Antilliaanse Cahiers. Jaargang 1-2

[p. 44]

Rage

Rages, storms and ragged
strangers
knock at my conscience
casually
and I write and
care not
I carry within me
unrealized the pain and suffering

of ghastly strangers
in the night
no lodgings for the thoughts
of others
but the ego of creation
sitting arrogantly
boorish pride
pedantic peasant
without the beauty of great pain
and sufferings of others

ignored like judas of
apostles
apparent in the ignorance
of death and loneliness
If I could but tear away
that indifferent weary watch
in the dark
the dread of
things not mine
the fear of foreign
pain and suffering

[p. 45]

 

I could write and wear

 

a ketter garment

 

not the greed of saintliness

 

untouched

 

of greater things

 

would I partake

 

and never perish in

 

my foolishness

 

forsworn