Author: Rolf

Screens

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They beckon for attention every second every day
beaming endless streams of tweets and twits and bleeps and bits and comments our way.

We esteem ourselves their masters. What deluded fools we are
to think that we would will ourselves to simply turn them off.

We could console our lonely souls if we would stop and interact
but instead we need our dopamine dose – we know this for a fact.

This will only take a minute. This is technically not a lie.
But as the minutes become infinite our total time spent hits the sky.

Deep down we know these screens that glow are not where our lives reside
yet we allow these screens to burrow evermore inside our minds
consuming our attention until they take over our lives.

And we fritter away our days as minutiae fill our brains
and we flock around our screens not unlike moths drawn to the flame.
Until the data drains our brains and we gaze straight at the abyss.
Our screens entice us like the Siren’s song. Who among us can resist?

Elixir Of Life

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Where does it come from
where does it reside
this spring in your steps
and this spark in your eyes?

This elixir of life
that lifts you inside
to greet each new day
and each morning arise
to awake wide-eyed wondering
about today’s new surprise
we all know what it feels like
but where does it reside?

You took it for granted
that each day you’d feel fresh
with a smile in your eyes
and a spring in your steps
and a zest for what’s next
in this beautiful life
with so much you could do
and just so little time.

But one day you noticed
there’s no spring in your steps
and the gleam in your eyes
has gone out and has left

and you get up each morning
with dull dreary eyes
and you’d rather not get up
no you’d rather not rise

but you can’t find rhyme or reason
for why this might be so
why your gas tank now stands empty
and your motor just won’t go

and you’re staring at the ceiling
and you’re wasting away your time
wondering why your days are dreary
when you once were so alive

and you wonder out loud
will it ever come back
this elixir of life
that you had but now lack?

Is this how it will be
for the rest of your days
or will this thing pass
is it only a phase?

And you wonder out loud
where does it reside
this spring in your steps
this spark in your eyes?

And once you have lost it
can you find it once more
this lost awe and wonder
that you had once before?

This sense that we’ve all had
when we once were a child
to see the whole world
as if for the first time?

I can’t say that you can’t
but it surely seems hard
to put the pieces back together
once they’ve fallen apart.

Where does it come from
where does it reside
this spring in your steps
and this spark in your eyes?

Polarized

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© Rolf Hendriks April 11, 2020

An idea virus
is festering inside us
it spreads as it finds us
it splits and divides us.

But don’t worry now
I figured it out
I know where it’s from
and I know without doubt.

The virus resides on The Other Side,
the side that’s confused,
the side that believes
all they hear in their news.

The virus resides on The Other Side,
the side that’s not us,
they so quickly spew hate,
they are so quick to judge.

But our side is fine,
it’s done none of these things,
it will always be fine
as it always has been.

We’re sick of the hate,
we’re sick of the lies,
we’re sick of division
we are so polarized.

So don’t read any books from The Other Side,
they are so uninformed that their thoughts are deformed.

Don’t watch any news from The Other Side,
it’s nothing but hatred, propaganda, and lies.

Don’t make any friends from The Other Side,
it’s the side that is rotten and evil inside.

Don’t engage anyone from The Other Side,
they won’t see things your way,
they can’t be converted,
they’re too late to be saved.

We can’t let them speak,
divided we fall,
we cannot be weak,
we must cancel them all!

But our side is fine,
it never has sinned,
it will always be fine
as it always has been.

An idea virus
is festering inside us
it spreads as it finds us
it splits and divides us

The Magnificent Tree

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Parable Of The Magnificent Tree

Rolf Hendriks, June 8 2019

 

A magnificent tree stood tall in the forest. The magnificent tree was gifted with great growth as it stretched into the heavens, towering proudly over all other trees. Its fruit were sweet and succulent. Its bark was crisp and pure. And its sap, say the many denizens of the forest, tasted of fresh flower juice.

The magnificent tree was proud of its magnificence and gave generously of itself. Birds, insects, and critters of the forest fed freely from the magnificent tree’s sweet succulent fruit to quell their hunger. Gazelles gnawed at its bark and praised the magnificent tree because its bark tasted of rich chocolate. The forest was happy with the tree because the tree was magnificent and generous. And the magnificent tree was happy because it made the forest happy and enjoyed giving of itself freely. The magnificent tree even felt vibrant and glowing because of its magnificence.

