Istanbul, December 2011. After a really nice visit to Dutch poet Martijn Benders, who gave me two of his poetry books on the occasion, I decided to do one of the poems in English because I think it would be a good poetic anthem for the “occupy” movement. I take all the blows, of course.
End-Of-Line
The shutters are shining.
Knuckle white Christ in braille.
A neighbor to all. A city in ashes. An egg.
Whether metaphors are to be allowed after Nine Eleven.
Democracy needs a wheel clamp, freedom
is what penurious philosophers come up with. Wheels
do turn. Is war a continuation of the soul with different wheels?
Why is it that I am afraid of my keyboard?
A documentary on scary diseases on Discovery Channel,
rolls that don’t look like rolls anymore after two weeks.
Vanity Rules. Cash flow flows. Weapons are getting bored.
We dread at the past through beauteous books.
We snitch if the neighbor is bitching.
I went to Bommel to see the skyscraper.
The Thing approached. I kicked threefold full throttle
but someone had built a bridge between the civilisations.
Quick announcement to a literary critic.
Go find a job, dickhead.
Happiness presents itself between the lines. End of Line!
(wonder which Dutch lines I distorted here? buy the original!)