1

Why

Jaap den Haan

2

Why

Of holidays cry,

News was raining

Of holy days waning,

A wasted summer by,

Another actor in the job,

A newer face of olden day,

An older way of newer pay,

Nostalgically sobbing snob.

3

A hint

Life is: parting

And departing

Of a wish.

Life's delay

Is decay

Of a form.

Life is art

By heart

Of heaven.

Life's a dance

In trance

With death.

Life's a game,

A frame

Of freedom.

Life's a minute,

Infinite

When pure.

Life is mint,

Just a hint

To Everything.

4

Wondering

Travelling the world

Is the seeker of his world.

Something's more than just

Being here and wondering.

So you go on – wandering

Over the world

To find your world.

Knowing nothing's incomplete,

As the knower you will meet

Truth for which you roam and moan,

Always trying to get free,

Trying everything to see

Till at last you feel inside

You're at home where you abide.

Always looking for the place

Where you'll see the hidden face,

You have suffered and you went

Where you are and what you want,

Where you feel that you can grant

Just yourself a little peace,

Just yourself to be at ease.

5

A song

My kingdom has come.

All doubting has gone

Back to its source:

Your thinking of course

That was lost in the air

As a dust unaware

Of its course in the wind,

The air that is winged.

But now it is clear

How is everything near

To the heart of my nature

When my love is mature.

My life is a fountain,

Of a heart as mountain.

And all that was wrong

Has made for a song

As the flight of a verse

Through the universe.

And freedom is there

In each and all aware.

For the fate of your wheel

Is your doubt of the real.

And your karmic event

Is the state you invent.

6

Being

I am the willing

And the being willed.

I am the stilling

And the being stilled.

I am the fulfilling

And the being fulfilled.

I am the burning

And the being burned.

I am the learning

And the being learned.

I am the yearning

And the being yearned.

For I am both the fuel

And the flame intense,

Once divided in the dual

Ever since down dense,

Of so gentle in the cruel

My breathing every sense.

7

Busy

People around me, people away,

They're living and loving, they say.

They're busy, they have no time.

Would they have thoughts like mine?

People are hurried, people are sad.

They are obsessed and really mad.

They're working, they are afraid.

They flee; they fear their fate.

The bad things that all people do

Are done because they never knew,

Intoxicated by their view,

Their anxious working is not true.

People fear their holy role,

Flying from a hidden soul,

Anxious, for they got the blame,

Imprisoned by their feeling fame.

Would many people ever think

The emptiness in which they sink?

Would many people ever care

About the truth inside they bear?

8

Compassion

My love is compassion,

a graceful aggression.

My love is the Will

that makes you be still.

Through all change of the World

that goes on by My Word

my message is clear:

don't hold on to your fear

for your life is My Art

and your home is My Heart.

I think of some peace

as the highest Release.

There is struggle and war

but the future is more

than this silly offence

of your innocence.

The future is given

as the past is forgiven

and the future is near

as the present is here.

9

Evolution

There is evolution

And there is involution.

There is apparently

Life; there is death.

But I am the reviver

Of my chosen matter.

The desert was as vast

As my home beautiful.

My home is the world.

Without me, as I see it,

A planet is just a stone.

But I am the destroyer

Of stone, which I break

To manifold appearance

Of manifest existence.

The limitation assumed

Is just life-imitation.

The mirror imitates

The image of my face.

And compassionate humanity

Calls for justice for the mirror

To be it free from its illusion

And free from limitation.

As the mirror imagines

The image of the real

Or magnifies

Imagination,

Is this world

The identification

Of my identity.

I am the inherent one

I am the inheritor.

I am the inheritance.

And I am happy.

I am the reviver.

Believe me.

10

Feelings

Feelings are tired

Of being touched

Out of their depths.

They sink back again

To resurge and whirl

In the breath of a body

That feeds them, feelings

In which you see and think.

You give them or share

Or keep them, reticent,

And grow weary and seek

Solution or inner salvation

As they can't correspond.

To the outer world, maybe

They have fallen, but fail

To be tired feelings again.

11

Place

Where is a place

I won't feel guilty of myself,

So pure,

There is no need to worry?

Where is a thought

That won't be guilty of itself,

So free,

It can't be got to worry?

There is no space

That is not guilty of itself,

But free,

For it can think to worry.

There is no thought

That can be guilty in itself,

But pure,

For there's no self to worry.

12

It is there

You should rest

And feel at best

Everything

And every word

And you'll sing

To this world

Of some Thing

That you feel

That is Real.

You should rest,

Be my guest

And imagine

Your request

Is the engine

Of my breast.

Then at best

Will my advice

Be your sacrifice.

You should come

And have none

Of your knowing

As your word

But your bowing

To this world

Which is That

What you see

To be Free.

You should come

And go on

With the treasure

Of your love

Without measure

From above.

You go on

And you dare.

You're Aware.

When you're gone

What you've done

Will be fun

13

For your living

Is no run

From you loving.

You have gone.

You don't care.

It is there.

14

Indeed

In pleasure we try

To hide the eternal

In a measure of why

We worry the final.

In pleasure is joy

Conflicted by pain

And so fallen a toy

Of comparing brain.

In pleasure is peace,

Too divided in void,

A dependent release

On sensation, annoyed.

Peace is too easy,

Essence-less desire

Of freedom ecstasy

To tire that fire.