But as the magnificent tree grew older, the magnificent tree did not feel so magnificent anymore. Vitality no longer flowed through every fiber of its being. The tree was no longer able to grow at a magnificent rate, or grow fruit at a magnificent rate, or grow bark at a magnificent rate. Worst of all, the tree felt pain when another animal ate its fruit, or chewed its bark, or sipped its sap. And as the many denizens of the forest gnawed constantly at the magnificent tree, the tree’s pain grew deeper and deeper into misery, and the tree fell into despair. The tree realized that it could no longer be magnificent and keep giving of itself freely as it had done for all of its life.

So the tree’s fruit became bitter so that the worms would not burrow in them. And its fruit grew thorns so that the critters could not chew them. And its bark hardened so that the gazelles could not gnaw it. And its sap soured so the squirrels should not sip it. One by one the tree tallied those things that sapped it and it developed defenses against them.

But the tree also welcomed the mushroom because the mushroom fed back into it. And it welcomed the fungus because the fungus fed back into it. And it welcomed the moss because the moss fed back into it. One by one the tree tallied those things that gave it vitality and it developed deeper relationships with them.

The forest and its critters were not happy with the tree. They were not happy at all.
‘Die in a fire’, scowled the mad dog that could no longer bite the tree’s hard bark.
‘Sourpuss!’, bickered the little squirrel as it spit out the tree’s sour sap.
‘Bird hater!’, tweeted the fruitless mockingbird.

But vitality returned to the tree. And health returned to the tree. And the tree was happy again.

The Bipolar World

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The Bipolar World

© Rolf Hendriks April 23 2019

 

I scoured the Earth from the sea to the sky
I looked at the world of all things alive
But all through the world never once did I find
a creature alive that can laugh but not cry.
There’s not a creature alive that can laugh but not cry!

Like a magnet with one pole 
you just can’t make it work
this thing cannot exist 
in the whole Universe.
It’s a bipolar world 
that we’re living in
it’s a bipolar world 
again and again

I looked at the fish and the crab and the snake
the birds in the sky and the ducks on the lake
I looked at all life and found no single case
of a creature alive that can love but not hate.
There’s not a creature alive that can love but not hate!

Like a stick with one end 
you just can’t make it work
this thing cannot exist 
in the whole Universe.
It’s a bipolar world 
that we’re living in
It’s a bipolar world 
again and again.

I looked at my life, all the things I have done,
all the victories I’ve had, all the wins I have won.
I looked at them once, and I looked at them twice,
and never found one that didn’t come at a price.
There’s no victory to win that doesn’t come at a price!

I looked at my life, all the losses I’ve felt,
all the suffering I’ve suffered, all the pain I’ve been dealt.
I looked at my losses, and they’ve all made me wise,
every one of them also a blessing disguised.
Every setback you suffer is a blessing disguised!

There’s no up without down,
there’s no North without South,
there’s no loss without gain,
there’s no joy without pain.
Like a coin with one side
you just can’t make it work
these things cannot exist
in the whole Universe.
It’s a bipolar world 
that we’re living in
it’s a bipolar world 
again and again.

There’s no life without death,
there’s no Yin without Yang,
there’s no love without hate,
it’s all part of The Plan.
Try as you might
you just can’t make it work
these things cannot exist
in the whole Universe.
It’s a bipolar world
that we’re living in
it’s a bipolar world
again and again.

Cantankerous

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Cantankerous

© Rolf Hendriks March 22, 2018

We the cantankerous
to you who try to handle us
have a message for you 
in these verses and stanzas.

Far back in our youth
you tried to tie our shoes
you tried to pick our clothes
and you tried to pick our food.

You tried to run our lives,
every minute every day,
not leaving enough time
for socializing play
and, with scientific precision,
removing our need to make a decision.

So of course we acted out
and we’d have none of that
asserting early on 
the personalities we had.

You told us to draw within the lines. So you know what we did? We drew our own lines to fill in.

You told us not to run with scissors. So you know what we did? We took our scissors and ran with them. That’s right, we ran with scissors! Then we pretended to fall. Then we secretly smeared ketchup all over our overalls and said aaaaaah!

You told us not to make faces because they will stick. So you know what we did? We made the funniest faces until they stuck! Except they never stuck! And the audience cracked up! And we’d wait ‘til you start drinking so your drink would throw up!

You said the plate was hot. So you know what we did? We touched it! That’s right, we touched it! Why? Because we wanted to know how hot. Shower hot? Boiling hot? Jalepeño hot? So we touched the plate, and our fingers got burned. Then the fingers got healed, and that’s how we learned.

We the cantankerous
to you who micromanage us
have a message for you in these verses and stanzas.

Some of us are entrepreneurs, fed up with the status quo, picking our heart up, acting out our outrage by starting a startup.

Some of us are artists, creative and free, our dendritic minds unveiling many things unseen.

