The Slackted Poetry of Martijn Benders

if all hope is abandoned and you lay awake watching the Contenders
play tapes of some obscure rock band you’re welcome to enter
and check out this slender, delicate verse with metaphors galore
like a Roman brothel frothing incantations through the door

Benders puts his fledgling words in a titanium blender and renders
magic, genre-bending classics poured on the pages like the breath
of an inebriated unicorn, horny stallion like İskender the great
he conquers the known world with the stuff from which she is made

This man is kicking out the moneylenders like a messianic defender
No pretense, just a book of spells, hot as hell, howling like a Fender,
and he isn’t from Flanders, it’s so neat, featuring abundant night birds
you can hear between the lines singing that you can be the first

So nag your spouse for Christmas to upend your slack marriage
get carried away when you unpack Benders’ dense book in the bedroom
very rapidly you become the mender of your matrimonial gloom
your love-making blooms you be trend setter into the imaginary

Picture Oriental caravans of dark wild owls, howling
wholesome epigrams in Hesperian nights full of elves
while fickle lip ghosts approach in saucy steps
and drunk unicorns prowl at the N of hibernation

You don’t want to wait until the year is over to get this on your shelf
so treat yourself or your MILF, leave the cold rime outside
hush hush cuddle by the fireplace with this lush Dutch bundle
be the seamstresses at the seam, trundle into each other’s dreams

The Slackted Poetry of Martijn Benders was originally published on Meandering home

End-Of-Line

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!)

End-Of-Line

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!)