Egypt Galore
I was in Alexandra once
It was unpleasant
People stopped me asked
For cigarettes.
They were standing to close
Crowding me.
Asked if I was a Christian
Sniggered.
I found a bar that sold beer
But from every window
They, the rabble
Was watching me
Making unkind comments.
When the crowed thinned out
I left
Some of them asking me about
Swedish women, they lusted for
*** with willing women with short skirts.
I was followed by their foul breath
Until I reached the gate
Of the docks.
I was frisked by the guards
they stole my money and
cigarettes.

the pharma
We must say one thing clear the pandemic is running us
we try to reduce its influence by wanting people sitting in weeks in and weeks out
sooner or later, we have to be let out
and since we by sitting in we have no defensive are like the Indian meeting the flu
for the first time, and many more people succumb to this pest.
The vaccine has a field day.
The vaccine might help as long get an ejection twice a year a gift packed
For the pharma- an industry we have been addicted to yet another vaccine telling
we need
Pill taking and injections are the norm we a walking medicine cabinet
but they want us to live - dead people no medicine take-since death has been banished
we live in a fog of legal poison.

A new society

Is Brexit more than Brexit
a dream of going back in time
when everything had a human dimension?
To physically eradicate the royalty
to take back thousands of acres stolen
by the aristocracy.
Leaving the cities as a bird sanctuary
go back to the land, a homestead with
a cow and a few chickens.
Living a sub-existence hunting boars
in the evening light; rivers teeming with fish.
Small shops selling the basic foodstuff
and a cobbler to repair shoes.
Poverty and freedom in the land of the proud
and begin the new dawn of equality.

Follow the rules

The old man sat in his high walled garden
he had been a traitor to his country not
a stern quisling but enough to be shunned
by the people of this town who had hailed
him a  great writer.
His exile was self- enacted he still believed
he was correct his right winged policies
essential for his countries future, but he had
no one’s ear, so he wrote about the seasons
his garden was big and fauns danced
at twilight.
He heard the radio Europe was changing
people were tired of predictable democracy
liberalism, vapid as morning mist, leaders
were far removed from the people, freedom
had become borderless  tyranny a **** that
could not stop the flood of hatred of those
who were made to follow the rules?
Perhaps his time had come the people would
listen to him now.

The Psychiatric Patient

Driving home from the shops I do not walk around anymore
I noticed despite the winter is holding us like victimized Palestinians,
a thaw, the flowers and **** by the wayside looked more *****
like they were ready to let their ****** hood go - ok I know about
the ****** bees, my friend the eminent poet, is deeply concerned.
Clive, used to be a psychiatric nurse and always strive to be normal
lest you think he had had been a patient.
The beginning of spring is here new life is coming so despite Trump
the man, who escaped the asylum, we will prevail.

Strange summer

This has been a curious summer
few insects around and the bees have disappeared too.
It didn't use to be like this I had nets in all window
I could have saved the money this year.
Not that I'm fond of insects, but it is frightening should
they disappear altogether.
There is a small beehive in the backyard the hive
it is still there but looks like a poorly built house drying
out and pieces are falling off and is empty.
Without insect here I include the pesky dipterous there
will be no spring and no harvest.
I blame the Chemicals used on the land, and inside houses
it is poison; we must stop this attack, stop using chemical
and accept a smaller but healthy harvest.

To travel light

I wish some shoes regulated
Themselves a and a suit always clean
(a film was made) also, underwear that
Didn’t need to be changed
How easy it will have been to travel.
A tiny holdall for shaving cream blades
Moreover, a toothbrush; come to think of it
No need to shave when travelling and
The toothbrush could be stuck in the suits
Breast pocket, hands-free taking pictures
Of wild elephants or polar bears.
Free to have your belonging riffled through
By a uniformed officer.
Travel in a plane have my polluted name
Written in the sky, drink a whisky-on the rocks
Also, trying to relax, aware your wife is
Travelling with five big suitcases.

a slip of a girl

Her body is enticing
Like a bud not yet a flower
Unashamedly in the shortest of short
Clinging to her plummy ***
Dance into my cafe.
Soon she will be a beautiful
Woman bursting with poise
She will get much attention
Some unwanted
Then one day she will
Fall into a man
A flower in his lapel
She doesn’t know that this
Her adolescence  
Will be the best days of her life

A dreaming journeys
  
  A leaf floats down a river
It never made a decision
“where are you going doc?
Back to the future?
No, I have been there now
We are going to the future.
From afar the leaf hear
a woman sings
“Let me call you, darling.”
What an idiot I’ve been.
What’s left is the ocean.

