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Stromen Vuur

Grijs is de wereld
waarin ik woon,
zwarte bolster
blanke pit
waar muziek in zit.

Grauw zijn de wolken
waarachter zon
, koffie, thee, ik drink
een hele zee
en zit op vers katoen.

Witte Marron ben ik
geschreven Madrason,
gedreven door de kern
die onhoudbaar
bruist als
woordvulkaan.

In stromen vuur

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poem by Madrason writer
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Reality

Reality

Twisting in everything but my head
you'll find the human-beïng that I've met.
Because all you've seen or reminisced
is a flesh representative of Beíng
which tries to Be:
so if you never were you've never missed
a thing but pure and sane Reality.

Madrason 16-04-1992

Contact

Niemand weet
werkelijk waar

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poem by Madrason writer
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Chaste the Whip

Chaste the Whip

Try to refrain and rebuild that Erosbridge
cold is the love moving from the flog
all someone adds moves into this fridge
harsh is this streetlife for a strayed dog
Many people are at contradiction
when they say they for love crave
their vita sexualis at damnation
when not hitted or hurt then they rave
Only the drive at will they lack
the first of social codes and rules
they seem to like it all to sack
in loneliness which makes them fools
An answer not mirrored is in sway
a feeling not responded to a lost
and every tick that time just nods away
just seems a pebble more this pond of cost
All someone else does is compensation

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poem by Madrason writer
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Mocking Bird

Mocking Bird

By trying to be a bird
i am denying the
possibility
that i am
already
free

Madrason 18-03-2009

poem by Madrason writer
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Obama confused

The upperlip
charming the under
no wonder
we are all
enchanted,
but the left
eye sees
what the right
can't see.

Madrason 18-03-2009

poem by Madrason writer
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Fine Tuning

I have got some
more notes to sing
but when I talk to fast
I'll lose arrows
for my string,
they call it
fine tuning.

Madrason 16-08-2012

poem by Madrason writer
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Happy New Year

Happy New Year

Sparkles in the sky,
fly, fly, fly,
new, new, new
old closeby
fly, fly, fly,
oh, sparkles in the sky.

Madrason 0400 uur 2010

poem by Madrason writer
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Life is a strife

Life is a strife

...it's a seedling to grow
stirred up into the sky
untill 't will fully show
it's ableness to fly.........

Madrason 19-12-1993

poem by Madrason writer
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Bedrog

Je hoeft me
niet te mogen
om nader tot
me te komen,
krokodillentranen
van de wanen,
met grijs
toiletpapier
-kom maar hier! -
zal ik ze drogen.

Madrason 24-09-2012

poem by Madrason writer
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She

She

She's wild
a stinging bee
like a child
and free
not of passion
nor desire
she's the fashion
to admire.

Madrason Keulse Kar 's-Hertogenbosch 07 03 94

poem by Madrason writer
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