The Voice of the People

The morning is excellent and calm
I try to write about the feeling I have inside me,
but can only come up with a feeling
of boredom, that comes when looking out of the window
too often and see nothing has changed.
I don't want to live here anymore, but is fearful
of the unknown – being outside my comfort zone-
even if it is tedious, I find the world scary,
a cacophony of a common scream
That comes with unbridled democracy, everyone
                       Has the right to be heard when they should be quiet
                       or speak sotto voice
when they can only produce banalities
Thinking has to be approved by the masses and
those who call themselves liberal

The Plateau


The plateau is so much bigger than I thought it took years
to get here but the distance is so enormous will I reach the other end.
Before my birthday which I try to ignore those I loved have
died and not spoken off they are a ghost in the machinery of living.
The world has turned around the sun many times and what mattered no longer do so,
but I'm happy to find my reading glasses on top
of the freezer. I pity those coming after me; they and their brood will be nuclear dust.
If there are any survivors, they will start making flint axes and learn to communicate. I
have made my warning and will hereafter say no more about the subject

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About fish

Something made me think of fish
not those in tanks which life must be boring
swimming around and around
until tired and resting at the bottom
wondering how to get out of this watery trap

Do fishes think or is it all instinct?
Say, two codfish meeting each other on the coast
of Greenland: hi, their old mate hasn’t
seen you around for a while? No, I met an escaped
farm salmon, but it didn't work out

It got broody wanted to swim upstream
being a bachelor, I took my farewell and escaped.
Chased and being chased that’s life
a proper fish instead takes its chances rather than
living in a glass tank

Selling a cottage

I had my little house up for reluctant sale
couldn't get the reward I wanted decided not to sell
I'm moving to Cascais, and it takes time.
he cottage can stand here till it sags and needs
to be painted, too many memories we have grown old
together I need a facelift my fake tan can't cover
up the cracks.
I knock on the door two ladies outside they wanted
to buy my house for the right sum of money,
for a moment I hesitated, money is money.
Sorry, it is no longer up for sale and my little house
breathed again.

The Optimist
It will all be alright one day you will see
When we have eradicated greed, economic wars
Seen off people who works against  
The common good of man but preaches a religion
Of superiority and blood lust
They will disappear from the earth's surface as
Will other religions also their true nature exposed
Take our freedom and enslave us
When the hallowed word democracy means equality
For all and not a way of the smart to exploit
Those without economic fortitude but prefer to walk
In an enchanted garden and dream of Utopia which
If those who think they have been privileged by
A deity invented by a scribe would let go of their
Sense of injustice and hatred against the world
Yes this has been a good day and all will alright
One day, it truly will

A Greek poem


We were walking uphill the mule and I it was hot
and we stopped by a spring trickling down the mountain
there was open barrel for animals to drink.
The beast drank and drank; when I looked it was big as an elephant
and since the track we walked on was narrow it lost its balance
fell to the bottom of the hill.
When I came down it was ok if a bit hazed and we began to walk
uphill again.

Sobriety
In the beginning, it is like walking on a narrow track
With olive roots over the ground to trip you up and branches
Of trees slapping you in the face, if you fall get up and
Continue to walk to be tired is not an alternative for a rest
The track gets smoother and wider, but it rains muds up to
Your ankles and you have to cross a stream.
After the ordeal you look back and wonder who helped, you inner
Strength the id it stepped in when most needed
Ahead is a shiny asphalted road waiting just for you.
I can't promise you happiness and Hallelujahs,
But promise this when at home and the day was long you
Will smile feel contentment for you have walked the walk,
Your feet are dry and life is not as bad as you thought.

Catalonia
This is my first opinion in a new slim volume of vignettes
they are celebrating in the streets of Barcelona they are and the independent nation now,
they were independent, but now they are a republic.
Tomorrow the people will be sober, where is the money coming from,
they have to print their version of the Euro, the one they had is no longer a legal
tender. Businesses and banks are moving to Spain, Catalonia is a member of no one.
If the Catalans are willing to suffer years of need, just to be a republic, that is ok,
but this freedom movement full of propaganda of suffering Catalans will hurt them
more than Spain that merely followed the rule.
It was not about independence but about money Catalonia is prosperous an as
the saying will not pay for the poorer region it is as simple as that.

