"JUST A LIFETIME,"
I've been waiting
in this two door room
dreaming of a life
Waiting between
not going back
and never getting in
Kept hanging 'round
for whatever might be
the difference
Wondering if my
voice would tremble
Wondering if my
eyes could still cry
I've been staring at the sign
'bove this way out door
Something I can't read
There are people here
wearing uniforms
biding their own time
They are the walls here
bearing witness
to the out of sight crime
Why should they point out
on what door to knock?
Why would they tell us
what the password is?
and the hands of the clock
will come on down on us
like a coffin in a grave
if we keep waiting for
the word to come to
explain the waiting game
O yes we know now
there'll be no answers
and we know now
we can not escape 'cause
we never will be heard
and we do know
that we've been chained
Joke Kaviaar 9-2-07 |
SLAVES OF US
Let's forget about those slaves of us
they're not really here
they are not really there
they are the unseen
they're not even between
a wall of concrete
and a door one way open
not even between us, the unseen
they are nameless, faceless
criminals, hookers, don't have any papers
they are 'they'
they are nowhere and all over the place
say they've been stripped whipped ripped and clipped
but they are no slaves of mine
'cause I am not feeding
and they're not the slaves of my neighbour
'cause he's not needing
So let's forget about those enslaved by us
we don't really know about it
can not even be proud of it
we are the ones clean
the ones that never have been
nor judge nor jury
at the gallows of starvation
not one us has seen
all those nameless and faceless
we are builders, colonists, traders
we are 'we'
we are everywhere and on top of it all
we're the ones used and accused but excused
'cause they are no slaves of us
they simply don't exist
they pretend, offend, they intend to take over
all that we've built for us
So how can they be slaves of us
as their shackles are made of cotton
as our mercy is forgotten?
All they do is prey on us
lean on us, invade us
that's why they are no slaves of us
we are even prepared to pay
just to make them go away
Sure we will pay to
forget about those slaves of us
Joke Kaviaar, 7-12-04
(from the book Slaves Of Us) |
DISS TO THE POINTLESS SELF
The english version of the dutch poem
Dis Op Het Nietszeggend Ik
A threat? I am guilty
'cause this governgang is mine
A mount-a-misery, all these ministers
but they're just another crime
I have seen 'm butchers coming
and I sure have let them go
I am guilty an accessory
to whatever I don't know
Yeah, what did I get mixed up in?
Not invented sticks for killing
Not the gags, or chains to throw in,
cause the blood to keep on flowing
But I'm guilty an accessory
to the broken bones and bruises,
to the pushing, hitting, pulling,
to who voted for those losers
Cause how can a man cave in?
No one ever can oblige him
but what can I do but rhyme?
I must get a rifle fast!
Get a pitchfork, baseball bat
or I'll be just another twat
who lets her fellow man be threatened
not to mention to be kidnapped
even though it's not my doing
I am guilty an accesory
to this right-wing rotten order
So long as all their seats stand tall
I have got no spine at all
So long as politicians walk
along the streets without a fall
So long as they can tell a lie,
again more rules and laws apply
and the deed is broadcast wide
on the tube into your room,
so long as they've not been confined
or have been buried in my yard,
I'll be a criminal, you know,
leave a knife at someone's throat
and a noose around his neck
and his hands on his back
Yeah, we will be right back!
Yeah, I am guilty an accessory
to all citizens shortsighted
that have not yet even heard
and have not yet even seen
That still think that it's all right,
this ever quiet genocide
Yeah, I am guilty an accessory
to the right-wing revolution
of these money-driven fairies
economists, visionaries
if their own skin is at stake
Now where are those troops of ours?
Get off the net you lazy monkeys!
Off your keyboard, chair and mouse
Come as bombers, comes as mollies
I don't give a damn for sorry,
I refuse to hide and worry,
I will never hold my tongue
and my words and my lines
I feel more disturbed inside
if I shut up!
Yeah, I am guilty an accessory
Smeared no ketchup on 'm yet
Seeds of hate I haven't spread
against those who do deserve it
to be cleared away, no sweat
Or forever be contained like a
lake between the mountains
Or forever be disgraced like
in public, on the street
I am guilty an accessory
just as soon as I stop writing,
not protesting anymore
As long as others can ignore
that this country is bewitched
I am guilty an accessory
Haven't occupied one slammer
Have destroyed no single center
I have only just been saying
and I've only just been hoping
it will stop what they are doing
Let it burn, and let it break
Let them fall the lot of them
in the trap that's being laid
for a people too afraid
Yeah, I am guilty an accessory
just like Rita to the crime
and I never had expected
I'd be standing here, dissing
don't you think that we can miss 'm
much like tidal waves arising
that come flushing down this country?
Don't you think that we can miss 'm?
Rotten faces on TV
Poor excuses in the headlines
Put on fire, all those lies
'cause they're hand holding allies
Look, those democrats so right
with those villains side by side
Man, how can it be denied
just how death row gets its prey
and I'm guilty an accessory
because all I do is play
Have you heard how they complain
that they cannot stand the pain
of words and questions fired away
Are they sad? They are just sick!
They're just pretending, and I-
I am guilty an accessory
I am dissing just for kicks
and I scare 'm just a bit,
become a verbal terrorist
that has a goal not to be missed
because I'm guilty an accessory
Just a poet with a diss
on a soap box and I'm pissed
and I'm just a tiny fish
to be caught and to be hung
in the interest of the Dutch
for the ministry of justice
and her sole desire to punish
I am guilty an accessory
to all sadist, and all fascist
all the good old white monopolist
leave 'm die, do I, do I
Should a person still comply?
