War kills

Retina less windows
Bodies were strewn on foul streets
A photo of Grozny
Summary execution
Death sways from unlit lampposts
Friend or foe
Who knows?
Conspiracy of peace
Both sides declare victory
The truth is debris

The occupied

Never negotiate
With the conquering invaders
He will think
You are pathetic and ask for more.
He will respect you
If you refuse him
And have contempt
If you give way.
If he built a house in your garden
Is constructed on your land
Eventually, it will be yours
You sign no contract
You gave no ground
In the end
The occupier leaves
Defeated
By your steadfastness.

Lost Chances

On a crowded Christmas Street, I saw her
something of the way she walked, I sensed her perfume
I hurried after she touched her shoulder, alas
it was not her, not the woman of my dreams.
I said sorry; she smiled and said that was ok.
in her brown-warm eyes, I saw a hint of invitation
alas, I was in love with the mythical one, said sorry again
flapped my wings and flew into the night sky
to seek her among the stars.
In the cold outer space, I realized she was a seraph
and I, earthling; I flew back to earth looking
for the brown-eyed one, but she was gone.

The Wish

I dream of sleeping in a bed of rose petals like an Indian potentate
who waits for his favourite concubine to come to join him in his bed?
I know I have to wait long till the petals are squashed and cling
to my body itch my bed will smell of degeneration.
I drive a motorbike across the Alps but can’t smell the edelweiss
for petrol fume; cows go on grazing unaware of my presence.
If I swim in the Ganges, it will be among the corpses floating down
to a heavenly ocean.
There is a temple in India dedicated to rats; I will go there, seek
a cure for my fears of vermin
Jasmine flowers are enchanting like virgins open up late at night
but I will not swap any of them for my sweet almond tree.

Cold weather front

A few good days fooled us the cold weather returned we thought it was
early spring. I worried if my almond tree had its buds been damaged
and will not bloom and strews petals on the lane,
the illusion of frost, the princes in the tower saw in the fairy tale.
The fire in the grate is exuding warmth the dog no one owns snoozes in a chair,
no, the heart to throw it out
I’m not a tree hugger, but give trees a friendly slap
a sucker for the down and out bought a chicken for a Roma women
begging outside, the guard said, “you must not feed
them” like they should be vermin.
I love my almond tree reminded me of my mother when she was old,
so sweet her face in her frailty.

The mystery of man
This is the third day after new year and the day
equally dark and miserable as they were before
the new has number changed.
On the Eve of festivity, drunk people thronged
narrow streets hoarse voices and screams
upsetting dogs and cats.
oddly, we celebrate the new year with
warlike gestures like fireworks.
Most of my friends are dead, yes, we too danced
the golden calf, not knowing what life was about
I still don’t know.
On the third sober day, the same old **** bombs
killing people, as arms dealers drink champagne.
Our democracy is for the well to do
for us subjugation and waiting for Godot.

The lonely cabin

I knocked on the door of the small cottage
the window steamed up I drew a childish picture
faces of children, that when the sun came erased
the drawings and, I thought of childhood.
My brother had lived here, his children refused
gave the cottage to be a gesture of goodwill.
I knocked on the door; it fell in a cloud of dust
the cabin was empty a floorboard creaked in pain
unused being walked on.
I turned to leave, the door arose and blocked my way
I promised the cottage, a man from the village
will come and paint inside and outside I will
move in here with my dog.
The cottage relented, door and window opened
letting in fresh air and sunlight.