The night I died
I was not asleep, this was not a nightmare
my eyes were open as I struggled to wake up
from the deep hole of sleep.
I had sunk into a sinkhole of sleep
that could only end in unconsciousness drifting into death
helpless as an autumnal leaf falling off an oak.
With all my might with every fibre of my aged body
I heaved myself to the surface.
I landed on the wooden floor
tried to get my breathing under control
My wife came running, asked what happened?
Nothing dear, nothing at all.
I was looking for a coin that fell out of my pocket
when *******.
My head was still fuzzy by unwanted sleep.
I had died, but it was untimely
my heroic leap out of bed had saved me.

The Inland Algarve

The landscape so oddly shaped
Had once been a domestic landscape
Walking along narrow cart-wheel
Tracks I often come across the remnant
Of dwellings that once had housed
Poverty-stricken people who had
Ploughed small and reluctant fields
Olive trees had grown wild and tall
Bearing bitter fruit.
Sone walls had no purpose sinking
Back to earth becoming rocks again.
A haunted landscape in the inland
Algarve and no one saw it doomed
Beauty.
Rabbits and boars dominated in peace
And sheep grazed in the glooming.
Stillness yet I sensed voices that once
Had loved and lived struggling
Against poverty and early death.

The murderous Garden
  My childhood's garden looked wonderful
this early summer, full of flowers trees and bushes
barefoot I walked into this wonder.
Then something happened the grass grew taller, tall as me;
they blocked my view tried to
Tie up my feet and pushed me towards a thorny bush.
I tried to run that was impossible, but somehow
and slowly got out of the wilderness while stalked
by a Bengali tiger.
Mother opened a window told me it was dinner
I had to hurry up; she didn't have all day.
Finally, I reached the door, safety, looked back
the garden stood there looking innocent, but I knew better
and never played there anymore

Banana trees

Most of the jungles of Sumatra are uprooted
to plant banana trees the orangutans have been made homeless.
They try to sit in the banana trees, but it is too brittle for the animals
besides, they don´t care for this type of fruit, which gives them the runs.
It reminds me of Lisbon the Portuguese are proud of.
Moneyed people are coming from abroad to settle in the city,
a wonderful place to live.
The poor cannot afford the high rent when flats are modernized
to suit newcomers.
The unfortunates are pushed out to find a shack, if they are lucky
or failing that, live in tents;
many tents, in parks and sideroads while waiting to be housed.
There are many pretty banana trees in Lisbon, but they are expensive.
It has always been like this, the poor and the uncommunicative
must take the brunt when a town goes upmarket.

Distant country


The flat was on the third floor, flights of wooden stairs
deep groves from generations of people going up and down
in the living room, I sat down, had been away too long.
The autumn wind blew, the house swayed and creaked
like an old schooner meeting the Atlantic swells.

The room was simple, a few pictures and an Amateur
painting of a rowboat in a fiord, a boathouse and blue sky
afar the silhouette of a mountain range, the painting was
ominous by its deadness; got up went down the same stairs
I entered; the past and those I knew had gone.

The Muir

As a child living on a farm during the war
had a pond on peatland, the pond’s water
was fenny and dark.
Slow swimming trout that tasted of mud
Swam, near the surface of the pond.
My friend and I built a boat with sails,
It sunk, I clung to the mast, Peter swam
didn’t make it, screamed before being
dragged under by something atrocious.
The adults came running, they didn’t find
Peter, the pond had endless silt, lukewarm
infinite, its foundation in the maelstrom
of conflicting horrors.