The undead?
One day, a high summer season, I drove my bike
along with a narrow track, the led me deep into
a landscape that once had been domesticated
but now had gone back to nature,
I came upon a small clearing ringed by tall
umbrella trees leaving the clearing in an ominous
half- light where sun glare danced among
the branches of trees and bushes; I saw three
hearses and a van, none of them had wheels
the windows of the last-ride-cars had been
taken down and flimsy curtains put up to give
it a resemblance to home.
A family of itinerants had found sanctuary here
and I was not welcome; they threw pebbles at me
and I had to turn the bike around sine
narrows forest road ended at their camp.
They came running, trying to catch me, and dogs
snapped at my heels. I have never attempted t
be back since but, often think why some people
are so poor they have to live in a hearse.

The Ruin

There is a ruin only a few metres away
from my back terrace, once it was a ruin that could
be repaired, and I looked inside it had once been white
I could see the mark where the cross had been,
but it also had a well in the middle of the floor, it was
too small for my needs I didn't buy it.
Now the roof has fallen in and it beyond repair, yet
it has a dignified charm of the utterly fallen.
Once it had been some one’s home children had
been born here and they had played outside, now it
will be torn down and there will be a space
and it will only be remembered by me and by elderly
people who will only recall when the house is no more.

Local Memorial Service

Outside the funeral agency two employees
dressed for their job, stood smoking, by the pavement
a hearse with coffin inside stood waiting.
finally, they threw the butts in the gutter started
The car to take to the church where the casket would
be decorated with flowers and then with a cortège
of mourners followed behind led by the local padre.
There were no many men among the marchers, they
thronged the bar on the way and only joined
in the last minutes.
The padre did the rituals and packed up and left
the mourners cried and there were many handshakes
among the people and talk about the dead person
who apparently had been a bit of a ******* cheating
in cards and not to be trusted.
Of course, nothing of this was uttered at the cemetery
it was later in the bar the person of ill-repute was mentioned

Modern man and machinery

Now those nuclear power stations I have shown to be too dangerous,
people are looking for an alternative.
An open cast coal mine in rural Germany they are
destroying natural beauty in the hunt for coal which in
my mind is wrong.
The workers and the drivers are burly men in their fifties
and the machinery they employ is like substantial greedy aliens
the men work long shifts despoiling any life that might have lived here.
Open cast mining, dust and noise and a far cry from Nirvana,
yet the people live longer, but someday in the future, the bill has to be paid when tampering with nature.

The saver


He began saving money when 15 years old, liked to see
his bank account grow, not for him to spend money on
restaurants, drink beer with friends.
He inherited his mother's house, repaired it cheaply by
stealing materials at building sites; he was rather proud
of how little it had cost him.
He had a small investment that paid him a small sum of
money once a year, and in his bank account, it went.
Needless to say, he lived alone a wife costs too much,
wanting this and that, so he visited elderly women who
didn't want his money only a bit of love.
Then one day, he was eighty lived on potatoes and
cabbage all his life and the cheapest of wine, but he was
too old to spend money now; a lonely millionaire
who only read the statements the bank sent him.

The Cow

By the edge of the cliff where the grass is juicy
the cow tried to eat it all the last straw you can say
alas, it tipped over and fell into the sea
and since happened in Dover, it swam to Holland
and joined the Dutch cattle.
This was a good solution till the cow demanded
special privileges such as imported Dover grass,
when it didn't get it will, it swam back.
On the way across the channel, it was run over
by a Panamanian registered tank-ship.
Children had to go to school hungry no sausages
or milk for breakfast.
The ship, the farmer (not setting up a fence) and
the Dutch got the blame, this wouldn't have happened
if we had let, the cow gets its own way.

