Other Voices

Mrs. Dorothee plays piano in the garden

And all the children know the truth

Plants and things have feelings too.


It’s quiet ok to touch the grass,

professor Vogel says.

Just tread softly and listen hard

Keep your head close to your heart

And do not fart. Please,

Don’t fart.


All of this is true you know

Leonard Nimoy told me so

A long long time ago.




Science Refuted

Krant, Lezen, Informatie, Nieuws


He folded news and reading glasses

Tidy  and neat

And pretty damn sure

That they had kissed before.

In this universe that shouldn’t exist

He had felt Helena’s lips.


Tired he leaned back

Trying to grasp the math

Na,’ he said:

Believing we did once met

Is by far the safer bet.’


He closed his eyes

And  wished some more

As he had done squared times before.








William Topaz McGonagall, worst poet ever.

William McGonagall.jpg picture source wikipedia 

Lately I’ve been doing some thinking. I tend to think a lot. It’s what I do. And since you stumbled upon this page, maybe you do to. It really doesn’t matter actually, how you ended up here.

But a question remains lingering in the back of my mind. How did this man ended up as the worst poet ever, and was he really?

And let the rich be kind to the poor,
And think of the hardships they do endure,
Who are neither clothed nor fed,
And Many without a blanket to their bed.

Surely you can detect some bruteness in what you just read, but is it really that bad?

Should we not look back on this writer as misunderstood? Or maybe his time ahead?

A visionary relating to past, present and future with heavy heart and some victorian melancholy, but above all a gentle soul in a world that couldn’t care less.

‘His clothes were thin and he was nearly frozen with cold,
And wholly starving with hunger, a pitiful sight to behold.’

The above  lines from this Christmas long gone seem familiar, don’t they? Remember them Christmas to come.













Feliz Navidad 2032 (dutch version)



Nergens bijzonder, ergens in Spanje

Elke kamer opgemaakt met franje

Gevuld met kleurrijke warmte


Buiten spoelt de fijnste regen

Restanten van de dag.

En in een donkere hoek

Zit Señor Rajoy

Zinnen wat zoek

Alleen, zoals hij dat nu al jaren doet


‘Misschien dat er vandaag nog iemand komt’


Maar de zusters weten beter

De verpleegsters weten beter

En de bewoners weten het helemaal zeker:


Hij die met stalen tucht zijn kinderen sloeg,

Voor het stelen van ocharme een koek,

Krijgt hier op het eind nog maar zelden bezoek


Zo gaat het steeds, en zo is het best goed


















Feliz Navidad 2032


Christmas Eve 2032

Somewhere in Spain

The room is warm

With colorful light

And chants of joy


Outside the faintest of rain

Clears what’s left of the day.

But out of sight

In a gloomy corner

Sits daddy Rajoy


Allone in his typical way


Trying to remember

Trying to forget

Why no visitor came in just yet


Why, why, why!

I did no harm.



The nurses know

And the caretakers know

And all the elderly know


Fathers who beat up their kids

For no good reason at all

Always end up all alone

Somewhere in a dreary corner

Of the retirement home