While waiting

While I was waiting for the poem, I was going to write
to show up but I can't find the right words
starting the process, I have amused myself by
writing two smaller things. I look at my nails
they are too long but clean mainly because I do
the washing up after lunch by hand or rather
two hands I have never heard of a one-armed dishwasher.
Thought of the German philosopher who said
that God was dead, I ask; How can something not
Born be dead? The great poem I was going to write
is in hiding looking at the screen didn't help,
so it will have to wait and soon it will be morning.

An August evening

This afternoon I was writing a poem but it kept disappearing
a blank screen had words on but they faded away
erased by an inner logic of self-critic.
I like red roses but when I write about them it sounds banal
and a thousand songs about roses make me feel lethargic
wasting my time; Gertrude Stein said. A rose is a rose…
I have tried to write about Tulips and think of Amsterdam
I was there often when a ******.
I prefer *** plants now; they need watering but are safe
like dinner at five.
Lily is a flower in much demand in Copenhagen, don´t why?
All I know about Denmark is “Hygge” and “frikadeller.”
I look out of the window and see a tree-lined avenue and
notice the leaves are slowly yellowing it makes me feel sad.

The Grave Stone

Many years ago I went to the cemetery to find
my brother's grave, but he had not been dead long
and had no stone. I was sent a picture, his stone is big
full name and in loving memory, the whole clan must have
chipped in it looked costly.
I felt slightly envious I can get a big stone too if I pay
for it now, the blue marble will be lovely.
I'm hesitant to invest in my stone, just in case I live
Longer than expected. You never know with people like me
I have all illnesses you can think of, but I keep waking up
In the morning, eat breakfast and take my medicine
and as usual, I'm grumpy, complaining I don't laugh much
but I'm here to everyone’s chagrin.

The long life

The knowledge of living forever is already here
all one has to do is renew the old cells for new ones
once a year starting when forty or thereabout when
a person is self-sufficient.
It is also possible to renew cells so often on regress
to infancy and looked after by your son who is unable
to grasp he is changing his father’s *****.
Longevity has its own risk of how to live you can alight
from the Garston, bus nr 9 and be knocked down
by a car, the autopsy will show the person was not forty
But 110.
The best way to get old is to **** someone in Oklahoma
get 200 years in a padded cell be fed by a slot in the wall
and when the conviction comes to an end
refuse to leave the prison, your home on earth.

The song contest.
There has been a song contest in Europe
Russian singers and musicians were banned
Which makes the contesting political?
Needless to say, Ukraine won.
One notice Israel appeared but not
Palestine, who was mourning a dead reporter
Killed by an Israeli ******, but we will not hold
this against he musicians and singers

Happy birthday

the morning started with a bang
four people breakfasted together on his birthday
it didn't bode well.
The breakfast table was loaded with sweet things
He, a diabetic, could not eat, he had an apple.
Switched on the telly as mother and daughter
began fighting about forgotten things, he intertwined
when the mother cried, got her into bed for a rest
The flat fell broodingly silent.
When the fog lifted the protagonists made up and
sat talking about the restaurant they, with the man
who was eighty years old, should go.
The elderly man didn't want to go but had no say
in the matter, they were going to take pictures
for the facebook.
The birthday boy drank coca cola zero and hoped
The party would be over soon he needed his afternoon nap.

Broken Dreams


Tonight I´m happy and sorrowful
I refuse to cry over lost friends
I´m drunk as well.
It feels good to up the anchor of sobriety
let alcohol give wind to my sails.
A clipper buying tea in China
not useless plastic toys.
Sleek, the line and the women admired me.
Let the clipper sail.
I don´t care; I shall stay and make love to you.
I´m sorry I left my Liverpool girl
I went to Brazil to harvest coffee beans.
Guatemala, I got there by chance
a beach and moonlight.
I have not forgotten my promises
one day more, just one more day.
The clipper sailed to other shores
I never got to write
The poem of my life

