Is the future predictable? I’d deceive who I am if I said it weren’t. And thus, alike Nostradamus I look at my own poetry, one very special as I see it now. And, though it wasn’t written with any such intent, it was written out of thought of two people, who after that day, would literally make up the life I live. And would simply be whatever I needed ever. Don’t let Gollem mix you up:

No sensible title here really

Gollem uit turkije ( niet in)

Uit het oog, Uit het hart
In het oog, In het hart,
De dood danst met hij die niet weten wilt

zij, haar, zij wordt door
     hem       gekaapt

Precious, Precious speelt
hij met het uitzinnige vuur

Precious als zij is tot mij
zijn haar groene ogen
mijn inzinnige hart.

So really, I will explain my first poem ever made, and make you decide what it means.
The first paragraph, refers to the first person I talked about earlier, whose seemingly simple and basic look at life, made my complex ones land on the ground on several occasions. And can quite literally see straight through me sometimes. And Only with her, I never had the urge to try if I could beat it. I like it the way it is.
The second paragraph, was there to represent the second person, and those few words, unknowingly were to represent repeatedly what happened to her and me in the coming years after I wrote it. As I read them now, it was probably writing these words, until the moment of understanding their purpose and realizing what they did, that ever, ever gave me love, as love is something of understanding what it is, but really. It is just love that you feel. Not alike any other understanding, and thus, different.
The Third, more concerns her. I now am used to making such accusations about someone else’s future, because when I write such a poem. (I wrote this one on a balcony during a thunderstorm in Italy, the Urge of writing had become to great) It usually means something of knowledge I have not yet come to comprehend. But then, I couldn’t have guessed, that so many he’s would fail to see, that referred in the last paragraph.
As the last paragraph, is really the first and only true realization, ever made by me, that can somewhat, or just closely describe that one feeling, that one feeling, That is the most intense, when it comes, and when it is gone. Because, You don’t know what you got till it’s gone. And she never was mine, For me, or us, she was always gone… So in those years, Which by now must be more then a thousand, I knew exactly what I had, day in day out. Love.
And I think that is basically all there is to this poem. A precognition of what love was ever going to be.
So
I thank these two people, for being there for me,
For being there when I needed them,
And for teaching me, and showing me really, what the most important things in life are.
And what no wise person, no teacher and no one else, could have ever told me. Without him not understanding it himself. Even though, one of the two might still not quite comprehend.
Thank you Wytz, Thank you Pei.

Alles was hier al,

Op deze dag zo grijs als haring
met de woorden zonder verklaring,

en ik hoef nergens om te vragen
en ik weet het trouwens zeker,

Alleen grijs zie ik jou dragen

En met elke dag wordt ik weker,

Ik wil erbij zijn als het mag

en ik weet het trouwens zeker,

in een grijs verleden waar ik stik

vliegt een meeuw die jij ook zag
………., geloof ik,
en ik weet het trouwens zeker.

(naar Tjitske Jansen)

Frederik Kerling

Krassende nagels over mijn vel

Krassen het bloed onder mijn nagels
Krast me, woedend
en woedend pakt Zwaard
mijn laatste troef en kaart.

Mijn kind ken ik niet meer

En het Zwaard zwijgt.

Grijnzende blikken doorboren mij met
Grijnzen, die mijn falen veinzen

Grijnst mij triomfantelijk aan
en lachend ontvlucht Zwaard

zijn houten Trojaanse paard.

Mijn kind ken ik niet meer
Het Zwaard heeft haar doorboort.

Huilende ogen raken mij nu, al
Huilen ze schijnbaar niet, want wie
Huilt laat tranen vallen
en verlaten kijkt mijn kind

mijn ogen aan, doordringend.

Mijn kind ken ik weer
zij heeft het zwaard weggegooid.

15-12-05

I wondered how a lost angel would have looked.

I saw images of angels,
Angels in tears,
Angels in blood
And Angels in sadness,
But these angels aren't lost,
They are aware of what the world is.
They just can't see that,
Sometimes things are not as bad,
as they seem to be.

I saw angels;
no I saw one angel,
Which was fallen,
the look in her eyes,
tore everyone apart.
Its laughter at pain,
its smile when facing you.
Not a tear wept, not a drop of sorrow spilled.
She fell, a long time ago.
She wouldn't return.