An accessory, me, me
even though I don't agree
Why should I still let it be?
Give me bullets so I can aim
so no one needs to suffocate
by the cattle of the IND
by the claws of the MP
Makes me guilty, makes me meek
No, no part of it for me
May I vote every four years?
Yeah, they've made it crystal clear
Have I finished? I've not finished!
Are you mad, Verdonk*, afraid?
Well, you no more have to wait
cause I do 'pow!' and watch you weaken
I do 'pow!' and hear you shrieking
I do 'pow!', that's all I do
Wait, still haven't finished yet
You make me guilty an accessory
Does it matter, what I say?
I am guilty an accessory
but I'm not walking away
I am guilty an accessory
Well, I'd rather meet my judge
'cause I'm guilty and accessory
want to share my cell with Rita, then
I'll spit and puke and kick, Rita,
and bite into your skin,
in your standards values, Rita
I am nuts, from the begin
'cause I am guilty an accessory
but I'll be your prosecution
Slam the door now
Slam the door now
I am guilty an accessory
It's not enough what I can say
Slam the door now
Slam the door now
= let me touch Rita and diss her =
and then throw the key away
note: Until november 2006 Rita Verdonk was the Dutch minister of integration and immigration, responsible for the deportation of refugees from the Netherlands.
After a journalist had dug up this poem from the internet, he showed it to the minister and referred to it in an interview with her on oktober 9th 2004. Parts of the poem were quoted, suggesting the poem was nothing but a threat to shoot the minister. In the interview the minister, after reading the entire poem, said that she might press charges. She never did.
As far as I'm concerned, it is this government of ours, also the new government, that threatens people; to "leave this country or else... (you'll be taken away all your rights, you'll be evicted, illegalized, locked up, deportated, with violence if need be)".
Return to where you were, if you clicked on Rita to get here
Joke Kaviaar, translation 12-12-04
(from the book Slaves Of Us) |
SALT
The english version of the dutch poem Zout
My tear strikes a ripple into an ocean
The ocean says nothing of it
An even smile
That is all
My paddles can make more waves
So I splatter and
the ocean pulls a grin
of foam around its lips
Tell me, human!
Will there be no more crying?
Out of so little tears
I can't make any crystal
Grief on earth must be over!
No, I say
We've run out of tears and
this was the last one I had
Ever since,
the ocean, again and again,
tries to overthrow
my little ship
Joke Kaviaar, 12-12-04
(from the book Slaves Of Us) |
TODAY IT CAN BE HAPPENING
The english version of the dutch poem
Vandaag Kan Het Gebeuren
If every day you can expect
Banging on the door
Shouting down the hallway
Kicking against the door
Singing shrill, afraid
Every day it's in your head
Awaking smelling more
the mould on walls today
To lay down with the bore
of singing shrill, afraid
If every day you may expect
the beating down the peace,
by hands that will be coming,
the walls around your dreams
You've known it all along
Every day not able again
to let your words stream
To let your roots taste
the water clear with laughter
Feel paralysed forever
If every day you sit to listen
to footsteps up the stairs
Whispering in the street
Hinges that are creaking
and if cars do stop indeed
Every day again more grim
To already feel the blow
To not know how much longer
until those breaks come screaming
and cars do stop indeed
If every day your last outside,
last of love, last of jokes,
can put the cuffs on you
Lets, pettier than ants,
you staring at the moon
Every day that can end alike
more weak until you choke
You no more go your way
You no more know your strength
That you can run and move
Then you want your neighbours
to get up from their prayers
to their God and for their land
No more let themselves be hired
to look the other way
Then you want your neighbours
to barricade the stairway
To be fighting hand to hand
by your side, even fire,
or just to bang the table
But every day you can expect
that at the door they stare
From windows that they gaze
Those, they are your neighbours
and peeping's all they dare
Every day it's in your head
No colour and no taste
'til cars do stop indeed
They'll be dragging you away
Today it can be happening
Joke Kaviaar, translation, 8-12-04
(from the book Slaves Of Us)
|
THE RIGHT TO SPEAK
The english version of the dutch poem
Recht Van Spreken
In this country protest
is confined to silence
Thus it is as dead
as its door
To be opened only from the outside
this silence,
a spatial cell
without the harshness
of restrictions to move
Without the tangibility
of the walls
The walls appear
to be newspapers here
and the keepers of keys
control the production
of news worth reading
They are editors
in a mouthpiece
a narrowing tunnel
that finally only
will let seep through
all that is dumped
from all the way up
into its funnel
In this country words are
described as not existing,
censored through freedom
by the invisible red pencil
What a land of unprecedented peace
this is!
What a land of unprecedented joy
this is!
Its repression is nothing
but not printing
Not hearing, not seeing
It must be a blessing
to a writer
to live in this country
Yes, thus it is
a paradise for those
who write for themselves
who can bear the mockery
of a single reader
'Read that
what a fool
who acts like here
there is something to fight for'
Yes, this country
even loves
a pig-headed writer like me
because I help to show the world
how liberal this country is and
how grand its gesture is
that freedom of speech here can be
Joke Kaviaar, 7-12-04 |