High Tech
In the Silicon Valley the sit the tsars of high tech
producing stuff, you didn't know you needed
They know the Armageddon is coming but try
not to stop it, as it will obstruct their profit.
When the world resources are depleted and
nuclear war beckons, they are too busy to find
a secure place to survive the upcoming wars.
With all their intelligence combined, they see
not the indefinite human mind, their survival
will be a vast nothingness

Rolf, the talking machine

There are moments in life when you meet someone
you take an instant dislike to who endlessly talk about
things they don't know if you tell them something
they don't hear what you say, just waiting for their
a chance to rambles on.
He has the sort of face exuding stupidity and is inviting
you to punch him flat and jump on him.
You know what I mean a person who speaks without
thinking what is coming out of his mouth, unstoppable he his
I think he talks in his sleep.
Tomorrow he will be leaving, and I will not be charged
of ******.

The Russians are coming

Skiers complain it is too cold, most of them are from the cold country
is the frost in China different than say, Scandinavia?
A newspaper gleefully telling us there fewer spectators this time
then in the Olympic last time, I think this tittle-tattle has to do with
infantile reports looking to throw some **** China’s way.
The war that didn’t happen and are not going to cover the front
pages of Europe, one senses they are willing a war against Russia.
Crimea was not annexed by Russia, there was a vote in favour
of being a part of that country, which is natural since most people
living in Crimea are Russians; this is a no brainer.
I so do dislike I. Phones; bills are sent to the phone nothing on paper
my phone is blocked because I let the battery run flat
Now they ask for my code to open the ****** phone who in
their does right mind remember a code?
Meanwhile, the sporting people continue to chase gold in Pequin.

reborn
I have answered the most questions
and what I know is only the truth and love prevail.
When I set sail across the ocean of time
will you remember me with love in your heart?
Grieving is waste of time.
I like you to smile and laugh again.
I don’t know if the voyage will be long or short
since time is endless, I need your love
to sustain me through choppy water.
When the great spirit of the universe asks
what did you do in your lifetime?
I can only answer truly, I did my best and am flawed
but my honesty made me lose many friends.
The ruler said you are a good egg.
Did it mean I will be a duck?

not what you think



as the ship was docked or hidden instead in a small bay
if mother had she known refused to see me go on board
. Along it railing a group of scowling men passing the time by spitting into the water.
In the galley, I met the cook who knew the rudimentary of cooking he was cleaning dirt from under his fingernails using a fish knife — a giant of a man few dared to cross him, a friend for life.
With a crew of murderous ruffians and a million cockroaches
I had to live, yet we wore bandana of grey, and they had as I the pallid skin of poverty no soap can wash away,
in a way I felt a kinship with them and I was accepted.
When the ship birthed in Genoa, I noticed some of
the lads smelling of perfume, the cook told me they were
going to meet older men, who gave them dinner,
a little money and shiny objects, it took me a bit before
I too understood. Not to forget the evil twins who went to
Public loo to beat up gays, the cook would not let them come
Near the galley, they boasted of having put a gay man ‘s head
Down a toilet full of **** and they didn't let go before the man
Stopped resisting. But homosexuality raised its ugly head
a *** was patted someone told the captain and the ****
was arrested and thrown into an empty cabin, in the morning
he was not there, and the captain who was judge and jury said he drowned.

What’s the time?

The dictator is obsessed with time
he has thousands of wrist-watches and wall clocks
showing the time in different time zones.
At noon, he checks the time zones if it is ten o’clock
Somewhere else, he adjusts his star-studded Rolex
In his mind, he has gained two extra hours.
The time is a must for the dictator, he is getting old
and fear the breath of the dead and the power.
He spends too much time alone, only seeing people
on the screen, political helpers consist of faces
Suspicious by nature, he tries to read if the faces
are treacherous trying to unseat him he needs total
loyalty to feel secure, he knows he is right they are
plotting against by fighting his war timidly yet know
if he falls, they will perish too.

Hunger and roses

I have not spoken of Brexit find it trivial
False pride and old people thinking of was time
When they said, saved the world single handily
The arrogance of superiority is unavoidable.

The pampas are full of horses on yellow/green grass
If I were a horse, I would miss the forest.