The myopic state

We live in a precarious world when opinions
other than the official ones are banned and ignored
I’m thinking of RT (Russian TV.
That brings news and analyses of current events
the commentators are usually scholars, intellectuals
that do not get a hearing in the usual media
I watch the channel and many others to get a perspective
of the world, we live in.
I Germany RT has been banned because of not having
the right silenced. this is not true and RT is taken
the relevant authority to court.
Probably RT will lose.
There is in Europe and the USA a myopic view
of what we can say or do and many of us who question more
Will and cannot be heard.
This brings us to those who refuse the covid vaccine
they are not criminals but people who fear the restrictions
will lead to more restriction and when a constraint is in place
the likelihood is will be permanent that will
curtailing of freedom.
Our liberty to have a view other than the one accepted
by the sensors who works for the state against the will of the people

Meghan and Harry

So, Meghan and Harry appeared on the unelected
queen of America´s Oprah, last night.
Banality swam in a sea of phoney weeping.
Harry, the prince, when not feeding, the chickens
had to listen to them and nodding his head.
He cut a pathetic figure.
The gutter press goes after all young royals coloured
or not, Harry´s mother was white as the driven snow
yet she was hounded, one can say, to death.
There is one winner here that is hard-as-nails
Meghan got her prince, and she has been
elevated to schmaltz, the upper class of triviality.

Haughty Nation

“They crap in our forest”, a young man yelled
the Roma people had pitched a tent near the woods
where people of this tolerant nation go hunting.
They came here the people from afar to seek work
but are usually met with contempt and mistrust.
They came in the hope of getting a share
in this nations’ largesse, but ran into racism
unbecoming pride like it was their cleverness
that brought up oil from the bottom of the sea.
Now, instead of being unassuming, they became  
reactionaries giving pompous advice to less
fortunate countries.
“They crap in our forest”, nourishing an imbecilic
nation, that due to undeserved riches has lost
contact with reality and a kind- heart- ness.

The long walk

From my terrace, I can see the museum where Paula Rega's
painting is, it didn’t look far, so I walked down it took a bit
longer than I thought but it was a beautiful day.
At the museum, I spent a long time looking at her pictures
she is an intriguing painter blending the masculine and
The feminine into one it can look objectionable as she paints
Scenes of what can appear grotesque, she is not a romantic
artist of summer days and white beaches.
The museum has a nice café I had a coffee and cream cake
To hell with diabetes for a day; and then I promptly fell asleep
Woke up by a startled, said I must have had a little nap,
the waiter said I had slept for nearly an hour.
I went around the corner where they have a maritime museum
was especially interested in how they lived on the small vessels
fishing for cod, which they split open and salted.
It appeared the social life was centred in the galley/mess room  
where the cook made food baked bread, and there was time
for a chat; the old photos showed about hard work and peace.
Walking home took a long time since it was mostly uphill.

The Catering life

It is sunny and warm on the terrace.
I sit with my face facing the sun. It is supposed to be healthy
vitamin D, and so on.
I'm not so sure, I have had skin cancer twice.
Once, I was a chef at a restaurant, and it was in the days when food was a simple affair,
a set menu and so on.
The restaurant on the first floor of the building (Pandemic closed)
they sell solid Portuguese food, not expensive, and suitable for the Fado
I like this place as it has big tables.
We don’t make food anymore. We ring and get it delivered
from a small café run by a Palestine couple, they also serve vegetarian food.
I tried it once but preferred meat with vegetables.
I sit indoors and think that all cooks are ghostly pale because
they are indoors and slave over steaming pots and pans.
I ended my career as a cook. It was boring and hot and badly paid.

Happy Ever After
Dad, lit the Christmas tree used proper candles,
My mother complained about the fire- hazard, this annoyed my
dad who opened the window threw out the tree then peed on the flapping
curtains which, had caught fire.
The tree landed foot down and looked pretty in the snow.
The police came took dad away, they wished happy Christmas.
When the gin bottle was empty, mother sang,
“silent night” until neighbours knocked on the wall.
Dad, came home next day, he had a black eye I had a bike.
Next Christmas my dad bought electric light, mother
had joined the AA, but still, I had to visit my aunt.

Peculiar things

It has been raining so much that the lemon tree
is taller than a building of flats where we live.
A neighbour who was hit by one of its fruits
is still uncommunicative.

A flat battery in a jaguar is a sight to behold
when sitting in a bough of a tree.

The aroma of lemon juice wafts through the building
the restaurant in the basement sells fried fish
Quite fitting since it is Friday,
I like eating pork chops while driving a porch.

