refracts everything

into googol beings and objects and even
more tissues, and so on, and so on

No one can see the whole
Only with closed eyes

it is possible to think a whole
out of loose people and see

that they do not exist separately
but live and move in all

mirror pieces, we too -
only blindly I can see

if I dare, that I can
only care well for myself by

Dressed in mama's nightgown
skating in the middle of the street
and making long journeys
with trains in the attic, yet
if someone later says

It was already there
you know, don't you?
Twelve years old...
two four six eight ten
who is not gone, is seen

just look around you:
people are on their way
all of them passengers
in a private seat joining
the flight to the same

the travel rules are clear
put on the safety belts
for extras, you have to pay
but love and fate
are nowhere for sale

then shrug your shoulders
and start talking about something else
because reason demands that
you don't take anything personally
even if it is about you

However different people are
from my thoughts about myself:
if I look better, I know that
the differences do not matter
that what is conspicuous in their behaviour
reflects my own attention

Those times when I was in love
I heard it in some songs
recognised it in movies and sometimes
someone recites a poem
with exactly the right words

that make contact and let
energy flow on a basic tone
that brings us together, the together
that I often ignore

Young people are poor thinkers
You must first feed them

on the fruits of that one
special tree of knowledge
of what is useful and detrimental

before they know anything
and once they get that
they understand

that it is the way it has to be
if one doesn't want to remain a paradise child
for whom everything must be ready

in a world without dangers
What seems detrimental to that child
is good for humanity, although it is a pity

that many adults do not continue to eat
the fruits of that tree

I departed for peace
and this hotel was my court
for four years

I prayed for wisdom, deposed
the popes, and had a stage been built
outside the walls

For science, which does not help
     to solve the problems, but
     complicates the world

For the learned rector from Prague
For a summer fire for the citizens
     and the women who lend themselves to us

because politics is theatre
in the halls and the churches of the city
on markets, in hotels and brothels

Just let the girls in our bed
laugh at our nakedness
and the game with crowns and sceptres

Just let the bells ring
on their jester's cap

Not even three years old, demanding
to drive the tlatto myself, sitting at the steer-
ing wheel on top of the huge tires

Out of impatience and dissatisfaction
my will was born
and that's how I wanted you

But now you are there
Now I want you different

to love you
and also I'd like to know how
among all willegos

I can love and
not cut back myself without
cutting back others

Like you I look
for the distinctions to understand
what has been

different in the womb
in the neighbourhood where we grew up
and with the people who lived there

And I do not know
We look alike, this or that way
we rolled down a sand hill

whistled on a straw or acorn cap
discovered the zero after a lot of counting
learned to write with bread

and tried our best to get permission
to eat the letters, it was
all differently the same

Also the uncles and the aunts
and the children from the neighbourhood:
the differences are numerous

but too small
to be able to catch them
So I have to swallow

and admit that it is true
that you are just as good
as I think I am myself

Differences draw boundaries
and there are words for it:
baby, child, man and woman

red, brown, yellow, stupid and smart
black, white, compatriot, barbarian
We know all about it

There is a reason
that we are innocent and
others are offenders

There are words for it
and also answers: punishment, pest
crash, bombs and grenades

manslaughter, hunting, gas and fire
all within the boundaries
of Own Laws First

At home, on this side and
at home, on that side of the border
people wish for peace

Today is like yesterday
I turn around again
If only I could live
the way I want

You can do it
without any trouble
but about my wishes
there is a hassle
Leave me alone, stop
with these rules
and learned opinions
I don't feel like
defending myself all the time
and thinking
about other people's problems

Enough thinking has been done
I don't need to
redo it, why
should I torment myself?

