The Conjugative Truth of an Apple

Video and Improvisation: an improvisation with artist/guitarist Robbert van Nispen

Thanks to Robbert for quick-working instructions  : (he said : ‘you do not need to act’ and I threw away the piece of paper with words) and Thanks to my muse as always! 🙂

Looks like while performing and not knowing what to say at times
I fill in with so many conjunctives … :

actually let’s not look to the past
let’s make something new just
as it is!
I am …..
I mean it’s just…
it’s just wisdom
the wisd…
it’s just reality
and reality is no-wisdom
Reality is …like
what it is….
You know
You know …
of course you know But
I just…
or is that the truth?
is reality the truth?

I’m gonna note that down and
I’m gonn…
I will just write it
and we will see
what comes out
it does not require thinking of course
we know it but
when we are…just like tuning in
it’s a different …
sensational perception
that also means that
you’ll … ahhm…just need to shut up
and listen to the music just
I mean
“Let’s come up with something new” ??
You don’t need to come up with something new!!
It’s already new , every time is new
and new is just a concept in your mind
that’s why I say that
I mean
It’s not interesting what I say
I know that but
It’s just … it’s just something like
I am looking for … to tune in to your talk
and it’s not always that easy you know
it goes further than my words … actually
what you’re saying … and …
I’m just trying to catch up with you … it’s…
you go on and on and on …!
and … you know-
I don’t know what to do sometimes … itss…
I am left to talking… like a talking machine
like it… without thinking
words are flushing out of my mouth
it could have been easier
if I could just …
Don’t say shut up!
that’s all the point there is
I am gettin it now
You play because you don’t want to hear me talking
That’s it … now I’m gettin it …
Arghh how terrible you are!
I just eat an apple then
Ha ha

The Thief

He was a thief
and he did it ‘all the time’
that stealing
he used to call
for the others in loss
so they spiritually grow

he was not only a thief
but also a liar
–towards himself-
what’s worse?

always another
chic – trendy –
authentic – to go –
oriental –  family
fast – arty –
road – five-star
cheap an deli
and so many
with branded words
dictionaries fall futile to describe
types of restaurants where
he ate from
without a check
a humble gift from my guru
for my accomplishments
he said –
his guru to whom he in percentages fed back
otherwise he would be for good dead
more dead than the dead
because it is beyond the scope
of this story but just know that
he already was dead –
my delicious soul food
he cunningly said.

he was not only a thief and a liar
but also stupid
what’s worse?

blinded by his tall victory
planning the future only
a robot army
that shall kill humanity
for he could be the only one on earth
the one who was made of human wanted that!
unable to comprehend
with his victorious- photoshopped head
always looking forward
as if more ahead
than anyone ahead
far  far beyond clouds of
oil stick slime and dirt
so that the
impure material would
fill his brainless head
for a temporary while
oh my that pretty skull
implanted with sunny hair and glowing starry eye
had all the luxurious capacity of space
a palace for the richest he says
I live in
on the last floor of the highest building
ever made on the planet
always busy baptizing
with cosmetics
branded as pure mountain water and Angelica White herb
he switches off his room size TV and looks down affectionately
(where in reality he overlooks) and self adoringly shakes in triumph
‘I see all humanity
they bug and harvest their own Ignis Fatuus
No I need no TV
this is my true warranty
I am the preacher
I am reborn’.

He was not only a thief and a liar and stupid
but also ignorant
what’s worse?

as he continued to praise his ‘what could have been’s
he forgot the ‘what is’
having numbed the essence he
was unable to feel the growing green grass
under his foot soles

nature as compassionate as always
tries to nurture his lost soul
even for him,
by building a shelter
where he could also grow a brain
in meditation
long term
may/could/would he also have then
a true home
built on the mountain of truth

Oh the nature so pure, beautiful  and naive
continued to plan hand in hand
with a hard-working bumblebee
so he could learn to be free
without  depending on a guru
or on casual vampiric activity

what nature does?

she builds a home for him
even adds a pretty angel in
that could be an ever after
sweetheart for him.