I knew of a writer
who had to take the job as a kitchen cleaner
as no one wanted to publish his work
mind, he always had clean fingernails, when he sat
late at night composing words no one in the world
would ever bother to read.
When it became clear to him, he was an exercise
in futility, he quit his job grew a beard and his
fingernails grow long and *****.
Crossing a bridge, he was about to jump but was
stopped by his inner police officer who said it was
against the law.
He had to write is own way and not imitate
the famous writers of the past and since he didn't
have any style, took a long hot bath
and got a job as a security guard guarding tractors.
He doesn't write anymore but waits for
his style of writing to show him how, because
he saw no point of writing for the pleasure of it.

In the heat of summer
It was nice to bath in the river
Ten minutes away
A great place to cool off
And not crowded by tourists
Cigano boys bronzed and
Physically perfect
Jumped from the bridge
Of the warming of the planet
I know nothing, only this
The river is dry in May and has
Been so the last five years
But old people tell me it has
Happened before, the river
Was dry for years in the fifties

The bombing of my school
    
    It was a winter night 1942 the British
    Bombed the school I was going to when older.
    the town was in darkness why the Bris      bombed the school
    was because they had been misinformed thinking
    it was the German military headquarter.
    Many surrounding houses burnt down and there was some causality.
   Other than sporadic bombing our town was
    a paradise for the enemy soldiers stationed there.
   Time is harder now we see Israeli bomb schools and children’s playground in Gaza.
    I write this because I got an email from boys I had (they are old now)
    gone to school with and it brought back memories
    of a time gone by.

Not my story

During the fight of the French and the Algerians
I was caught in the middle of it.
A French surgeon who sided with Algeria, had
Given then vital information and four of us legioners
We're told to execute him.
When we arrived, he was in the middle of surgery
So we decided to wait, none of us wanted the job
But orders are  orders so we waited
Finally he came out we had guns at the ready
And he said: I don’t want any of you to be guilty2
By then he popped a pill in his mouth and died
Instantly, an ambulance was called and we did
A  collective relief we didn’t have to **** him.
For a reason unknown to me, I was sent to an officer
Course it was decided I was best at the security services
And ended by a career as colonel specializing
In African affairs, many people have died by my findings
I don’t

Sportsman

I don’t care so much about football
that fills the screen so often in this mad country.
I do sometimes watch the highlights but
not the whole game which has long dull moments
when the players pass the ball to each other
and nothing dramatic happens.
I played football too as a boy, goalkeeper I was,
I took it personally when my team lost and walked home alone.
I didn’t want to play, but the others said I was good
didn’t feel like this when the horde came running to
my part the field, wanted to run away and the ****** ball hurt
when saving a goal.
One day I took my uncles gloves he wasn’t pleased, but let
I pass he couldn’t use them again to impress the ladies.
Finally, I found sanctuary in the local library they never thought
looking for me there.
I disappeared in the maze of books friends never found out
it was a great time, so much I had to discover,
still does, come to think of it.

India

I looked it up on the map, India
it is a big country, and I know absolutely nothing
about its interior.
I once was in Calcutta's airport but this
doesn't make me an expert.
I wrote a poem about the last Bengali tiger,
but know little of its fauna,
I didn't like when Prime Minister Modi eradicated
the smallest currency of rupee it was not fair for
the small traders.
Then again he might have had a good reason
as I know next to nothing about India other than
it is the world's biggest democracy,
which I find surprising and have my doubts if it
is possible to practise democracy in such diverse
a country, like several states, hammered into one.

Grace

In Livorno, I touched the wings
of a silky butterfly which had come
to join me at the table.
I had only meant to feel its beauty
but my coarse fingers damaged
delicate wings.
It tried to fly but lost height and
landed in my beer glass; fished it
out but only damaged it more
on an iron table painted summer
green, beside a vase of scented  
flowers a fragile life ended.

Bards and society

Poets are gentle people who like to form a group for writers
with an eccentric title, “a thousand poets against war.”
Poetry is only useful for dictators and those who like to demonstrate how literal they are.
Dictators find them valuable if they extoll the regime
If not, you are exiled or jailed.
Poets are subjected to flattery, the lucky one gets a medal before they die
of consumption.
I was thinking of this when lost in a city, with many statues of generals riding an iron horse.
And a bust of the sensible poet in the entrance of a downtrodden hotel.