Empty the meeting room
The chairs lined up again
The screen in the corner still spouting
the latest news reports

I lie down on the round table
stretch myself out and surrender
to pleasure, caressed
laziness, oh, don't

think of your hands now
not of decisions taken
plans and action points and
not of the noise outside

the air rippling around
the boxing hustle
the profits bouncing
across cartwheels of hurry

the life of our excesses
of deeds, although I prefer them sometimes
to words, although I prefer them sometimes
because each life does count

Signals in the atmosphere
lay a web of information
over my face

They infiltrate through
my senses, excite my brain
and captivate me with grace

amazement and the wish
to understand what
they push and pull within me

in my thoughts and needs
in my strands to their
hearts, their hands, and feet

from my knowing to their
knowing in a knot
from everyone to everyone

Over there, taking root is risky
Dung and rain are uncertain
soil can be shoveled away
and become exhausted
they themselves
can be dug out or torn out
Here is the free world
Hard and barren
Concrete, steel, and plastic, walls
around small rooms and closed doors
rolls of barbed wire on the borders
and a pitiless bureaucracy

Next to me, arms and legs
survive with ugly scars
They embrace me passionately
with hands and feet, take root
in my attention and feed
on my kindness

Our beautiful life, preserved
against the cold that may return:

cans with beans, old newspapers
worn out clothes, jars of jam
up to the ceiling
the hard land, and the hard way
of the great leaders, and the little ones
who fought for their own advantage
the heroes of steel, later torn
from their home and from the books

But we are still there, in our musty house
we still share - a beautiful life

The travelling man created
the inn, later also the pub
and he saw that it was good

The forests have been felled, the trees
sawed up, carpentered and polished
- a couch on which I sit

in the back of the pub with people
talking about the curiosities of their lives
and asking me what I know

of my work, is it more
than what I do? Am how far
does its influence extend?

What is our place
in All, what is the point
of our effort?

Trolley cases on the quay, tourists
They belong to it when you live here
Thin John sitting straight on his bike
every morning three times around the block
in the afternoon on foot the other way around
And Mario the sidewalk speaker
with his dog. They belong to it

The children who jump cannonballs
next to party people in their sloop
We ourselves when we go on vacation
in airplanes every two minutes
low over the houses against the wind
The cyclists with their priority face
Ordinary people who are living here

The Americans in front of their café
on the corner, where believers sat
when the church with the tower was still there
Red Mia dutifully shuffling around
the litter bins which she keeps tidy
And neighbours arguing once again
They all belong to it

They live here, and everywhere
the world is maladjusted, so
I begin on the street, with myself
with them and with you: Hello!
A good day here
where we are at home and wish
that everything stays different

Via Via I do approximately know who I am
someone among all the people

who keep the city alive
and show me my soul
We feed each other, therefore eat
each other as one body
mankind, hungry to live
approximately knowing who we are
among each other and the rest
on our long way
up, down
and around

The goals I had, lost
and not missed, lost
in ubuntu

I believe and I have a dream
are famous words
Obsolete now

that there are so many more beliefs
so many more truths
to dream away

from reality
which no longer can be guessed
but inescapably

is what it is, you have to
deal with it, you should
deal with it

but you prefer to wrap it up
in light-fast favourite colours
and facts thought hard

I know and I have the certainty
are our words in the turmoil
of colliding opinions

I cannot say I
live here, only here
we live, we have to

entertain ourselves
within the walls
from meal to meal

a choc once an hour
alcohol three times a year
a lot of coffee though

so as not to become depressed
Some make music
for the fans

there is a guinea pig
Quarrels lie in wait
if you don't think

about peace and how ever
people, brains compulsory
voluntarily adjusted

will experience it, at that time
there also may be no more walls
no more people like us

Sometimes I look in the mirror
and I see a look
of recognition

that jumps from my body
to my mind, my thoughts
about myself

Sometimes mum says something
about dad that she recognizes in me
and sometimes I like it

but I prefer to be a mix
of traits from mum
dad, the grandmas, and grandads

who must have seen it
but I did not recognize their look
of recognition

Sometimes I firmly say something
and right away doubt springs upon me
while the others are certain

that those words of mine
do say a lot
about me

Do it, blame me
that you get little attention
It's true

I am
occupied with myself
I'm very well aware

that my life is too short
to postpone

what is important
not only you

also my peculiarities
pleasures, habits
and responsibilities

for my health, at home
with the neighbours and at work
I am proud of it

whatever you think of it
so do it, blame me

that I love myself

Half the world is free, celebrating
peace on earth, but a friend
of my husband has problems

with his wife, he stays with us
for a while (entertaining)

