Obsession
Autism in the likes of Julian Assange
And Greta Thunberg is a force for good
But their passion can be tragic for them
As they go to any length to follow
The mania that rules their life.

I had a tailless dog, who had a mania looking
For its tail, circled till it got dizzy.


Obsessive people can be tiresome but they  
Have great courage and suffer for their beliefs
They are heroes for their quest for honesty
For what we should be grateful.

The artists

Alfred, my chosen father, who denied
The paternity has his statue erected in Faro
At last, they honoured him for being glorious
Brought colour to an otherwise gloomy town.

Graffiti made by the likes of Banksy charms,
Most of the rest is scribbling on a wall.

I know little about a painter but Caravaggio
Spoke the unvarnished truth about our life.
His critics like to point out he was illegal too
What else to expect from a truth-teller.

Reading the enemy

Chaos, a whirlwind of dreams and laughter
I read a conservative paper full of hysterical lies.
Trying to defend the rich and well to do.
Pathetic, their uproar became comical.

Goats like tobacco they chew and chew and
Ask for more, the swallow too quickly.

It was good to read this paper showing them
Contempt against the working-class
It is through the enemies’ writing we can find out
What a horrible lot the wealthy class are

Not listening

The old poet, a Canadian of Jewish ancestry,
Was tall elegant, wearing a hat in a jaunty angle
Reminded me of Alfred, my imagined father
He had a winning personality.

Remember the coma they tell me and write
More about love, beautiful women and wine.


I used to wear a six-pence; Alfred made fun
of me, learn to play some music, he said
and read your North Pole stuff; that was a long
time ago before the Canadian became famous.

Contemplation

Resolve the unanswered problem gone
Overmighty is the task, for one who lacks the courage
Sever is the lack of self-knowledge
Extraordinary is the failing of others feelings

She doesn’t like young cleaner find faults with them
They remain her of her lost youth.

Quite a reflection over time that will not return
Life lives in hatred and love, now it is
Meaningless whether it is summer or winter
As seen inside a dusty window of old age.

The New I
I have travelled far and crossed the oceans
I have seen the unseen, the grotesque we are
Capable of doing, but I have also met kind
People I never sank into the abyss of cynicism

I have seen flower no botanist has, but I keep
It a secret the nameless will remain hidden.

Rejoice for I have found my modest personality
Oblique I was nor here nor there and confused
Semi-transparent waiters passed my table.
Erased me from their memory like a cellar mouse.

Power play and roses

The USA has a pinball machine rigged in their favour
And pin by pin the countries in the middle- America fall
One by one the collapse when they try playing just
Against those who have stolen the mafia’s textbook.

I wonder why we have high regards for liars they are
Nothing But a soul that thinks we are expendable garbage.

Revolves around the dancefloor under candlelight
Over glasses of whisky whisper satanic conspiracies
Shiny bejewelled wives are a mere decoration
Evil men are lovers in an unbroken circle of power.