grim awareness
sometimes visions of total emptiness
state infused intoxications
climb up their grim stares
acknowledge the courage of some
to break the cycle of dickheaded, scum infested violence

beauty in the streets?
sometimes visions of emptiness
a short breath behind walls
set-up light headedly yet
cautiously and with our own hands.
A short breath to the next deed
powered by the need to breathe
and to smash these grim stares
what a desert
what an assembly
of homeless, alternative lifestyles
and free transport
no rescue but disobedience
face to face with this
grim awareness
this domesticated nightmare
of our dreams, waking hours, fantasies.
Sometimes visions of emptiness
rescue for all our
isolated traumas
getting sick of technology, cyborg identity
all made by machines made by humans made by social, violent
orgasms of hierarchies
made by the illusion of a central identity


This poem is called: We Need to Create More Jobs and Grant more Credits or Nihilism


Violence and excess and instant satisfaction
Civilized, violent excess and instant gratification

instant like
instant friend
instant orgasmic satisfaction
make profit with a fair trade coffee
make profit with anger and disappointment
buy your rights to contaminate

And now throw your vegan cream pie!
Eat up! The next course consists of
violent antagonism.

Continue reading

To Everone Who’s Still Here

barricade instructions


Forgive us our trespasses
but I’ll have you know,
we will never forget nor forgive.

Sabs, travellers, libertarians, children,
all outragers, anarchists, entertainers
we’ll know how to fist you
it’s sheer necessity, faces fit for fists
friends and family
repressed, rampant libertines
who are all over the place
with their voices, the weight of their bodies
a myriad of torsos breaking free
from their solitary traumas

Continue reading


Give a name to the bad guys
call yourself good

now, give a name to the bad guys
call yourself good
good God it’s simple
just decide on the just cause!

destroy evil
liberate the masses to
spread goodness
everything shiny, everything democratic
the world will be a happy place
no sorrow, no death
plenty of pity for the poor
prosperity for the rest
and that’s that

Rage Rage Rage

If you’re not pissed off,
you’re not paying attention
if you’re not pissed off, you don’t want to pay attention.

When you’re young, you have too much attention
and when you’re too pissed off,
nobody pays attention anymore

when you do pay attention you get so pissed off,
that it’s hard to pay attention
to anything else
but yourself, being pisssed off.

Because becoming the other, the one
constantly being pissed off
is hard work!

That’s why nobody pays attention
apart from to themselves
trying hard, not to get too pissed off.

Stress claims all our lives,
but rage is the next stage
all try to avoid.


Big Thumb


The thumb above my head grows bigger
check the fucking facts!

I think I’m getting bald.
must be the pressure on my skull
which makes me go bald like this.

Big thumb above my head gets heavier
I cant even see him any more
cannot decipher the dirt
which feasts
under his nails.

Big thumb likes to tease
all unknown survivalists
with their
unknown ideals and their
unknown codes
all know by heart.

Big thumb above my head becomes more stubborn
check the fucking facts!

We chew self-indulgently
on pieces of recycled paper,
wiping our mouths with delicate products
of genuine child labour
and all that other
god-forsaken crap! (very angry)

No Mr. Postmodern can argue with more cynicism
how we touch old ideas with the tip of our tongues
while big thumb keeps on sitting
like a scare crow
in the corner of our eyes.

But deep down big thumb knows
being first just cannot last! (whisper)

My bald spot becomes a portal
masses of light flood out of it
centuries of ignored potential ooze out of it!

Big thumb becomes impatient
Big thumb needs to wash his hands (mean)

But big thumb rubs off all the skin on my skull
which big thumb planted,

…now all security is gone. (blank)

…I think I’m getting bald.
I think I’m just a pile of scabs.
Big thumb likes to just rub it all in (whiny, anxious)
…I think I have a headache
I think all security is gone.

But big thumb doesn’t know
how little I care about appearance
who minds whether or not I’m bald?

Big thumb tries to soothe my anger
but the stench from beneath his nails
makes me chunder,

I throw up
every injustice,
every misconception,
every moment wasted.
And big thumb knows we are living dead time! (reproachful)
Big thumb knows hidden seeds are spread everywhere,
ready to break through the concrete!

And big thumb cant get the dirt off his fingers!
no matter how hard he tries,
because being first just cannot last! (scream)

I think I’ll buy a toupee,
and rub off big thumb’s stench.

But he pushes me
into the streets, into a corner.
He thinks he’ll push so hard
until I’m no longer able
to use
my own hands.

Fat and Lazy

fat and lazy
we have become fat and lazy
wasting all the beautiful energy
on losing weight?
on losing it!

we are fat and lazy beings,
too short sighted to become
anything more than trimmed and groomed
so that we can slip on a jogging suit.

an old pal told me:
taste is bourgeois.
and while I’m at it
health is bourgeois, too
it’s fucking outdated, it’s nothing but convenience
in an age of affordable beauty
we rather shave our skulls and wear no hats!

I’ll die before it gets worse
a million deaths less meaningful than
my first leak in the morning
my last meshed up thoughts before
passing out

passed out,
nothing else remains, !
don’t you let your fat and your lazy lure you into
the eventful, eventual excess

of social rupture,
of social suicides because of forsaken strategies,
because of blind statistics and missing elements.

coming from another space than planet fat and lazy
I never accepted ignorance for alternatives
while altering the ingrained narrative,
awakening the native, the genuine, the orignal
just to quickly copy and ransack it!

tomorrow I’ll keep on dying the many deaths
we all die with every splash of a news flash
looking into faces of
mighty, noble survivalists
while passing a bottle or a spliff,
thinking about all the pigeonholed,
the crossed out
and forgotten

who are always happy to be remembered
to make memory
to make a constant and a passing moment.

This is more than the other
and beyond any conceivable law

some pieces that went missing on the front line
have edges as blunt and open
as my caring friend, irony.

Utrecht, April 2012
performed 26th April at Deadbeat Society