The Evening Light

I ought to take an interest in death
But I no longer find it an interesting subject
It has to do with acceptance
Which I find comforting since I’m not religious
But has a strong spiritual streak
I believe in the mystic
What we fail to understand in normal life
I have second sight
I can see the near future only I suspect it is
Caused by experience
I believe in ghost by those who have not
Accepted death they are generally unhappy
And totally powerless they can't call up
The devil since he does not exist
I have seen my dead dog on several occasions
She lives in my mind, but I do not dream of her
As I used to and now she is in black & white
Demise is in a way a monotonous subject
There is no future in it, here I manly laugh
Look at my watch I will have drink at eight swim
In ocean of mild intoxication

The Daughter

I looked her into her brown eyes and said, I love you,
just straightforward without any hesitation or reservation
I had sometimes taken to get to this point because
I had said this so many times before to other women.
My wife believed me, and when I come home telling
her I have fallen in love with the check-out girl at
the supermarket, she called me an idiot but knows
the girl is the daughter I never had.
No, do not feel said my reason for wanting a daughter
is that I don't want a nurse to look after me when
I get really old. You see my vanity is considerable
I have had an operation in my eyes, wear no glasses.
The next is a hair transplant, I long for the days when
someone thinks I’m my son, but I still dream of
a compliant daughter, and I wonder if this makes me
an anti-feminist.

Holland

In Holland this sweet clog walking land
have too many cows realising methane gas into the air.
There are many gas explosions in Holland
no one has yet to connect the gas with the cattle.
But it is difficult for them the have fewer cows.
Once I met Prince Hans of Netherlands, I drove his stuff up
to his farmhouse and he never paid me, and that is way
they are successful living in the middle of Europe and
somehow voiding paying tax.

Failed States
So they killed Gadhafi to free Libya and
got the Western world to help them. Alas the rebels
only fought for what they could get,
and now Libya is a failed state. They have tried –rebels-
to get rid of Assad with the help of USA, the country is
on its knees, but some nations are seeing through this charade
and are willing to keep Assad in power, for the time being.
It will not be easy the Americans and the Israelis
are doing their best to turn Syria too into a failed state.
it is up to us to stop them

The best of years

in a side room where things are put to be used later but never will
there is an old “brother” typewriter gathering dust, bought a day
I felt like Mike Spillane, drinking whisky and smoking cigarettes
while writing rapidly about the hidden crime world of Liverpool.
I went into pubs where the gangsters are supposed to hang out
And were met by people buying me pints of beer and telling jokes.
Then, the word processor came along, spelling was not a burden.
Yes, I know, I sold out for a better life; I miss the tapping sound
Pure nostalgia I wrote a poem of love, the one who disappeared
In wider and wider circles, I walked till she was smoke and mirror.
One day I will take the “brother” out and try to locate her.

The anti this…
We can be anti this and anti that
say, our hatred of Muslims is there but not deep
and is often based on ignorance.
But we have to face the fact that anti-Semitism
is in the psyche in the western mind.
Here we have to differentiate between Israel and
the Jews as there is not many of them  
in that state of Israel, the sitting government
there are Zionists.
What worries me way anti-Semitism is deep-rooted,
we have to be aware of our feelings at all time
but why is it so?
Of course, the Jews are successful people who
tend to come on top in economic matters, if our
hatred is based on envy we should be ashamed
and clean our souls.
After the war and the pogroms faced by the Jews
in my country to behave Jewish still denote
a negative emotion, like greed, and underhand
as being Jewish when it is not.
I blame Christianity too, over the years, has put
fuel to the fire with Jewish rhetoric.
We must come to the understanding that a Jew
is a fellow man with good and bad qualities  
as I have a look at facts and not the myth.

