Parallel Lives  

Is there such thing as living two separate lives?
I lived in a vale called the “Valley of the cobblers” were everyone
wore wooden clogs, a dead giveaway if you have been out late,
I have many friends there know me by my first name.
Have a homestead rising  donkeys of the sturdy, strong type,
also sold miniature donkeys,  children especially liked them
I had a man who looked after the animals when I had to return to
city life, but as time passed I came to believe my real life was
in the valley, because I feel like an intruder when I walk amongst
modern man – it could be the clogs- people stare at me
think of me as an abstraction a painting once seen on the wall of a café.
Went on a bus to get back where my friends were, the bus drove and drove
and when it stopped I hadn't reached my destination.
Have to try again I miss my real life and want to come home.

Water Bill

Driving down from my eyrie – I only said this to
Sound educated- I thought that since there is no proof
Of god's existence, I have been reflecting about the man
Or is it person- in charge of the rainbows.
I want to do something about it not always the same colours
5 I think and when you get to the point where it ends
It is a miasma of vanishing tinges.
An Iris should be firmer and sometimes yellow or red
Stick to the ground so children could climb on it not all day
But say, once a month.

At the bottom of the hill, I crossed a bridge it was dry and
Looked like the tiny bits Palestinians are allowed to live on
I remembered I had forgotten to pay the water bill and
Sometimes in the future, there will be wars over water.

Biography

The wind blew hard last night
the bedroom window was open I was too lazy
to get up and close it.
I was thinking of writing my biography but found
my life was too tedious to write about it,
Anyway I have only come alive for the last thirty years
before that, I lived in a bubble of self-loathing,
Of course, I could have written about my many illnesses
but I dislike self-pity.
I used to be a seafarer and remember vaguely how bored
it made me after ten years; sea life is for losers.
I could have written about women there has been a few, but most of my affairs were insignificant, *** has no purpose if love is not involved.
I finally got up found a blanket and slept till nine.
Self-biography is mostly self-serving, and we only remember
the right part and our pretension.

At the end of a fjord

The fjord was long and dark
on both sides, hard granite could not soak up the sun
it was like descending into hell.
But the fjord arm opened and at the bottom
could be seen a small village with red-painted houses,
the people here at been isolated from outside influence
for many years and everyone looked the same,
alas, some were giggling idiots.
I big piece of rock fell off the dark mountainside caused
a tsunami that washed the village away and there
were no survivors, except one who didn't have the brain
to tell what befell, at the time of the accident he
had been high up in the valley to get the cows home.
The village was moved higher up, and new people moved in,
today it has an airport and has joined modern life

Time for forgetfulness

He had been to my house often, like to come here and stay for a few days,
because of nature where he could walk along overgrown tracks and see
how life used to be lived before; now he could not find the house, called me
told me the name of the café where he had stopped.
After a meal, he went for a walk but didn't return, and it was getting dark,
we looked for him he has lost his way, we found him under an olive tree,
it had taken some time before he knew me, the game was up, he cried,
Slowly succumbing to Alzheimer. In the morning we drove him home,
my wife drove his car; he spoke little when he did mixed past and present
(Who doesn't).
When we came to his house, he thought I was Dali Lama flattered by
his visit. In a lucid moment he knew what happened and cut his life short,
he refused to follow the lane of the living dead.

Dance Nocturne


August night, is an abyss hotter than the day
and the wind the blows was born in hell.
From open windows in their dark interior
the primal scream of *******,
wriggling bodies trying to produce a child
that like them soon will die, but first, it must
go to through the ritual called love, which is but a primitive
urge to copulate the planting of seed before sinking
underground spent and forgotten in the mass graves
of boredom, decorated with flowers
that radiates death to come.
The Tasmanian tiger howls to the moon and
forever vanishes into an ancient forest, while werewolves
sway to a Mexican dirge.

