Daniel Hazelhoff : writer, poet, rapper

The meetable, unseemly me.
Daniel, the name my parents gave me, I assume some time before I was actually born, probably at some stage during the time when the perceivable 'me' was a fetus. Hazelhoff, my last name, acquired due to the simple fact that my father was not a woman, and I guess we adopt our fathers last name in this forsaken patriarchy, so lets go with that. I originally hail from San Juan Puerto Rico, but, I'm whiter than snow, so this confuses people on a daily basis, to this i answer 'I am also half Dutch', though, I do not identify as such. I grew up in Valencia Spain with my little brother, my two parents, and a group of insane, dope smoking...
I look down at my right foot
To see that the
Toenails are painted,
My raw left hand holds my cigarette.
My face is painted vivid violet, but I did do that myself.
The bar fight was won and lost in some seconds
He pissed me off, and I was drunk
Or maybe I was drunk and he pissed me off
But I gave him a good one,
Straight to the nose,
His retaliation was that of a lucid alcoholic,
Sluggish and trained well in the art.
Unfortunately he slipped
Onto his chin
And that was the end of that.
Just Another John Doe
The row of the ore The dog and the whore The man in the back with rabies and more Foam from the mouth Sat on the couch The ouch of the blow Just another John Doe. The silence of the clan, The whisper in the back of the van The exhaust and the open window. A young widow And a dumb sicko, Sickness in life, and rest in death The journey that inevitably leads us the final rest. Some come sooner than others Others, leave without a word, The heard that follows the Sheppard The bull that goes straight to the matador, Was born and bred to please the masses, People with fake eye glasses that pretend to see, The mind parte...
Miserable Old Men
I sit here at this place
Look around myself
I feel the old fear comfortably settled on the few tables
Stools, people.
Some miserable old man looks at me from across the room
Into my eyes
But, through my brain and my soul
Past the dirty wall behind me and
Into the abyss beyond.
As I watch back, he doesn't move
And his drink is almost empty
And mine was once full.
Good old fashioned nonsense, but thats for you to decide.
I smoke my cigarette, I gaze at the dead crimson flower lying lifelessly, limp upon the table, the smoke rises, my ring shines, I hear the freshly started conversations of those around me, they all seem so… well, into it, although I couldn't possibly care less what they are talking about, I hear them laugh. I laughed today, I laughed a good deal, and maybe made a bad one ‘hahaha’, I laugh in my head and press my numb hands to my forehead. ‘Damn, sometimes I make some fucking bad choices’, I cant help but giggle again in the back of my mind. I take a drag, ‘this shit is disgusting, I fucking love it’ I think, to mysel...
A man with a Knife
A man with a knife and a bite won the unfair fight It’s my plight that holds me back in the night I tried to succeed, and I plead, and bleed, But this god damned man just keeps coming back in my dreams. Leave me alone father For I am much too weak Leave me alone father This life is much too bleak. I am no longer prepared to wake up three times a night And three times a night I search for the three cuts of the knife. I wake up with blood shot eyes, I did not drink my medicine last night. I wake up with tears in my eyes, I did not wish to cry last night, And I did not, For the suffering comes when I’m in my black out. In the late...
I smoke too much, And I drink too, And I look at you from across the room. I used to know you, You used to know me too, Was it that past that changed? Or was it the present, and the morning dew I’m so used to waking up to in the morning, through and through And thoroughly dismembered. The minute’s pass, Some pass quick, some, slow, In an ungodly manner, I lift my drink to my lips and I sip my liquid charm. ‘You used to have fine arms, what happened?’ ‘I had a misfortunate accident with some ink and some needles, you don't like it?’ ‘No, not much…’ So we sit there in silence, And I stare at my glass, Twisting i...
Marijuana murdered my motivation,
I cast my smoke into the train station
I am so, very,

Many men fall short
But their ego
And their pride still stands tall
I want to cut them down like a limp Limb
Where’s MY pride
Where’s MY ego
I will not abide to your false amends
I will not bend over and let you fuck me
I will fuck myself
So help me god
I will break,
As I have
So I’ll kill this bloody devil,
And I’ll wipe him down with glue,
And I’ll tell you not to meddle,
I’ll wipe down all your blues,
And ill sit here at this concert hall and take my time with you,
And ill sit here with a melody,
And listen to the words they spew.
