The Hounds

Slowly,
skulking,
without sympathy,
hounding,
calling,
staring,
for them,
those souls,
the hopeless,
the hounds of hell,
slowly,
slithering,
without judge.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Concretely Gaunt In Concrete

Grass flats,
Sedgy knawls,
Trees upon forestries,
Steeples of stone,
Naked wild world,
And there I stood,
Naked without fear,
I was with nature,
And nature within me,
Slowly time passed,
The clock quickened,
Shedding my naked body,
Shrouding me in fear,
Covering my body with wear,
Watching Steeple stone,
Turn from majesty,
To towering concrete,
Looking to the forestry,
Turned from purity,
To curtilage to pollute,
Grass flats to streets,
Neon signs and luxuria,
And there I stood,
Staring empty faces,
Buskers and hawkers,
Suits and tuxedos,
Lonely souls and hollow stares,
Concretely gaunt in concrete.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Svoboda

Svoboda valley,
Beyond my begging call,
Along this mountain range,
Despair and cynicism,
And at its peak,
It’s me and apathy,
Looking in on the valley,
Beyond my begging call.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

My Goddess Hera

There’s nothing left,
Nothing more than apathy,
Lingering in the air,
Still warm,
Tasting precisely like Hera,
In the dead cold of night,
I loved and lost her,
With just a single fabrication,
Not required and invented without intend of malice,
I lost my goddess,
I simply lost my way.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Missing The Moon

I’m missing you,
I’m missing the moon,
But it’s bright,
I’ll be fine.

I’m dreaming at the touch of you,
I’m dreaming only at the touch of you,
I’m dreaming of the moonlight.

But it’s plenty bright,
But I’m missing your warm embrace,
I know the rain is coming, Someday soon.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Imaginary You, Delusional Me

Driving through the country side,
Dark forest and dirt ridden roads,
Open up to flats of grass,
And I thought I saw you,
Gold halo and hair dance in sun beams,
I suddenly rush the car to a stop,
But you disappear as fast as you appeared,
I pull away slowly staring at the silver split sky,
The rain starts spilling over,
My heart boils over,
Is this all I get for what we’ve been through,
An imaginary you and delusional me.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Silver Foreign Star

This will just be a memory,
A distant echo,
You’ll forget all about me,
I’ll learn to live without you,
But what if this tempest never breaks,
And I’ll never see you like you were before me,
Lit up like a silver foreign star,
In this foreign dark sky.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

A Guitar

A guitar,
Playing in a distance,
Broken cords for a broken heart,
Calling my name on those broken strings,
Stringing my heart along,
In this dark and starless sky,
Not a melody,
Just a jagged sharp knife,
Her guitar playing alone,
On broken strings,
Imitating her broken heart

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Puerility

Digress and regress,
Back to puerility,
Catching dragonflies,
Fanciful,
Imaginary friends,
No more dingy,
By the thoughts of tomorrow,
No more muddled,
By the anamnesis,
Simply a felicitous life.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Emaciated Bony Hands

A place desolated, devastated,
Bony individuals known by WHO?
In Dark Africa at lake Chad,
Laid to waste,
At the Horn of Africa,
Humanity led astray so instead inhuman,
The colonist left behind alternatively
Carnage and dismay,
In the darkest corners of forgotten Africa,
The emaciated bony haggard hands,
Clutch at pipe dreams of autonomy.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

A Tyrants Feast

An ample amount of time,
an insignificant amount of grain,
with just a pint of death.
To season their plates.

In the centre of their table,
between the salt and spice,
Lies the sweet dish of despair,
they’ll have it as a starter.

Around their cutlery,
between the forks and spoons,
lies the aroma of blood-infested wine,
to quince the blood-thirst.

Again his dinner guests,
between the smiles and the laughs,
Lies the abound lie of charming demise,
to keep the dinner party going.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

Castle In Spain

Woolgathers,
Brobdingnagian,
My fanciful dreams,
A notional world,
Build on moral values,
Without moral quandary,
Peace without ataraxis,
No race problem,
None of this and none of that,
Brobdingnagian,
Hearts and minds.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

The Populus, The Populous

Over Fences,
Private prisons,
Densely populated,
Detention blocks,
The Populus,
The Populous,
The Human mind,
Gaoled.

- Coenraad Vlietstra

"Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible."

Purity Is Fiction

Exploring these littered streets,
Looking at abandoned memories,
Scatted shells and limp bodies,
Once kids played here,
Parents sat there,
Young lovers smiled,
Checkers was played,
People were lively.
The sky broke,
Water soaked the battered city,
Washing the fiendish presences away,
Spilling the blood from the streets,
I spread my arms like wings,
Staring at the ash grey sky,
Counting tear-drops as I cry.
I start walking down,
Past the mangled wound left behind,
Children hiding,
Parents crying,
Blood soaked memories,
Nothing is pure here any-more.

- Coenraad Vlietstra