El Pinguin Loco

Poetry time! A little intro about the unknown writer, and a little comment on the comment, with in between a nice, original poem, that’s what you’re in for today. Afterwards, if you still have time, I’ll write a little something about ABZG progress, but we’re starting with the intro, first.

Wouter Kortes (03-06-1987-09-05-2008) was one of the best friends I ever had, primarily because of what he made me think. He was a man who had achieved great insight into life, but only trough the horrible story which his life had to tell. I met him on a forum, and though we had plans to meet in real life with a bunch of Dutch people on that forum, I never saw him in real life. All I have of him now are some audio files, and his writings. These he posted in our Writer’s Section at the forum, which I moderated (being a writer myself and all). His work spoke to me, like little others ever have. Granted, they are no masterpieces. But they are something which in my personal opinion is better than beautiful. They are real, and they are pure. Raw, direct, but containing true greatness. I do admit to be quite biased regarding the subject, but even still, I think his work deserves to be read.

But who was he? He grew up in Holland, with a very weak heart. After his untimely demise, I learned from his younger brother Seth that he in fact had already suffered several heart attacks before the age of eighteen. But Wouter himself never had spoken of this, which characterises this truly strong man. He kept his pains for himself, not to himself, but he never wanted to burden anyone with what he had to endure. On the contrary, he was the kind of guy that would attend the splinter in your finger, whilst ignoring his own broken arms. Wouter was a fighter. A fighter, and a winner. It did not matter what wars he had to face, he endured, it cost him, but he endured nonetheless. And I believe he endures ever still. Because that’s how I have come to know him.

He was playful, a true rascal if you would. He could make you laugh, he could make you feel great. Just by reading his words, his randomness, one of those strong smiles would begin wrinkling your face. Wouter played a great part in my aging process, most likely. And quite literally, to. I never had a father. Not a real one, anyways. There is a man sitting on a chair downstairs at this moment, but I don’t think we ever really spoke. He looks like me, so I but he donated some little swimmers to create me. But he must regret it, judging from his behaviour. But I did have Wouter. Because of his eternal struggle for life, he was wiser than most men I know, and because of his eternal questions, we talked about things most people never get to talk about. It’s a good thing, but it shaped me and who I am today. So, if I do have to pick a father figure, I’m going to go with him. And with my grandpa. Because grandpa rocks, too.

Actually, Wouter was also my online dad, for real. Real, speaking of course in the photoshopping Internet terms. You see, we had a topic on the forum, called “Adoption Service”. An awesome concept, where adult members could adopt minors, and then compete for who has the best family. Naturally, me and my forum dad kicked ass, by not really caring. We just said we were the best, and it was as such.

I’ve kind of been avoiding talking about the wars he had to fight. But it’s real hard trying to find the correct words. Or at least, that’s my excuse, because even though it’s been more than a year, the hurting doesn’t stop. But I should cry. He would not have wanted it. He would have wanted me to screw around, steal a mailbox, take a short pause and smile at the heavens, even though neither of us really believed in them. So I must try to do just that. And I do, I do, but it can get to much. Not that he’d feel bad about it. He’d care for you. I know that to be true.

Wouter had learned, all throughout his life, that being a good person pays of in the end. He did have a serious edge, but if you were lucky enough to get close enough to get to know him, you would soon come to find how caring and loving he really was. When he was in the hospital, he would use up his last strength to write down some forum names, asking his brother to tell those people he’s okay. Even though he was not. But the forum loved him, and he loved the forum.

He wrote a lot of those, messages that someone else needed to deliver.

Wouter rode a truck, but he also wanted to learn. He joined the army, so that they could pay for his studies. But then Afghanistan happened. The Netherlands send out their troops, and after a while they brought Wouter back. He was alive, but he missed part of his leg. Wouter had seen war. He had seen the face of evil. He had downed that face his mask. Wouter had killed, and had seen people die. This changed him, forever, and he would never have Peace of mind again. Towards the end, he started asking more and more whether or not he would be forgiven, should there be a God. Because he did not believe anyone or anything ever could right his wrongs. With his hurt leg and the knowledge of what he did, Wouter now had some more things to bare with. But Karma wasn’t done with him, yet. Because shortly after, Wouter was diagnosed with cancer. He would beat the disease for a while, but it came back. It joined forces with his heart problems, and at the age of twenty, on the ninth of May, the same day that man downstairs was born, Wouter died. According to Seth, his brother, he had looked deep into his eyes, which seemed to want to say those words he had so often  spoke before, “it’s okay”, and then faintly smiled. I don’t know if he actually went with that smile on his face, but I like to believe he did. Learning of this news devasted me, and still reduces me to tears. But Wouter is at rest now. For the first time since he was born, he had no more wars to fight. He chose to let  go. He had arranged everything for his own funeral in advance. He was cremated, and he lives on forever in the hearts and minds of the ones who got to know him as a friend. He is one of my greatest examples, greatest inspirations, greatest friends, he is why I still have hope. He is a hero, of that I’m sure. And because he was, I shall endure