The action is downtown going quickly there
are girls dancing on a pool symbolism not needed
this constant friction any ***** hair left
it doesn't matter it is in garish colours and
music that arrests free thinking and lap dancing are for losers
the only time the get an intimation of ***
and going home and pocket ******* and feeling quailed
drying your shoes on the mat, your mother saying there
are sandwiches in the fridge
not let her know you had dancing girls sat on your lap.

Alone it dreams
The inner bay where the water is shallow
I rolled up my trousers leg and waded out to see
the small polished stones
With sunlight and the clear sea the stones had
the appearance of diamonds to **** for.
I took up a few but in my hands, they quickly lost their
lustre; threw them back, my feet was cold it was not
yet summer when the inner bay would be full of bathers
who wished the beach was sandy.

Virtue

I wish
I could write
A love song
From the heart
About a mountain stream,
Were cynicism
Dare not enter
Not intrude
As sarcasm
Is banned
Sorry to say
Cannot have lived
That long
I know when hearts
Cries
For the loss
Of innocence

The Meat Industry    
  Artificial meat is genuine meat.
    I look forward till it is fully developed
    And we can stop killing animals
    I worked as a boy at an abattoir my
    the job was to stir blood from slit throat into a bucket
    so it didn't coagulate the blood was later used
   to make dumplings, which I refused to eat.
  We will, however, have to reduce the cattle stock
  and the farting cows in Holland will be no more.
  There is something deeply immoral the way we
   use animals for food they are living being capable
   of thoughts – if primitive- and feel pain and pleasure
   artificial made meat will set us free from our tendency
   to the mass slaughter of the innocent

Metaphorically

I'm a working pony
ploughing the oft
turned over the soil of poetry.
On the race track
of pedigree mounts
                      chasing medals and
                      honours, the  pony looks
                      bewildered
                      but in the end
                      we are Equus Ferus
and domesticated.

The bus driver and a rowing boat


I remember a song “A slow boat to China”
There was a man a bus driver who took his wife on holiday to Spain
where his wife ran away with a shepherd
The bus driver went home alone but had the house which exploded
(a gas leak) when he sat on the loo; he was unharmed but somewhat
embarrassed. When the insurance money, came he bought a rowing boat
which had a mast and he could set sail when the wind was right.
He landed in Falmouth before the winter storms.
When spring came he rowed and sailed to the island of Neves where
he met John Cleeve, who wrote a funny article about the brave man
and suddenly the bus driver was famous.
The rich people in Neve gave him money which put in a bank
(there are so many banks) when he went to the bank to draw
out money for an ice-cream, he found he was a millionaire.
High finance is a mystery and something had gone wrong
not for him to ask questions, but he did transfer the money
to a Swiss bank and took the first plane back to Europe.
The bus driver is now a prosperous cattle farmer in Andalusia.

Beware of slumber
I had taken my tablets and gone to sleep looked at the watch
it was ten o'clock I fell into a slumber that was not natural
like my organs were shutting down one by one
I willed myself to get up stood facing the bedroom wall stood
there until the pain in my legs was unbearable I must not sleep
if you do, you will not wake up again, but I sat down in
my office chair and stared at a drawing when I was young hold on
to this, you must not sleep, endless was the night but as nearly
fell into Morpheus's arms I looked up at the skylight saw the dawn
I had been saved by the day and death hastily retreated
The whispering voice enticing me to slumber had gone I could
now go to bed and sleep until nine o'clock
My wife stirred and said: you are late going to bed, her Holly
innocence is saintly; I listened to my breathing it was easy my
organs function again I had won a battle but knew I would
lose the war, but I will not go submissive into the long night

The ocean of dreams
  
The old man was still in his bed; someone said, is he dead?
No, not yet he says I dream of seagulls flying over the ocean.
Once I was a dolphin, my sons and daughters live there,
Now they are in the bay of Cascais, waving for me to join them.
They need a father figure.
Years ago, he swam ashore, and kind people gave him a suit.
Now he walks like Hercules Poirot, small careful steps.
He dreams of the vast ocean he knew so well, swam alongside cargo ships.
It was a fun time but not a place to write poetry.
My dear children, he says, I will join you later when I write the poem.
Of everlasting love.
Is he dead?  Someone whisper, no, he is only dreaming of the sea.
He knew so well.

