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Marco Casteleijn
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Marco Casteleijn - always on a quest...
Marco Casteleijn - always on a quest...

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With heavy eyelids,
A teardrop escapes the night
On the other side.

#haiku #sleepy #Sundaynight

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017

Struggling with an introduction to a set of poems about Philosophy. I think I am getting close. Feed-back is appreciated:

Interludium (Exordium)

Poets are such unbending fools,
frolicking, flying and drunk.
Lying on their stomachs. Looking
closely at details. Unhindered.
Untouched. Spewing prolix punk.

Where I would bend thought,
they would bend the word
into an utterly absurd kink.
How can abstract flows be
distilled faster that they’re stirred?

Why not just feed me the meaning
suckled by mute eons of tenderness,
hiding on the outer-outer limits?
Too simple to abstain from the gluttony
of imprints, to accept would be too generous.

Fivefold five I unfold my life,
while the mask of Melpomene
vacantly contemplates, and slowly
the labors of thoughts no longer
hide towards its doomed apogee.

Apeiron, the bleak devourer.
All is not what it seems
All it seems is what is not
My past future, and my future’s past.
I surpass my reflection in my Opaque dreams.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017



.: Opaque Dreams :: SCIENCIA :.
Cont. from the last 2 weeks

Facunda
From laxamentum casa I view the world bewildered.
Amazed I fail to understand, it is not enough to reflect
and ponder. Then a woman works my lands. The farmer's
ways she shows me. "I am Demeter, and am educated
to give you congregatio. A gift for you to perfect.

With hardship comes structure. I stare at my blisters,
and then away over the horizon's edge where a profile
emerges and grows. A man and horse merged. Ipse ipsemet.
"From Philyra I Chiron grant you the power of writers.
Adjicio congregatio, disclose your mind. Make it worthwhile."

On new grounds I embark to find beauty never to forget.
It is with amazement that I stumble upon three hags old.
One puts a knife away; the second carries an hourglass,
but the third points me to paper bound, stacked as a set.
Overjoyed then, now I know Moirae just cast my mold.

So there I find Ctesibius, his pneumatics, clocks of brass.
I meet Claudius Ptolemy in his numerous lands and seas.
Euclid's elementa shows me wonders in integer structure,
and Plato, Aristotle, Xenophon, Epicurus ponder amass
while Thucydides shows the power of the past, and all the keys.

Finally Hammurabi guides me home, his laws bring culture,
together with Asoka. Oh, how fruitful are the trees of men
to bear such bounty, to cast a shadow with such profunda.
Where can I plant my seedling, where to put my consignature?
Such splendor in diversity, for me to discover again and again.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 1997 -2017


Friday Flashback is here! // #pdpoetsdream #pdflashback
(well tomorrow is in 10 min :o) So here it is!



.: Opaque Dreams : SCIENCIA :.
Cont. from last week.


Tabula rasa

Confounded I am kindled in per sopor,
and pushed forever forward by my fears.
It is oblivion around me that soars,
deafening the silence rumbles. I favour
not being above existence. I cry salty tears.

Harshly it hits me. Light runs its course
as I see the waters separate. Down and under
defined and seen. What was I beforehand?
Now I emerge from the fog, and hoarse
I hear my laughter over rumble and thunder.

Tired to the ground I fall. Worms in the sand
slide trough my fingers. Tormenting
my need. I lay while day becomes night
and night becomes day. In my hand
the worms spring to life. How revolting.

But myself inflicted pain became my guide.
I found myself. Man among others. Clarity.
I saw the birds, trees and fish. I awoke,
and opened my eyes. My time to bide.
My strength to be. Tricked by stupidity.

Kneeling before the sea, nothing but to evoke
my observations. Rendering my own view.
In this respite I find a place. Laxamentum casa.
On this I feed as a chick on yellow yolk,
the need for Agnitio. The need to explain the New.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 1997 - 2017

Friday Flashback is here! // #pdpoetsdream #pdflashback


On the kindling of gems

My silent stare rudely interrupted.
My out-of-focus hide-a-way disrupted.
A movement, a vibration in the greenness
so vividly splayed over its shadows.
One leaf recovers the assault.

Tap-tap-tap! Left, Up, Another One!
Gently a slow symphony of green-light
and green-movements. Promises of
impending sounds. Focused now
I interpret this flora-aqua-dialogue,
carelessly skipping verb-punctuations

Ratta-tap-tappa-tap-tap an overwhelmed
green-crowd protests the Soaking a
cataclysmic event hidden under a grey
concealing sheet pooling water eddies
slurping sounds the cooling air shivering

Residing-waiting-emerging

Tap-tap. Tap. The firmament-free droplets
overdue, now yield to their weight and
reflect their splashes onto my bare skin.
Traces of time, of music, of a conversation.
I look closer and find pearls beading.

