Warped tree, kinked man

Today, I will not argue with Walter on Facebook or Twitter.
I was reading poems from my last collection and was surprised
to find an internal rhythm.
To my horror, I find Walter has unfriended me my friendly thoughts
burned into insignificance.
When I had a motorbike, I often visited the crooked tree
I said:” you look better today, my friend.”
The roots of the tree curled in bashfulness.
At the entrance of the village, an old olive tree they came with an axe
wanted to cut it down, replace it with a signpost.
I protested, so did the other villagers.
The tree is perhaps 500 years old, and we are not
brutish settlers.
But someday, people with no sense of beauty will axe it.

Identity

What a strange word
It exists for those with longings
for the mystical past.

The world has many cultures
it is easy to get lost
in the wilderness called identity

without, one is a cloud in the sky
varies according to the weather.
Wouldn't that be wonderful
to belong to no one but oneself.

The acting lark
Since I was not going to be a George Ramsay of cooking
I decided to become an actor, paid my money and went
to the relevant studio, which situated in an old building
in Liverpool.
Up a rickety floor that had a lift conductor for a reason
that escaped me since he stood the and I had to press
the button for the third floor.
The hallway into the centre of learning was lined with
former actors I didn´t know.
The lessons began.
My teacher was a beautiful woman with a magnificent voice
she taught me to speak clearer, louder and confidently.
When the theatre in Chester needed an actor in minor, I applied
but was turned down.
I didn´t mind as I had lost interest in this artform pretending
to be someone else.
My next step was to learn public speaking, this I failed since
there were more than five people in the room, and I fainted.

The gentle precipitation

I was not aware it had been raining all night

it fell so silently and still did, the gentleness

of all things precious, the intense beauty of

of an earth and plants soaking up the gift

and not splashing the rain down making furrows

and rivers full of debris. Mind it had been a strange night

When I woke up during the night I walked

Like an athlete to the loo, and thought is God telling

me something letting me have a happy day

before switching off the light. Even though it was night

I decided to make it a morning than I fell

asleep with the sun on my face and it was ten

in the morning and I could still walk like an athlete.

The Consequence of Occupation

For all the time you have killed my children,
They know when they grow up they will
Come and slay yours,
Mine have lost the ability to feel empathy.
And you will cry, as I did, swear vengeance
And kiss your bland flag.
We've in common our mutual hatred
A bond of blood that is longer lasting
Than mere love.

India

This beautiful country is in the gripe of the pandemic.
Pyre after pyre burns in the night.
Ash and ashes fill the mourners settle on their clothes
and death is inhaled.
The people of this ancient land are stoic because
they know that there is no death, only a continuation
of life.
No politician can break the pact the Indian people have
with the past and future; and wordless Gandhi the great
river flows into a new beginning.

Sleepless again
It was a night without sleep
I had seen the movie “The Jacal.”
Twenty years ago
Ripping stuff!
Then I went to bed and saw the movies again.
Scene after scene
So young, the actors were.
I liked the inspector the best, he with a bushy moustache.
Not so happy about the ending
Of all the police on duty, he asked the right one?
The general could have been hit, say, in the foot.
Couldn’t get the movies out of my head
Had to breakfast at six o’clock.
From now on, JB Fletcher will do; it is predictable.

Too much sun

it has been a hot day the sun
is an enemy spying at me
through cracks in the curtains.

The sun has given me melanoma
Twice and now it tries again
To lure me outdoor.

Not this time Gonzales, I have
Learned my lesson, but  my warnings
Go unnoticed.

Sporting a deep tan is in today
The deeper, the better, melanoma
Waits to strike.

Sleepless in Cascais

It was a strange night
Couldn’t sleep thoughts and images
Kept churning around and I was
Horrifyingly awake.
This is pointless, got up and drank
Several glasses of water, my brain
Was talking to me and I had no answer.
To distract myself I watched TV, till
Four in the morning slept like a baby
Until noon, the past is a bleak territory.

The USA election

Election fraud
Is running through my mind
august newspapers say there might have been
irregularity but not enough to make any difference
of the election outcome
Trump lost.
A little thieving is ok as long as it´s not a big heist.
Some dirt remains, more people voted for Trump,
in this election than in 2016.
It is all for the best a beast fell by the wayside.
And we say good riddance.
We have got Joe Biden now, and he is unsullied.
And he will usher in changes, or perhaps not!