The Inheritance
                          My ffather had a stammer
And lonely drinker
Sat under bridges
                           Those that span quiet canals
He drowned
Dog came home alone
Wimping  
                            Mother, tired took to bridges also
This pleased the dog
                            The canine came home alone
This was an inheritance I didn't want
But could not avoid I sit under bridges now
                             The dog's   too old
I walk home alone.

Skirmish

                            It turns so fast
from happiness to sadness,
yesterday
was a warm spring day,
then without warning
Cold.
Winter beddings
packed away
we fought
over a blanket
I lost
she is blaming illness.
Today is miserable
a clumsy time
doesn't know whether
to cry or shine.
No internet
that's a ****** shame.

Brexit 2

They don't get it the politicians
why people voted to leave.
there is and rightly, so a deep
discontent among people, the see
their water, gas, train and bus prizes
privatised by pirates.
There is a revolt in the air, the Brits
are tired being led by the nose
by a capitalistic system that long ago
ceased to be a democratic, free vote is not
democracy and EU has nothing to offer
only more dictates.
The Brits know the future can be tough
(As tough as it is now,) but at least
It is their choice, and there be better
days to come when they throw the shackles
off, walk free towards a new down as equals.

The Old Couple
There is an unspoken acceptance you share a silence no need
to be entertaining and you are bore telling jokes told before
It is an easy quietness each one has their own interest
And to avoid problems a computer and two TV
I do this, and you do that, and I carefully avoid sarcasm
Which is arrogance badly concealed?
There is much to learn from Soap Operas such as Hair- styles
dresses are worn by slim actresses where a plot is easy to follow,
why complicated a play to be academic writers are showing off.
dense lines actors have to learn when it is about looking good
show love and rage in five minutes intervals
Always perfectly coiffured hair stays in place.
Our secret is she is not listening to me nor am I hearing her
this is what I call perfect harmony.
Yet both know there will only be one of them a new silence
that will be a burden on shoulders bent by age.

Just a word in your ear

The USA and Israel, here you have axes of evil,
Will take out Iran who has not occupied anyone
Or stolen someone’s land

An old dream surfaces

Today I have watered my wife's garden; this can be
misconstrued, well she actually has a small garden
at the side of the house, we have cleaner who comes in
once a week and she does the watering, but she is on
holiday. I'm not keen on flowers they are so useless
I like to plant cabbage and potatoes something practical and
filling, if I only had a patch of land and a donkey I could
sell leek asparagus and tomatoes on the farmers market
and I will be a friend of many, as it is I sit and write
Not the best thing to do and win friends

How long is long

We live in a society that
No longer believe in an afterlife
We, therefore, strive to live as long as possible
Even though, it might be detrimental
For our or others well- being.
What is the true age of man? I don't know but
I think when the memory is erased
When we become a burden, death is not an enemy.

Epigram
you can never be famous in your wife’s eyes
she has seen the pain hidden in your smile,
the bareness of your soul, she has seen your
discontent on days of yet another refusal.

A conceited restaurant

After the health clinic visit in Cascais
We had lunch at a restaurant nearby
Where the outdoor market is
It was overpriced and pretentious
The food, so and so.
Had a glass of wine it was undrinkable
Had a cold bottle of water instead.
There are many proper small restaurants
In Cascais, they appear not to be
Near the centre.
A few days ago, near the post office, we had
Splendid meal and it was reasonably priced
With not too many tables and people I have
fear of crowds this inane nattering about
Nothing, just meaningless noise.

Coffee unsweetened

It is morning; the old man drinks coffee
while thinking about a dream he had in the night,
the dream, since didn't write it down is hazy
and soon it will be forgotten; the old man does
not write superficial love stories anymore.