Rowes of people wait outside a foodbank often
Overtired nurses who can’t feed their families
Skeleton looking pensioners hope for corn flakes
The experimental economy benefits the rich.

The Occupiers

Outside, the only road in my village
a horde of carts pulled by skinny horses full of furniture and children
demanded access.
Our great grandfathers built this house we have
the right of return.
I contemplated giving them the shed but knowing they would
demand a larger part of the house, thought it best to resist
my thought of being kind.
The people outside were of Roman ancestry and had lived
in this area for hundreds of years and had been harassed wherever they went
It was time to take back the village and the right to defend ourselves
I rang the police, fifty officers came and disbursed the crowd
and a guard post erected at the entrance.
I normally have a liberal heart, but in this case, I had no empathy
by those who tried to make me homeless

Antique village

Houses around me are emptying the old, reaching the age of dying.
A timeworn man went missing on Monday, was found miles away,
the local constabulary drove him back home.
He had tried to flee, didn’t to where he had no money.
Behind closed doors in dark rooms, he tries to stave off the fated.
Sunlight unbearable reminds him of the sunrises he will not see.
When a car stops outside his house, he trembles in fear, is a hearse
coming for him?
Voices of children are like the scorn of his elderliness, he longs for peace
but fears death’s endless cruelty.

Posted by the blog Friends of Palestine

Officers and Gentlemen

I think this was the name of the movie I saw a romantic love story
of an officer aspirant and his girlfriend who worked in a factory.
When he passed his exam, he walked into the factory claiming
his trophy.
It was ever so romantic, brought tears to many eyes, it raised
a social class issue here, the movie was made before the woke
mentality and Me-Too took hold.
His friend who also studied to become an officer had a girlfriend
whose dream was marrying an officer.
He was not that keen to be one, broke off the study and told her
they could get married now buy a house and have kids
A sulk walked across the girl’s face, and her dream was crushed
She didn´t love him, but the illusion.
She refused to marry a mere civilian.
Devasted, he understood she had not loved him, her words
of love was fantasy walking down the high-street, arm in arm
With an officer.
The young man felt betrayed and lied to boked into a hotel
got a room and, later that day hung himself.

My Days

I’m trying to remember every day of my life
Even before I stopped believing in religion
And Santa Claus I have to start from the bottom
And work my way up.
It is a herculean task, so many days are hazy
I have to break through this fog to see
Decisions I took and understood why.
My insecurities have to be examined as
My tendency to volcanic anger and out way
And how my personality immerged to what
I’m today.
I want my days to be crystal clear like
An uncut diamond polished by time.
To do this, I must be ruthless and don’t find
Excuses and omission to be totally honest
May not be possible, but I will try.

Cop26

To Glasgow, they came the high, mighty and the good
tarmacs full of private planes.
They all agreed we have to rescue the world
But first, we have to sell oil and coal
We can´t rely on windmills alone it is cold up north
Norway is set to have zero emissions in a few years.
Norway will still export oil; they have to have an income.
Brazil will stop logging the forest but not right now
Perhaps in 2150 or sixty at a stretch 70.
I was not there at the meeting, but it appears no one
spoke of the benefit of trains reliable prized.
As it is train tickets – since trains are privatized;
cost more than taking a short-haul plane ticket.
I don´t believe that anything they said is possible,
That is because we live in a capitalist thought- sets
grows and income is more important than flooding
and the disappearance of smaller island states.
Nothing will change before we sit fishing for cod
At the slopes of Himalaya.

Unsentimental

Overcast this Saturday the clouds are light grey
letting in light on the dark water.
Only one ship anchored in a bay this morning
It is high in the water, waiting for a birth to fill
the cargo holds with stuff from one port to another.
The ship has a black funnel with two red rings
she is elderly and needs a lick of paint, probably
from my time in the merchant navy.
I was not a good sailor, was impatient to reach a port
any port would do, as long as I got ashore
away from the floating gossiping village, freedom!
Settled in my old age, I see the futility of sea life.