A tired day

Yesterday I walked to the tax office
Not that I had any business there
But the woman next door said it only took her 15 minutes
To go there.
It took me two hours going there and back.
Tired today watching cartoon a man was knocking
On the door of a suburban house pressing the doorbell
selling vacuum cleaners
A beautiful woman opened the door
My doorbell was ringing too; it was the waterman
And by the time I had paid him and taken the water
Into the kitchen, I was too late to see what had happened.
I like a cartoon; the impossible becomes doable.
The ship with for cranes is still at the anchorage perhaps
They can’t get a master.
Should I offer my service

Shoplifting

At the supermarket, my wife pushed the trolley
While I walked around in the hope of finding some
Unboring food found a tin of tunny in hot sauce
I could make a breakfast of this (diabetes).
But the tin in my pocket to hand to my wife
And forgot about it.
We paid and left.
Outside I froze we hadn’t paid for the tin!
What to do know? Go in and pay for it, the line
To the till was long, forget about it she said.
I was a shivering wreck when driving out of
The parking lot and no guard tried to stop us.
Ok, I ate the tunny for breakfast, but if I had been
Caught stealing, how to explain it and be believed.

When time is right

When re balloons float upside
Down and green snow whirls up
From ground


When the moon drips silver snot
And stars are moths eating holes
In mammy’s tapestry

When preacher of gloom stalk
Streets of fear and people hide
In tear-stained caves

When the skeletal finger of my past
Claws at my conscience, then I
Know it is time for a glass of wine.

The disappearance

The Gulf of Mexico suddenly ran into the Atlantic
left oil rigs high and dry.
Naturally, the USA claimed the land which was disputed
by Mexico and Cuba and Belize.
What was left of the gulf had rivers and lakes
and as the land greened it turned out to be fertile and
the Amish people encouraged to farm the land which they
did with earnest enthusiasm.
Village sprang up, roads were built, and the famous
veterinarian Jan Pol opened up his practice as well.
As years went by, people forgot that they were farming
on what has been the bottom of a sea.
The sea had not forgotten.
Slowly seeping in and those who had built luxury houses
were the first to leave, but the fishery thrived and
the shrimp business had a revival.
There was a mass exodus, and the Amish people went
back farming the land they knew.
When the water had claimed, all of the gulf and people
forgetting. There was only Wikipedia left to give
a brief outline of the past.

The Enemy among us
The western world has lived in peace for sixty years
mainly because of EU and shared horrid memories.
This has not been the Palestinians case who were
shooed away to give room for a colony called Israel and
those who object – freedom fighters- are called ISIS.
The USA have dropped bombs in the middle -east for
a long time and produced more ISIS fighters which now
is a common name of all who do not like being bombed.
Ex-president Obama sends drones they are intellectual
from the out- set. Trump drop a bomb the biggest in the world
it made a terrible noise, and 36 Taliban were
killed, they too are called ISIS.
(In Trump's case one wonders if he suffers erectile dysfunction)
China and Russia is ISIS in disguise, as are left-wingers
and those who do not believe in the American dream.

doctor. Lunde

Let us go to doctor Lunde she said
I found a place near the bus terminal that no buses
A police officer came and told the parking place was only for bus-passengers.
He offered to drive there us- in my car- but got the gears wrong
And we ended up in swallow lake.
You drove they are into the lake I said
But it is your car, and as such responsible, we called a tow car.
It dragged the car up, and at the same space, rules are rules
The officer said even when there are no buses.
We finally found parking outside the doctor’s office, he cam
Said it was his space and besides he was a chiropractor
Called himself doctor people trust them.
I lady from the cleaning- police said I had to wash the car
Instead, we drove to IKEA, looked at furniture with strange names.
Selling stuff, you had to glue tighter yourself
I’m not a handy man.
We ordered Swedish meatball without mashed potatoes,
You have to have mash the lady said it is the rule, so we ate
The ***** and left the mashed potatoes, the lady who serves us took it
As an insult to Sweden so we ate the mash too.

My Lovely
I wrote your name
On an autumnal leaf
And let it blew away in the wind
Now you are forgotten
But only your name
I hear your whispering in my ears
On cold brisk days.

The problem of a misfit

The problem with being a ******
is when you come home you have fewer friends,
and those friends you meet are often who were
lost within themselves.
One day I found myself on a park bench drinking
brandy from a bottle that was passed from man to man,
this struck me as a shame to have sunk so low
I got up left them with the bottle had paid for and
walked away, my life was not here.
I left the town for England for a while it was interesting
but couldn't understand the class divide, I had to
find a place of peace, and I saw it in the interior
of Portugal and have lived here ever since.