The metaphysical, the abstraction of love that
transcend the physical aspect, has a god-like
quality in its understanding of the world as it
is, and it means acceptance of others opinion
even when it is a moth holed and trite one.

The old man knows he is a micro cosmos of
the world he lives in, this makes him shudder
because he given the right circumstances could
have been the incarnation of evil, but as it is,
his love of the living saved him from evil deeds.

On meeting Socrates


It was the end of the day at the old folk’s home,
he had spent the last two years of his life indoors, in this room
he had refused to take his meal in the dining room
together with the old people, this was at first refused, but
after a few days and fearing for his safety, the relented and
served meals in his room, for which he had to pay extra.
Lately, he could feel life seeping out of him; he had taken
to his bed, no, he wasn't hungry but drank some tea.
He thought about his life and as usual, could not make up
his mind, had he tried too hard, or had he not been serious
enough was he just a gnat seeking the lamplight or a tiger
prowling the jungle of words, he giggled over the tiger thing.
His feet felt cold, thought of Socrates who had been forced
to drink Hemlock, he said the death started with his feet
crept upwards till it reached his heart and sudden as a gust
of wind blows out the flickering light of life, he died, and would
never know whether he had taken himself too seriously or not.

Security guard

I was broke, no work for me at the shipping office,
got a job guarding tractors; sat in a hut that was cold and had no heating
and bad light. Well, this job was better than sitting at home
lamenting my unemployment, but my god was it boring.
Sat on a tractor pretending I was a farmer ploughing a potato field,
and that was tedious too. The uniform they had given me
was too small for my frame looked like a walking scarecrow.
At midnight another guard came to take over and I asked him
how he could survive the tedium. Me, he said I go to sleep
I have full time work during the day.
Next day I got a phone from the shipping office it had been
difficult they said I had a reputation for not playing ball
and being argumentative; took the job handed in my uniform.

Death before the NEW YEAR

For a week I heard music from his house, it went on day and night, but not loud enough to annoy anyone. Last time I saw him, he looked ravaged by
his drug addiction remembered him as a young man,
I knew he was gay which is a no; in our little village, we all turned a blind eye.  
His addiction had made him ugly I thought of the painting in the attic
in the book Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde, it was shortly
before the New Year, he was found dead in a filthy little hotel.
At fifty-two he was too young to die, but his last twenty years
had been a struggle against ******, or some other drug,
perhaps it was for the best. That sentence was disgustingly trite,
what the hell do I know?

At the end of rural Idyll  

                         It has been a long day
lugging water, gas and fire-wood
up to the cabin
I hope it is the last time having to do this.
We are moving into a roomy flat in Cascais
it has a panoramic view over the bay, the sea
yes, it was my first love even though I'm loath
to admit it, but I will miss the trees and
the greenery of the woods, but what the hell
my almond tree will look after itself.
There is a lunch café on the first floor they also
bring food up if I feel tired of being polite.
What I will see now is the shifting stir of the ocean
and much time will be spent watching the bygone.
I know I will cry when leaving I was content here
although the local doctor from Moldavia thinks I behave
drunken Yeltsin, she has a good heart, wishes I could say
the same about her receptionist, we had an argument
and now I have to go to a private doctor for my medicine.
I have an old seagull on the roof can't leave it alone to catch
it will be painful it will bite me, but when it sees the ocean,
it will be grateful to me.

The Burial
Two days old she was attending
her mother's funeral
pictures were taken when
she sees them she will be proud and sad
she will be proud and sad
I did not attend my mother's
she died  a day before Christmas
hurriedly buried the diggers
wanted the day off
when I got the on a plane
it was too late I didn't leave
A small woman
Her bones must be tiny
Her skull big and empty
it has nothing to tell
So long ago
The woman I remember
has been reinvented
so many times
she was pygmy gave
me to a Swedish missionary  
who soaked me in bleach for
a week I'm so white need
no flashlight
I cannot remember the real one
But she is in here somewhere.

