You cannot fail;
Do as you can
How you should
When you must

You must not fail;
Do as you should
How you must
When you can

You will not fail;
Do as you must
How you can
When you should

Breathe and live!
When you should
If you can
As you must


Worthy Probability

To understand your destiny,
Move beyond all insanity
For a single moment of clarity.

To realize and accept
Within each man
Lives a multiplicity,
A duplicity,
A worthy probability
For an art to live on

Tender Heart

The disturbed remains
Of a tender heart,
Pieces stolen,
Left to rot away,
In a soft moan
Locked in a warm memory.

Our memory.

The disturbed remains
Of our tender heart
From the light
In my eyes,
From the beat
In our heart,
From the warmth
Of your kiss,

There I gaze upon
The disturbed remains
Of our once tender heart
There I blow away
The ashes of a fickle past.

And turn my back

To take
A walk

Into the future.

Of All Else


Strangling the ghosts
Of my losses,
And all the I’s
I’ve ended

Not to feel the pain
Of an absent love
Of the absent past
The distilled unfortunate
Lack thereof
Windows out
to the world

The eternal stillness

Born of the fleeting
Moon’s light,
I feel the cold
Of the heart
Buried under
Howling frost winds

The howling white sings
An elegy of ghosts
Of what once was,
Of what once could be
Never to be

The Proposal

Between and through the endless stillness of everything and the constant motion of every other thing, there is another light across.

It is bright, it is almost blinding. Yet it is warm, comforting, caressing our faces but not scorching.

I look beside me and there is you. You too are bright, but dimmer. Tarnished?


I reach out, and touch you, and I see a smile, first on your lips, then in the reflection of your eyes, mine. My light sparks from your fire and our light shines bright, even when dimmed. This light is of our own making, the shadows are of everything else.

Are they?

There is another light across from us.

Hold my hand, and listen.

I want to share my green, my blue, my red, and my black with you. I want us to build our turquoise, adorn our purples with streaks of all shades of the sky and earth. I want to have all we want from the world, with a fist raised to the sky when needed, with a mountain’s resilience when storms crack lightning and blow winds. I want you to have all you want from the world, step on all its soils, breathe in all its scents, witness all its stars. I want us to feel all the world’s beauty and grace in its raw forms, I want us to be one and all, one among many and all from one. I want us to build a castle of comfort and safety. A garden of smiles and spring. A home to hold us, a center to spring us forth, a jungle of our own making – whilst the world opens its corners and sights to our enjoyment. A home to keep us simple, a home that makes us aware of one another, a home that is to stay our home.

A home of our own making, with your hands, your mind, your smiles, your grace and our love. Nothing will be lost in it, but forever kept and shaped as we wish. No nightmares, just dreams of an existence of our own making, fed with your desires and my strength. There is a power that feeds my light with your fire, and I ask of you: Let us use that, for us first, then the world. The us we cherish, and the world we love – let those be our guide, as you hold my hand and I hold yours, firmly but gently. Warm but cool, one and two, two but one.

I want to share my dreams and fears with you. Under the great black sky, let me tell you of my darkest days, let me hear of your innermost pains and tears. Let us take the past as the shapers of us; our own making and victims of others’ wanton greed. Let us be one stronger together than two apart – but two a part of one stronger even when apart. Let us be our yin and yang, eternally together, eternally completing, eternally different yet the same, sharing our white with our black.




Keep my hand, and now look.

In front of us, there is a light to be made ours. I cannot grasp it alone, you may not be able to touch it alone. Keep your hand in mine, hold my hand firmly but gently, and take my eyes into yours. Behold my innermost voyages, let me reflect on the sea of everything yours, and let me swim in there. You will not let me drown there just as I won’t let you tumble under my stormy waves. Keep your hand in mine, let us take flight towards that light. No wax wings to melt off, no eyes to be seared. Look into my eyes, let me look into yours. There will always be clouds, but that light, I know not of our own making, has been put there for you and I to touch, to add to our own.

Let’s make it our own. Maybe it was always meant to be that way. Maybe the shapers of our pasts made it that way. All our past, a bit of our present put us in front of this light to be made ours into all of our future.

Take my hand, see my eyes, feel a tiny universe pulse a heartbeat in me, and hear me. Allow me to echo this into your universe with all that I am.

Let’s add this light to ours. Make it all ours, one from two, two in one.

That is my proposal.

Muse of a Thousand Lights

22.10.16 – Amsterdam. Dedicated to my oldest friends.

We are blessed by the things we do not have. Lifted of the burden of the things we cannot, should perhaps not, obtain. A blessing of lack, of the absence of the objects of our misguided desires. We are blessed by our mislaid plans not coming true, even if we cannot see it that way when universe tells us to stop. When she gives us a new path by closing another one, we are blessed without knowing or understanding why we are seemingly out of luck at that moment of realization.

We are wrong as we forget that we may in fact be in luck when what we wanted is taken away from us.

We are moreso blessed by the things we have. A melody of our existence, a trace of the intricate and unique trails we blazed – a reminder of our past, an image of our present, a whispered promise of our future.

