Category Archives: politics

It might’ve been

We might’ve been
Something big
I might’ve been
What you needed
You might’ve been
Someone that helped

We should have
Both tried harder
I should have
Understood my flaws
You should have
Had more patience

Now I know
The foundations
Of my choices,
The wiring
Behind the box,
And I only wish
I first met you
today

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Observations before action

The fool will continue
To be foolish.
Other eyes will see,
The idiot offending.
The limit will be reached,
When you’ve seen enough.
His actions were key
To you creating a lock.
You make him stop,
With the arm behind the back.
Now the fool must leave
And think of his foolishness.

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Heartless Necropolis

The city got soul
But it ain’t got heart,
All my heroes died,
so did worthwhile trades
That these people plied.
Masses visit their graves,
Resting places
More like living rooms,
Sucking energy from
The respectful living dead.
Keith Moon’s grave,
Was like a midday rave.
Not a flyered event,
Certainly glad I went.

Westminster was plastic,
No heart or soul,
On my millionaire road,
I pumped out pollution
Of my own.
Survival methods
To stay alive
To breathe in more smog.
No space for more dead,
At least they won’t
Need to buy a ticket
For Necropolis Railways.

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Devil-eloped world

The devil rules today,
Secretly a union formed,
He’s the man of this house,
That’s why it’s not in order.

The good are too few,
The devil’s money rules all,
New money, old money,
Dirty money that’s been cleaned.

The good need to be bad
Just to survive in this mess,
The sick needs to get better,
To help our fight against the devil.

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Anglo-Dutch bridges

With the Dutch
we’ve had four wars
Over some big things,
some quite small
I’m sure there won’t
be anymore.

We come in peace
stumbling into the night,
Red-light smiles
behind full-length glass,
“Yeah mate, that one
does have a nice arse”
Young blood slows to pause
To smile at tax-paying whores,
But for this trivial pursuit
We have not come!

Far sweeter fruits
steal our sights,
Apples from Eden
Our snacks before feeding,
800 year old gothic churches,
Herengracht townhouses
that I could never purchase,
Wondrous art gifted
from the masters,
We only worship
at these kinda altars,
International
relation improvers,
One smile
at a time.

Gouden Bocht (‘Golden Bend’ of Herengracht, Amsterdam) by Gerrit Adriaensz Berckheyde 1672 

(Copyrights of Rijksmuseum Holland)

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Free falling

Vertigo-like feeling
Closed eyes seeing
Fast flashing visions
Too blurry to analyse
I am falling down
Can feel it inside
Gravity is pushing
Internal organs up

Need to kill speed
Landing will hurt
Especially
Without prep
Need a hand
Another’s or mine
To grasp something
Need to
stop this
freeeee
falling

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Boxes

Before kids can multiply
Schooling puts them in boxes
They grow up filling forms
Giving data by ticking boxes.
They will grow up and soon
be having sex on soft boxes.

We speed around moving in
Personal or shared boxes,
As we journey from rooms
To rooms shaped like boxes.
Our houses are like boxes
We grow within these confines.
Mistakes mean incarceration
In a cold unfriendly box.

When we move homes
We put our stuff in boxes.
Memories, photos and keyrings
Acquired all end up in boxes.
Experts of the mind tell you
To put feelings into boxes,
Their answers are box-shaped
When I ask if ‘this box’ is fire-proof?

Then,
You die and you end up
In a box.
You probably get buried
Underground in that box.
Just like the many tube
Trips before your end,
Or cremated so you fit
In an even smaller box.
Then you don’t even
Need that one box,
When you become a part
Of a boxless nature.

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