Peace is the passion

That harmless in deed

Exhales the compassion

That will harmonise need.

Peace is the blended

Extremes comprehended

By man-kind extended

As the balance of bad.

For bad is imbalance,

The stress of dis-ease,

Not the very essence,

So seen once at peace.

15

Life

Life is: parting

And departing

Of a wish.

Life's delay

Is decay

Of a form.

Life is art

By heart

Of heaven.

Life's a dance

In trance

With death.

Life's a game,

A frame

Of freedom.

Life's a minute,

Infinite

When pure.

Life is mint,

Just a hint

To Everything.

16

Night and day

The day waves around the earth,

Shadowed by its night

That rushes around the earth

To seek the morning light.

Light fills existence

That helpless when dim

Sings its new presence

That always has been.

Night is a running shade,

Always hunting day

To see the morning made

And catch its golden ray.

Joy is shadowed by its sorrow,

Always followed by its trade

That is reaching for tomorrow

When the day will be remade.

The earth spins round

Through days of light

That cannot be found

By their own night.

Night blows over everywhere,

Seeks to meet the day somewhere.

But it finds that light nowhere.

For then it is no more night right there.

17

MORE I AM

The lightened and the light,

I AM my own transcendence,

Flashing through the night;

MORE I AM easy and intense

Than the hammering of right

By a thunder in its fright.

MORE I AM easy and intense

As translucent fluorescence

Of the flood in the moonlight

In its quarrelling alliance

With the land; I AM delight

Of the thunder's inner fight.

As the drum of foolish fight

Thunder seems to be immense.

But so to be as morning light,

MORE I AM nearly no offence

But very silence of the night,

Essence of the cycling light.

Than the hammering of right

MORE I AM the silence whence

Truth is trembling as a white,

Wide awareness within sense.

So MORE I AM easy. I AM bright.

Light I AM the might of sight.

MORE I AM near than any power.

MORE I AM mighty than thunder

Like the freshness of a shower.

Where I AM HERE is Wonder.

Like the fragrance of a flower.

MORE I AM near than any hour.

18

Universe

The universe is

A song of service.

The truth is the way and the life.

There is nothing not existing.

But the truth is not insisting.

Truth is the natural course

Of the ever-changing moment.

Freedom is decisiveness

And in form its forming.

19

The end

There is no truth

By proof.

There is no justice

By the law

Established.

There is no freedom

By form.

There is no love

By a smile

Established

Or seeing by the eye.

There is no God

Established by man.

Establishment is form.

But in life

There is only

Opportunity

In moving events.

In truth

May be proven

The continuance

Of formation,

The direction

Of the Law,

The embodiment

Of life,

The eye of sight

Or a smile of love.

But there is

No interruption

In the living end.

The end is no limit

Or even a summit,

Which is form.

The end is here

And now,

Falling back

Behind us.

So the end is

In clearing a way

Freedom of future.

There is no freedom

By form,

20

No life by the body,

No seeing by the eye.

But the world is

A form of freedom

And retina of light.

21

Truth

Since truth is its presence,

Being is beauty is essence.

Since sensing everywhere,

Truth is unchosen aware.

Since truth is unforbidden,

Therefore never hidden,

Reality is not in hiding,

Rather simply in abiding.

Unpretending permanence

Is unconfounded innocence.

The truth is harmlessness.

And truth is always less

Than taught or any stress

Upon itself, the freshness

Of thought. It is to bless

Substance of forgiveness.

The truth is pure to press

Freedom by its keenness.

The truth is less than less,

Overwhelming clearness

Of listening to its silence.

In the hearing of existence

The truth is less than pity

Seeking more simplicity

Which is only complication

And confusing implication

Of anything not being Here,

Thus the implement of fear.

For the truth is unimplied,

Not defined not either lied,

Not denied not either tied.

More the truth is undefied

By any form of supposition.

Or from suffering suspicion

Truth is free a faithful fee

For thee and me to be.

The truth is its confession.

Truth is mere compassion

For the mistrustful fright

Disturbing you're all right.

The truth is not the trust

In the dust as being just

Less than its helplessness.

22

The truth is all happiness.

Clean is its timelessness.

When truth is so stainless,

It sustains without stress.

For the only lie is stress

Of truth, which is existing.

There is nothing not existing.

There is nothing that is not.

There is nothing that is not.

23

Rome

I do as Romans do in Rome.

I had a passport while I stayed in bed.

But across the border, I wrote instead

A poem, as I came home.

It was in England I believe

I tried to be but lost the thread.

And I carried a pass of the dead,

As I saw my guardian, angel, leave.

24

Worst poem

Water is running,

the waiter is cunning.

The globe is warming,

tourists are swarming

to end the bill.

Holy day plea,

The old man in the sea

stands peeing,

not seeing

the kill.

Dish

So I stink

as I think,

shunning,

our stride is stunning,

over the hill.

Our dish

the last fish,

the sea is empty.

Don't tempt me.

I am ill.

The pill

The cup is full.

And pull

the trigger.

We always get bigger

as long as we drill.

Cosmetic, I presume

surgery, perfume,

no flower in the way

of my play.

I take the pill.

25

Control

As long as you spend,

the stone will roll.

I bought a new friend

and believe in the poll.

I have a new end

and I drink alcohol.

There is a new trend,

I believe in control.