“Ik zal je nooit vergeten, vriend. Hoe ver je ook zult zijn.”

I can never tell you who this man was in words. You’d have to know him, to even understand what I am trying to say. But I will post some of his poems now, and later in this blog. The poems are in bold and my first comment (as the forum moderator) will be in italics. I was younger then, but I like what I said. And it fills up the page real neatly.

The first poem is titled “Questions”, and was posted Feb 17 2008, 02:33 PM. The second is called “Confession”, posted Feb 17 2008, 02:33 PM. They were obviously written at an other time, but I do not know when or under which circumstances. I can guess, but I’d rather not. I know the circumstances under which he wrote the poem I’ll be posting tomorrow (“Free”), and so I know Wouter didn’t write when he felt like it. He wrote when he had to. I hope you enjoy.

Questions

Weary, tell me will you hold me?

When wrong, will you scold me?

When lost will you find me?

But they told me a man should be faithful

And walk when not able

And fight till the end but I’m only human

Everyone taking control of me

Seems that the world’s

Got a role for me

I’m so confused

Will you should to me?

And care enough to bear me?

In our darkest hour in my deepest despair

Will you still care? Will you be there?

Although on fist sight nothing out of the ordinary, this one actually has got a lot of meaning.
It’s quite different from what I’m used to, from you, normally the drive for your poems is something set in the exterior, but this one is completely coming from your person and yours alone.
It seems to drive on a hidden fear, a feeling of some sort of darkness slowly entering and the fear for that evil. Something that’s coming solely for you, something you can’t defend against, something you know and accept, but deep down still fear. And so you wish to overcome this fear, feeling the need to know whether or not there is actually something to be feared. If you can’t defend against it, you can only fight for you, and only your dearest can fight alongside with you. Somehow, you know you cannot face it alone, and need certainty in this matter, will you be alone and is there fear, or will you have a group close to you, burning a bright light to keep this darkness out.
But I feel you’re not asking these questions, you’re stating them, in an empty room, on an empty chair, for nobody to hear, nobody but the darkness that awaits you. It feels as if it has already won, and in remorse you whisper these verses as a wish. You feel like you know the answer already, and that this answer is no. Buried in the text are the questions ‘why didn’t you’, not as an attack, but as a personal consultation.
This has a very strange effect on me (and I like it), not sadness, but a dark emotion, while in your other work I felt like the outsider, I now feel like the subject, the one that is living this, while the poet is the outsider, the one merely describing what he sees, the darkness that was in the poem has escaped on turned, now, it creeps up on the reader.
If you can bring written emotions to life, there’s no denying just how talented you truly are. You rule.

Confession

in our darkest hour in my deepest despair

Will you still care? Will you be there?

In my trials and my tribulations

Through our doubts and frustrations

In my violence my turbulence

Through my fear and my confessions

In my anguish and my pain

Through my joy and my sorrow

In the promise of another tomorrow

I’ll never let you part for you’re always in my heart

If you haven’t read Questions, do it first.
Thank you.

To me, his is very clearly a sequel to Questions, but now from a personal view, we get the addition. Everything that was buried in the other text, brakes free here and turns very personal. The ending leaves you breathless, as the one that was called to now turns out isn’t criticized, but loved, respected and deeply appreciated, no matter what.
I completely see this as the reflection on Questions, so I cannot comment further, but this one by far is the one with the best title, also something to be aware of.

Tomorrow, we’re having our final meeting, and then we’ll begin with ABZG. This really is an important moment in my life, I have lived up to this day for years. I do wish Wouter would have been here, but he is where he should be. And for that, I am thankful.

Loco – Out.

Uch