Chapbooks
Short Pieces
My idiot brother, who overslept again, has only received the Law. He shows me what it says: Thou shalt respect, obey and serve those superior to thee.
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Goodwill among men, and let the best man win. Or the opposite.
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But then Proper Thinking and Finance managed to persuade Contemporary Society to veto, because after the experience of being Cannon Fodder there’s no telling how those young people would fit back in.
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Perhaps I should change the channel to something edifying like church service or hyenas eating zebra.
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He’s got girl problem. Rumor has it, the broad is Rumanian Gypsy; nice face, great body. It doesn’t help either that he works nightshift in the Notre-Dame. Apparently, a real back-breaking job.
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Every time we manage to flub it all up and the world comes crashing down, the Bard of Avon shows up and hauls us out of the bogland.
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Even though he has known me literally from the get go, my answer, “I learned it from bluefish,” seems to unsettle him.
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The executioner apologizes because he accidentally put the noose under the sentenced man’s arm. “That’s okay,” says the condemned. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
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Should have learnt to cook from the wife while still had the chance.
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At the hotel the concierge was reluctant to translate it verbatim, only remarked the guide must have been one of those suffering from bipolar personality disorder, or, very disappointed with the tip.
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Smart people are killing us off.
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
Capsized
using a questionable metaphor
the lead prosecutor marvels
why go down with the ship
if not the captain
to drive his point home
he reminds me
of my allegorical status
a mere sailor
I explain
my rank doesn’t matter
because
I am on the ship
it is our ship
there’s no other ship
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
Win
(prosimetrum)
victory
you thrust forward
and success
you draw blood
his blood ends up on you
on your hands
on your shirt
a few drops on your face
Blood transfer (a wash, in a way).
reality
there was never a dispute
never a quarrel
never an issue
only the bayonet
between the two of you
Now, one peasant less.
The bayonet was government issued.
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
Decision
“Heart murmur,” sez the doctor, “it could be indicative of first-stage congestive heart failure. Until we get the results from the echo test, you should refrain from doing strenuous activities, such as chopping wood, heavy lifting, jumping rope, etc.”
I sez, “I don’t do none of those but I’m about to run my first marathon, it means a lot to me.”
He sez, “You should absolutely abstain from doing that.”
I don’t give a shit what he sez, tomorrow’s the race, and I’m running it. It’s a win-win: if I die, he’s good doctor; if I make it, I’m gonna find somebody better.
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble -- Shakespeare (in Macbeth)
Be yourself; everyone else is already taken — Oscar Wilde
Questions
sleet shots pinging the window
clickety-clacking is the tram
neighbors talking politics
it’s mid-morning
maybe close to noon
why is it still inky dark
or am I dreaming
no
turns out
I haven’t opened my eyes yet
it’s nice and soothing
the closest thing to sincere peace
what if I stay like this
eyelids glued shut
can I also turn off my ears
will the world go away
(Artwork by Toni Verkruysse.)
