Mushroom tracks

I went for a walk today, and happened upon a dozen parasols. They’re delicious, beautiful, and made me think. The perfect mushroom.


Imagine a field,

At night when you don’t see,


The mushrooms break free.

The moss shakes slightly,

Moved by the cap,

Shoved aside quite politely,

Makes way for the curious chap.

It will not stop,

They will always keep pushing,

While you sleep, shop,

Very slowly, never ambushing.

The only signs

You ever might see,

Upturned moss on the sidelines,

Innocuous cap, standing carefree.

When you walk,

Do you look at what’s around?

Might come as a shock,

There’s more to be found.


Contract killer

“Let me take a drag beforehand to look cooler.”


I don’t work for cheap, that’s true.

But I get the job done, and done well too.

There’s an idea and it’d be good if it dies?

Arrange the payment and close your eyes.

How do I work? You don’t want to know

Just describe the target and cough up the dough.

It’s one of yours? Well that’s a first.

You want to live your passion, lifelong nursed,

Of traveling the world and painting with oil

To avoid the rat race and mind-numbing toil?

Alright, I see, this won’t take long.

Just kick back and relax, we can’t go wrong.

I will now come closer and whisper some words

They will kill the idea of being free as birds.

Listen closely and listen well, sonny:

“With this idea you can’t make money.”

Now it’s dead, put the payment in the pot

As agreed, 15 gummy bears, fresh and hot.

Have a nice life, son, and do come back

If you ever fall off the too-well-beaten track.


A friend was ill so I lent a hand,

Outdoor chores no longer unmanned.

Vital stuff done, I’m still raring to go:

“Go trim the hedges before we get snow.”

I’d never done that ever in my life,

But oversized scissors can’t be harder than a knife.

I get to work on a the rightmost hedge,

Examining thoroughly to find the right edge.

I start cutting and keep at it till

It’s become a ball that would roll down a hill.

That was too easy. Next! I get to work,

I get it: A droplet. And I go berserk.

Ten minutes later, what do I see,

The shape of rain that tickles every bee.

The third and biggest bush is all that remains.

I think of a shape and with great birthing pains

I remember the words of Antoine de Saint

And get to work without any restraint.

After the inspiration I take a look,

At what I accomplished, how much it took.

“A ball, a droplet, a bush no more…”

I breathe in and report on the chore.

“It’s done and now I’ll think I’ll leave.”

Almost round the block and then, I believe

I hear a shriek that could curdle blood.

I guess he saw what was nipped in the bud.

Gigantic cleaning

I got the inspiration for this while cleaning the house. I wonder how that happened…


A gigantic giant was cleaning his house,

(In my mind my hometown) and me just a louse.

He took a hoover, a jumbo jet long,

Hoovering the houses while singing his song

“Clean-thing cleans things till they’re good clean,

When things aren’t clean I get really mean.”

Not that clever, but gets to the point

Unlike some people we like to anoint…

Hoovered me in, me and my flat,

Sucked into the vortex, just like that.

Anticipating death in the darkness and the cold,

I was greeted by lamps quite functional but old.

The earlier round of people, giantly inhaled,

Had built a society that phoned and mailed.

My home landed right on the best real estate,

Right next to my I-thought-you’re-dead-best-mate.

As misfortunes go, I got pretty lucky,

After all, ho ho, it could’ve been more sucky.