WHEN THE FALLOUT COMES

Host abused

You linger along

Triumphant

Without a crown

Burning Ayatollahs and the Gatling gun

Where is the sense in sensibility?

Just open your hand

Open your mind my friend

Round tables and discontent

Minds speak and talk

Talk and speak

This reeks

Of the despicable

Demons to all

Angels to none

Enter the code

Pull the lever

Then the fallout comes

Eyes pop out

Drainage and contempt

Distraught harvest

Heaven’s put up for rent

Heaven cries like a widow

All I feel is contempt

Lady Godiva trampled by her own horse

It’ll take eons before something will emerge again

from the waters onto the shores

New work

Neuropa 2011
Mixed media
size 75x90cm

BURNING AYATOLLAHS AND THE GATLING GUN

The radiance hurts my eyes

The radiance hurts my eyes

The radiance hurts my eyes

The radiance hurts my eyes

Fury means passion in this land

Laughter means you’re a suspect

Don’t frown

or you’ll be the one giving in

Drill a hole and fill it up

Drill a hole and fill it up

Drill a hole and fill it up

Drill a hole and fill it up

Laser cut tag

THE REAPER IS WILD AND SMILES

We’re climbing up

till the bitter end

We will speak out

Till you’re translucent

We will preach peace

Until we’re heaven sent

We will beat it hard

Till reality becomes unbend

I hold on the brass hinges

And smile

My skin is so sore

I have to prove I’m am human

Is here’s nothing we can do

to make the dry tongue moist again?

Shrugged shoulders 

and a dreary refrain

Does it take just one kiss

to undo us from torture?

Just one hug

leads to rapture

Tattered thoughts

on television

Dead eyes

And interdiction

Bitter fruits

And apathy

A lost part

of the rusted machinery

The swindled ant

Of the colony

I sit here

looking at the wounded sky

There’s enough space on either side

I sit alone

drinking my swipe

REPRESSION

A repressed woman

Makes it through the day

She makes it through the day

Cause she stores it all away

Stores it all away

Bleak oil runs the angst machine

Spewing out

The most suffocating humdrum

I’ve ever seen

The most suffocating humdrum

I’ve ever seen

A repressed man

Makes it through the day

He makes it through the day

Cause he stores it all away

Stores it all away

Bleak oil runs the angst machine

Evoking the barest tantrum

I’ve ever seen

The barest tantrum

I’ve ever seen

Photos The Garage show by Nicole Blommers

Architecture project with Tom Wensing

Amsterdam ZuidOost

A SONG FOR CHARLIE CHRIST

The morter cracks

All that we’ve built

Was never built to last

Murmur

an open window

The courtyard

a silent witness

I have to flee this tomb

This concrete womb

Which bears seclusion

discontent

I’ll just head

To where

the former occupants went

“The tripe tripled this year”

The newspaper heading says

Morality

ripped to tatters

All these open wounds do

Is sending more tripe into the world

Who will be giving pauper Leon

The light of day

The streets have so much to say

A capitalistic fury

colours the skyline

I had a clear bearing

I adjust

The suit I’m wearing

Short by Philo van Kemenade on VPRO Dorst

Check it here
weblogs.vpro.nl/dorst

and a new blogpost
 www.breaksof10.com

MY JOURNEY LEADS TO YOU

Everyone should remember

The days called warm and tender

Watching the clouds hovering in the sky

And the distant sounds die

Everyone should remember

The days called warm and tender

The iconoclast sings a song

Till all statues are gone

Are you so afraid that when you open up

it will swallow you whole?

Are you afraid that you’re an angel

without a goal?

Dreams crash

Till there’s nothing’s left

The Reaper arrives

The soul theft

Traubert dreams of a sky that’s blue

Open up

Tear it off

Peel it off

Till there’s only you

HEAR THE BELLS TOLL

So I return home from a journey not taken

The TV shows morons making a fool of themselves

All the kids now want is the glitter not the gloom

“So what’s so important about those books on the shelves”

Love is now packaged in doom

We should try to share the intensity

Of the ray that beams out of the purest heart

No one should surrender

To the everyday ludicrous travesties

Or the ray will ricochet

Off into the infinite nowhere

I tried to believe

I really tried

but it didn’t stick

Like a transplanted kidney

My logic rejected

And rejected it

I tried to walk proud

So now I walk proud

My head sticks up

My spine un-hunched

Like I’m the proudest one

of the bunch

Still I’m so tired of hitting empty space

So I embark again

on an endless journey not taken

Time is upon us

and really cannot be forsaken

Art With Lady Aiko, Martha Cooper, Hyland and me Amsterdam 2011

Laser 3.14 winnaar van de Grand Prix de Graffiti 2011!

Woensdag 29 juni blies uitgeverij Lebowski ter gelegenheid van de dertigste sterfdag van Dr. Rat de Grand Prix de Graffiti nieuw leven in. Dr. Rat won deze prijs ooit in 1978. Daarna werd hij nog één keer gehouden (winnaar N-Power) om daarop een winterslaap van meer dan drie decennia te houden.

In Talentfactory De Valk gingen meerdere graffiteurs met elkaar de strijd aan. Uiteindelijk moest een publieke beslissing de doorslag geven. En die viel uit in het voordeel van de vooraf als gedoodverfde winnaar getipte Laser 3.14 (die overigens de kunst bestond om zich de hele wedstrijd anoniem te houden).

Check de foto’s van de Dr. Rat Memorial Day, van Mathilde MuPe

BEYOND THE SAFETY OF TWILIGHT

Hope should not fade with every breath

We all occupy one Earth

And nothing less

There’s more than one tainted sky

There’s more than one high

There are so many fires to tame

There are so many pictures to frame

Let us summon rationally

And have the purest beauty

Bestowed upon us

Let’s fuse together with the one

Closest to us

Let’s form a single row and chant

Cause elevation

Is at hand

Give me a gauntlet to walk

And let me prove

that I can be valiant 

Give me a bow and arrow

to kill the demon’s radiance

Let me be Nimrod

And make me build a tower

Let me obliterate a star

And create

a stardust shower

MY DEAR MAGDALENA

I’m sorry I never said I loved you

I’m sorry I never laid my lips on you

I’m sorry that I kept you at bay

I’m sorry I pretended not

Not to see

The glowing behind your eyes

I really wanted to harvest

and nurture your glee

I was cuffed

A distortion in synergy

I always wanted to utter the naked truth

My dear Magdalena

I belong to you

Interview in the Dr Rat Book

 

Order it here: www.bol.com