Ok, its been edited.
A pawn of darkness,
falling,
What words can't express.
Across the vast darkness,
laughing,
what words can't express.
My mind runs innocent,
blurred into veign imagry,
and jaded by the knight.
just passed the horizon,
beyond that infinite landscape...
your soul calls.
A pawn of darkness,
falling,
passed that
which words can't express.
*
Moments hold eternal shape
for dullness is surreal,
nothing more then tricks...
Above exists a cycle,
contorting our vision of reality,
always spinning more webs
of which we must break free.
*
A pawn of darkness,
falling,
into that which words
cannot express.
The day grows long...
These ovals never cease...
An incessant beating shall never cease!
I CRASH my fists into the dirt!
and what have I learned?
The passive offence
shall never be countered
The active defence
shall never be overcome.
In a world of white and black
we realize that checkers never bore fruit
and that good and evil exists in us all...
and in us all,
A choice...
A choice
to lay down the sword.
A choice to draw.
The Card-Players
Jan van Hogspeuw staggers to the door
And pisses at the dark. Outside, the rain
Courses in cart-ruts down the deep mud lane.
Inside, Dirk Dogstoerd pours himself some more,
And holds a cinder to his clay with tongs,
Belching out smoke. Old Prijck snores with the gale,
His skull face firelit; someone behind drinks ale,
And opens mussels, and croaks scraps of songs
Towards the ham-hung rafters about love.
Dirk deals the cards. Wet century-wide trees
Clash in surrounding starlessness above
This lamplit cave, where Jan turns back and farts,
Gobs at the grate, and hits the queen of hearts.
Rain, wind and fire! The secret, bestial peace!
Philip Larkin, 1970