Out their mouths and with their tongues, their hatred,
Lemon fused,
With limes and dimes and lies and ties and drinks that are roughened through.
It’s a sailor’s chant,
The devils rant,
The pasts salted rues,
Lives demised, no apple pie, no light at the end for you.
Some Men
Vanity, horse tranquilizers, and an amphetamine based diet. The lengths we go to, to keep our minds quiet… I flooded mind, parched from the whisky’s sour dispositions, And I’m not dead yet. Many men go mad, through their alchemic potions, and it is through their dark descent, that a trail is created, One that is unspeakable, and Hard to follow, yet the scent is more than evident. Many men have noses like dogs, sniffing out weakness, through greed-enhanced abilities. It makes me wonder who is making the wrong choices, as the good are trampled Upon, And By the bad, the sad, And the unlucky still prevail. For that is where t...
Unspoken Words
Unspoken words of the hoards of blind sheep with no shepherd,
Where is your god now I ask?
She has left us here to rot,
I can promise you that much.
Now we seem to glide on a luck that dwindles,
And I sit here writing words that mean nothing.
Yeah sure, you might read them, or you probably wont,
But that’s not the point.
They are read and the page is forgotten,
The message has left the mind
And the mind is left as blank as the rest of this poem.
Saving The World
Shaving with a rusty razor blade,
And I still can’t seem to manage.
Using cold water, for god’s sake,
And I feel like I’m, somehow, saving the planet.
I know it’s futile and man has done much to harm,
There is no charm that a witch could bestow upon this planet to ease is not so slow decay,
Much less save us from the
Cold nights,
No Knight in shining armor to
Come and save the damsel,
Ain’t no damsel that needs saving anymore anyhow.
Were all perishing, like the cheaper good’s in your local global market.
Our Misfortune
I was hit by a car on a Sunday, I wasn’t hurt but I needed a drink, The man stepped out of his Mercedes and gave me a 50-pound note, I could have sued his ass, but, he gave me fuel for drink, And I gladly accepted. I bought a 99p burger and went to work on my liver. The silent trigger that is almost fully pulled back, It’s not, because I lack the motivation for most things. And I do not only speak for myself. If you’re in a public place, please look around you, How many faces with smiles do you see? Are you at home with a family? I shall ask the same question. I hope you are one of the lucky ones, But, you’re probably n...
Lemon Tree
I’m fused by my mind and the time it takes to take my break There is none unless it’s a down Through the roof and past the sounds Of the birds chirping The children playing And my mother singing to herself in the bath. I am not the last but the first of many more to come, My rum is not yet done, but ill sit here and ill sing Ill sing of days that have gone Ill sing words that mean nothing to no one And mean everything to me That’s still just me, I’m sitting in the tree where my father built me a house And it is no longer there, And it was a lemon tree And the thorns scratch and gash into my thighs My sighs are mostly sile...
Earth Mother
Every sleeping hour some are born Into this speck of dust Gliding around our Mourning star. And why do we weep? Ancient times existed. Before, you and I believed in this earth And what she brought. Believed in the nurture of the nature, But somehow along the line, The modern man has forgotten this. Now we choose to decide between those that should be one. And so we succumb to the over encumbering fear of death that looms. I shall now forsake the fear, And accept, Embrace, And love it. Let my soul rest, Let my body decay and become one with the earth mother that gave us life, In this Impossible equation. Let my last breath be fre...
Still Drunk By The Sea
Still drunk by the sea and my mind Subsided with the fumes. It is nice and quite in this gloomy place. Dank and, scarce are the faces. I must admit I do truly love it. The tremulous nights in the bars. The pars that let a weak mans knuckles fight against him self As a stranger. But never estranged from the night. Still drunk by the sea and my lips, Still smoke this cigarette, Even though most grandmothers die of cancer, And fathers, weighed down by early deaths, Kill them selves, to feel ever-lasting regret, Whence they are one with the cosmos, Leaving their Wives behind, And their kids, still stuck with there perfectly clear se...
A Wicked Lie
I’ll drench my mind with kerosene,
And lustful lies alike,
With alkaline, and bloody lines
And a message written without sight,
Or thought, the knots of a flowerless pot
And some brainless seeded crops,
It has naught to do with men or their few seamless mental flaws,
Or the straws we pulled to see if luck was something less than sought.
It’s a wicked lie, the way we die
Please distract our minds from thought.