The New Year


We are going out to eat early
go home before midnight to avoid the noise,
besides, since we are elderly
and this may be our last New Year; we rather spend it at home.
After a long fight, I got to wear my collarless shirt
no tie needed and my tennis shoes, grey slacks and
my old blazer.
What my wife will wear I have no idea since she has changed
her mind five times, home she dresses warmly it is a cold evening.
With the strict drinking and driving laws, I will stick to a low-calorie
drink I think it is called Zero something.
It just struck me when there is fire-work in the sky people go out
to see, In Afghanistan, people hide in basements.
So I wish a good New Year wherever you are.

The Aquanaut

The ship sank two survivors on a raft
the Japanese and me.
On the first two days, sharks circled the raft
but they lost interest and disappeared
The Asian man shook my hand and said goodbye
jumped overboard and swam to
the land of the rising sun.
I was rescued by a fishing vessel the next day
thinking the Japanese had drowned didn't
think more about him, till I met him in Tokyo
where he made a living as a swimming instructor.

A few thoughts

Morning mist
I Can’t see the bay

We are silent
You and I

Your brave silence
Calms my nerve

When the sun arises
We will be erased

You and I

The fog will reappear
Will we?

What you wish for

It was Friday we were going out for a meal in the evening
I had visualized a fat pork chop with furrows of fat in the meat
whatever you say fat food taste better than chicken.
Since it was evening my wife thought an omelette would be
right for me and the waitress agreed – she is a friend-
But a few glasses of red wine were ok.
After eating the omelette, drinking the wine, I wondered if
they were patronizing me, so I had whisky with coke.
I tell you I was not drunk, but I felt an irresistible need to
tell a story, standing up and let my voice boom to drown
the audience with my erudition; it was not on,
we come home to catch the nine o'clock news.

The Jester

The circus's princess, call my receptive ears picked up
the euphony appealed to me.
The call was not meant for me, her heart wished
for the dashing lion tamer.
Me, the clown, she liked to tease I took my mask off
and entered the lion’s den, the animals rolled over
laughing, as only big cats can do, as did
the audience, the lion tamer was not pleased I had
ruined his act.
The princess too was amused too
I'm unconsciously funny, fated to evoke
mirth, but not the sigh of love

Christmas Carols

Whenever you in any shop
they blast out the ****** carols
the business has trivialised
us into harassed shoppers
hating carols, dreading this time
of festivities and joy.

Israel, the failed state
Israel is a modern state
Where people suffer much anxiety
Surrounded by enemies
They think violence is the only answer
To find peace.
Remorselessly the continue down
The path of oblivion when they for a short time
Was winning it was destroyed by arrogance
An unwillingness to show charity
Defending the downtrodden.
Israel is an oddity in the sea of the Arab world
When they finally see this, there will be
a clamour to find a haven in Europe
Where they came from as few Jews can trace them
Ancestry back to biblical times.

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.

Reflection on Wednesday


The bay of Cascais looks beautiful today
calm blue sea and sky a rare summer appearance in December.
A big bulk-carrier is waiting for the pilot, as a red-cross helicopter comes onto view landing on the deck of the bulk-carrier one
of her crew is ill.
When the noise of the chopper dies down, I think
of yesterday when I wrote two poems which left
me feeling sad and tired, these poems were
probably the best I would ever write, but they will
be read by the few and vanish in the dust of time.

The war of beliefs
   Hindus burn Islamic Mosques, Muslims burns
    Hindu temples of worship and
   The Christians burn synagogues and both
   The three faiths preach peace on earth.

   A shadow fled into the basement when
   The sun came full of flaming hatred.

Resolving an ancient religious problem
Obsolete as religion is made by man.
Some fanatics **** for what is a fairy tail
Exemplary atheism is never a solution.

Tanka as Poem

I have been outside
Nature is beautiful they say
It was rather cold
The sun a polished one euro
Clouds are the sun’s flunkies

Inside looking out
Nature looks fantasyland
You can’t lure me out
The wilderness is insecure
And sometimes the wind blows hard.

I’m civilized man
Outdoor is discovery channel
Sharks and dark water
Nature needs a glass divider
Enjoying our inimitableness

Page fifteen.
I have been looking at this page for hours
walked to the terrace and back still 15
went shopping bought thing I didn't
need, the page hadn’t budges
page 15, how to overcome this obstacle?
writing about the weather, so you are a meteorologist now.
Actually, am I can forecast rain with my knees and
a general feeling of discontent.
Page 15 can do its own things what do I care
there is always a page 16.
Are you sure?
At your age, the falcon of death might strike
any moment and the rest will be blank pages,
so am better off sticking with page 15.

