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Jotie
De Vlaamse kranten melden ophef over het gebeente van een alom geliefde knuffeljunk-poëet: in het dorp Oudenaarde wil de gemeente af van het graf van de eeuwigjonge alfabeet. 'T is maar een doodgesnoven dichter zei een ambtenaar. Bijna was Vlaams erfgoed door de barbaren leeggeroofd, bijna kregen de geestdoden het voor elkaar. Maar een weldoener ...
...the aeons that it takes our minds to realize that our thinking is just matter lighting itself but there is no one looking.
For Octavio Paz
I read in a poem by Octavio Paz: The word of man is the laughter of death. When I look again it says: The word of man is the daughter of death. We talk because we are mortal: words are not signs, they are years. I close my eyes and smile. Paz is the poet ...
Pop-up human
I am a pop-up human put me anywhere pop me up in the street: exposure guaranteed. Your target group can sample the human brand / all from a temporary stand. I am a pop-up human with traces of life on my face 100% authentic, foldable at the knees trust me, we can talk about the ...
Conquest
The poet has the high command He lines up his cavalry of tin words In the beginning he polished them He was still learning at the time Now the poet is the barbarian who changed clothes with their general And then orders them to charge at him and there they come - How sweet their ...
Person of color
A person of color walks into a bar he gets seated on a prominent stool and whispers "triple scotch please" the bartender, who since the unfortunate event two weeks ago, is a person of color too, says right away sir and pours his drink and Nina sings Nina Simone was a person of color, too. ...
Two types of religion
A father can call the deepest motivation of his child the tentative and most fragile design of his heart morally reprehensible. So he summons the energy that will self-destroy his child. There are two types of religion In one, there is a Father and He shall forgive you In the other, you shall forgive the ...
What is a dystopia?
What we see here is the purest form of a dystopian future. Everything we hold dear in traffic will be sacrificed for the convenience of apathatic air-conditioned slumbering in self-driving ugliness, on our way to a slightly colder place in hell. What we cherish most about 'traffic' (that concept will disappear during this disenchanting transformation) ...
You speak like two minds making love