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Zywa Mar 2019
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
Collection "The drama"
Zywa 4d
I'm thinking aloud

and looking out the window --


There, the river flows.
Novel "The Golden House" (2017, Salman Rushdie), chapter (2-) 22

Collection "Low gear"
Time spent, time used up, time invested
in fungible progressing thought conservation,
- a norm is a tool often called
- a carpenters square, it measures many things.

Time taken, per use, used to mean
the point upon which all stored tellings remain
hanging vivacious, lively, spirited

orthographic aches and pains
associable sayings held writ
as ritually chanted fourty days and forty nights
esoterically spelled enchanting mission statements
- chance you changed, by now
- since aim became destination
- only under public misperception
- of enormous advances in governing.
Forgoodness sakes alive,
what holds church
together, integral,
in the center, holding all
there, here, then and now, some how
made real, as if contemplation allows temples
of living stone and multiple minds across times.

Let this mind be in you,
let that which hinders be taken away,
read the writing never written, let be, left shown

artificially made sacred duty to learn, or burn.

That which lets our holy convocation function, lets
our weform in awe become the responding chorus.
Toy selves, all shined up for Sunday socialization rite.

U R, church, your chancery ifery wasery core,
what for, given as good as gotten,
take away and
make up a mind
to use the sense made
to make more.

Profitable for correction, orthoganal, upright
straight, squared away, totally normalized

within the compass of the builder's guilded norm.

Enormity of normal means
for making sense, at grammar's edge,
effectually fervently, in chorus, in response,
four billion breathing enourmous relief
four billion other breathers blowing hot air
constantly, in and out,
not right and wrong, just breathe
responsibly possibly exposing old science,
using ancient ways
to mean mean concepts,
points left to hold whole strains
of long thoughts, tested right uses
long gone
to seed, needful urges, will to learn awe
as new knowers lead to learn for ever's sake,
next comes to be logical instantly, indeed
to hold writ writtenness witnessed.
Wisdom knowing understood,
used, freely, by taken rights.
------------
Actuality reified known really
realizable, in response sponsored by:

The free will subset in the normal range
of the ruliad, whither no thought possible
is lost, indeed, thither on thinking  possible.
Twice. Once right now,
twice then when you look again.

On one point in time we shared,
one idea turned into two,
and thus knowledge
puffs up the clouding curiosities…

known to linger in sacred shadows
from mumbled Latin entrancements
reified, sniff the atmosphere, holy dread
coupled sensuously with incense,
to cover the stench of penitents
ineffectual repetitionings.

Tittles and jots, bits and pieces,
little here right there, little more
a little later,

Sunday is a day of rest.
Fine day to fish in forgetfullness,

flipping pages through past lives,
finding places clearly marked,

this is the way.
All squared away, to give peace a chance to stick a normal abnormal wrong idea exalting itself as holy war according to holy writ. To slay an enormity,
one uses enormous exageration of little bits and pieces. let become words.
Zywa May 12
Well, I think a lot

is wrong, very unhealthy --


they are: opinions.
Column "Niet vervelend" ("Not annoying", 2023, Ellen Deckwitz, in the NRC on June 15th, 2023)

Collection "Death on Cast"
callous
bruised
I held you
beheld you
with cruelty
with abandon
you
could have been cinders
cellophane
the patina of my absent mind
you
could have been a yesterday
forgotten
one of many
one, yet uncounted
one, lost in a crowd
me,
uncaring, and unbowed
heartless - ignorant

not today

today I saw you
through the window of my heart
vignetted
alone
as I always knew you
alone
without me

then

it occurred to me,
for the first time,
you were without me
and I
was without you
alone
we were alone
and I
yearned to solve your loneliness
your solitude
abrade the fixtures of isolation with warmth
wear down the gloom of silence
with laughter
praise of you
hold you
close,
as if holding myself
loving myself
through you
by you,
loving me
I love you deeper
softer
sweeter
into the cradle
of our love
where we are born
in bliss
fighting the cold
of our darkening world
while the light dies
our hearts burn ablaze
seeking the truth
the higher power that united us
God, who would wed us,
love,
that can save us,
if only we tried,
if only

yet,
for tonight,
I watch you
through the window
in my heart

I shed tears
wishing I were with you
but I will settle
for our dream...
As always
enjoy,


DEW
Again,
And again.
A mind empty ,
Now full of dread.
Thoughts of confusion,
Moments in illusion.
Following an order
From strange intrusions.
My mind is chaotic
With harsh infusions.

Feelings they urge me,
With wrong solutions.
Zywa Apr 18
A freethinker thinks

about questions, the answers --


he doesn't want to hear.
Novel "Een tevreden lach" ("A happy smile", 1965, Andreas Burnier), chapter "The train" --- Collection "Unseen"
BLD Apr 18
I envisioned these days so often,
fearful of the independence soon to come.
Repression has surpassed to grant this favor
of forgetful remembrance –
or perhaps my memory you’ve stripped as well.

Loneliness stalks even the proudest of prey,
probing the crevices stashed deep away
to betray the very promises endemic to your core.


Now do I savor the silence I once abhorred.


I lie and I listen to the serenity all around,
obscurities of the day whispering from my walls
as an auburn Cardinal serenades from outside.

The moon beckons me near, apologetic murmurs
of her needless façade from the past –
a revered box fan underwhelms the silence
and disperses my diffused Siberian fir,
crips notes of pine and aromatic wintergreen
to soothe the comfort of my nightly routine.


Now do I know myself more than ever before.
maria Apr 8
And your silence hums like a ringing in my ear.
My hand extended in mid-air
and yours lingering by your side.
Needed you then,
needed the sound,
but away, away, away you went.
Nothing left unsaid,
nothing said at all.
I just meditate on the lifeless air,
and talk myself in circles.
One idea,
To a thousand thoughts.
Some prove true,
Others are false.
Cruel or kind?
Nobody can tell.
Not even I,
The creator of this shell.
For my own,
Are unknown,
They choose,
They decide.
Leaving a complexity
In our evergrowing mind.
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