Weltschmerz And I wish you could all understand me. I do not speak German, But I understand the word. A deathly (grim) truth that finally leaves the self-loathing aside, No need to confide in the ears of treacherous men. For that we are all. Weltschmerz And I wish you could understand your self. Do we not speak our own languages? Hidden in the mazes of the mind In fearsome, oil lathered lies, Slippery, So we cant catch them. Weltschmerz And truly doomed we are. The lathering of our naked bodies, And the rape victims we do not hear fall. With nice coats and worries of the rent, Fuck you, fuck me, and take this Demented mind and s...
Your State Of Decay
Lives of the lost, damned and forgotten,
In the perilous chambers of the mind,
Your Cages can definitely hold us
Oh ungodly ones.
We are the un-designed youth,
Those with uncouth whirlpools for minds,
Owned by the designer Adults and cults of the norms.
Sublime lives we allegedly lead,
To succeed is a need, but is still so,
Distraught in nature,
And un-mentioned so far,
And so forth we arrive some how
Some where smothered by your
State of decay.
Seeds Of Evil
Seeds of evil mean
Without the
Foul fertilizer that is the corrupt
Human mind.
Take their time, and
Trick us,
But, the truth remains
Without the mind
No evil would be possible.
And if this is true then
All we can do is change our minds
But this is easier said than done.
My father once told me that a man is nothing without his mind
The mind is nothing without the man
And evil, remains within the man.
For the seeds of evil come and go,
But the reign of evil
Persists with the existence of man.
together we fall
Let us join learning with hedonism, whilst we have our hands free, in the cellular era, where the mind no longer takes hold, on the mould that forms in the brain, in these frames where we displace our blames, for the murders, of our future whims. And for your sinfully delicious cake, i might ask a piece, and for your love i might ask an eternity. With the vile of love, and an amphetamine frenzy, take my hair and my nails, take my bites, take my looks and my eyes, and taint the soul with ecstasy. And taint the reightous with rites of passage, trials, and tribulations and taint my wine with some red, and some white, and...
The Terrorists
We are the terrorists. We are creating a state of blind horror, the masses weep when a few bombs blow on our cities whilst we plague theirs with a rain of lead, bloodshed gunpowder filth. Our media constantly showing, teaching us they are the enemy, what do their papers say? Only 400 hundred airstrikes, Oh Great Britain!? only 400? and how many deaths on each? and how many headless homes? and how many feet-less shoes? and how many sightless eyes? THOU shalt not retaliate murder, with MURDER. And this isn’t even about avenging revenge lost, called upon and forgotten, Though your cloak doth disguise well, Pride in ...
Malcolm X once said  “If your not careful, the newspapers will have you hating the people who are being oppressed, And loving the people who are doing the oppressing.”  And I think of my uncle. A fat man, red faced, reads the paper, lives in florida, used to have a big house, now he’s got a smaller one with more land. The man’s got so many DUI’s he can’t even count e’m, but that might be the delirium.  He hates Mexicans and thinks hitler wasn’t so bad. He’s a proud republican, voted for Bush and guns  probably voted for Mccain and oil,  Probably voting for Trump, climaxing over the idea of a passed...
Laudanum and Cotton Bodies
And they’re so young, still with laudanum and cotton bodies, over to the river where their fathers flow destroyed the valley, life of motels, hotels and their valet parkings, red bed sheets, and the pirates version’s way to savvy, look in to your eyes and I know fear can take a hold of bodies sat in satin linens and a line suppressed by feather follies, but the fooling’s still so broken hearted, and when the rain comes low the brain knows it’s left and right are truly parted. So your pineal goes, and your synonyms grow, and your fantasies are dead for sure. And they’re so young still with laudanum and cott...
Epileptic Lights Of Life
(Epileptic Lights Of Life) To whom have left life In death or in rhythm, To those raped In taxicabs, Bleeding under the blinking neon lights, That disguise all, From The Battling eyes of Barking Beasts Beating, bating, debating Brussels or Berlin. To heads lost to themselves Lost under opium or starving mind. To Chimes of prophets forgotten and forlorn In the eternal face of memory, In the infernal loss of carnal touch, and righteous winds of blues, or Jazz. To the worn out mother and priest, And unfortunate milkman. To heathens survived, brooding in the unforgivable light. Plight, brother, To that that is ale To...