I put up walls – a poem

The walls erected,
defending me
to the cruelty of life,
it’s unforgiving character.

They come tumbling down,
completely overrun,
the end of my fun
and deep belief of safety.

I don’t dream anymore.
Slavery has nestled in my mind,
I turn blind,
I don’t have hopes.

The captors laugh it of,
one more innocent to humiliate,
sins that inflate,
I prey to my God it’s not too late.&

Group of sparrows

You’ll always have the dominant ones,
highest in the pecking order.
Eating first,
chasing away competition.
It’s the law of nature,
strength gives right to many things.
The females are impregnated with seed many times,
not knowing from who will be the hatch-lings.
It’s a hard, unforgiving world,
devoid of mercy.
They need food and water,
even in times of major drought.
That’s why they are always in a hurry,
they have to cater to their needs,
there meal isn’t store-bought.


So the desert rats crawled from under their rocks,
sending shocks
trough the civilized world.
No future anymore for a woman to behold,
the freedom was short-lived.
Maybe we could have them sniffed,
out like a candle.
If we leave the governing to them,
they’ll make a mess of it;
The real question is when,
and how many people are going to end up in shit.
Food prices exploding,
jobs hard to find.
The system is imploding,
that can even see a blind.
Nobody acknowledges them as true rulers,
aid stays put,
a bunch of foolers,
making us believe their evil operation is shut.

Cutting the oak – a poem

For some crocked reason ― I can’t remember which ― I was uprooted from the forest.
They sew me down.

With their nasty chainsaws running on this dirty petrol.

I was two hundred years old.

How old are they?

Just children playing with toys. Destroying for the fun of it.

Don’t you call it a job. It’s taking your spray can and marking X on perfectly sane trees.
You are doing it deliberate,
no debate about it.

Anarchistic assholes getting high on your power.
Where would you be without oxygen?

In the ground that’s where.

Like manure, left to rot.

Maybe I want a shot,
of your decomposed body.

To grow tall again,
touch the sun
and swallow the water.

Through hell – a poem

Nancy Pelosi had a right to visit Taiwan,
to place the people in danger she had not.
China is attacking the country,
with all the firepower available.
All for a phony stay,
were US swears to protect Taiwan,
while it barely can muster an army,
to hold out till day one.
This is started,
the Third World War.
Peace died,
soon the food supplies will run out,
people will scream and shout,
the cities will starve.
The strait of Taiwan one of the busiest trade routes,
Taiwan creator of computer chips,
that won’t ship.
If the Chinese boot crushes them,
it’s a dire situation for the democratic West.
Russia will exploit the situation,
increasing their strength.
There are one and a halve billion Chinese,
many loyal to the Communist Party.
Do the math,
and make such visits not foolhardy.

Sleeping peaceful – a poem

Snoring peaceful in your embrace,
feeling the delicate lace
of your underwear,
I swear, it’s heaven.
Every night is when,
I do get to visit it.
The place makes me horny as shit.
But the tiredness envelopes my body,
making me see,
you are in bed with me
to rest, honey.
I nestle myself under your arm,
smelling your perfume.
We keeping each other warm,
the night singing a romantic tune.

Wine and dine – a poem

We chose to wine and dine,
in that little bar where we met.
We were getting in line,
waiting for our table to get set.
Nobody thought of reservations,
life and it’s serious complications.
We were young,
in love with each other deeply.
We have way to our emotions freely.
You laughed at my silly joke,
I rescued you when the hamburger made you choke.
We were there for each other,
it’s a wonder this place is still here.
After fifty years I hardly did even bother,
but what are fifty years mere,
just some random number,
awakened from our slumber
of marital bliss.
With a kiss we wake up to this.

Abbey – a poem

The age old abbey was threatened,
by the vegetation drying up.
The cows seek in vain for some grass to eat.
Even water to give to the animals to drink grew scarce.
Wars would be fought over water,
plunging the world in an ever darker hole.
But the abbot prayed for a miracle,
“make it rain, dear Lord.”
Then came the heatwave which lasted a couple of weeks.
Records were broken,
cattle died.
There are seven prosperous years and seven poor ones, the bible teaches us.
we have had the prosperous already.

President of the society – a poem

She was only made president of the society,
because she couldn’t whistle with her toes.
She loved to held speeches,
everybody got bored
tried to caught a nap.
Her cakes she baked for the annual event were crap,
nobody wanted the position.
Too much responsibility and hard work.
The people attending barely knew how to use a fork.
So, she was voted president,
for her it was a present.
But it was just an empty box with cheap wrapping paper.