Unseen danger

He was fifty- five living alone in a cottage
but how is it possible to explain how he came to fall in love
with a woman of forty and lose his dignity.
We must take a break trying to understand the human heart
or the circumstances of wished for the repellent.
He was a ship navigating without a gyro-compass
in the sea of deceit, this foolish dance of a human borboleta.
When he kissed her, his whole soul was absorbed by her like falling into a cave of endless pleasure.
His anchor got lost in the outer seas.
Suddenly it was over like a dream that ends at frostbitten dawn
a locked door, there was some else in her embrace.
Rejected, he pleaded with the unseemly nativity, had she relented
enrolment would never be the same.
He took his dog and drove up north had wanted to see
the autumn colours.
After a week, he drove home and began his life like starting
all over again, walks in the woods of sanity.

Visiting her mother

The cemetery was white, flowers and light.
Her mother's coffin was in glass-covered hole in the wall
there were plastic flowers and a dusty picture
Of her mother, before she got old; my wife opened
the door, she is the key carrier in the family and dusted
the coffin, but also placed fresh cut flower
in an empty vase; it was such a beautiful and thought
I wouldn't mind dying here when time was right, to this
my inner voice sarcastically said: is there ever a right time?

A better time

We bought a Christmas tree it has snow on
and is a very green tree, greener than the real ones
like those in the forest lit up by trivial stars and
waiting for snow.
With our new tree, you switch on a button and there will be light.
There was a time my father went into the forest and chopped a tree
and took it home on his bike.
The forest was near before now it is miles away.
Tiny candles placed on the outer branches we had to keep an eye on them.
It was a busy night for the fire- department.
Our tree took fire, my father threw it out of the wind
it landed root first and continued to burn to look festive on a dark night.
My little tree on the table in the living room looks pathetic
But will do on a time of the pandemic.

The end of a friendship

I sat in the kitchen of the flat mother had left me,
trying to write a poem, when heard my former friend
coming up the stairs, I had locked the kitchen door
didn´t want them in or talk to them anymore.
They knocked on the door, let us in Joe, we know
you are in there, I didn´t answer.
When the knock stopped, they stood in the communal
hallway, cursing me, calling me **** and much more.
Once I had been one of them drifting through life
that has no purpose other than sitting in cafes drinking beer
wasting time with idle talk.
The kitchen was my den, my interest was writing.
I had lost my train of thoughts and switched on the TV,
It was in black and white, turned the sound off watched
people on a stage being funny and people laughing
with the sound off, it looked ridiculous.
I fell asleep but woke up early, in the Nord the night
is short in spring.
I made a cheese sandwich, drank coffee, grateful that  
I was not like my former friends.

Big rats in Copenhagen

The biggest supermarket in the world tons of wasted food
rats grew so big they couldn’t live in sewers but nestled
in the tall grass or built tunnels.
Something had to be done, rats didn’t hesitate to attack
toddlers in a pram; cats stayed at home sleeping
on the sofa, knowing they were no match against this enemy.
In this world of spoilt consumers, a banana had to be bright yellow
not a speck of marks on the fruit, lettuces had to look harvested
an hour ago, and the onion had to look new.
What to do with this new plague?
A bright person suggested giving excess food to the poor
and to the old on low pension.
After some economic indecision, the poor also to buy food
the supermarket relented and gave the wasted food away.
It was successful rats shrunk in size went back to the sewers cats came out.
People didn’t realize poverty were the poor as usual
was not seen.

Lack of women

The plateau of Alentejo has a rich fertile soil but few women
most of them studied and became unemployed lawyers in Lisbon,
something had to be done. And a busload of women came in the hope
of finding a wealthy farmer.
They were in their forties but tried to look 35 with heavy makeup
it was pathetic, pale, sweaty faces the sun is intense under the immense
blue sky exposing a life lived inside nightclubs.
The women had the task to do the mucking out. put new straw
for the sheep and milk them.
For many t was too much, they took the bus back to their civilization
as they knew it.
I didn't see the end of the show the many ads took a long time
I got bored and flipped to another station.
But some women stuck it out they thrived, and who knows?
They might find their affluent farmer.