In the evening he tells stories
about the foreigners in our city
where he wouldn't want to live

afraid of the uninvited guests
afraid of losing what he has

his income, his stuff
maybe even his wife
I see that he doesn't dare to give

love, doesn't dare to think
and live great ideas

Only in small gestures
casually from his back pocket
his conscience speaks

of liberty
equality and fraternity

The grass is still wet
around my mat
early in the morning
in the Vondelpark

under the high dome
of vapour trails through
the blue sky above the city --
the space of my mind

My sense of reality crackles
fiercely through it, igniting
fuses in my head and
my feeling to be me

splinters for an indefinite period --
the remaining time
of «unknown»
is unknown

We admire the starry sky
the flourishing earth and ourselves
and we conclude: God

is incapable of creating
something improvable
so mankind must be good

Our morals don't go backwards
or forwards, nor up or down
but left and right, side-wards

to and fro, from person to person
between hard and soft, joys and sorrows
young and old, wise and stupid

busy every day
to take care of ourselves
and to be a good neighbour

Namaste, don't fear me
I am Godzilla!
Face It
– I’m Hateable

I Do Not Belong ...
I am Forsaken ...
This is no Dream
This is a Prehistoric Nightmare

Sometimes I ask myself ...
Have I become ... an Avatar or Madness?
I'm ... seeking ... Purity
– Essence, Faith and Innocence

I am the muse, I play
the tunes of beauty
from the school of life
hear the liberating melodies

secrets in a world of darkness
I listen to the voice of souls
I give no answers, I breathe
with the desires

Free me, I am gifted
I just want your soul
I invoke the power of love
by the will of the heavens and earth

Within the banks of the law
everything belongs to everyone
Duties are imposed
rights you have to take

I see myself small
from the high towers
where ministers wait in silence
for orders from above

The plans are ready
the dice roll
over the finely combed cloth
to Grand House or Southern Wind

The adjutant signs
the cautiously prepared move
of yet another new law
for people and country

Statistics are the weapons
They prove who fails
they prove the profit
for everyone

What is one is itself
but if you know someone else
you are partly also that person
you are also what was different
until that moment

And you observe that, it dawns
on you and you grow

That's interesting, we repeat it
in stories about people
and the gods they imagine:
the more souls, the merrier and the more
humor thanks to the differences

And the trick is to learn
to see that everyone is everything

Therefore, yes therefore there was
a feast in heaven for the wicked sons
at the end of their tumultuous lives
while the good sons
were taken to hell

And the supreme god laughed
at their illusions

Maybe I'll have to move
the neighbours are watching
whether I belong to them

and don't go too far
in oddities
Well, a little can be funny

They are also proud themselves
of their profession, their unforgettable
exploits and their indispensability

for the traditional holidays
for everyone, including me
so they count on me

I value their faces
what kind of men they are
fighters with an ax

in their hands, or soldiers
in black clothes, servants
of the dread counsellor

Sometimes I crash
in myself, then I pry
screams loose
Here! Here!

I pound out thoughts
I exist! Hey! Why
does nobody get out
of step?

Your clothes are bulging
I look through them
little hands pop out
of the fat bumps

They wave up
to their friends
from the ceiling, haha
I got it

I'm not crazy
Singapore is crazy!
Everything is correct
decent and swept

Our skin is a pleasant separation
to undo with our body and limbs
and when we kiss and are one breath

we are also one spirit
no different thoughts
one passion, nothing separating us

agreeing with each other and ourselves
complete in boundless

But where there is space
presence arrives, thoughts
tacitly sneak in, hand in hand

they build a thick wall
as a solid support
for familiar views

You no longer see a wall
only a green hedge

rampant with repetition
and rooted in the need
to be apart with acquaintances

without contradiction
ambivalence and understanding
safe and not powerless

According to unwritten rules
my behaviour is exemplary
I shall not burden my husband
not be wild, and only kiss in bed

Furthermore, I pretend I don't
have a body, while my friends
can just lie on a warm boulder
in a nest, in the hay, in the water

and in their rooms
where no one watches them
and no one cares
to tell anyone

And I always wear a shirt
of shame and fear
and if I ever am alone
unfamiliarity holds me back

Here are people living
in wet boxes
and I don't cry
I am not campaigning
for an allocation in the budget

