Vrome Baker Praatjes
De herder van de Heer
hij is er weer,
de herfst is
genaderd
en zijn
hoed
goed bebladerd.
Meneer Jan
praat met iedereen
en legt zijn
hoofd te luister,
past oren,
meneer
pastoor
geeft alle dag
handen, monden,
ogen en voeten.
Hij wandelt rustig door
ja heel de straat
neemt braaf
voor hem zijn
of haar
hoedje af.
De bakerpraatjes
hoort hij graag
want God vult
middels hem
de praatjes
niet de gaatjes.
Coppens'koorbanken,
de biechtzetels
ze staan weer klaar,
"zeg, zeg eens, zijn
die praatjes waar;
heeft Jan van ons Marie
of Mien van ons Jan
en die of wie,
de geest ontvangen! ? "
Zonder zich te schamen
"Ja" en "Amen! ".
"Drie weesgegroetjes
en een Ave Marie
en ge hoeft weer
om niets meer
te bangen! "
23-09-2012 Madrason
poem by Madrason writer
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Related quotes
Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Het Gelag betalen
Men roept om Talenten
en zet in zakken hen
bij het grof vuil aan de straat,
is het te laat voor inhoud,
gaat het zoals van ouds'
weer meer om de centen.
De vadsige krenten
hebben geen geweten,
weigeren te zweten
de maskers passen hen haarfijn
bij gebrek aan aanschijn.
Op elk verhaal dat zij
verkondigen
bezondigen ze
de ware glans
aan ware kans
en storten geld
in 't gouden kalf
of trekken
het uit nieuwe melkkoeien
voor de nieuwe industrie
en de media illusie,
maar alstublieft 'geen ruzie'
ze gaan liever dood
zonder slag of stoot.
En ambtenaren trekken haren
uit en zelfs van kale kippen
pikken ze het dons rond anus stront
weg van menig kale kont,
het maakt ze toch niets uit,
doet ze toch geen fluit noch reet.
Het zijn de zelfkannibalen
want he, zeg nou eerlijk:
"Iemand moet toch nog
het Gelag van dit gedrag betalen! ? ".
Madrason 25-08-2012
poem by Madrason writer
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Een beetje mens zijn
Wat is dat beschaving
dat 'ikkeikkeikkeikke'
dat niet eens meer spreken kan
maar met geweld alles neemt van
zonder te vragen van wie
en zonder waarvoor
en zonder waarom.
Ik ben een worm
die wordt begraven
in een mesthoop van
normen en waarden,
nee wormen en maden.
In de shit moet ik woelen
om te mogen leven
en me thuis te voelen
tussen al dat gewurm
om de hete brei heen.
Er is niet veel voor nodig
om overbodig
of nog
van enige waarde,
mest voor aarde te zijn.
In een schoon huis kan men
ook een zwijn zijn
al leest men de Koran
of doet aan Ramadan,
gaat naar de kerk
om knapen te schenden.
Er is veel nodig om
een beetje mens,
een wurmpje
met een wens
te zijn.
poem by Madrason writer
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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You're right—
234
You're right—"the way is narrow"—
And "difficult the Gate"—
And "few there be"—Correct again—
That "enter in—thereat"—
'Tis Costly—So are purples!
'Tis just the price of Breath—
With but the "Discount" of the Grave—
Termed by the Brokers—"Death"!
And after that—there's Heaven—
The Good Man's—"Dividend"—
And Bad Men—"go to Jail"—
I guess—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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What is—
215
What is—"Paradise"—
Who live there—
Are they "Farmers"—
Do they "hoe"—
Do they know that this is "Amherst"—
And that I—am coming—too—
Do they wear "new shoes"—in "Eden"—
Is it always pleasant—there—
Won't they scold us—when we're homesick—
Or tell God—how cross we are—
You are sure there's such a person
As "a Father"—in the sky—
So if I get lost—there—ever—
Or do what the Nurse calls "die"—
I shan't walk the "Jasper"—barefoot—
Ransomed folks—won't laugh at me—
Maybe—"Eden" a'n't so lonesome
As New England used to be!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Ik kwam bij een politicus
Ik kwam bij een politicus
-zijn huis was vol design-
'wie zijn' vroeg ik
'die zijn' zei hij,
nee, design bedoelde hij.
Op het toilet zaten
de spatters ver
boven de billenbril,
zo zie je maar dat wat
naar boven scheit
altijd wat wil.