The mystery

The mystery of life is enduring
what is its purpose?
A couple having *** on grandfather´s sofa
while he is out milking his two cows.
The consequences of this brief union
was far from the couple´s mind.
So, I ask again, what is life´s purpose?
Was there a plan behind it?
Winning the toughed race and be born?
Or was it only a happendash?
Something a spur of the moment encounter
Was the newborn destined to become great?
And leave behind the immensity of the human mind
So, the individual could understand its meaning
“what was it all for, Alfie?”
The devil had a good day bringing forth another loser
doomed to the lowest rung of the ladder
and bring the idiot´s genes further down the abyss.

The eagle

High, the eagle flew up to the blue sky
The majesty of all it could survey.
Oh, beautiful bird enemies are everywhere
It was mistaken for a drone
Shot down and ****** feathers drifted down to earth.
Should you on your walk see a quill?
Has most likely belonged to the eagle that
Flew too high, and forgot about man’s evil ways,
Pick up the plume and mourn.

The war
The war in Ukraine is getting serious
but could easily be avoided.
Russia cannot tolerate a NATO close to its border
the USA, understand this
When the Russians had missiles in Cuba (1962)
the USA thought it was too close and demanded
their removal.
As it is we are witnessing is Ukraine at war
egged on by Europe who is such dunderheads
risking a bigger nuclear war.
We are sacrificing the Ukrainian people
for our hubris

The Wish

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

To know and not know.

Red moss, crimson blood of a slaughtered calf
I knew seen it before but could not recall
where and when.
Like seeing a landscape painting in a valley
of cobblers where children ran barefoot on
summer grass and scents of wildflowers.
Unpasteurized milk had laughter in the breeze
I know this to be true but do not know why.
I think of raindeers, will they eat red moss
used as they are of the grey variety?
The sun keeps shining like a Spanish orange
so full of juice ready to burst.
The good earth is dry waits for rain, plenty
the red moss is forgotten as a love affair
if I sit still enough, perhaps I will remember

Adam & Eve

If a koala bear had been sitting in the apple tree
and Eve had asked Adam to move the animal
to the appropriate tree so it could feed and sleep
there would be no need for religion and snakes
would have no poison.

It was Eve when she had her period, which got
the idea to cover her distress with a palm leaf,
Adam liked the design and the garment industry
was born, but it was Eve who wore and made
the first hat to protect her hair from the sun.

The long Tanka

If all was lucid
If God was not a mystery
If life lacked meaning
If life was pure reasoning
If life was empty of dreams
If the sky had no birds
If rainbows were grey
If love was a chemical reply
If so, wouldn’t it be hell?

Alexander Graham Bell

It was fine, quiet winter´s day I listened to distant noise,
dogs bark -you can´t avoid this in the Algarve-
smoke from chimneys straight up before disbursing and disappearing.
A few clouds drift about looking like wedding dresses of the unmarried,
The sun is a golden coin captain hook would **** to obtain.
I smell grilled sardine, and a cat on a fence is watching me.
I sternly tell myself to go for a walk before it gets too cold
But blithely ignore the inner voice.
As I drift on a slothful cumulus, my phone rings
I answer the voice says, sorry, the wrong number.

A letter of love
He is old, ten years ago he was old also
if lesser in years.
She is his niece, but love is like rain
falls where it pleases.
The Rain in Spain has nothing to do with this
as rain has nothing to do with love.
He wrote a poem about her long hair and sleek body
her dark brown eyes as well.
She cast her head angrily; what can he do a helpless mute.
It was not his intention to do anything about his love for her
dictated for his love for her.
Her indignity she was ashamed her uncle had had improper thought
he wrote the poem out of love.
She doesn’t ring anymore, the infatuation was abstract,
not meant to come to fruition that is not reprehensible.
Love has its rhythm like the ocean’s waves.

the psychiatrist

I saw him on the you-tube he was elegant and forceful
and worth listening too although I found his views unbending
and he brokered no opposition.
His view on marriage was ideal but totally impractical
did he not know that women often instigate divorce because
to twerp or a wife beater.
I wonder if he is married to his wife to prove a point, it could be
his wife agrees.
A stern father raised him, and that made his success full.
Well, I was raised by a mother who thought me about literature.
His reason that women go for nursing is that they are caring, this balderdash,
the reason we have few female architect and engineers is that
this road to success has hitherto been closed to them.
His lectures are aimed at the educated middle/class and only them.
He looked a fine man dressed in an expensive suit and wore
shiny brown cowboy boots.
His vanity shone through he looked like a can man by referring
to what weighty medical journals had said on the subject.
I have met his type on the internet by conmen telling me on the web of a new cure for diabetes.

the blank screen

So here on a blank screen is the enemy
It has to be defeated filled with words so the blank
The screen can’t haunt me in the night.