But as the previous angels,
These too saw what the world was about,
They chose not to help it.
Or should i say,
follow its path,
in the wrong direction.
They did know, what they were doing.

Then I saw picture's of many more angels,
And It daunted to me,
There are so many angels,
yet so many people in need,
Why don't angels come when you need them?

Then I looked closer,
And saw an angel with a smile,
pretty as she was,
she was aware of what she wanted,
she was ambitious,
and she was persistent

She trusted the people around her,
She had faith in those around.
But did she know life?

Was she aware of the pain life had to offer?
Was she conscious of what love meant?

Then I knew, why there aren't so many angels,
I found the angel where I was looking for.

(Domus ulixes, t.b.c.)

Een kleine 'o' kraam ik uit
ze is eigelijk heel gewoon
15 bandjes om haar pols
blauwe sportschoenen
Jeans, grijstruitje
met een soort groen hemd
met een iets donkerder
groene wollen vest,
prachtig haar
(d.w.z. chocolade (puur) met een tintje rood)
een brede zwarte haarband voor,
en een elastiekje met zwarte sliertjes achter.
Ze heeft een standaard MP3-speler
Prachtige grote bruine ogen
zwart leren riem met aluminium ringetjes erin
en een donker blauwe champion tas.
Een zilverkleurig horloge.
netjes geknipte nagels
een beetje bolle neus, maar dan van het knuffelbare soort
een lief mondje
gellukig geen prammen
een vleugje elegantie
een bom persoonlijkheid
leest met de grootste concentratie
haar verhaal in een coupé vol beren.
En 1 hamstertje.
Onverstoord zoekens naar grip in de inmiddels drukke trein
een kleine aanraking op
haar buik, het lijkt wel roze
maar het blijft groen.
Een mooie lok haar verhindert het lezen,
en haar blik vrezend
(bovendien zijn er ineens omstanders)
allen even doods en bewegingsloos.
maar dan is zij net het madeliefje tussen
oververhitte straatstenen.
een vluchtige opblik bij de controle
Portemonee in de linker kontzak
wijfelend over haar mede passagiers
links tegenover haar, welke gebukt gaat
over zijn nieuwe mobiel (lelijk)
Helaas voorgoed verstoort
uit haar lezende rust
verdwijnt langzaam de verschijning
wegdwalend in gedachten over spoken
voorgoed verzonken in haar
leven, een verhaal dat niet zo rooskleurig lijkt als
haar verschijning reeds bleek.
Witte veters, klaar voor vertrek de rust bewarend
wachtend op stilstand.
Haastig wegvluchten van
de trein,
Jammer eigelijk
Bus naar Mill,
toch nog net.


Frederik Kerling 10-6-05

A Ghost Inc. work.

The Fear of Humankind is overwhelming,
I never could have understood why people
Would rather feel pain, and suffer.
Then to take the chance,
Just to take the chance,
And discover something totally new, and unknown.

The Fear you read in people's eyes, when they can't see
When they just can't grasp everything seen on this planet,
The Looks when they become aware, of so much more
Living around and among us.

Have You never ever wondered why someone could just be happy?
How someone even with all the problems he has,
Or the few friends he has, and holds so preciously close.
Or even, when he cherishes his enemies,
Cause without them, he would never master its fears.

why does Earth, give us so much,
And we only take more and more?
Is it that we cherish what we have?
Or is it because we know, it won't last forever, and we want to feel,
see, grasp and dream as much of it as possible before it is gone forever?

We Don't need to fear the unknown,
All it could possibly do to you,
Is teach you in the wonders of life itself.

The People you meet,
The eyes you cross paths with.
These are of the atmost importants in your life,
Cause no matter how strange they might seem to you,
They hold the colours of the life, we all want to live.

Yes we can search in it solely in our selves,
And since we are children from the same mother,
We will find them eventually,
but
what good is it to know the colours,
To see the painting when it has been eventually finished,
But never understand the meaning of it's creation itself.

And that fear is the fear we house in our lives every day.
the fear, of never finding out, the why behind something.

But how fascinating would It be if we could?
Every day, people are amazed by paintings,
Made by the most famous painters in the world.
Da Vinci, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, you name it.
It's striking that these painting,
Might never be fully understood.

But did that stop us from looking at them in awe, for hundreds of years
after years, after years?
Dare we to explore, that what we don't know?