Meeting friends

I am not a nice person I have little time
for meaningless natters and tend to be grumpy
and often I can be rude, and I'm not too fond of pomposity.
I{m unfailingly friendly with people who have fallen
on a hard time, there is a musician who came to Portugal he had
A job playing the guitar at a restaurant than the pandemic struck
and musicians were the first to go.
He prefers to eat outside well aware people think he is a *****.
He has like me have travelled much, and we have a lot to talk about
I would not dream of giving money it would be offensive.
My other new-found friend is a man who looks like a retired diplomat
he had been to Sweden and Norway and was critical how Norway
had become too reliant on oil at the expense of other industries
such as shipping, fishery and farming
He asked me one day for twenty cents I gave him 50 cents.
No, he said I only need twenty to buy lactose-free milk.
He is slightly eccentric but very learned.
In the street where I live there are many new; rich people and
as such, snobbish and often intolerable beings.
But I have two friends, and it makes it interesting leaving the house
even if it is for a short time during the day.

Would be hero

He is fraud writes about going to the bar
drinking wine and beer, he must have read Hemingway
and tries to give the impression of a hard-drinking man
when he only drinks water and occasionally a soft drink,
talks about juice steaks when he mostly eats a bowl of soup,
he is pathetic likes to think of himself as a tough guy,
tells of lions and crocodiles which he has only seen
on a nature program on the TV.
He is deluded, sits on his training bike cycle for ten minutes
convince himself he has been on the bike for an hour
and tells everyone one about it, the fact is he is a solitary man
who mostly sits alone dreaming of great deeds, of the type
he has read other people do, perhaps the writer of the books
he has read are sitting by a computer and like himself telling lies.

The race for life

Once I was a spore trying to reach the ovaries
I ran fast (must have been athletic) and won the race
to be a living breathing human.
Had the spore lost it would not make, any difference
for a spore.
As it is, I have seen the sunrise over the Pacific Ocean
mountains high and rabbits in the woods never loved
by a woman, nor the glorious hurt of rejection
The softness of her skin, the colour of her eyes
When I swam in the lake of enchantment and walked
near the waterfall where lovers cry.
All this because I was lucky, the victor of a race where
millions of spores

Lovers End

Love is doomed to an early death, forever tinged
with sadness; even ardent lovers sense it can't last.
Ah, the mythical illusion no one in the world loved
so deeply as us. Entwined, yes so heavenly I was your
body and your body was me. Sensuous we smiled
I saw my image in your face drown in the miasma of love.
The cooling of ardour was not for us, but we could
not stop time. Grey sky, why must delight die?
The ship has left the anchorage and the sea is endless.

She has two cats
She goes to the shops every day
Buy them a tin each

I know her game,
And excuse getting out of the house
I go to the shop too

But I have no cats
I look at the expensive wine
Buy the cheap one.

Lucky moggy lady
You don’t hear they complaining
Too many cans.

dance like no other

Ghana had declared independence from the tyranny of British rule, and much was at stake.
As the building of a dam project, gold and diamonds.
The Russians had been trying to use the situation to their advantage; something had to be done.
The English queen flew to Ghana and met the new president.
In the evening, he asked her up to dance, and they were a perfect match.
In his strong muscular body, she melted and became
A warm, willing woman.
A waltz of gods.
When coming back to Britain, her husband, prince Philip got a surprise
and nine-month later, a new prince called Andrew was born.
Alas, he was a spoilt prince but was protected by his mother
she had her memories.
Andrew is now a neglected prince who, middle-aged and fat,
roams the castle but is for now protected.
It was a pity the fire in her ***** could only produce an utter failure.

broken mirror

The ship has gone sailed without me,
alone in a hotel room
I sweat and try to stop my hands
from trembling; where are
all my friends that drank with me in the bar.

They fired me threw me ashore
the *******;
dignified
Walking down the gangway,
Cheap suitcase
******* in the air hiding
My tears
I have to leave this room,
must walk tall, I’m tough
that right, butut first
I need a little drink or two

The Autopsy

This is a good day cold but with sunshine
and hard soil which with a mechanical digger
is easy to open for a newly dead
When a patient dies, he/she is sent down
to the doctor in the basement who do the autopsy
he speaks into a mike takes pictures writes a report.
The doctor in question is obese, smoke cigarettes
when on his breaks, is straight out of a crime novel
written by Mike Spillane
This is a good day with sunlight and hard soil but
there will be no funeral today.