I saw a vet program of a horse that was 3o years old
It couldn’t pull a cart any more, unproductive
Grazing and doing nothing, it also had kidney problems
Otherwise, it was beautiful.

A vet was called to put the horse down the vet thought
The horse looked fine, but it is useless the owner said
Put it down; a couple of injection later it was done.

Perhaps it was a good thing dying painlessly, we put
Older people in homes where they slowly die of boredom.

A troubled life


Her life has become
an agony of anxiety,
of death.
Her brother died
she thinks the knuckled hand
is touch her shoulder
is coming nearer.
Her shoulder twitches
she wills painfulness.
Another appointment
to a doctor
or a hospital
they cannot help her.
She has days
when overactive
she buying a car,
a Mercedes
she can not drive
a hip surgery saw to that  
next day she is in pain
walking too long
her day is spent in bed.
He plans his escape
but has he got the faculty
to do so?

Oil and the conceit

I remember a country called Norway
it was not a rich country, but it was socially fair
and had employment for most people and those
who were not employed had a benefit
that kept them afloat until a job came along.
Then oil came along it was a curse the biggest
merchant fleet in the world was flagged out.
The social cohesion tore the rich became richer
the poor left behind in the wake of the disappearing
A fleet of ships. And slowly almost unseen
the NHS service was replaced with private hospitals
and worst of all the people became arrogant
tried to stop migrants they wanted the wealth for
themselves and didn't see the country was falling
into chasm self-importance, it was not a becoming
sight, luckily, a bit late in the day, people understand
what they have lost, and there are forces who
tries to rein in excess and bring the ship into the right course

The time glass

The morning takes a longer time awakening
the sun is hesitant hides in the east before showing its might.
The wind is blowing low at the entrance
it tires me out breathing becomes laborious.
I made dinner myself my wife has gone to the hospital to see
if her brother is well enough to live with us, if not we have
to send him to a place for those chronically ill.
I remember when my mother was no longer able to cope
we sent her to a home, she hated it, and in despair stopped eating.
We thought we were doing good, but we only did what was expedient for us.
I regret this she could live longer at her own home with
with a helper coming in once a day, my mother was not that
helpless she could make her coffee in the morning
and boil an egg, it was her untidiness people reacted against
books and magazines were cluttering up the home.
She liked her self rolled cigarettes and brandy which offended
the righteous.
My sin was I should have spoken up but sided with the many
who thought what was best for her.

How not to fall in love

A turntable by the slow river banks
Playing the banal music of the day
We were in love yet like in a dream
This was not real life
A bubble of illusion we loved each
Other deeply.
Towards morning it got chilly we
Walked home and parted with a kiss
That held no promise other than being
A kiss on tired lips.
The rivers up north freeze over in winter
We had left the turntable on the bank.
I remember it well it was long ago
The illusion had stopped working; I love you
Had lost meaning words uttered in cold air
So we parted then but I remember her well.

wars we like

Do we like wars as long as it is at our doorstep
the Russians fought in Afghanistan and lost hands down
the USA took over this unwinnable war so far it has lasted
Twelve years with no end in sight.
The USA lost the Vietnam war, but Hollywood came
to the rescue made movies of brave soldiers whose every
bullets hit a target, yet they fled from the rooftop in Hanoi
it was a sickening sight.
In the meantime, the French are fighting a war against the rebellious
in central Africa to defend and give the presidency
to those who are most corrupt in the name of oil and precious
stones and metal.
The French keep their war entirely; it is not headline news.
Now, the battle is coming home its fought in our streets
there are no heroes here and no movie to make for now.

Breadcrumbs

When we were children, we used to go to the park
that had a small like and feed the duck. A trivial pursuit
a the park was for the benefit of the people
and the local authorities paid for its upkeep.
This couldn't go on everything has to have a purpose,
so it was bought by a private firm fenced in and a gate
it cost to feed the ducks.
I should know writing poetry which is trivial and few
publishers take me on, then my risk of losing money.
As few poets make money and have few readers
yet poetry is the few places left where one can express
thoughts not accepted elsewhere.
Success is judged by “best seller books”, they might be crap
but reflects the time we live in.
As for the ducks, they have mostly flown away to find
a less obnoxious place to get their breadcrumbs.