The Savannah
The wildebeests have been crossing the same stretch
of the river for years going back into a foggy history and lack
of interest. At the river, some are eaten by crocodiles  
and on the other side by lions. Meat on hoof and
a calf cannot find its mother, Gnus don’t do friendly and
there never is a sympathetic aunt. It must find its mother
now, because it has been earmarked as a possible meal,
easy to catch, no bother.

Did that calf survive? I don’t know history does not concern
itself with trivialities and as for its mother her memory is
short. A dumb beast, yet there are more wildebeests in
Africa now than twenty years ago which means fewer lions
and more crocodile handbags than before, which means
the calf probably survived

The resurrection

It was a shoe box, black on the outside and white inside,
I had a puppy dog, it was run over, and it was so very still.
Funeral in our neighbour's garden, we used the shoe box.
I told my audience how much I missed the dog, and how
funny it had been, sang religious songs and went home.
In the evening we hear a scraping at the kitchen door,
mother investigated, I was afraid of ghosts, in she came
with the puppy and there was a wonder in the air.
The puppy was spayed and lived to be eighteen years.

The huddled masses

They came here
from war and starvation
to seek
freedom from religion
and  ethnic
disharmony.
But some came
to sow
disharmony
turn time back
to the
time of war
******
and
no freedom of speech

A trip to Wales

I was driving among hillocks; the landscape was green
it was spring and sheep-dipped in coal dust, grazed
with their offspring
Parked near a pub in a hamlet, it had a name
I could not get my tongue around it and enter
into a dark interior.
The few customers ignored me yet eyed me
perhaps they thought I was English looking to buy a cottage.
I drank powder coffee in a sea of Welshness
my foreignness disturbed me
and the locals.
I left.

Consensus

Democracy! I'm dipping my toes into the shark infested
the water of politics and have noticed that a large section of the British
the public who after years of grooming turned against EU planned
by the upper echelon of the society who never liked
having their power reduced, no longer the lord of their moth-eaten
Empire. Naturally, they have to follow the law of democracy and
try to leave and at the same time keeping the goodies.
Democracy can only function in a country that practice free press,
but in Britain's case its own by the wealthy whose opinions ae
getting their stuff into the paper, and deploy editors that only
tow the view of one kind when pretending to be open and just
when killing news worthy of attention calling it fake news.
We live in an authoritarian society that uses democracy as the cream to hide the rotten fruit within.

The vision

The horses, mares and colts that drank cold water
in the shallow river crossing the grassland
looked up a massive plane its wingspan
darkens the valley.
The horses gallop till they are tired and the plane has left
the horses, at ease, can graze again.
The far mountain is like a Canadian blue mountain song
is hazy and shivers like a broken vocal cord.
A lotus swarm of helicopters fill the sky and scared
horses are galloping, again and again, the sky darkens.
Then on the far mountain, a new sun appears it shines
bright for a while, then dies like a comet.
A storm blows, the grass withers and the river are dry.
Dead horses, but the blue mountain is a diamond

Short verse
They thought him asleep
Rose thorns’ cut his jugular vein
Beauty of crimson

Alfred and the wilderness  

Alfred, who with the greatest of ease tells,
Me he is not my father and I went for a walk across chlorophyll filled field.
Alfred who is a musician and never ventures out in the landscape
saw some grazing sheep and wondered if they were dangerous,
no, I said they are sheep and born friendly
as God created them, to this Alfred called me a crypto-Christian.
A little Lamb came up to my father it was so sweet,
as only a lamb can be he lifted it up which the ewe disliked,
and it butted him in the rear.
Alfred was shocked, got up and demanded I bring him to safety
in the nearest town; never trust animals they are all out
to get us he said while limping to safer ground.

