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Madrason writer

Kerk-mis

Zondags komen ze en masse
gezamenlijk uit de kerk
je zou zeggen ze doen God's werk
maar lopen al snel uit de pas.

Als schapen lopen ze te blaten
en vooral over anderen te praten
op hoge hakken ploegend door de straten
-de kinderkopjes lijden pijn-
in keurig ABN,
ze kunnen het gewoon niet laten.

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Oogst

Het kwaad
kan er niets
aan doen
dat het bestaat.
We bestralen
determineren
en ontleden,
manipuleren
zelf het zaad.
Het gaat immers
om ons bestaan
de ene baan
en het meer, meer, meer
gemegalomaan
van hoge heren;
het verlangen
het bangen
om armoe en honger,
om procre-eren..

[...] Read more

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Society

Society

I am no soldier,
no soldier am i,
and that is why
i don't even try
to walk in line,
by abiding rules
playing moral's fool.
I am not three,
don't count as two
but i am who
i am
in my solitude,
that is why
i am no soldier
no soldier am I,
not a G.I. in me.

Madrason s-Hertogenbosch 24 03 2010

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Free

Free

Different birds
skimming the sky
in search for food
-a big fat fly
prying upon my foot-
with clouds as sheets
flying in fleets
from grey, white,
bright sliver-blue
I close my eyes
on an Ave melody
to be with you
bubbles Maria and me
feeling free, feeling free,
feeling free..............

Madrason 01-08-2009

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Options

Options, options, options,
ever too many choices.
Purple, Black, Blue or Green,
so many whispering voices;
Clint Eastwood, Kirk Douglas, Charly Sheen.

Options, options, options,
your thoughts bubbling away.
No time to choose but Delay:
'Sticks and stones can't break my bones,
but Options they can kill you still!

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Komrij's Fado

Komrij's Fado


A message moving,
lifting hands shifting
through the sky
alike a boat
drifting
on a sea
of eternity.
Smell that scent,
the fragrant roses
of poetry promises
and of coming proses,
and tears
and breathless rain
for Holland's Mozes,


departure of our beloved literator and poet, columnist etc Gerrit Komrij

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be-Leven

Mauwende zeemeeuwen in de stad,
een kat die piept ook wat,
twee vissen aan vrouwenborst
hebben enorme dorst.
Ben ik dronken,
zoog ik te lang
aan vette joint?
Soms zijn het de dingen
die van zelf lijken te zingen
dat ze vaak net
even iets anders zijn
dan men had gedacht;
dat is de kracht
van be-Leven.


Madrason 23-08-2012

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Why

Why poets are shy.
Shylock what's in a name.
Why do they then cry
from Yawning Depths
to Wuthering Heights.

Why do they pointy-late
in consonants and footnotes
and sketch an unsaid Why.

Rilke steered my mares,
Vroman turned me in his cell
and Komrij protected my shell.

But What I needed
Was carefully heeded
in urges to mystify.

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Milky Red

Milky Red


Your being longs
for whites and blues
with your red hair
on high-heel shoes
waving in the air
you sink away
in beaches of time
you are a cloud
which doesn't know
how to flow
for your used
to get by
in the sea
not the sky
your a pearl
that is why
you can mistify

[...] Read more

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Poem to the World

Poem to the World


This is my poem to the world
into which my blood is curled
for Love beats at an open door
with so much more in store
I cannot find a better dose
in which to offer you my prose
But Love is my call Love to ye all.
Don't build walls but build a temple tall
for the Love of this World isn't small.


15-04-2009 Madrason

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