The end of an affair

a long maybe ten years relation with poem site
it has got a new editor who is critical of my work
finds it too brutal, left-wing and not sweet.
My work is being blocked out, and this is sad as there
is no point sending in poems that are no published?
Everything must come to, and end ends in death or
divorce, pity I have many friends there
and are used to send poetry a day.
Yes, my work is not for the faint heart it is about
a truth no one likes to hear.
I have though the content mattered
and it up to the reader to decide
So Farewell I will not be sending any work to
“Write out Loud”

the malefactor

I had a thieving dog
she stole eggs, one at the time
kept it in her mouth she wanted to give it to me.
I took the egg, just as the hen-lady came
screaming said the dog and I worked in tandem.
I gave the lady back her egg
she refused to take it, not surprising,
so I paid for the egg.
A dog doesn´t know human morality it has to be thought
to leave the neighbours thing alone.

Acting class
When I went to get the last vaccine
my wife came with me, alone I get into a muddle and lose my temper.
The people at the centre treated us like we were made of glass there was a long line of people
but we were ushered in first.
I´m not that helpless and can sit on a chair all by myself
except, I'm an actor at heart, act vague and befuddled and hesitant
when answering questions.
When leaving the guard, at the centre called us a taxi
and let us sit in the shade; when we came home, I jumped out of the taxi
I helped my wife out, my feet didn´t sub along the pavement.

Fishery


He is a fisherman from Guiana
doesn´t do Tonga, but the sea is blue.
His face is a map of America.
He fishes sharks (not Hemingway)
one of them took his arm.
Vengeance is mine, said the lord.
Crap !!! He says
and set red sail for China.

Man ****

In the charming town of Mertola
there was a painter, a pleasant little man
who painted flowers and tree and augmented
his living by teaching foreigner Portuguese.
A man came wanted to buy a painting, the painter
was glad to show him his work.
The man had evil in his heart and brutally ***** the painter
left his atelier and slammed the door shut.
The painter of a pleasant landscape, whose gentle heart
was now full of hatred.
He took an axe, followed the ******, who, when coming out of the bar,
was hacked to death by the *****.
The painter went to the police turning himself in.
The law, upon hearing his story, had deep sympathy for him.
He got 15 years but didn’t have to sit in prison, they gave him an ankle bracelet to stay at home.
His painting had a darker hue, there are untold dangers behind every tree,  
the flowers are venomous, and the sky is dark.
The art world being what it is, loved his work, now he is famous.

The vaccine is here

The day took a long time coming
the night persisted and only moved across the sea
heading for Northern Norway where the night
lasts for months.
The day was grey and in a bad mood showering
streets with rain making dead leaves slippery.
Every café, restaurants are closed, and the local
supermarket closes at one so, if you have not
bought food for Saturday and Sunday bully for you.
If people stay at home, it will reduce contagiousness
but the COVID-19 is not going away when
the lockdown is over it will, like the unseen wind,
go on the attack again.
Russia has a good vaccine as China has, but the big
pharma industries are against it, and they are more
powerful than a mere government.
For us, we just have to sit and wait.

Old dogs don’t like change

I once had a dog
But I had to go abroad
For a month.
She stayed at a luxury kennel
Got fed and groomed and
Given cuddle by the staff.
When I came to fetch her
She was overjoyed
After licking my face
She jumped into the car,
Home James.
She inspected every room
Nothing had changed.
We old people are the same
We are not impressed
By a roomy apartment
We like to live where we belong
Among cobwebs and
And old furniture.

The Foreigner

What does one do when your pension is small?
He lived in an industrial town in England not green and pleasant.
Rows of brick houses, a tiny front yard too narrow for a car.
He could not thrive here; going back to Sweden was out
too expensive he would need help from the state to hand him accommodation.
He settled in Portugal, a country he knew little about
low wages, and he could get by with his modest pension.
He bought a ruin, fixed it up, and had a home of his own.
He never learned the language, can go to a café, no need to speak.
He had planned to live out in his house, but elderliness and illness
stopped this dream.
He sold his house moved in with his partner,
she has a big flat
and he helps pay the bills.
Life is good, but when he closes his eyes, his thoughts go back
to his small house and a dog, he had.