Netwerken met je gat
omhoog noemen ze dat.
Hij mocht geen fouten maken,
dat zou hem kunnen raken
diep in zijn
bedorven hart.
Wat hij gekreukeld had
streek moeder wel weer glad.
Ik kwam bij een politicus
-zijn huis was vol design-
'wie zijn' vroeg ik
'die zijn' zei hij,
nee, design bedoelde hij.
Madrason 29-07-2012
poem by Madrason writer
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Us Two
Wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
"Where are you going today?" says Pooh:
"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.
Let's go together," says Pooh, says he.
"Let's go together," says Pooh.
"What's twice eleven?" I said to Pooh.
("Twice what?" said Pooh to Me.)
"I think it ought to be twenty-two."
"Just what I think myself," said Pooh.
"It wasn't an easy sum to do,
But that's what it is," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what it is," said Pooh.
"Let's look for dragons," I said to Pooh.
"Yes, let's," said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few-
"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Pooh.
"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That's what they are," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what they are," said Pooh.
"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Pooh.
"That's right," said Pooh to Me.
"I'm not afraid," I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!
Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.
"I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he,
"I'm never afraid with you."
So wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
"What would I do?" I said to Pooh,
"If it wasn't for you," and Pooh said: "True,
It isn't much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. "That's how it is," says Pooh.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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The Gardener XXVI: What Comes From Your Willing Hands
"What comes from your willing
hands I take. I beg for nothing
more."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If there be a stray flower for me
I will wear it in my heart."
"But if there be thorns?"
"I will endure them."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
"If but once you should raise your
loving eyes to my face it would make
my life sweet beyond death."
"But if there be only cruel
glances?"
"I will keep them piercing my
heart."
"Yes, yes, I know you, modest
mendicant, you ask for all that one
has."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Intimacy
I hear people say, "I love my iPhone, "
Or, "I love drinking a Starbucks coffee."
Sometimes: "I love my Versace cologne, "
And also: "I love having this money."
I hear people say, "I love my Walmart, "
Or, "I love the drive-thru at Taco Bell."
"I love my TV. It's state of the art."
"I love the shoes that Nike has to sell."
I hear this: "I love American Idol, "
And, "I love a nice, cold Budweiser."
"I love medicines such as Demerol."
And, "I love my internet provider."
Yet, one thing I don't hear is, "I love you."
Saying that is too intimate to do.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Revolt In The Ranks
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-half
handicapping tomorrow's
card.
when am I going to get at the poems?
well, they'll just have to wait
they'll have to warm their feet in the
anteroom
where they'll sit gossiping about
me.
"this Chinaski, doesn't he realize that
without us he would have long ago
gone mad, been dead?"
"he knows, but he thinks he can keep
us at his beck and call!"
"he's an ingrate!"
"let's give him writer's block!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!& quot;
"yeah!"
the little poems kick up their heels
and laugh.
then the biggest one gets up and
walks toward the door.
"hey, where are you going?" he is
asked.
"somewhere where I am
appreciated."
then, he
and the others
vanish.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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The New Knighthood
Who gives him the Bath?
"I," said the wet,
Rank-Jungle-sweat,
"I'll give him the Bath!"
Who'll sing the psalms?
"We," said the Palms.
"Ere the hot wind becalms,
"We'll sing the psalms."
Who lays on the sword ?
"I," said the Sun,
Before he has done,
"I'll lay on the sword."
"Who fastens his belt?
"I," said Short-Rations,
" I know all the fashions
"Of tightening a belt!"
Who gives him his spur?
"I," said his Chief,
Exacting and brief,
"I'll give him the spur."
Who'll shake his hand?
"I," said the Fever,
"And I'm no deceiver,
"I'll shake his hand."
Who brings him the wine?
"I," said Quinine,
"It's a habit of mine.
"I'11 come with his wine."
Who'll put him to proof?
"I," said All Earth.
"Whatever he's worth,
"I'll put to the proof."
Who'll choose him for Knight?
"I," said his Mother,
"Before any other,
"My very own Knight."
And after this fashion, adventure to seek,
Sir Galahad was made--as it might be last week!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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There was one I met upon the road
There was one I met upon the road
Who looked at me with kind eyes.
He said, "Show me of your wares."
And this I did,
Holding forth one.
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
Then held I forth another;
He said, "It is a sin."