I feel alone
just like the others
in their houses and clean clothes
who already have so much to do
and who walk by embarrassed

with a friendly greeting
that cuts off a conversation
before it can begin
and who forget this quickly
before it becomes a problem

Sometimes we give money
What else can you do
but ponder your sin-
ful needs and spend
what you have got after that

You don't have to build a tower
to observe people
the harmony and the beauty

of a village and a city
the rub surfaces and the laws
of attraction and repulsion

In whatever clothes
there are gatherings
of souls who feel

to be one without knowing
how it works, how it can be
organized

It is a big matter
of too small groups
to really be one

Thinking about life is disconnecting
the two as much as possible
taking a distance, an unobstructed view

from an ivory tower
observing with all-hearing ears
and eyes that recognize everything

capable to understand
everybody's daily ignoring
of the deadly sins, those old

lessons about the pride
to consider yourself higher and to think
to live in a better way than others

time and again clearly measured
on a standard of your own
which you review from time to time

by climbing the tower to look
at the foolishness of the people
and be above it

The witch in me sleeps
in velvet sheets, she seduces
my dear husband into chores
in our own little house on the banks
of the Mississippi in Louisiana

earned on my own
out of the lusts of men
I was popular, I enjoyed
all my sins as long
as I needed them

for there's no success
in settling the slogan
in which nobody believes
except my dear husband
who doesn't want to lose me

We will share and share alike
without greed or anger
without gluttony and jealousy
I'll only keep the luxury
of laziness a little longer

Paradise is paved, everywhere
you can park in front of the door now
Pink walls and plastic flowers:
places where people like to be

Isn't it a shame that only afterwards
you open your eyes for what you had?
Paradise is paved, everywhere
you can park in front of the door now

All trees are saved, come, have a look
in the greenhouses of the museum!
It is not expensive to see them all
and you get bees and butterflies too!

There are greenhouses everywhere, no spots
on the apples, they won't even get brown
But last night the door slammed shut
and my beloved left in a big taxi

I met someone and asked
Where are you going? Something special?
There's a large field over there
where I will sing
to free my soul

People are golden, star
dust in the large, large field
- finally back in the garden
Oh, can I come with you?
Out of the smog!

We just spin around
in mists without a view
but very perhaps
something changes
in time, or in me

The army no longer throws bombs
but food and drinks
on all the hungry people
without money, devilish money
- finally back in the garden

There's a woman in the verge
of the highway, I know her
She looks like me, like the face
next to me in the side window

She comes closer and bends
forward to my indicator
I break a sweat in the dark
behind my steering wheel

My boy, what are you doing here?
I turn over in my grave
of all my worries
about you

Mama, I'm going to work hard
and then I'll get rich
Oh boy, don't you know?
This is the road to hell

On your journey through barren poverty
from the desert to the source
you got lost, you turned off
to hell

The river is full, it is not dry
although it does not flow, it just boils
bubbling of all conceivable poisons

It can be seen day and night
yet the light of joy is extinguished
in darkness

People are more afraid than they want
to admit and the threat of violence
has broken them of laughing

Common sense rings the alarm bell:
this is not a technological error
no, this is the gateway to hell

The believe in a happy ending jams
the roads, you can't do anything
about the piles of paper plans

Look out what happens to the world
please pay attention to where this goes
before it's too late

This is not a way forward, no no
this is a road, really a road
a road to hell

We danced to a new year
in the utopia of the music
and the Golden Oldie
songs of love, longing
and sorrow that live
in our lungs

and emerge unpredictably
all of a sudden from the depths
of our breath
caressing or storming full
of experiences that make us
feel who we are

and what it's all about, seize
the eternity of our lives
in the stream of our breath
which is also the breath of others
while we are completely
engrossed in our presence

With the proceeds, he bought the bank
the water company and computer halls
Modern Monopoly. He invested
in advanced filters and the internet

With a wink he kept his title
Landlord. Ah, the good old days
Now we are the owners, we pay
the subscriptions and pay off our debt

Things are going well, fewer members
are active, there is talk on the sidelines
and self-interested owners
collect proxies

The administrator acts
opportunistically and follows
the outside world
There is a call

for another system:
with so little involvement
a transfer of power will do -
blank until business is done

When I don't understand someone
what incites him
what he thinks he can gain
what he thinks himself

about his life and
about me, the stranger
that I, yes I, am
in his eyes

then I have to cross
the thresholds to get to know
the not understood interests
of others, to get to know them

When I renounce
the effort
to make contact
there is no peace

because we live together
on earth, there is only one
world to grant
to each other

ARTICLE 1
The state consists of a legislative, an executive and a judicial power. The judicial power organizes itself and functions independently of the legislative and executive powers.