Dear Delilah

My, my dear Delilah I was drunk and fell on the floor
there I saw your lover hiding under the couch.
My, my dear Delilah I slit his throat with a knife
there was so much blood on the floor you got
a mop and tried to clean it up before the blood
was running down to the next level.
But I run away before there was a knock on
the door I couldn't take anymore I feel sick
when I see so much blood, forgive me, dear Delilah
for you got twenty years in the goal.

The legs

Sitting in shorts. on the terrace, I bought ten years ago
I try to get a tan hiding them from the devastation of time.
Several vessels in the bay, I wonder what kept me sailing
long after the romance had gone.
I liked going ashore to meet people from life, not mine
it was fascinating to see what was an important ritual  
for them and why.
The in-between time, called the deep sea, was often long, not
being talkative, I spent my time reading in my cabin.
Hundreds of books were read over time, some the good
others were a waste of time…almost.
Books were my escape from tedium; I made notes
of words to use later but somehow lost them when leaving.
At the time, I relied on my memory of the unwritten.

Haiku
  The rose of yesterday
  Has lost allure
Since it was put in a vase

A cypress unwraps
When someone expires
Says the legend

A tulip sways in Dutch pasture
Before being cut
Wrapped in cellophane and sold

A princess and a lake

There is a green valley with a waterfall in the back
Ground, well you get the picture, it also had a castle
Where the princess cried and cried, because
The prince had an affair with the scullery maid
She only stopped crying when the maid was banned.
The princess's tears were not spilt a beautiful lake
Strewn with rose petals and full of dreams.
It was free for all to fish, but you were stuck with
The dream you caught.
A variety of dreams, sweet, sour, unmentionable
Vanity dreams and everything in between.
Dreams have consequences; mine was to meet
A scullery maid and when I did, we had to leave
This happy valley.

Crabby morning

He looked down into the toilet bowl
had shat and flushed, 80-year-old **** going to waste
down a drain and into the sea.
70 years ago when he lived on a farm human and
Animal waste was used as a fertiliser the waste had
been useful potatoes grew big as did cabbages.
He had read the Chines collected stuff dried it and
Made it into powder and sold for strawberry farmers.
He had a shower and shaved, used proper blades
no electric shaver for him, he hadn't drunk coffee
yet and was cranky.

Getting old



Reading the papers this morning
was a sad affair, so many of the famous stars of yesteryear
had succumbed to old age.

They were as I´m in their eighties and I felt their death
as a sting in my heart, soon it will be my time to go
I accept this, but will not sink into depression.

Of everything that has happened in my life I feel no guilt
hindsight is a waste of time, my lack of success is a bonus
I have no laurel to rest on and can do as I please.

What is noticeable is my lack of understanding
of a language that has changed it is more lose now and
that is good, but it takes some effort.

The river of words I bathed in, flows slower now it is
a struggle to find the right expression, I feel as I´m
learning to swim in colder water.

Living in Portugal as I do is fine they are gentler here
and has patience when I struggle for words in shops
I have to resort to poetic expressions.

They smile broadly and think what a funny old man
I don´t mind, my wife leans heavily on her crutch,
and she gets first in line. We try to look decrepit.

At the end of this month, I need a new driving license
I have spring in my steps, luckily my eyesight is good
and the heart and diabetes go unmentioned.

Remember the emperor

In Japan, especially in Tokyo, people are a strange mix of efficiency.
Young people are adolescents until they are forty living in an aspic
of western pop culture that does not exist anymore; when their parents die
they either grow up or become recluses unable to cope with the world.
The older generation did well and there are many of them like shingles
in the emperor’s driveway.
Japan had a meltdown 12 years ago which was good for the country
people have less haste and go to karaoke cafes once a week singing
a sentimental song about lonely cowboys.
I was in Nagasaki once, just as Nippon was rising on the financial firmament
but got too close to the sun.
I was amazed how quickly the scars of the nuclear had physically healed
but mentally, there must be a corner in their psyche
that can´t forget and will find revenge one day in the land of the rising sun.

