3.

We live in a world unborn, living is nevertheless real. It

is tough meat. Try selling it. Poetry was never politics, white

nor green. We are trying to end in the same ways and places,

for the rich a few less or more. I think that I won't make it, one

lifetime will fall short. Come sit here with me, let's talk fly fishing.


Was it too premature, the world in which we live? Let's have a

shave in the morning, you and I, before we start the journey.

Try holding it, the ocean, like sand in the desert. Success is

relevant here more than conscience. I see an animated formulation

of the president in this timelapse. The world is but a sad place, ut supra.

2.

Typing, "It was a good day today." Buying my present,

QWERTY, not very cheap at QUERKYTOYS, she smiled,

more smileys... She is Mrs Android, and my therapy on this

writing machine. "The sun will be closer to you, not in spring today,

but in a few months senior from now," she told me. My heart is


beating, in a full adult manuscript. "A quiet evening that I will make

my hero, in this poem, in this poem. My ***** is going red-

breasted Robin, & leaves are slightly moving in the distance."

I love this querky machine, and it's madness. In two lines, I can

make her tremble, a beating heart, functional when typing, "Without envy."

At 25 I am a gentleman. My future bride reflections

of my mom, purple and deep puritan, she is beauty

of the flat earth. Iocaste's walls and hiding Rex Oedipus

from Laius' winged cruelty. She is wife, she is mother,

at 25 I am a gentleman. My future wife, oh pious bride!


How I detest rubies and wine, opulence and decadent

designs. At 25 I am a gentleman, my future bride, uxor,

pious as Rome's Holy Empire, or I would perish and die

in the 21st century, deeply ashamed. At 25, ode to the

future the world and his wife will be no more.

1.

God... I did see the eyes, but it was not raining, or the storm.

2.

Dad's not here, I don't understand. Mom is in the kitchen,

feeling so old. We're part of life that no one envisions, except

when you are exchanging the world for your dreams. Progress

is in the sky, aliens speaking to us through the moon. I will

one day give up this yearning. What is love, tell me? Dad?

Life is young. Old age is like a brick in the wall. I am

unwise, but I can see the future. They are the future,

the elderly, a true fact. My next line could be worth a

million, my incredible luck! I say to this world, you are

in my song when I'm dying. I am a fool. How I worshipped you,



above Mars! In five years time I will give up hope, at 25.

At 30, I will despair. What is it with you and the young? There

was a time when it was the military. Now we call it seniority. End

of the story. At 35 you are a deposed king. Earth is flat, and lonely.

And we are bolts and bits, some may never unscrew.

1.

She wants me to write. On saturdays?! I'm still smelling

of cigarettes, and the summer she is referring to, is long

overdue. Where were you in summer 2017? Sitting on a ter-

race having coffee, and enjoying the sun with a friend. 2019,

who knows, I might see another world. I am writing, she is


now sleeping in our bed. The night is bugging me, I am not

connected. Not trivial, anyway... What is happening out there

in the world when you're not gaming? AKA as privacy. Do I

love her? Only in the summer, a warm answer or not. We are

moving to another place, the writing place, if lucky, this summer.


2.

Arctic weather, I am feeling cold. From wind sails, minutes

to seconds, here it is not what you include. Drifting away,

time is frozen. Song in the sharp winds, you are now in the

shattering cold. Memory is like a prison bed, S.O.S. written

all over my face. From here planet size nothing but snowpacks.

1.

Am I Dutch? No, my mother is. Dad has given me the name

of Tipon, before he wanted to throw me off the Inca, or Mayan,

sacred cliffs. Our world is bilingual, on the metro, bus and tram,

the next generation will be metropolitan on their ID- card. Europe

is also French, and German, and whatever we call the north.


Who invented the LED bulb light? One with incandescent arrogance,

a politician, and maybe Swedish? I am only half Dutch, offspring and

fresh aired. She was young and innocent, so they told me. The story

of a beautiful love, her father said in a statement. How is it that I am

ugly? This is my mystery. I'm lost and innocent too. A dad for a dog.


2.

Tipon, Tipon, BMW, BMW, white, white sideline, long

roads, through the tunnels. Age between 22 and 24, I

live in Rotterdam, a millennial, 2000+. Window and rain, BMW,

BMW, swipe, swipe shield. Ample visual, a hurting desire

to see beyond. 20 Years, dancing on a star, it's raining, I am Tipon.