ARTICLE 2
All persons in the Netherlands have equal rights and are treated equally in equal cases. The state does not take into account personal aspects such as beliefs, preferences and physical characteristics.

ARTICLE 3
In the event of a violation or alleged violation of article 2, the state investigates the facts and acts in such a way that they are submitted to the judiciary for assessment.

ARTICLE 4
Unequal opportunities are eliminated as much as possible by the legislator, both in current cases and preventively by organising public order in accordance with article 2.

Groups are always moving
They are not a dead weight
each member follows
with pulling and pushing
the heartbeat of the whole

regardless of the chirping
of the birds that fly ahead
but do not lead, that are
a frayed edge of the flock

When danger threatens
they veer away, and again
when it isn't over
Fleeing ever further
for refuge, they shit

the world white, black
every shade of brown
and don't know
what to do

The green withers
the branches break
the neighbours snatch
away the food and
the group falls apart

Because he was the strongest
the richest, the cruelest, the man
who could do it, he was king
our royal body
the best protection
that we protected

We prospered well
our body became a giant
we wrote more and more laws
in which self-interests diluted
as much as our feeling
to be a strong body

Yes, there are other bodies
sometimes opponents without respect
for us and our needs
with an inflated body that is strong
and crushes millions of peace-
ful people

There are laws against that
but only the ravages of time
will change something about it
and until then we have to
put on an ugly face
knowing that we are different

The people here
are not quite grown up
They live past inconveniences

So I'm gonna settle it
Like a parent for their own good
Comment is all in the game

I don't mind, we have to move on
Who does not act, is manipulated
and my own preferences
don't appear out of the blue
I have experience

I chip and wipe away the chips
I am a doer, a maker
No expensive gestures
no desperate remedies
to reassure desperate patients

I know what I'm doing, there are goals
to achieve and worlds to win
with ambition

the seed of my misdeeds
my taunted pride
to want to achieve something

I'm not vain, I'm noble
Beyond reproach
I know the world, the people

with their little souls
their little minds
and little worries

I understand them, I see
the guilt and the shame
with which they punish themselves

for their lies
to keep the corpses
hidden in their wardrobe

I can guess them though
and I pass them on in a whisper
like a gear, a compelling eye

That's just how it works
Thanks to these seeds
I am exemplary

The seeds of my high-
handed, high-minded ideas
So practical, my slander

There must be misery hidden
behind glitter and gold
wouldn't it?

We talk about it, right away
if there's anything suspicious
A child staying at home

grandma on a visit for a week
a new nanny
or a long business trip

Call it gossip
It is the cement
of our neighbourhood

And we know very well
that it is possible
it is not true

And this is the seed
the seed of our slander
Our envy

Living together leads
to making agreements and
taking responsibility and
that creates problems

with the free will
of one person against another or
of yourself against your genes or
against the interference of God or
against spirits who seduce you

with their magic or
grace, so that you may or
may not be able to
overcome your lust

Theories do not resolve
the tragic difference between
one's own interests and those
of others, between which free will
must choose and can never do well

Always just joy and happiness
would be boring, but what can I
know about something that doesn't occur?

