Dichter bij huis - Poet at home

Ik schrik door licht en scherpe flitsen een ogenblik is het glashelder en klaar alsof de duisternis is opgeslorpt in mijn hoofd zie ik nu afgelijnd de dingen mijn adem inhoudend tel ik het na en krimp bij het onverwachte het uitbreken van een krakende donder in mijn oor slaat een hamer fel het dak kreunt onder het sleuren en het wilde snokken van de wind mijn hart doet de geluiden na en slaat als een gek op hol zo slaat het weer en striemt het in regen de hagel springt de goten uit het water giet met stromen de angst vloeit uit mijn ogen de bomen buigen nederig voor vlagen zij die het niet willen spattend kraken ontkleed van tak en bladeren de naakte waarheid zo dicht nabij                                                                   ...

33. Questions about Frau Bertha             ‘How do we deal with Frau Bertha?’ Jean-Pierre asked when they were having breakfast with Cecile. Cecile had listened with amazement to their adventures with Monsieur Charles. She laughed very warmly when she heard how they had tricked him into finding the tape. Jean-Pierre received again a compliment for his bright idea to take a copy of it.             Katarina concealed a yawn behind her hand. She shrugged. ‘Actually, I don’t know very well. We can hardly play it the same way as with our first victim. I don’t know if Monsieur Charles will keep her informed, but we can’t afford not to take it into account.             ‘Who is she, what does she do? Does she have weak points?’ Jean-Pierre had acquired a taste for a next adventure after their ...

It’s about an hour past midnight with many shadows and almost no light, the cold, cold bedroom is closing on me, I don’t know if it’s real what I see, but my fear is pounding in my hartbeat, all I hear is the clicking of my teeth or does the sound come out of the wall, I guess maybe it’s nothing at all, just a bad dream they call a nightmare and still I’ve got this feeling of despair, that nothing will save me now from this threat, how hard I pull the sheets over my head the outcome has already been written, once it takes you and once it has bitten, all the present will then be the past, I just hope, it won’t take long… at last.                                                                         © Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere 25/09/2014

25             Na het bezoekje bij Gerekko waren we bij Stephen in het Oji gestrand. Gekko was trouwens het liefst alleen als hij zich op een nieuwe opdracht stortte en onze aanwezigheid, al was die goedbedoeld, zou hem enkel enerveren en afleiden. Wist ik uit ervaring! Vooraleer we ons elk naar onze thuisstek begaven, wilden we er zeker van zijn dat alles in orde was met Stephen. Moest er iemand bij hem blijven na de emotionele momenten van de laatste dagen? Nauwelijks een kwartier later, we hadden juist besloten dat onze vriend uit de Oude Wereld ondertussen weer strijdlustig genoeg was en we hem zonder zorgen alleen konden achterlaten, hoorden we een gestommel op de gang. Een staccato geklop op de deur deed ons uit onze gedachten opschrikken. Het geluid van problemen! Stephen keek geschrokken naar mij. Eagle Eye en Ji Lang veerden recht uit hun zetel. Misschien was het iemand van de ambassade voor Steph...

32. He who laughs last, laughs best.             The first tape was in the pocket. Without someone getting hurt. Both Katarina and Jean-Pierre were very excited because of the adrenaline in their veins because of the thrilling events. On the way to Cecile’s house, Katarina was talking nineteen to the dozen about her experience with Charles feeling the tension while Jean-Pierre was stealing the tape. She congratulated him with his improvisation of the drunken boyfriend. Katarina could only acknowledge that he had appeared just in time to prevent Monsieur Charles of hypnotizing her.             Arrived they found a little note from Cecile saying she was a night out with her police boyfriend. They had the house for themselves. The tension fell away, just like the clothes they were wearing. Katarina was wild and sensual. When Jean-Pierre kissed h...

How beautiful she writes and quick her glassy flight in colour the delicate damsel on the water in blue and green she glides with black and yellow stripes out of the corner of my eyes trough a cloud side by side of buzzing mosquitoes with a criss-cross back and forth she underlines their ballet but just a moment in the air she stays a tinted display a moment of gravity away next she whirls no less on a dance in the arms of the wind again. © Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere 17/10/2014

20             The Resistance was subdivided into cells of four members. This was a security measure because larger meetings of individuals were more a focus of attention than a small group of four persons who were looking for some amusement in some kind of dark pub.             The ‘Gained Property’ was the proverbial example of such a pub. Sparse light with a long bar with a row of bar stools that had seen better times. Time had stood still here, no progress had entered here. The smell of flat beer couldn’t be cleaned out even with a lot of bleach. The pub was designed in two parts. In the front, you had a number of round tables where the occasional visitors could drink their beverage. The regular customers could pick and choose their favorite drink, as far as they weren’t disgusted with the sticking counter and an annoying gossiping bartender. In th...