How unlucky can a man get?

There was a man, an ocean sailor,
in Argentina, he met a woman who he married.
During a storm, she was washed overboard, and
he couldn’t find her. Undaunted he continued
sailing around the world, met another woman
(from Sidney) and married her.
In the strait Moluccas, they were ambushed, the pirates shot his wife. Well, life goes on and when he finally came
to Oslo, the press was not there to extoll his considerable feat.
The thinking was losing one wife an accident
but losing two was considered irresponsible.
At the sailors club, he was welcomed with polite
coldness, he knew why rumours were floating about.
Disappointed he sold his boat
bought a flat on a high rise, the seventh floor.
this had a terrace with a low railing.
No, she didn't have an accident if you think of it,
but she did commit suicide.
I don't think he ever married again
But he wrote a book about his many years
At sea and tried to explain his misfortunes,
The book sold well since he used an alias.

Life is a life
Driving home I nearly hit a rabbit
braked hard and the can of lager fell out of my hand.
We country folk drinks a lot; the police never stop you
unless you drive off the road and plough into a flock of sheep
then you are fined, and the police take the carcass home
dinner, for a big family.
So who am I sentimental over a rabbit when
there are chemical attacks on children in Syria,
and the war of attrition never ends
by courtesy of those who do not want peace there.
How am I sentimental when children are killed?
In Gaza children wounded by teargas have damages lungs
who am I to talk when witnessing the ****** of a people?
That demands to be free of Israeli tyranny.
But deep in my heart if I were hungry enough, I would
have killed that rabbit taken it home and cooked it.
So what this makes me? A sentimental fool crying
over spilt life? Deaths for a higher political cause
like stealing land from the losers.

The Enemy among us
The western world has lived in peace for sixty years
mainly because of EU and shared horrid memories.
This has not been the Palestinians case who were
shooed away to give room for a colony called Israel and
those who object – freedom fighters- are called ISIS.
The USA have dropped bombs in the middle -east for
a long time and produced more ISIS fighters which now
is a common name of all who do not like being bombed.
Ex-president Obama sends drones they are intellectual
from the out- set. Trump drop a bomb the biggest in the world
it made a terrible noise, and 36 Taliban were
killed, they too are called ISIS.
(In Trump's case one wonders if he suffers erectile dysfunction)
China and Russia is ISIS in disguise, as are left-wingers
and those who do not believe in the American dream.

The re-membered

Speak to me of a memory that ran into the sand
taken by the high tide drifting away
but at low ebb glitter on the lonely strand.

Speak to my memory as seen in a child's eye
when my mother was young and danced
had laughter on her lips and stars in her eyes.

Speak to me memory in the haze of dreams
when life was lovely, and summers were long,
hold on to your vision of yore till your life ends.

Speak to me a memory of your time as a ******
when life was often sad, but books made you sane
in every port a letter from your mother.

Soft coat

On the rapid asphalt road
****** fur, a rabbit caught
in the glaring headlight of
a speeding car.

Poor creature, don't cross
the road at night, do not
cross at all unless you're
an angel and can fly.

No one loves a rabbit unless
it is a child's pet and lives in
a tiny cage. So run rabbit run
but on the forest's floor,

An inert tarn


In the pond of pleasant memories, a duckling paddled
like an unwanted thought a spring wedding in Brussel.
Flat stones skipped on the pond in the night, quacked
refused to spit out half chewed toothpicks forgotten.
Expel the duck send it abroad to the Saragossa Sea
to a shadowy barren island in the stream
where the monster Amnesia lives; you must be warned
keep away if the ogre gets hold of you, it will not eat
the unwanted, but also the memory of those you loved.

Consensus

Democracy, a hollow word makes me laugh darkly.
Is the USA a democracy? You can vote every 4 years
Among two parties who spring from the same narrow
The base of the elite and is therefore not Democratic,
but gives the illusion like the democratic republic
Of Kongo, to be one and go to war against those who
Has another opinion, say, freedom from tyranny
And interference of foreign countries.
Freed om is more important than democracy which
Is a hiding place for thieves and land grabbers.
Israel, knee-deep in Palestinian blood, is a democracy
That brutalize their own people into thinking they have
The right to defend themselves, thus behave with
Callous insouciance towards the opinion of others.