And maybe find,
The beauty of it all,
If we would just dare to look?

A Ghost inc. work
By Ulixes

I don't know why, but today i fell on the ground.
I will not look for an explanation, I don't want to.

And that brings me to a day, which I regret at cause.
This day is the first day, I don't listen to my curiosity.
It feels like, I lost something, forever.
I can guess, but i won't.

The only comfort I can give myself. That I tried.
I guess none have the power to help someone else.

Last night I dreamed, I was stabbed in the troth, twice.
I was thrown back, the last cut more visious than the first.
I was killed in a nobleman's figt, for a woman.
And I Knew everyone in that dream.

But the dream wasn't over.
I took of my clothes, and put on my training gear.
I could feel the blood falling.
But i could feel the fire flowing.

I relaxed, Faced my opponent with trust in myself.
Trusted the sword I helt.

And she looked at me, and my opponent startled a bit.
Seeing fear in his eyes, he didn't see.
That he could stab me, restrain me from talking to her.
But he couldn't restrain me from seeing her.

And in a powerfull cut, i cut of his hand.
Clean, without a glitch, he didn't see it.
Then the next swing, Slashing his head off.
His eyes in awe.

He just couldn't see, that someone as inferieur as me.
Could defeat him.

But he didn't know me, he never took the time.
There is something weird about me, and i'll tell you now.
My dad, usually blames me, probably instinctively.
All i have to do is convince him i didn't.

So in the years i have learned to use my brain double,
It isn't weird my words usually mean 2 or more things.

And he never even wondered, what power i could wield.

Well dream image, I'll tell you.

I faced up with all of my bullies alone! And I discust them,
And I defeated every single one of them.

Well, I'm sorry, dreams don't lie. And if i have to see You as a bully,
I will

It's not I haven't done anything stupid.
Hell no, I done lots of stupid things.
Many Of which i regret, but i can't change Future nor Past.
Hawkings tells us, the bastard.

Anyway, Somehow I needed these mistakes.
To find out who you really are.
And I'm sorry, I misjudged you.
And I'm sorry, I never tried to change you.

But I thank you, for being there when i changed.
For taking the akward but needed role of friend and enemy.
You once said you'd rather be without friends.
That's only foolish.

It took me 7 years, to stop the bullieing.
And after laying dorment for 3 years, the power i once had.
Returned under my control.

And you stole, that singel thing from me, I loved the most.
I don't blame you, or her for that.
But I can't forgive you either can I?
No I can't

Neither will I ask, the one I love, to become hurt, no way.
But If you might ever,
I will hunt you down!

By Ghosts Inc.


(added mid february) a year later, And he would hurt her, and he would live without friends, and i still hate him, for all that he has done. But i thank him also, for taking the role, of the person i hate. So now i don't need to hate anyone else. thanks.
By the way, Always believe your dreams, cause if they haven't come true yet, they will one day.

By Ghosts Inc.

The human mind, and more important, your own, is not deceptive.
It is only how you deceive yourself.
Your will, or eager, for something,
Can destroy your instincts guts and senses.
The demonic will and greed of self enriching factors.
The sick wanting of endorphine in the brain.
Will drive mankind to insanity.

Rapement, deceit, abuse and even love,
Are used as weapons in this battle,
Which consumes intire mankind.
Everyone becomes struck by it's bullets.
No exeptions.

The only way, of getting out of this war,
Is never to kill, but get hurt in plenty.
The only way, of getting out of this war,
Is trusting nothing but your dreams.

Your heart is the deceptive gun of your body,
Rapement and abuse it's ammo.
And only your senses,
Undisturbed by greed or selfishness.
Can put that gun down.

The force of this enlightment,
Can only come from pure enlightment,
During pure hate.
And it's power, can destroy you forever.

But the bleeding will stop,
Tears of blood will turn in sweet drops of rain.
The fire of your body, will turn
into the light of your soul.

And eventually, you will see, that all
of the weapons used, are futile.
Rapement, turns out to be stupid hormones.
Deceit, will turn out to be your own will.
Abuse will turn out to be the ease of power.
And love, will turn out to be far greater,

Love is the atomic bomb,
It can end all in one blow.
But if you stop running, and dare to jump
of the ground in the open
dare to face that destructive force.
It will show to be not dangerous.
Cause all you need to do,
is open up it's core
and feel the glow
of forever
 energy.

wonderoes as it is, somehow, none have yet faced an atomic bomb due to fear.
Fear for the unharmfull, Sure it is a shock, and it could kill you,

but no one i know is dead.