he was not only a thief and a liar and stupid and ignorant
but also blind
what’s worse?

so blind that
upon seeing the angel
(his twin of opposite nature)
he did not recognize her
and one night he broke in his own house
plundered everything that has been gifted for him
and dropped the key  as always but
this time inside
where she lived
in the hearts of the hearts
on top of the mountains of truth
on a clearing
beyond the clouds of love
where their house was built

and as usual he escaped
far far away
until he consumed
all that he had
politely jerked and laughed
ejaculate his fantasies in the lands beyond the oily custard
custard distilled by seedless smoke clouds  made of evil he knew so well
until he was left with one
white flower with living roots

Who are you !
What are you !
he whined and cried in terror and fear
hearing his own true voice for the first time
after ages and after sucking generations’ gifts

here is the flower’s reply:

I am you
be me
plant me
you can see
break the blasphemy
if you can
you again
and grow
you will
reach to
she leaves
lifetimes long
lifetimes after
she sees
you or of you
she will recognize
as she truly will kiss
by her kiss
you shall at once
be blessed
to a prince
of her
to keep
dream alive
and all
of you

‘What? Becoming a flower! That’s the worst’ he replied
and dropped his only living copy of the key.

Monsters Are Not True!

Poetry by Alin Diraduryan
Mixed by Alin Diraduryan
Performed by Alin Diraduryan and Robbert van Nispen
Guitar by Robbert van Nispen
Drawing by Alin Diraduryan

Monsters Are Not True!

You can’t stop Monsters
by locking sliding doors
Monsters do pass through


Ask it to a/any child


Only a child knows

Only a child can show that


Monsters are not True


written and spoken by Alin Diraduryan
photograph by Thomas Amons

recorded and mixed by Alin
cowbells of La Vare by Alin


my first steepest path of no return was just before a gorgeous mountain sunset.

a step by step ascending lesson of life and death executes a subconscious mantra in the head.

“let this trail cleanse the left!”
“oh you don’t even know what you wish for” a fallen rock said.

Dangers of naivety soon to become an inconvincible dance
arm in arm with a serpent deep down curling along a 50 minutes line.

What if it would be dark before reach?
No you don’t think that!
You don’t think anything there is not time for.
Make your each step the first full one and the last.
Questioning too is undone by each:
don’t look left, don’t look right, don’t look backs
stand upright, hurry not and move aheads.

He says stand upright dammit
and I repeat
Every word that he says
I repeat.

I say,
I will,
will stand now again…
Making my sound a guide as if a movie or a dream but none,
it’s for real this time.

Haven’t known sound could have such firing power,
it ‘s a conversion factor,
converts illusive threat jokingly to harsh reality.

Joking helps at moments as such of black and white,
brings in awareness by memorial color
and attention.

Oh If I have ever known have I dared to walk that path?
I presumably would have said: Hey you keep the faith, move ahead,

get slapped by the mountain for a chick tattoo on your forehead.”

or have I maybe known but hushed up by innocence?
… to be granted a new life as if a test!

Is that maybe why two horses heartily blessed me goodbye
after a cup of soup on a traveler’s inn and grounded my burning anxiety?

Life asks to shut the mind, switch off the emotion
Death requires the fantasy of the fright:
a slippery byproduct from the left or the right side.

maybe I play a trick on me

Unless he said … unless you can cross the death.

but happy I am, happy now I did it I say, happy because I am alive I say
and these are mouthful of blubber just!

We both know it had to be done.
A prerequisite to undone a past is no choice and always comes in with a test.
Call it an initiation’s necessity – an immunization so blood knows how to fight
but also invites by incarnating the next – when once vaccinated …

I say let the following be a goddess by the name of Grace
such as is a glimpse of a yellow flower on my thoughtless way
78 degrees to the eye but perception marks its true coordinates
once a priceless confidence is granted through her sudden appearance
she says :
the mountain knows you
trust it so be it then you will see
without depending on your eyes
it is a curly, tunnel like track beneath the crown
light shines through on a straight line
illuminates sides of the caves
all at a moment of now
you shall see whichever path is the truth paved for you only