I celebrated my life with my friends today. It was good. It was pure, easy, effortlessly satisfying until they all went to sleep and left me alone under the stars of a pristine sky – the light of the universe piercing my mind from all existable angles.

I realized that I’m also very angry. I will see all this burn. The want, the desire is sometimes too strong, but there is a me in I that holds the destruction at bay. I know I will feel disdain and scorn, and I will smile at the end, once my wave crashes through… this. That knowledge almost hurts. That smile of selfish, self-righteous, self-inflicted outward fury will hurt in the extant ability to feel that kind of anger – righteous or selfish, regardless of its reasons, it will leave a taste of blood. Will it be my blood?

As the blood may flow freely once it is time. The me in I knows the empty shell of a victory once nothing no longer stands at the wake of my fury. It is my art, my moving words through life. It’s my music. It’s the culmination of things I couldn’t do. Life goes on, we, as specks of cosmic dust, move onward and through. But I feel fit. Healthy. I am going to do it. I need to do it. I want to do it. I want to live. And I want to celebrate. Learn. It is my duty to my future family and self to be good now, so I can be better then. This is probably the mantra of mine against midlife crisis. Because there is always a crisis. Life is a series of crises and celebrations, a series of failures and conquests, a personal, untameable string of ups and downs – but I will do it. Grab the bull by the horns, grab the lion by the mane, grab the crocodile by its trapping jaws. Pull out the sword of will, of ambition, of honesty, of justice, of mercy. And make my way through life. Leave nothing but good words, good memories, good remembrances in others’ minds. Leave the fury behind, even when just to be given, but never let go of the sword.

The universe whispers a solemn song. Melancholic, majestic, promising. She makes me smile as I realize her indifference to my small being is filled with a light given freely, even if uncaringly. Carefree, and lighter, right now all I need is my best friend’s lighter. And it feels fucking celebratory. Under the clear blue sky. A crown of celestial passage, a speck in a universe of the endless: ever flowing, always morphing, never the same – never different.

It’s my music. We, in our feeble minds and hearts, sing. We try to sing out loud. My throat burns enough already, but in my hand shall my sword remain.


The gravestone of our will
Cold, bleak, desolate,
Constantly permanent
Stands in stone

Against the wind.

Etched on it,
Timeless was and shall be
The crown jewel
Of our Mighty Hill
Beyond and through
There is no Right Path

But just the Only Path

Paved with the stones of
Today’s failures,
Littered with the corpses of
Yesterday’s dreams
The remnants of yesterwill,
Constant and permanent


Against the wind.

Secret in the Stars


Stand next to one another
Deep in the night sky
Twinkling through the everblack
Look, deep, watch, bright.
Never to touch truly
Never to be far kindly
Never to forget
What you cannot have
Ever to admire
What you cannot have
Never fear
What you may at once have

Deep in the night sky
Look, longing, watch, bright
What you cannot have
Only ever to admire
What you cannot have.

Till she looks back
Across the night sky
Never to forget
And realize
What we could have,
Ever to admire.

All we were to have
All we are to have
All we were meant to have.

Till she looks back
Across the night sky
And realize
What we could ever have
Standing next to one another.


Thunder stroke across the horizon
Within an arm’s reach
Within two hearts beating across
Thunder strikes across the soul

As I’ll always remember you
As you danced giddy by the sea
Engulfed by the setting sun
Shining ever bright
My beautiful, smiling fairy
By the blue sea

How I long for thee…


We cage the beasts within
Mine and yours
We cage them within
But they breed
Their get stronger
Than the bars our minds
Put across our hearts
What our souls and selflessness
Can build


Against what’s within
Now that we’ve held hands
Held our hearts, minds, and soul
Have shared all within
Mine and yours.


When the quietest scream
Erupts in the loudest one
There will be no one left
To understand what was
Once a dream.


Walk slowly, slowly,
Into a thin darkness.
Through it, with me,
Get lost
Into a thicker darkness.

Lose yourself,
With me,
To a secret,
To find the echoes of laughter
Believing that we are ever
In our secret away.

The echo of our words
Safe in our love
Because we laugh – because we love

In a thick darkness, in our secret

Golden Boy

The Buddha spoke to me in my dream,

He advised of stony patience,
Kin to a stream that runs for millennia
Through monolithic mountains.

He spoke of personal fury,
Rage to destroy one’s enemy
How deserving they may be,
Forgiveness the eternal remedy,
As virtue it may be
To vindicate an enemy.

He told me of a kinder soul,
The divine spark in all of men,
A heart of good will for all of men;
A goal holy, a road thorny,
A path fraud with sacrifices many.

I asked him, when shall I
Dream of you again?

A golden smile upon his lips replied,
It is I who dream of you,
Among the clouds, under the sun,
Above the earth, under the moon.

Pages of Madness

I become the pages
On a Book of Madness.

Every uttered word
On a Scene of Loneliness;

Its discord,
Its permanence,
Its quiet darkness

Echo on every breath,
A scene of infinite Madness.

I become the pages
On a scene of RAGE;

Its penult,
Its fire,
Its engulfing mire

Echo on every breath,
A scene of infinite Madness.