Plant Power

When I die, my body shall not be ashes and
strewn upon the sea, it’s polluted enough as it is.
No, dig it six foot deep under my almond tree,
let it absorb my flesh.  

If it turns out that have I a soul too, I bequeath
it to the tree as well, it will then be more careful
in whose path it casts pink & white flowers on
cold winters days

Long-legged ruminant

So, you think a camel is an ugly animal
with kissable lips and the eyes of
Marilyn Monroe, and yield low-fat milk
I bet you didn’t know this.
When four wheels stop in the sand of Sahara
the camel with padded feet trudges along
The beast smelled like hell, but who cares
when it brings to an oasis.
Sweet dates, cold water and languor under
palm trees, a dream come true
It was the trusted camel who found the way.
Have you ever tasted camel cheese?

The Casket
I saw a coffin the church
Didn't see the body
The casket was bare
No flowers
They are wasted on the dead
I have no religion
For me, death holds no sting
It is merely the end of life.

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.

Everlasting war
The new normal in the twentieth century is war
it has continued without a break a perpetual machine
of mass killing, someone somewhere must see
war as a business in which every country has a ****** hand.
Politicians, the handmaiden for manufacturers
of weaponry claim, they only sell the weapon for peaceful
means this as bombs fall in Yemen.
The Afghan war against the Taliban has lasted 17 years
and will not end before all foreign troops leave,
but the war continues, and the poppy fields bloom.
Many smaller countries in UN see, it cynically, as a training
ground for officers and they know well
the Taliban cannot be defeated on the battlefield that
have no lines of combat against the Peshawar people
who fights for freedom, but we chose not to see this.
On an island in a ****** river they count not corpses but the money they make.

Some summer night


The summer night is hot you can see the flames of hell,
acrid smoke and soot through the open window.
In the interior of the house, a primal scream
two wriggling bodies try to produce an offspring who
will grow up and be like them and die like them?
But not before it has tasted love, a seed of humanity.
Then sinking back underground, spent, forgotten
in the mass-grave of boredom
decorated with flowers that radiate deaths to come.
The Tasmanian tiger howls to the moon and forever
vanishes into an ancient forest,
While werewolves’ sways to a Mexican dirge

The War Poets

The First World War wasn't a world war but
a war of dominance in Europe chiefly by the Franc, British and Germany.
World War 2 included most country it was a nasty war
millions of people died, but strangely this war is partly forgotten.
It changed the map and brought forward Israel, which became a torn
for lasting peace in the Middle East.
But the war brought us great American writers like Theodore Dreiser,
Ezra Pound (poet)Ernst Hemingway and many others great writers.
The savagery of that world didn't include so many poets as
the dispute in Europe also called a world war did,
the reason we remember it so well is thanks to Wilfred Owens and
his intimate friend Frederic Sassoon who ploughed deep furrows
in our mind and did away with flowering poetry, gritty realism
was and still is what poets should strive for.

The victim

I was in my fifties when women found me desirable
and I became a victim of their lust.
The wife of a friend of mine came in as I came out
of the bathroom starkers.
I'm a moral person, but this was a situation unavoidable
so we ended up in bed until she fainted.
Women talk, I got a call from a woman who had a swimming pool
in the back yard, I drove there, but she wanted more
and more she got until she exhausted fell asleep.
I drove home, and my old girlfriend was outside my house
she was drunk, wanted more wine, I gave it to her, and she demanded
***, happily she fell asleep when she awoke she thought
we had had ***, she had a shower and wanted white wine
before driving home kissing me warmly asked me if she was
good in bed reassured her she was the best.
It was as my *** life had reached a crescendo, a heart surgery
stabilized my emotional life, I should have taken the women
to court, I had only wanted to be friendly
and they used my goodness to their vantage, but it is too late
but I can complain to ME TOO movement

the crying


Silent tears fill eyes
From a well deep inside
Regrets.
A life lived but not fulfilled.
Silent tears fill eyes
Love not received
Love not given.
Silent tears fill eyes
The sound of a plane afar
Will it ever land.
Silent tears fill eyes
If not dreams
Will fade and flowers wizen.
On the steps a child
Looked towards the morning sun
Her heart was full
Of love and future.
A bomb falls when it stops
The child will be no more.
Silent tears for the cruelty
That kills children.