And so to the end;
Always he said, "It is a sin."
And, finally, I cried out,
"But I have none other."
Then did he look at me
With kinder eyes.
"Poor soul!" he said.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Another Acrostic ( In the style of Father William )
"Are you deaf, Father William!" the young man said,
"Did you hear what I told you just now?
"Excuse me for shouting! Don't waggle your head
"Like a blundering, sleepy old cow!
"A little maid dwelling in Wallington Town,
"Is my friend, so I beg to remark:
"Do you think she'd be pleased if a book were sent down
"Entitled 'The Hunt of the Snark?'"
"Pack it up in brown paper!" the old man cried,
"And seal it with olive-and-dove.
"I command you to do it!" he added with pride,
"Nor forget, my good fellow to send her beside
"Easter Greetings, and give her my love."
poem by Lewis Carroll
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Wolfe demanded during dying
678
Wolfe demanded during dying
"Which obtain the Day"?
"General, the British"—"Easy"
Answered Wolfe "to die"
Montcalm, his opposing Spirit
Rendered with a smile
"Sweet" said he "my own Surrender
Liberty's beguile"
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Dromen van identiteit
Dromen van identiteit
Over de emancipatie,
mannen die feminiseren,
vrouwen met vierkante kin.
Daar ligt de frustratie,
dat we er niets van leren,
dus lever haar snel maar weer in.
Haar haren zijn nog even schoon,
haar benen even lang,
haar stem de verleiding van kwaad.
Hij werkt steeds harder voor zijn loon
hobbelt heen achter haar gezang
dat hij diep van binnen haat.
In de antieke wereld had je nog
kerels En Amazonen.
In het Oostblok grote dichteressen
in Holland Dolle Mina met bovendien Rooie Sien
; nu heb je 'Krijg nou tieten! ' grieten.
We maken er een Breijtje van,
kinderen raken het kwijt
dromend van Identiteit.
Over de emancipatie,
mannen die feminiseren,
vrouwen met vierkante kin.
Daar ligt de frustratie,
dat we er niets van leren,
dus lever haar snel maar weer in.
poem by Madrason writer
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My Fairy
I have a fairy by my side
Which says I must not sleep,
When once in pain I loudly cried
It said "You must not weep"
If, full of mirth, I smile and grin,
It says "You must not laugh"
When once I wished to drink some gin
It said "You must not quaff".
When once a meal I wished to taste
It said "You must not bite"
When to the wars I went in haste
It said "You must not fight".
"What may I do?" at length I cried,
Tired of the painful task.
The fairy quietly replied,
And said "You must not ask".
Moral: "You mustn't."
poem by Lewis Carroll
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My Friend, The Parking Lot Attendant
—he's a dandy
—small moustache
—usually sucking on a cigar
he tends to lean into cars as he
transacts business
first time I met him, he said,
"hey! ya gonna make a
killin'?"
"maybe," I answered.
next meeting it was:
"hey, Ramrod! what's
happening?"
"very little," I told
him.
next time I had my girlfriend with me
and he just
grinned.
next time I was
alone.
"hey," he asked, "where's the young
chick?"
"I left her at home...."
"Bullshit! I'll bet she dumped
you!"
and the next time
he really leaned into the car:
"what's a guy like you doing driving a
BMW! I'll bet you inherited your
money, you didn't get this car with your
brains!"
"how'd you guess?" I
answered.
that was some weeks ago.
I haven't seen him lately.
feIlow like that, chances are he just moved on
to better
things.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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He forgot—and I—remembered
203
He forgot—and I—remembered—
'Twas an everyday affair—
Long ago as Christ and Peter—
"Warmed them" at the "Temple fire."
"Thou wert with him"—quoth "the Damsel"?
"No"—said Peter, 'twasn't me—
Jesus merely "looked" at Peter—
Could I do aught else—to Thee?
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Europa Een
Europa -jij stier
zonder ballen-
ooit zo fier,
laat Athene vallen
als een deerne
van te lichte zeden.
Want ooit door Zeus
ontvoerd bereden
wordt ze nu klassiek
Oudipeus bestreden
met je eigen liefde
voor ontkenning.
Wat betekent
Demokratie ook al weer
als men verrekend
heeft laat men de eer,
en heer Tyrannus
met zijn zweepje
knallen, Oh Europa
jij stier zonder.....
poem by Madrason writer
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