It would also be unfair, indeed
unbearable, if fairy tales
could be real

I don't begrudge my friends anything
as long as we go well together
and they don't flaunt

their children
being in the clover
or other prosperity

I avoid neighbours and colleagues
who like to brag about
additions and gadgets

I can miss those things
but Gladstone Gander's certainty
that there will always be enough

the blessing of good fortune
I would like to have that
And therein lies the seed

the seed of my envy
my greed, so that I can show
that I am blessed

We live a sober life, enough
is enough for me, and reserves
are necessary according to you

Everything is insured, luckily
no loans, we are working hard
because otherwise one has nothing

The children have their own lives
they won't take care of us
and are already asking for part

of their portion of inheritance, but it's stuck
in stone, in vaults, and in your head
that also wants to cover the coverage

People should grow up
and take care of themselves
reap their own harvest

though we could share more
relying on mutual aid
not just on our own character

in which lies the seed
the seed of greed
Our fear

The night is safe. Come
Whatever goes wrong
you did what you could do

Come. You want too much
love and appreciation
from others for each other

and fewer regulations
fewer regulators
who interfere

and, like puppets
decide your fate
Mistakes are forbidden

They're in the system
and that's being worked on
Come. Over is the day

in which the seed lies
the seed of your fear
Your gluttonous love

Hand over my mouth, I laugh
at the evil child
you are, who wants everything
as it should be

a better world
justice, equality
and brotherhood, now!

No longer an ideal
that makes fellow human beings suffer
in order not to lack anything themselves

So immature, not you
your complaint, your desire
for more

more solidarity
more harmony
more self-criticism

I know, the seed
of your gluttony
which wants all that
is your sweet anger

What I secretly do
but not hidden

from myself, the truth
that I do not want to know

yet sometimes see
in the questioning eyes

of others, surprised
or hurt, on the border

of judgment on me
is the truth in the eyes

of my conscience that examines me
I sweat, it's a purgatory

and as long as it lasts, it is
hell: I am not

just myself
but one of the others

That's the drama

I dare to get into bed with you
Your big mouth is too small
for the world, your heart too big

for me, here I am
Well, tell, then I'll dream
with you, about you

in a purple cloak
the skin of innocence and power
Very discreetly, very discreetly

you take revenge
on anyone who does not get into action
and just lets everything happen

You issue wise orders
that camouflage your agenda
Much trouble for nothing

for though you loathe them
they are not another species
they are like you

only not angry enough
to be able to choose
what is important

That is the seed
the seed of your anger
Everyone's passivity

Forgive me
I don't want to explain away
the fact that I needed time

to put the consequences
of one or the other
together

The appearances may be against me
but I didn't hold aloof
really, I never wait and see

I don't look away
I just look thoroughly
for a well-considered decision

because so much is happening
and often there is no clear line
in all the details

And I don't want to do anything wrong
That is the seed
of my passivity

My aversion to misdeeds

Man is a wild animal
in a herd, a group
that organizes
to be tamed

but it's not easy
to get the systems right
There are unexpected effects
or oppressive requirements

No one is responsible
Deposing leaders, killing
dictators makes no difference
The people tolerate the successor

Help is needed
From the outside, but
the borders are deadly
to humanity

So I must appreciate little
things, a glance
the clouds, fresh bread once
and dream what is forbidden

I forget myself, everything
is also me, I am -
one of the countless, living

from relief to relief
in ignorance happy for a while -
still no ending that pleased me

The Force bubbles and ebbs
in and out of me every second -
the drama of me equals we

so also you and them
and myself again
and the drama

forgotten
within the membrane
of my thin consciousness

You are hiding
behind a shield, you tough
man with a spear

Sure, you want me
but you have been warned
by your previous girlfriend

You can fight the world
you want to fight who you are
for ideals, amma or me

but for love, for me
you can not fight without hurting
her, without hurting me

or giving up your power
You may see your dreams in me
but I do not exist

in your dreams, you tough
man with a spear, you tough
man with a spear

Sweetheart, the earth is getting cold
we have to do something
take ourselves by the hand
The guides walk away

in different directions
guided by the wishes
of their followers, that's how

it always goes, whatever you think of it
If only there were guardian angels
with power, not the writers

who meet in this café
no, a Guardian Council
for presidents and scholars

who want to unload graphite powder
on the north pole, throw atomic bombs
upon it, or build a dam

in the Bering Strait, with pumps
on peaceful nuclear energy
finishing the job

Yet... all of us, we
must do it ourselves, guard each other
with wings of compassion and reason

Mama went to work
we stayed at home
could not get out
snow, no shoes

silence everywhere
fear of the police
and suppressed madness
which strangles desires

without killing them
impossible love
only the daily potatoes
hoping for a piece

of the repeated promises
for us, the children, and now
that we are no longer children
for our children