Not Welcome
The sun is like a huge gas bottle exploding- it is an enormous bottle
- not a puny flask.
Strong as it is yet fragile it can shift, cool a little,
and the whole world will have Icelandic summers-
a sad affair- all year long and no hot springs like
the Icelanders, who are sons and daughters of Irish
monks who came here to Christianise the island
which at the time was sparsely populated and - like
Japanese apes- mostly lived in or around hot pools
Today, winter tried a comeback pathetic show like
seeing an old man trying to lift a bag of cement on
his shoulder and fail, grey dust, laughter, scorn
and admonished by a foreman 40 years his junior;
and still two years before he could retire,
icy wind, a splatter of rain but, the clouds could not
make a steel band, cracked, and the sun smiled.
To make it worse the tuned into a mild zephyr, but
winter tried- nothing wrong with failing- lost
it – the sun- will be stronger and show no mercy.

We, the conjurers

The USA wants Venezuela
And the worlds' press follow suit
demanding an undemocratic coup.
We have been here before
we remember the vilifying of Iraq
and Libya those two counties were lied about
before being invaded and occupied.
Our compliance with this crime is staggering
and do nothing for peace in the world.

Death of a young man

There is a schooner in the bay flags on half mast
a crew member had fallen from the top of the mast
and since the ship had no freezer he had been
buried at sea. This reminded me of the deckhand
on a boat, I was on he fell down and empty hold
got up insisted he was ok, but the captain called
an ambulance and two hours later he was dead,
At eighteen his passing was senseless. I hoped
his mother had more children to console her which
she wouldn't have had had she been caught up
In the abortion debate believing it was ok only
having one child. Abortion is the quickest way to
depopulate a country; the Israeli knows this and
give black Jews a pill so they can abort, they want
European Jews of the type who becomes good
soldiers and belief in their supremacy.

*** plants
I have no picked flowers in my home
If I see a beautiful flower by the wayside
I stop and admire it, perhaps touch it slightly.
In my house, are there many *** plants I water them regularly
Some thrive with much sunlight in the window sill
Others like the shady interior.
If you hand me bouquet of roses, I can't think of why,
You are handing me impending death.

Morning Walk.  

Seven in the morning I went on my walk wonderfully overcast
clouds were sable and a cooling wind blew perfect on a time
when it gets too hot in the day.
I stopped at times the old trees by the road looked dignified
leaves moved as saying hi.
Wished I could walk and walk to the bottom of the valley where
the stream is, but legs would not carry me so far, the acceptance
of old age come hard mind and body no longer sing in harmony.
It is so wonderful here in the empty lane dogs know my steps and
do not bark I’m surrounded by the natural beauty.

The lion man

There was a gang of thieves in Napoli made their living
stealing at night, they found themselves in a basement of a big house
and found a smallish lion in a tiny age, they freed the animal
that turned out to be friendly and followed aroun
They let it sleep in the garage; having such a big can't bein the house
as lions have little sense of order.
They began taking the lion with them at night using it as a guard,
this was noticed and the press called them “the lion gang”
The chief of the police got the idea of killing the animal and thus
demoralize the gang, and one day when the young thieves
were cornered the lion was shot.
And to their shock the lion underwent a change turned out  
to be a naked man with broad shoulder and long hair
and no one knew who he was since he had no identification
The chief of the police was sacked and other officers disciplined.
There were anomalies as the skin of his hands was that of a lion,
he was buried on unsacred ground as a John Doe, and as most
of the gang was behind bars and could not attend his funeral.
Next day the grave was open, no lion man
he had simply disappeared, perhaps become an animal again
gazelle hunting on the plain of the Serengeti.

Beer Sonnet

I have a bottle of German beer in the fridge
and naturally cloudy, first brewed in some small town
in Bavaria in 1624.
They didn’t make the beer clear and decided to call
the brew Dunkel (cloudy), PR, yes it existed it worked
now it is a world-famous beer.
It also cost a bit more, which never fails to attract snobs.
I opened the beer dislike the colour me, a Budweiser man
of the type brewed in the USA
A band of clouds was, obscuring the sunset it was Dunkel
a sentence not spoken but sensed even a child could get.
I drank the beer, let the tomorrow keep its secret.