Golden locks
The girl I fell in love with years ago when summer
was excellent, and we bathed in
the lake I didn't ven kiss her but patted her shoulder.
                                                     I wanted to embrace and kiss her making her mine
                                                      but feared to ruin our friendship which was for me
                                                      a costly gift in my new life in a foreign land.
I had written about it before she was so young,
her bright, lovely smile I could not risk that with my
clammy hands around her slender waist.
                                                       There was more I had lost someone like her before
                                                       I had lost her in lust and forgotten her friendship she
                                                       had been my mate till she tired of me and left.
She is still there in the village, divorced now with a son and a daughter who treat me
like a grandad, they treat me well ring and bring me gas bottles when needed,
and it strikes me by not making love to her,  I got the best friendship can offer.

A dog's life

The neighbour's dog barks
it heard me coming up the driveway
I usually stop and give him a cuddle
but today am too tired
When barking doesn't help it howls
I get up to go to the dog and play a little.
Dogs don't demand a lot they get sad when ignored.
Five minutes of my time and the dog is happy
Just sits there and love me with his eyes.
If only life had been so easy, but it ain't, the day has been filled with driving to
the mechanic
to repair her car and driving her back twice.
When old one likes to be left in peace for a day or
so, and since we are moving I have to carry her
stuff, sometimes she forgets am eighty years and
Have a pacemaker. Hope she will come home late
meet some friend at the supermarket she likes people
as I need a break from her relentless demands.

Cold is the wind in Europe
It is a stormy evening brown leaves flying in the storm, they a
re dank and slimy tore from the tree with no home to call
their own. I'm thinking of Macron, the president of France
He is extolling globalisation, I'm a nationalist I come from
a country that has naturally evolved has its own culture and
an unspoken agreement on how people should perform.
We don't want a global nation with one culture one language,
one thought as dictated by a newspaper owned by the globalists.
It has been tried before under the dictatorship of Stalin.
Macron is, in the words of Oscar Wilde:” Deep down he is
a shallow thinker.”
Migrants are welcomed in my country if the can blend be as us
and not a confused mob demanding changes in the way
we have accepted the system as it is.
Mass migration is a manufactured phenomenon it could
be avoided by investing in the countries they hail from and
is political to sow discord in Europe.
We see how the USA a beacon democracy, has been turned
into a semi- tyranny helped by the opaque forces of Zionism
they want globalisation to serve their end that is  to enslave
and bend us to their will.
The working class in Britain get it and the ditto Germans
to see the way their countries are going and protests
because of the know if this is not stopped a new war will
begin a war that can only benefit the Zionists.

All alone in Paris

I fell into the Seine
Called for help in English
Was ignored.
By accident more than luck
I got ashore.
A man sat fishing
He was English,
“Why didn’t you call for help France?”
I’m a tourist
“Everyone should speak French I’m
A  Francophile. He said
And refused to answer your plea for help.

The molester  
On a podcast, I heard Cardinal Pell so poised,
the boys’ were telling lies,
he wouldn't dream of doing this to anyone,
but time moves on he was not believed;
whether he had ruined anyone’s life is debatable.
We had gone on a walking trip it lasted two days,
we slept on a hay-loft and the young
Priest (not Catholic) took my hand on his ***** *****
and made me ******* him,
next day the other boys said he often did that and giggled.
Boys are resilient they do not commit suicide after such
an encounter, it is just one of the things.
The young priest became a bishop, and his serious face on
TV makes me laugh that no one can see the falseness of
the man who is a child molester.
A warning though if it happens to you tell the other boys
but not your mothers who will make you feel guilty
drag you through the court and ***** up your head.

Dream night

My wine glass is full of moonlight,
drank and floated dreamily, on a carpet of night.

Couldn’t resist the moon’s pull, my home bathed
in a spectral light, both beautiful and mortal.