Legal *******

  The young man had the ability to get an *******
on demand, but to do this he had no *** life, as he had to save
his ability, but went around with constant lust
At the drawing class for ladies, the door was locked to protect
their blushes as they tried to draw a **** body with a creation
A lady - in a trance- got up an touched the man's member,
once, twice, trice and he ******* all over her face, the hounds
of ******* broke down the door and ate the woman's head.
blood on the floor and an orgiastic copulation; on the You-Tube
it was viewed one million times.

Glorious Sweden

When the virus struck the virologist
put their faith in herd immunity six thousand
people died mostly those over sixty which
is a high number for a small country.
Sweden has been able to stabilize the number
of affected people but the virus is still there
regrouping ready to strike again,
This time it will target the younger generation
will fall victim of this deadly disease now
when winter comes, and nightclubs are
an alluring place.
The virologists have failed to see this virus
is not your common flu, that also is here to stay,
but we have a vaccine for this.
Now that all the elderly are dead we can say
Sweden is a young country but, alas, not a better one.
What do I know, perhaps this was intentional.

The vale of the rich

A strange place houses as big as castles tall forbidding walls
on top of broken glass in cement: gates that can withstand
armoured tanks.
Lush dale but no humming bees or bird song too much pesticide
for the sake of beauty, what’s left is graveyard peace.
I sat on my bike for an hour in the hope of seeing people, but no.
Each palace was like an islet cut off from the world outside,
here they need no one and no one needs them, splendid isolation
Like an asylum of the weary madness.
Just as I was to leave a hearse pulled up an iron gate, the gate
opened and let, well even rich people must die, prisoners of wealth.
I ought to take some of them outside, so they see a bit of real-life
before a hearse arrives.

No pilot
The ships in the bay of Cascais
Are waiting for a pilot to take them to port.
They have been there long
A strike by the dock workers take time
In the meantime, the ****** do a little work
Painting here and there but mostly
Sitting in the sun getting a tan.
The cook is worried he needs a supply of food
No more vegetable left except the canned stuff.
He has frozen meat, but not enough of it
Should the strike last.
He sighs and drinks another coffee

A happy place…for some

Under the houses on stilt
That had no sewers
And was built for ******
To service sailors in Curacao
A dry, barren Island
In the Caribbean sea.
Pigs lived under the houses
Grew big and ugly.
When one of them was
slaughtered
Its meat tastes of drunk
******'s ***** and
A cheap perfume that hides
The grotesque ***
In the name of need.

The *****

You came into my life the day I was marrying my dog
like a sandstorm out of the blue, it blinded me somehow
You came into my life, and the took second place
handled it well but loved me anyway till the day she died
And a new sandstorm blew me clean away.
I know to live in a place where the wind blows from the sea
sometimes I do think the salt spray in my face is tears
of regret that I should have married my dog.
And no matter whatever they say it had been the right thing
to do but love billowed in my face but despite this of all
you loved me all your life and had a place in my heart
No one can replace, a sandstorm in my face it is no excuse
I should have read you right, but now it is too late yet

The armless

Once I had a snack bar selling soft drinks and unhealthy food
long hours of total boredom and fattening.
I tried to get a drinking license, but a Christian party was
in power at that time, said no.
One Sunday morning, a young man without arms came in
he was drunk, his fly was open, wanted a beer but settled
for a coke with a straw; then he fell asleep.
He awoke and needed a ***. I helped him with this.
Later he told me he was going to Oslo to have artificial arms
fitted, I was glad for him.
I closed the snack bar for the rest of the day took the dog
for a walk, my problems were trifling compared with his.

The Mall
has got its own belltower
like modern church
for capitalism.
Hundreds of shops
selling the obvious
garish colours.
Many restaurants
serving a variety
of burgers and fattening food.
There is no art here
not much to see
if you don´t care
about
high heeled shoes
and burgers

The bird of omen
On the railing of the veranda
I sat a raven since I have never seen a white one
one can assume it was black.
It had yellow eyes but not from the Far East.
It flew into my living room walked like a sailor
on land leave into the bedroom.
Why does a sailor seek a bar, it is because
the hustle and bustle ashore makes him nervous
and beer is sold.
The raven eat a white mouse – my pet- saw how
the mouse struggled to get up but it died in a morass of stomach juices.
The raven came out nodded thank you and flew off
without a word of thank you.
I looked up to the sky saw small white clouds doing
their own things; to think I had thought
it was an omen,