I CAN ONLY SPOOK FOR MYSELF

I’m stronger and fitter and faster at night
I’ll show you things to melt your soul
The blood of giants spread thick on hope toast
We drink the coffee of crisis, sweetened with chaos

I am falling for you with a parachute made of old dreams
I’ll hit the ground hard enough to break my wooden leg
But there’s no pain, just my ambition and fear and my pistolet
Filled with the hideous uncertainty of iceberg lettuce

What? Is this world coming too?
Volcanos ejaculating, floods gushing, winds screaming
We’ve fucked the earth for too long
And now we have ordered a carpaccio of climax, a global orgasm

I’ve got my goose and you’ve got your giggles
And so we will attack the Palace with bread rolls of Mora
Spek en spek en spek en nog eens spek
Spetterend soms stotterend nep netvlies

Glad en galjoen, poep en pop en poen, en groen groene golven
Tussen vooruitgang en Letterman ga ik
Mijn personality nuttigen
Om vervolgens mijn karakter uit te kotsen

Verhaaltje in je oor? Orgels en orkanen – luister, ik fluister
Terwijl wij klakkeloos vallen en aanvallen
Als baby draken, zonder plan, zonder vuur
They just breath in and out like fart cushions

Did you catch that, butter fingers?
If you’re not gonna stay for the show, fly away
With rotten teeth, a toetje heks
I’ll follow you in a low-speed car chase

Like Marlon Brando
I’ve nothing left. Hun hebben alles, ik heb alleen tiks
En de bips van de kassa bij de Apie Heijn
Wat ik na aap: bip bip bip

Mijn jasje wil vliegen. De mouwen zijn vleugels
Het opwaarderen van mijn zelfvertrouw is gelukt
And I’m outsourcing decision-making to my twitterfollowers
Terwijl ik inadem, uitadem en geniet van de uitzicht.

Ach, het is nie anders

Gangsters hebben mijn huis opgeblazen
Thieves have eaten my bread rolls of Mora & pissed on my ducks
Spruitjes hebben mij in de maling genomen met piepstemmen
En ik heb een klein velletje papier gevonden met m’n naam d’erop

My computer is closing down and I’m alive

Toetje Cliff (a made-up bedtime story for Willem)


After traipsing through the desert, they came to a huge black cliff, stretching on right and left to infinity. They had no climbing equipment, only teaspoons. “Can you change this into a Mona toetje?” one of their party asked the wizard they had kidnapped from Cordoba. He uttered a magic incantation and the cliff turned into chocolate blancmange. Their spoons were to be put to good use. However, whilst they did not know how thick the rock/blancmange was or whether indeed it too was infinite, they realised they would be there eating for a great deal of time. The spoons were very small, smaller it seemed, than the average teaspoon. Furthermore, time would have to be put aside for digesting the Mona toetje and vomiting it out if it proved at times to be too sickly. As the sun set, they began scooping away bits of wobbly, gelatinous brown cliff and putting it into their mouths, occasionally with a smile, most often with a resigned and rather sad look on their faces.

Toetje heks

Dit is misschien wel iets, iets, iets
Een stille stem stem stem
Maar nog niet alles, spek en spek
Spetterend soms stotterend nep netvlies
Glad en galjoen, poep en pop en poen, en groen groene golven
Tussen vooruitgang en Letterman ga ik
Mijn personality nuttigen
Om vervolgens mijn karakter uit te kotsen want hier zegt men
Niet ‘uw majesteit’ maar ‘uw distels, uw distels’.
Pass me the universal remote, laat me alleen met mijn geheimen
Want ik heb er niet zoveel over.
Tussen spons en fronzen weet ik het niet meer
Maar ik ben stronger and fitter and faster in the night,
Ik de toetje heks, de toetje heks.

Nice

A woman stole her husband’s pasta.
It was farfalle.
Is that butterfly or bow tie?
Wife smiled and said,
“Look at the ceiling! Birds are falling out of the sky.”

Son of cuckold looked and froze,
The prongs of his fork twisted.
Wife took pasta and did a dance on the parquet floor
Frogs crawled out his mouth and up his nose.
In the dining room, James Brown lowered his eyes
To his dancing trouble.

“This is a four-day long dinner, floozy” said he,
“I’m treading gold” said she, “it’s so nice to see
You using your talents to express your feelings.”

Get rid of

the dishwasher it's been broken many a moon now
install in its place a whole new world of loveable
characters, among which pairs of yappy tiny ones
with big, weary wise ones who suffer fools only barely
place the lot on a beech shelf and dust them
dust them and they'll trust you but whatever you do
don't stack 70 pairs or you'll be a twit now do it
go on get rid of that family dishwasher, do it now

Night Vision

I’m stronger and fitter and faster in the night
Try as I might
I cannot for the lives of me drag my steaming eye
From Dogfights on Discovery
Not pitbulls pitted each to the other
With pitch of giggling rage and stupid blood
But Spitfires and Hurricanes
Above Albion’s butterflies and wet hedges,
Shadows swooping over
Railings and churches on a hill
And so I gaze at sunbeams of past
With a branded telescope. I imagine it
But it’s real.