The sky cracks and breaks, warmth
and light flood in, so welcome.
This quiet intermezzo trickles on
while pearls turn into jewels,
while I lose focus in my silent stare.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017


Post has attachment
On the kindling of gems

My silent stare rudely interrupted.
My out-of-focus hide-a-way disrupted.
A movement, a vibration in the greenness
so vividly splayed over its shadows.
One leaf recovers the assault.

Tap-tap-tap! Left, Up, Another One!
Gently a slow symphony of green-light
and green-movements. Promises of
impending sounds. Focused now
I interpret this flora-aqua-dialogue,
carelessly skipping verb-punctuations

Ratta-tap-tappa-tap-tap an overwhelmed
green-crowd protests the Soaking a
cataclysmic event hidden under a grey
concealing sheet pooling water eddies
slurping sounds the cooling air shivering

Residing-waiting-emerging

Tap-tap. Tap. The firmament-free droplets
overdue, now yield to their weight and
reflect their splashes onto my bare skin.
Traces of time, of music, of a conversation.
I look closer and find pearls beading.

The sky cracks and breaks, warmth
and light flood in, so welcome.
This quiet intermezzo trickles on
while pearls turn into jewels,
while I lose focus in my silent stare.

(c) Casteleijn MG. 2017

#PDpromt #poetsdream #poem #prompt


Photo

.: Opaque Dreams :: SCIENCIA :.

Interludium (Exordium)

A slivering sound ruffles the leaves
that have fallen on brown grass.
In between fallen stones,
in between the dead I sit
were birds screech a Mass.

Countless names mumble loudly
in words effete. I understand and recoil.
Entropy needs no maintenance,
yet how structured are rows
of bodies buried in the soil.

I hold my composure while
a weasel boldly dines in a nest.
Sucking out the inside of an egg,
left to appear intact to the casual observer.
All has past except a final jest.

Fivefold five I unfold my life,
While I stretch my weary legs,
and far off Tenage calls me again,
he did not find rest in death.
Yet all I find are hollow eggs.

Gluttony, a black blanket.
All is not what it seems
All it seems is what is not
My past future, and my future’s past.
I surpass my reflection in my Opaque dreams



(c) Casteleijn MG. 1997 -2017

#pdpoetsdream #poetsdream #pdflashback





.: Opaque Dreams :: AMOR :.
cont. from the last 5 weeks. conclusion

Incomitatus

The veil has lifted to uncover my pale face
to the blazing sun. Blinded I long for my love
who is forever lost. My Ignis will die inside me
while we wait for wonders. Unrooted at the base.
Cursed is the day Erotes flew from his cove.

Amo egro sum. Only my heart feeds my being to be.
So how can I go forward, how to find protection?
Will Hades grant me a pomum granatum to draw
me back out of this light? No longer do I see
shadow. My soul is darkened by my predilection.

Odio egro sum. I blaze my effigy into a new law,
enforcing my pain on the world. Constant sickness
crowds my stomach. Around me it is my vomit that kills.
I hack, and saw, and spit and scream. My knuckles all raw.
Even Phobos hides in the forest while I pass, but no redress.

Exulcero ergo sum. No vengeance sweet gives me the will
to love again. No golden spiculum can penetrate my armor.
No innuendos, no Palma for me to grasp. Sollicitudo lost.
I spit on friendly faces, and kind words. Only air they fill,
but nothing can fill my soul, for its emptiness is like a tumor.

Sum fui futurus Amor. Not any higher can be the cost
paid to know who you truly are. The curtains are ripped
away between innocence and guilt. For my soul only luctus,
for my body only abstinence. My essence I will exhaust
by stripping away warmth and comfort. Amor is a crypt.


(c) Casteleijn MG. 1997 -2017

#pdpoetsdream


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Such a cunning weaver

I am the remainder of the ashes
with all virtues lost or now hidden?
Where in this darkness will I find
my sun, my light. I will not seek,
no more! It has transformed me.

All virtues lost! Now hidden is my
Dream. Doused by fire, sparked by
the sun, the light. I will not seek,
no more! It will demolish me.
I turn my eyes away from the sea.

Dreaming of dousing their fire, sparks
jump from their eyes, wicked on my,
my sun, my light. I will not seek
their gaze on my breast. No more!
A beggar brings dreams, so foolish.

They jump before my eyes, wickedly
move me to the heavens. Longing for
my sun, my light. I will seek no more,
Ulisse in the heavens before me!
I am the remainder of the ashes.

(c) Casteleijn MG 2017

+Helena Dias a poet dialogue to your excellence #Tanka14, a re-cap of sorts from Penelope's eyes.
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