Flowers in the garden were deadly pale, olive trees wore
silver capes of unrelieved sorrow

This nocturnal landscape isn’t to my liking, put me down,
red, green and golden are my colours

But I did glimpse, behind the tall mountain, night’s ultimate
sacrifice, giving birth to dawn

The Pacific

The ship was going down a water mountain
only to be met with another mountain and
going up and up, this dizzying dance no rest
only holding on for life hoping the Typhon
would blow itself out.
Towards morning the see was simmering
down leaving us to try working, but the talk
in the mess hall was subdued.

A dog and a Swan

I remember a black swan in a hotel's pond
it was a master of his domain or walk on the lawn
surrounding the lake.
A little yapping dog a spoilt thing how had caviar
for dinner, got to near, the sawn grabbed and
drowned it and lovely was the peace.
I should have interfered and try to rescue the cur,
but the swan made it clear not to step in, in a way
the ****** dog got what it deserved. this ladies and
gentlemen was an alternative poem.

The seagull that loved me

The seagull which lives beside the chimney
knew me since I fed it from the deck of a ship,
and it remembered me by waving its left wing
it had seen I am a lefty when throwing it dinners
not eaten by a crew who wanted cakes& ale
it had lived on the most easterly rock for
thirty years but had done to it advanced age
been threatened younger males, it gave up
its kingdom and by luck or instinct landed on
My roof. We ate breakfast together, it by
the window ledge outside eating sardines I had
bought the day before, I, a tin of tunny
I went for a walk when the sea-gull circled high
near the coast until its wings got tired and it
slept in the nest in had made beside the chimney.
During a fierce winter storm, it took to the wings
and I have not seen it since.

The Enemy among us
The western world has lived in peace for sixty years
mainly because of EU and shared horrid memories.
This has not been the Palestinians case who were
shooed away to give room for a colony called Israel and
those who object – freedom fighters- are called ISIS.
The USA have dropped bombs in the middle -east for
a long time and produced more ISIS fighters which now
is a common name of all who do not like being bombed.
Ex-president Obama sends drones they are intellectual
from the out- set. Trump drop a bomb the biggest in the world
it made a terrible noise, and 36 Taliban were
killed, they too are called ISIS.
(In Trump's case one wonders if he suffers erectile dysfunction)
China and Russia is ISIS in disguise, as are left-wingers
and those who do not believe in the American dream.

The Trance

I sit on my stationary bike for half an hour a day,
it is incredibly boring if I have nothing to occupy my mind.
Today there was a stream of thought I waded out but
found it full old junk – junk can also be new- so I built
a wall of numbers to keep the rivulet away.
I fell into a trance, or think I did; an hour had past
when I looked at the watch, an hour had gone a new record.
The pressure of the flowing thought broke the wall
and sceptical I was not sure if I had had my exercise or
been asleep on the bike?

The ****** Brexit

It should have been so simple
There was a referendum
People voted leave
And Britain should have withdrawn
In an orderly fashion; but no.
The remainders wouldn’t here
Of it and the spectacle become undignified.
One would think the UK didn’t exist
Before the EU it did.
Boris Johnson is an opportunist he is
Not remotely interested either way
He wants power
And the American why of health service
The leavers should not entertain him
But continue their fight to let Britain
Go its own way.

The Social Life

A monkey sits on the roof, eats a bon, bon
with its wrapper on teasing a dog.

I sit in the bar, with Sylvia and Fred, drink
cola through a straw.
Bottles on shelves promise me I will be
strong, feel at ease with this weird couple.

Fear will flutter away
like butterflies in a glade
disturbed by a hare.

A small glass of beer,
the monkey laughed.
came down from the roof.

I'm confident again
Fred is funny and
Sylvia is beautiful

The compulsive

Autism in the like of Julian Assange
And Greta Thunberg is a force for the good
Their passion can for them be tragic
they go to any length to follow the truth.

I had a tailless female dog, circled to find
the tail, till she got dizzy.

Obsessive people can be tiresome, have
great courage and suffer for their beliefs.
Heroes are for the quest for honesty.
We should be grateful.