By Ulixes
A Ghosts Inc. work - 11 - 04 - 05
(added a year later:  Please, does this make sense?)

(geschreven tijdens de uitreiking van de libris prijs, die ik dus gemist heb. Dit gedicht bevat geen spelfouten)

Is denken aan iemand een
geheugen?

een gedachte getold
en over de grens
van werkelijkheid geduwd?

want jij is daar
niet begrenst
vogelvrij in m'n kop.

Hoe kom jij zo mooi?
als je een herrinering bent?
een trauma, overgehouden
aan de pijn van je wegblik.

die blauwe krans om de pupil
van de nieuwsgierige ogen

riekend naar liefde,
zoekend naar antwoorden.

De duistere ontzag voor
het ongemaakte ik bibber
bij je blik, m'n ogen zijn gebrand

vervlamd door het vuur
dat koelbloedig door jouw groene
wereld huist.

Dat haar, dat wonderlijke haar
de neus, die ik gebruik om
je lucht te voelen, die
lichte ontzag tijdens jouw
indringend lezen.

Het vullen van je hoofd met
verhalen alleen omdat je eigen jou
elke dag ontzag bezorgd.

17-03-05 Frederik kerling

Gollem uit turkije ( niet in)

Uit het oog, Uit het hart

In het oog, In het hart,

De dood danst met hij die niet weten wilt

zij, haar, zij wordt door

     hem       gekaapt

Precious, Precious speelt

hij met het uitzinnige vuur

Precious als zij is tot mij

zijn haar groene ogen

mijn inzinnige hart.

18-10-04

Frederik kerling

(titeloos)

De oranje zaklamp,

Slank, lang,

Warm bij aanstaand,

De kleur van haar vest.

Het trotse narcisje,

Gouden hoofd,

Zelf ingenomen,

Haar ogen, hemels groen.

De Hoge Cumulus,

Gedreven door de wind,

Regen bij de donder,

Haar lippen zacht als lucht.

Het lieve teddybeertje,

Krimpt in bij knuffel,

Knuffelt maar gunt geen krimp.

Schroeit bij de hartstocht van mijn hart.

En zij,

Toch wel zij,

Zij en ik.

30-01-05

Gedichtje

Ik reed ver en ver, en kwam terecht bij jouw deur. Klik tok open.

Mijn land, vertegenwoordigt mn uitputting, vlak letter voor letter.

kinder gekloot, en genaai. Gesnaaid door de tv.

mn ego is te klein. mn begrip te groot. Ben ik bijzonder of ben ik onuniek?

Golft het gras? Ja, Nederlands nietwaar?

Mijn pus maakt het glas rein. Ik voel respect.

Gras voor jou, golft voor mij.

Gegroend, groetje. Welkom bij vandaag.

( p.s. succes met leren)

Tot zo!

Frederik Kerling 2004-11-30

Italië

In de stad der liefde, rook ik slechts de muffe lucht van mos.

In de stad de cultuur, zag ik slechts goedkope schilderijen.

In de stad het toerisme, voelde ik slecht de blik van de bewoners.

Maar in het dorp van wanhoop, Merkte ik alleen jouw.

Daar, onder Lucht donker en zuiver van water.

Daar, onder het oog van de kunstenaar

Daar, bewogen door de wind.

Zag ik jou, Alleen jouw.

Een moment dat ik nooit meer wil vergeten.

Mijn Tantalus kwelling.

God wat hou ik van jou.

Frederik

6-12-04

Liefde.

Auw, wezels uit de afvoer. Omklemmen mijn nek.

Blauwe wielen scheuren de vacht, en verdrijft hun hart.

Mn Bord trilt, mn handen beven.

De liefde is bloedrood. En schiet kogels in mn hart.

Cupido is een terrorist. Zo’n fundamentalistische eikel.

Wezels, voor mn porno, I’m the god of romance.

Kut tussen de stront. Bloemen Bemest met besmette mest.

Schijt aan Jullie, respect voor ons.

Jij blauw, ik verliefd.

Cupido schiet goed.

Pang!

Frederik kerling

( many not yet put into the Personal computing device)