A sample of your love – a poem

It’s just something I can’t get enough of,
the sample of your love.
You taking care of the turmoil in my soul,
making me whole.
It can’t be it’s just coincidence,
I see the tears condense.
When I am crying on your shoulder,
you make me push that boulder
upon that steep hill,
love me you always will.
I am so glad we have met
and wed,
I’ll like to spent the rest of my life with you,
a magic spell
that no one can undo.

Divorce – a poem

I didn’t mean to leave you,
the woman that I screw,
She is just entertainment.
It doesn’t mean anything,
just a way to release stress.
Please don’t take the children; you’ll soften them up.
They’ll get as brittle as a teacup.
I’ll pay alimony, but I want something in return.
Weekly visits, just having fun.
Don’t listen to your attorney.
That fat pig is an atrocity.
If you ignore my letters,
I’ll settle the affairs in my own way.
It will be perfect for none of us,
but the die is cast.
Without delay, without making a fuzz,
I’ll outlast you such.

The island – a poem

After a shipwreck, he was a castaway on an island. He got his bearings; it must be somewhere near Africa.
The diet of monkeys and coconuts was pure torture. Ever tasted a monkey? It’s disgusting.
The first month he started talking to himself,
the conversations weren’t friendly.
He discovered he wasted his life on coke, alcohol, and easy women.
Determined to leave this dreaded place, he started building a vessel.
But the work went slow, and he felt his strength leaving him.
He decided to put a message in a bottle that maybe would be found.
‘Dear reader, pay heed to your life; it can end anytime.
Collect everything you can get from it. I wish I had had the chance.’
His body was found by an angler’s boat a year later.

Good and evil

The twin was alike.
They had the same manners and same looks.
But the one grew up cruel,
while the other remained true to goodness.
At the age of twenty, Ivan was already a cutthroat,
Pjotr became a priest.
One evening, Pjotr was traveling from the monastery to the town.
There Ivan stood, holding a sharp knife.
Your money or your life, dear brother, he said.
‘Have mercy with a poor monk, brother.’
‘No, God has no place in heaven for me, so I do not need his servant.’
Pjotr was stabbed to death and fell from his donkey. Ivan searched him.
He tore off a cross and spat on it.
Faith is for the feeble; bless the meek because they’ll drench the earth in blood.

Gone for an hour – a poem

Mom is going to go shopping,
you are a big boy, know.
Can you stay home alone?
I’ll bring you a present.’
She didn’t think about her son for one moment.
Till she returned and the house was on fire.
In the garden, three balloons floated.
‘Thank you for your present,’ it read.
After three years, she still burst out into cries,
she never got to say her goodbyes.
They didn’t find the body,
Incinerated in the house,
left to oblivion.

Firm belief – a poem

We had to reassure the firm,
we were successful employees.
Entitled to bonuses.
Nobody came close at the figures we were making,
like acid on a steel plate,
we eroded the opposition
to the idea of something new.
If we want you to go out and by a smartphone,
we will force you to.
The old ones won’t be updated anymore,
soon they’ll be parts of ancient lore.
A new Windows arrives on you computer,
nobody asked for it,
we don’t give a shit.
We are sellers of scams,
of distorted dreams.
Constantly maxing out your credit card,
sending the collecting agencies to your doorstep.
Yes we are the pick of the crop,
people with a firm belief in the American Dream.

Moody – a poem

The truth was I wasn’t in the best of moods,
something broods in the back of my skull.
My relationship was on the ropes,
prepared to be knocked out.
You can maintain your hopes,
shout out to clean the opponents clock.
But eventually it has to stop,
all resistance should be made to drop.
I have it my all,
it wasn’t good enough.
We had a ball,
we had it rough.
We laughed,
we cried.
Someone coughed,
we caught each other’s virus
luckily nobody died.
We can’t cut the dog in two,
I’ll miss him.
It will be lonely without you,
makes my desire to swim,
and drown in an endless pool
just dying too on a whim without losing my cool.

Writer – a poem

He wrote one successful biography,
the academic world had spitted it out.
But bookstores couldn’t sell their copies in time.
A write has to encounter disdain,
it’s a way of life.
What nobody seems to notice is the filled coffee can,
the lonely hours sitting at the computer
filling in blanks.
Everybody can write a book, they say.
If you have a ghostwriter this can be correct.
I wouldn’t want to feed all starving writer’s,
the ones who didn’t make it to the top.
Living from royalties that dry up faster,
than water in the desert.