Some of us are problem solvers, bending our brains through twists and turns and points of intersection. Because the solution to a new problem never comes with directions. 

Some of us are just fun and great to be around, enlivening a social scene by entering the crowd.

We the cantankerous
who know you can’t handle us
have a message for you in these verses and stanzas.

Let go of control,
know that you are not we.
Stop trying to mold
a shape that won’t be.

There’s no need to lecture
no need to berate
most of us applied ourselves
and ended up great.

Mr. Nice Guy

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Mr Nice Guy

© Rolf Hendriks January 25, 2015

You’re such a
Nice Guy
you’re pleasant and polite
You’re such a
Nice Guy
you never have to fight

you never offend,
when you’re upset you pretend
everything is OK
and then you shuffle away
but as you nod and you smile
your eyes will give you away

You’re such a
Nice Guy
everything you say is nice.
You’re such a
Nice Guy
all your thoughts are thought twice

The first thought you had
what first came to your head
you wanted to say
but then you held back instead
because you thought of the thoughts
thought in strangers’ strange heads.

doublethink, doublethink,
all your thoughts are doublethink,
be nice, think twice,
cover your thoughts in sugar and spice,
cover your words, cover your woes,
cover them from head to toes
in zero calorie Sucralose
or Listerine, or Chloraseptic,
or anything that’s antiseptic.

You’re such a
Nice Guy
you’ve never had to fight
You’re such a
Nice Guy
you’ve learned the art of flight

you’ve been fleeing from strife
for many a year
when you think of dissent
your feet are are frozen from fear

a fear to upset
a fear to incite
a fear to proclaim
what you hold wrong or right

a fear to stand up
a fear to stand out
a fear to stand ground
when you’ve been singled out

You’re such a
Nice Guy
you’re never thinking of yourself
You’re such a
Nice Guy
you’re never thinking for yourself

when was the last time
that you voiced your dissent
and you held your head high
as you gave your ‘not I’?

when was the last time
that you stood, all alone,
against all of the world
and you still held your own?

when was the last time
that you’ve strayed from your herd
and unlearned all you’ve heard
just to speak your own word?

when was the last time
that you followed a dream
and risked losing face,
or failure, or worse?

when was the last time,
or when will be the first?
The first time you drop
the pretense you show?
when will be the first time
you’ve ever said no?

You’re such a
Nice Guy.

Fire

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Fire

© Rolf Hendriks December 2004


Fire is frightening, no it’s quite horrifying,
it flashes like lightning as it sets its flames flying.
It scorches and burns as it sizzles and churns.
Its dark smoke is caustic as it catches my eye.
“Fire is dangerous, I must stop it!”, I cry. 

So I beg and I plead and I yell and I shout:
“oh, fiendish fire, why won’t you go out?”

“I’m strong and I’m proud”, the fire shouts out,
“and I won’t be controlled,
I am fiery and frivolous and boisterous and bold!” 

Fire is stubborn, I just can’t control it,
when I tell it to move it responds cold and stoic.

So I go and I poke it with a big prickly stick
but the stick goes right through it, it just snaps like a twig
and the flames keep on flowing ’til they’re bigger than big
saying “ha, you can’t hurt me with your big prickly stick!

I will burn where I want, sticks and stones make me stronger.
If you try to fight me I will burn even longer.
I am bold and I’m proud and I spew fiery flashes.
I will eat what I want then I’ll turn it to ashes.” 

Fire is tough, and it’s strong and it’s mean.
You can’t even hurt it with a hurting machine!

“But why must you fight me”, the fire inquired.
“I just want to dance until I get tired.
I love to be fiery. I live to be free.
I’m sure that you know someone else who’s like me.
But there’s much more to me, as I hope you will see,
if you’ll sit down and listen, just listen to me:

Although I fight wars and I seem mean and boasty
I also make s’mores come out warm, brown, and toasty.

I can make you feel warm, from your head to your shoe,
on those cold winter nights when you freeze ‘til you’re blue.

I can show you a show, and send sparks flying high,
bringing blitzes of beauty to the dull black night sky.

I can light you a candle on a bright starry night,
send a spark through your heart, make the moment feel right.

I can do many things as a service to you.
I can cook you a meal, or a soup or a stew.

I am bold and I’m proud and I spew fiery flashes.
If you know how to treat me, there won’t be any clashes.

So gather your friends and form a circle before me.
You can make mushy marshmallows. You can tell me a story.

But don’t try to fight me if I seem to be scary.
Sooner or later I’ll get tired and weary.
I will glimmer and simmer through the cold of December
and leave you my warmth as I turn into ember.”