Wednesday, March 01, 2000

Frans Lelieveld

Mother Melisana Empathic Universe

From her charitable heart
A sane mother comes to the aid
Intending to cure with a pill

Inside my soul the lilies whine
On the fields of the gray day
For ever reliving an ugly past

Sleeping I weep
It weeps in me
Sleeping I weep
Or is it someone else?
Another weeping
Another sleeping
Another not being
Anyone but him

And if I go further
Can anyone call me back?
Can anyone be my mother?
Can anyone fill the lack?

Iris, the child
She throws her big eyes
In my sinful hands

Twelve cherry eyes
She throws the dice

She throws the dice
Twelve red cherry eyes

Mother of lightning
Are you still steering
The wheel of this life
My only one?

And who receives your mercy?
The killer or the body he leaves?
Cause sometimes the one is both...

The fire inside me
Is it too cold?

From the poison heart
My mad mother jumps to the sky
Pretending to cure with a pill

I'm a tree sometimes
Blossoms falling again
I dream that

This empathic universe
Cries tears of blood
For all souls lost

From the mercury well
The golden calf rises
Like a yellow dragon of revenge

I am writer
Earth-mover, grave-digger
Life-fucker, Jesu

I should be
A zero magician
Free from desire
Ready to go

I should be
Chewing gum
Doing nothing
Just me

I should be
Very very careful

With all this
Bottle of gin


A lonely wanderer
To whispers
Trying to understand

Hearing in the fresh
Rustling of springtime leaves
The tree-innocence of
Being mother nature's son

Hearing in the soft
Flow of breathing in and out
The free destiny of
Playing the child in the wind

Hearing unexpectedly
A powerful surge of voices
From forgotten religions
Vanishing into space

Hearing disturbances
Made by people's thoughts trying
To find statement in myriads
Of self-centred fantasies

Hearing the exchange
Of calm and commotion
Sailing together like ships
Meeting in the present

A feeling of
Knocking at the door

A feeling of
Carefully opening

A silent wind bringing
Pure insight and great compassion

Disclosing in the idea of
Autumn leaves decomposing
The speaking revelation that
Even God's gold will rot

So I carved for you this rock:

"There is no safe place for a human being
Than in his acceptance of the imperfection
Of this creation and in his willingness
To be part of a certain death"

But the lonely wanderer is lost
In fairy voices in and out
He follows the babbling stream
To an ocean without a doubt...


I lock you in a coffin
I bury you in the depth of the ocean
I'll make you a deal
You may cook until your done for
In the pouring rain outside my door

With this stick
I throw myself
With this stick
I hit myself
With this ink-babbling shit-stick
I bear out heaven and earth
With the faith of a dog
I bite deep into my slavery

Chained by words
Punished by writing

I ram you out of your coffin
I drag you from the bottom of the ocean
Radiant cosmic appeal
You may walk into my life
Through any door any time

With this spade
I dig in the earth
Where I kept my heart
Hidden from the world
With this spade
I compose my life
To grinded bones manure
In honour of words

Have you heard?
I, man, cry out the name of my heart
My heart is no word!

Frans Lelieveld: I go by my own name. I was born in January 26, 1963. I'm a man. I do my internet from the Royal Library in the Hague, Holland. I've been given a mild and not unfriendly kind of schizophrenia since my first big psychosis in 1987. I'm interested in medical and spiritual interpretations and treatments of schizophrenia. I like to discuss the unverified reality changing quality of psychosis.

Elizabeth Harper David Woodard Frans Lelieveld Age Melissa McHenry

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