Philip Meersman


Boy in a box

rattling toys
eagerness
mamaís taco stand
cars wait and enter the public parking
cries of joy
they all pas without
all the gold has gone
it ordains innermost sacred spaces
where worship awaits it
conquistadores voyeurisme
displays of suffering
exaltation sadism
as we rule the earth
it was given to us
master of our environment
we act as spoiled children
never satisfied
the torture of greed
the original sin was not
knowledge nor carnal pleasure
but the urge to exploit
the colonisation of havenots
the monopoly of male ignorance
because they cannot grow life
destruction is their concept
a circle of fertility
their goal is to pierce, seed and leave
and not able to copulate
their urge becomes anger
inventing the concept of soul
the sacrifice of blood
to fertilise an uncertain will of
a higher cosmic being
inventing straight lines and archetypes
disguising that women are better equipped
they care for the knowledge
they share themselves with the beginning of life
we, the white cis-male, shaped a world to our mirrored image
claiming it, because

I can only apologise
knowing
this will never
ever be enough

May I call you Esperanza?
as Iím just a minotaur on a quest
I beg you
unleash your triple cultural heritage
unbox your life
teach me to explore

beyond what the faults of my ancestry
ustedes son nuestra esperansa rťal

CDMX, April 21, 2018

 

Ominous they stand


Ominous they stand
waiting to get woken
their tasks at hand
all lined up in clusters
guarding the murky waters
as oil painted swabs of red-white, blue-white dissolving into the bottom brownness
who said seas were blue
earthy colours reclaimed them
is this a graveyard of used industry?
a reminder of the stages of progress
bouncing on the water
between the buoyancy of diesel and debris
we proceed to carve the littered sea
on the rhythm of an old engine and worn out planks asfalted together
on rusty vats a single seagull sits and stares
contemplating the thick humid sky
resting like a warm winter quilt onto the water
somewhere above there is a blue sky
existing in memories and oral history
messages in a bottle



4/11/2017 (written on notes on iPhone 7) Mumbai harbour

 

Paradise by the lakeside light

This is paradise
although mosquitoes tend to
seek food for their offspring
only distant coconut cutting
Krishna chanting
make one suspect
a human presence
as birds mark their territory
a plastic bottle floats past
message of precarious hubris
a far away thunder roars
as if to underline that point
monsoons are not over sir
rain brings life
a tsunami came ashore
many souls serve another body now
itís religion which is killing us sir
and borders
do flies stop at the border?
fish follow the currents
only in the forest now, there are snakes
they used to be everywhere
and they were respected
the road to paradise was air conditioned
full of holes
and educational
dogs compete with monkeys
but thatís at the other side of the river
here birds and butterflies share the space
I never felt lonely here
but very much alone
Longing for home
travel always seems
romantic at the offset
these words are guardsmen of the experience
a sole frog agrees

7/11/2017 (created on the Kerala Backwaters in notes on iPhone 7)


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