Racism 1952

A man had been working on a flat garage roof
jumped into the yard, not a long jump but
landed badly and hurt his ankle.
He picked up a plank and used it to get out
and to the bus stop.
The bus driver wouldn't let him on because
of the plank, and he lost his balance and fell,
People stepped over him, this black drunk.
The pavement was cobble ******, so he walked
to the hospital using the road, where he was hit
by a car, an ambulance arrived, the man had hurt
his ankle, but it was not broken, a plaster cast,
they gave him a crutch so he could get home.
The driver of the car which hit him,
picked up the plank it was just the size needed
repairing his house.
We have come to a long way racism is no longer
so ugly but skulk in corners and the judicial system.

The Nordic Tribe

There is a great movement of Scandinavians
going to the South of Europe, they have their church,
cafes and shops selling the type of food sold in
the North. The Spaniards, say, accept and ignore them
because these strange northerners came here for
the sun and not take anyone’s work.
You can call the economic refugees, it is cheaper here
and that also keeps the heating bill low.
The people of the North dislike refugees coming to their
country a place to live and they protest loudly.
One day, when the economy in the south is par with
the Nordic one, the will leave, or seek other shores
where they can live as kings among the poor;
the Northerner’s are racists by nature but do follow
the money and its fluctuations and they have the ability to
see the local people where they have temporarily
sought shelter, as foreigners.

The Catering officer
Once upon a time, I was a ******; I began as a galley boy
and after six months was promoted to the second cook,
What dizzying height. At home, I went to a catering school for cooks
and later on, a course to become a chief steward.
For three years I slaved as a chief cook on ships it was
hard and boring and then I was promoted to Chief steward
they use “chief” a lot in the merchant navy, this to make you feel
important, but in the end, you are a ******* slave.
My job was that of a purser doing the books buying what was needed
as cheap as possible and see to it the cook was reasonable sober.
This new job gave ample opportunity to read I wore a white shirt
with three silver stripes on which caused me endless embarrassment
as I dislike uniforms in civilian life. The first ships I was on had a selected crew,
proper people saving up to buy a house with a big garage when
I was dreaming of going ashore and meet exciting people.
This entire nicety unnerved me, and I tended to be rude one can
say I didn't fit in, so my next ship was less posh and from
there it was downhill all the way until I ended up on rust buckets
that birthed at small ports in South America, and I loved it.
Gone was the uniform, but I used a blazer over my T-shirt when
the officials came onboard, served them whisky till they
staggered smiles and handshakes ashore.
But it didn't last the old ships were replaced with container ships
which is nothing but floating barges, so I jumped ship
swam to the Algarve in Portugal and stayed.

The Piano

He let his fingers glide
Softly on the keyboard which responded
With a sensual murmur
The piano bar was not open yet.
When he hit the c-string to hard she mildly
Protested, he had been too eager.
Together they played faster and faster
Till crescendo of love-music filled the room
Silence!
The bar was opening and they had to play
The public wanted to dance to.
Tomorrow he would arrive early and together
Play songs of love

Retaliation  

The mate went ashore an afternoon,
                                  For the purpose to go to the bar
                                  and steal the cook’s girlfriend;
                                 the cook had to work till eight
and when he finally came to the bar his girlfriend
had gone with the mate to a hotel.
How they mocked him next day, but the cook smiled
showing even, wolfish teeth not his natural once mind,
                                 but nevertheless very white. It should
                               have worried the crew, it’s no good to
                               tease a man who can spit into their soup.

When all is Ocean

I have been looking at the map on the wall
Most of our world consists of salt water
In time to come when the sea level rises
Britain will be a rock that steadfastly refuses
To join EU, and that is ok, since most of
Europe will be under the sea.
The far and near east will consist of islets
And Swiss will have a seaport.
If you think this will bring peace, you are wrong
They will fight over religion and fishing rights
And threaten war.
This reminds me, I have to learn swimming.