What fame can do

Parked outside the local supermarket I saw a Rolls Royce
I straighten my shoulder and walked in with dignity.
The staff looked tense like an Imam had visited a church sermon.
Then I saw him, a tall elegant man deeply tanned, I can´t say black
anymore, but my wife comes from Kinshasa.
He walked around the shop looking at things unnerving us,
finally, he bought an apple, ate it on his way to the rolls,
Threw the apple core away entered (open-topped)
And drove away.
The staff was relieved, told me he was a famous actor,
It is not every day such an elevated personality visited our shop.

The modest businessman

There was a man who opened up an elegant shop
selling beautiful Italian shoes but few people came.
Why don't people come to my shop,
Did he ask?
You have to advertise your shop in the papers or
print leaflets and hand them around,
What about words of mouth, he asked?
That will only reach your family, they can't go on
buying shoes especially since they prefer clogs.
Crushed that people didn't want to buy his shoes
he fell into a deep depression when the bank foreclosed
he hanged himself, and I’ve been wondering
who took over his collection of excellent Italian shoes?

Minimum wage

The olive trees in the landscape
near the village,
Have working-class trunks
and no illusion
Of becoming middle-class trees.
They refuse to grow
in a plant- nursery and be tampered with
by botanists.
They do not envy tall palm trees.
Good luck to those who see the world
through an elevated height.
Good soil and water the plebian olive tree wants
it has deep roots and will not fall
in a storm.

The phone conversation
Late in the evening, my daughter brought me an apparat
that made it possible to talk to the dead.
The first on the line was an electrician complaining
I hadn’t paid him; sure, how could I pay you when
You died before I had money ready?
You could have bought flowers and visited the funeral.
You are right I could but omitted to do so
Because I had no money and it was raining that day.
You could use an umbrella. I haven’t got one,
No self-respecting ****** will be seen alive with one.
Besides I was on a ship near the Azores when you died.
This man always complaining, static noise and other
Voices disturbed the talk.
I thought some people never stop moaning however
Long they have been dead.

People and horses

The Newmarket was the oldest market in town
farmers came here selling potatoes and other greenery
Their women-folk sold thick, long underwear
winter can be cold when the North-west blows.
Horse manure was quickly scooped up the town’s housewives
good for the rosebushes.
Horse **** gave off a fragrance of time gone by.
Time changed, first slowly farmers had trucks
sold orange, tomatoes and exotic fruits never heard of before
and one day the horses to had gone.
Everybody was busy not time for a wee dram and a chat.
It was the horses that made the market pretty
oddly enough the iron ring on the railing is still here
Waiting for the warm breath of the workhorses.

The royal sport

A racehorse died
it had given more
then its heart could endure.
Many racehorses die
every year
the difference with this horse
its trainer
sat on the dead horse
and smiled.
But horses like racing,
true but at its own pace
not made to run faster than it can
But the British are animal lovers
unquestionable,
but they love betting more.
Racing horses
is a commodity
if they can´t take the pace and win
the abattoir
is the final stop

A Country destroyed

And all nations
Want their fair share.
France
Britain
USA
Israel
Norway
Poland
Want their lucre.
That is why
Kaddafi
Was handed over
To the murderous thugs
Of Bengasi
Who killed him?
And now we have ISIS.
Could it be the oil?

It could be true

I often wonder if there is a secret plot.
If the virus was human-made to reduce the number
of people living in poverty, and the old?
The minorities who live in inadequate cold housing have
high risk of catching the pest.
How can the poor keep the distance when living?
In tiny flats they cannot move, a lousy diet makes them vulnerable.
They die in record-high numbers.
It was like smearing the virus in liquid for on doors
and wait.
But the hidden elite was surprised who quickly the virus spread.
It affected their own, even a prime minister,
But he was known for having a loose moral and probably
Got it from a scullery maid, in his circle of toffs it is normal
Sleeping with a maid.
When a sufficient number had died of the vaccine was introduced
They had held back for many months it is free, and we are thankful.
And think not of revolution.