I am mute since then peacefully empty inside
silent, different, high
as if a part of me stayed at heavenly heights to endlessly be irrigated
I accept
without bringing in past emotions to fill the gap
no I fright not anymore not to have frights or ties
a memory is lost and let me be empty inside

P.S. A Burp!

just a poem it was
A poem of love at most
in the form of

a flower,
a rainbow,
a bird ,
a tune,
a word ,
a picture

Some came in written
in technological terms
Some quantized
as futuristic incense

You have sensed it all
the untold
Even long before my say

Not ‘the all’ go though
You know … once you can close yourself,
set a fence…

but in that latter case
although you may have done your best
to shut these gates
It seems they have reached premises against
without my knowing
aethēr so lucid does trespass
once built an absolute bridge through souls of equivalent selves.

Each n every time is  mine a hopeless cry to make you furious ?
A touch at the physical and meta-physical to eventually develop anti-sense?

Naturally so easy
As you reside at an exact opposite side of me

Angered n equally frustrated
in rage of a momentous burst
You  sell my identity
to a dreadfully operating net-entity
and target me as if to spears
oh how that really hurts
maybe you wished so
but no not really

a boomerang brings in a rhyme
of a thoughtless action
returns it to the center of a rotating spiral
where you stand
the exact opposite end

I won’t allow though
You to frown
this way you learned to simmer n cool down
became a clown of your own ghost town
as we’re entangled beings
already since sometime

so let me just also have fun
Instead of you- bring me down
On the competing wheel game of up n down
Oh no there we sit not anymore!

Realize to have targeted a wrong one
Once it is so much alike  an opposing side or a town or a crown
Of you and both eventually you!
So wonder in sane what did I do
And put a SPAM mask on
To warn me through
and clearly do as if you were one of them:
an Intellect-Deficient-Agent scam.

So let me just  P.S.  a burp here now
Haven’t learned to develop gallstones of anger to compete thyn
but joy at most with a parasympathetic smile
Take it as a blessing if you like or a teasing
that she has you loved so without your willing
and equally convert it to a bile.

Déjà vu (with Lyrics)

Guitar by Robbert van Nispen
Video and Poetry/Lyrics by Alin Duraduryan
Spoken and Whistle by  Alin Duraduryan

I have been requested to note that that All video footage is original and created by Alin during her travel by her mobile phone!


I am slowly gettin it

You are not the name that you told me you are when you showed me your ID and maybe you are called so etcetera etcetera but you have got so many other names besides so

You are no baker that can make the air smell as hunger blossoming excitement in the pure fragrance of early morning for an unknown love

You are not a cat who can kiss me and make me cry out loud until I would not cry to let go then he lies down on his back in the glittery rays of a sunmade carpet

You are not the wild blue flower appearing to me when I bike on a roadside of a highway and make me stop to touch a charm of a secret message coming from high mountains to give me a tint of home coolness

You are not my rose tree that has blossomed two pinky red roses when Andersen’s Kay and Gerda used to sing songs before Kay was lured by the heart freezing powers but you are not Kay as me is the Gerda looking for her Kay

You are not the seagull always following me wherever I go and look through my work station when I work changing seagull silhouettes Doing as if just a new seagull

You are not the wind muse that stole my favorite red gloves with a touch of you on I have been looking for ages over roads along lands

You are not the gloomy clouds pointing at a secret meeting point of a hill on which you’ve landed recently on the day when double rainbows blossomed for your arrival and for my being there.

You are not the magic molecule that I can move with a twinkle of my eye at a twinkle moment of air flushing through my body and transport it to a peacefully dozing stray dog’s consciousness which in return makes contact with me via its cuddly fur

Weather has changed to sync to your behavior and to my sleep noww
You awakened my insomnia
The sky is in pain and full of anger now with explosions , thunder and heavy rain
I felt that last night just before sleep
your rage
and something has changed
killing me with a dream of you wipes it all through and convert me to a statue
endlessly singing in a park of favorites
a supersonic song for you
but ALAS it WAS NOT you – ‘you’ WAS just a Deja vu