The mist makes you see far.

Driving home, it was late after a clinic visit
the mist hung heavy over the valley that looked like a different landscape.
I might as well drive in Bhutan, a place where mad royals live.
At the dinner table, the prince excused himself, returned with a machine gun
and shot them all, a truly Shakespearian moment.
The prince was declared mentally unfit sent to a secure place
but since he was now a king, he can walk around and be free of relatives, sits in the throne-room
wears a crown and nothing can be done about it.
The French got rid of their royals but not totally some of them still walk around calling themselves
duke or baron, but politicians occupy their splendid castles.
I saw them, the royals of yore moving about in the mist, reminded me
of the ghosts on the island of Saragossa where blind old tars are forever trying to escape back to
the sea where they once were the princelings of the oceans.

Icarus

I have been so fascinated by Icarus my dream was to fly closer to
the sun than man or god dared.
I had the good fortune of meeting a mad scientist at a wine tasting
contest, where our capacity for the wine was appreciated.
He had a type of wax that could withstand intense heat.
I did not hesitate to order a pair of wings.
I flew higher than any god had done before, but the heat
was so intense the wax began to melt.
Like a rocket, I dived back to earth hoping to meet water.
Splashed down into the Barents ocean.
My body, now covered in wax kept me afloat and tolerably warm
till some Russian fishermen picked me up.
They kept me warm and snug till I sat there in my boiler suit
gave me a warm coat taking me into Vladivostok if I remember rightly.
Pravda, the Russian newspaper, got hold of my exploit and printed
my story on the first page, but who reads Pravda?
The local TV also interviewed me, but who looks at Russian TV?
I´m a hero in Russia but ignored by the rest of the world,
this happens when politics get in the way of a heroic deed.

Hemingway and I
I don't want to reinvent myself, I would, however,
like to go back to the days before domestic demands
I had to work hard to support a family of children
not mine, sometimes I sat in the garage looked at the car,
wondered if I should run away.
Once, my mates and I climbed tree I told them I should
be a writer; now that I'm old I have a chance, but too
much innocence has run into silt,
I will never be a Heming way of letters.

The visit

My mother and went to visit her uncle and his family
they lived in the outskirt of the town what we thought of as posh
we took the bus.
Mother’s uncle was a foreman at an abattoir, therefore middle-class
in his wife’s eye.
When he came home from work his family, had two children
They had dinner in the kitchen, we sat in the living room
mother was given a cup of coffee I got a glass of milk.
When dinner was over her uncle came into the living room
I thought his hands were dripping with blood,
I think he gave her some money when his wife did the dishes.
We left, I was feeling angry without knowing why in the hall,
I said, have you got cats, no, his wife said? Odd I can smell cat ****.
Outside mother, scolded me for being so rude, but she smiled.
I never saw her uncle again nor his snobbish wife.
They never visited us, we lived on the wrong side of the town.

pride

The water in the bay is deadly calm
Diamond encrusted angles mirror themselves
God is asleep if he knew he would frown
Upon such frivolity.
Yesterday I fainted blood sugar level too low
Banged my head on the mahogany table
Two men from the red cross came helped me up
Gave me an injection; oddly, I struggle
to keep the sugar in the blood from being too high
and suddenly it is too high.
Today I sit on the balcony admiring the sea view
Nursing my wounded pride.

across the seas


the Pacific Ocean was like an undulating mirror
that day the ship was on its way to Nagasaki
which for the young crew onboard meant nothing
it is incredible how quickly a war is forgotten.
Under the ocean, there were hundreds of sunken ships
there must have been much suffering and deaths
and many books were written on how successful America
had been beating the enemy into submission.
Nagasaki was like building site the Phoenix was rising
up from the ashes shinier than before.
I came across a neglected Portuguese Cemetery of mostly
young men who had succumbed to pestilence long
before Japan became a modern state
the only visible place that told of deaths the rest was
face masks because of building dust and beer.
I looked at the faces in the street this was not an oppressed
people, the war was behind them they looked at the future.