The great change
I have a mask made of plestic glass covers the whole
face to avoid touching my face, of the type dogs, were
not to scratch their ears.
Surgical gloves are must when going to the shop, there
is nowhere else to go.
I don’t think the virus is going away this year or next
we have to ignore it and walk in the park.
Go to the beach swim a little and sit in the warm sand
drinking a beer and hotly kiss a girl.
Either that or sit naked on the terrace waving my **** around
no that it will scare anyone, **** and *** into the town.
I can sing “they are coming to take me away” until the police
knock down the door and take me away.
A smooth cell and no ****** mask “are you feeling better.”
Aa white-coated man asks, they now I’m diabetic and prone
to an angry outburst, but he has a needle for that.
Once there was a law not hiding your face in public, now
It is the other way around.
Many things have changed the padre stand in an empty
Church, there is not an altar boy to ******, he lifts
up his cassock and ******* in front of the statue of Christ.

It is a plant’s life.

Up in the continuous night, I saw a streak of light
a dying comet’s last hurrah.
Bedroom in darkness couldn’t sleep too much death
for one night.
Got up and read a book about plants speaking
to each other.
Warning, “heavy-footed human coming your way.”
“Duck, a lawnmower is going amok.”
Amputated roses and tulips chafes in a vase kept
alive for a few days, admire the agony of flowers.
Carrots scream when pulled up from the soil,
good for your health the dietician says.
Everything we do hurts someone, especially plants
except a few that can poison you.
Is my dentist a gardener of my teeth?

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.

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.

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.

Forever lovey


The mannequin in the dark corner
of the shop shows bathing suits a la 1948.
She is beautiful in her own eyes
and made of Jade.
Dust on lips who cares?
Not a sultry type shows little interest in flirtation.
When the shop closes and she is alone
She secretly smiles and is forever 1948.

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.

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 disgrace

So, it is coming to an end
and the lesson that will not be learned is this:
the occupied people will not love the occupier.
The army of the Kabul government is melting away
the soldiers know. they will even if they won
a battle or two, lose, the Taliban are the people
Of the Pashtun are as strong as hemp.
The west has to live with the knowledge of having lost and work out what can be done.
The women might be the biggest losers
if the Taliban rulers, chose to follow their strict interpretation of the religion,
one hopes not.
So many ruined countries come to mind
Everything the west touches in the east is degraded
to dust, death and rusty weaponry.

A horse
                       My faithful fjording
Go into toy stable the day is over
The little boy will come and stroke your neck.
When a boy is a man he will
Sit on the cart, but not load
It too heavily
And when you and he plough the field
He will give you rest
A slice of bread or an apple
If the cart is full
After shopping in the village
He will get off and help you pull.
When the day comes
When you are too old
He will set you free on a field of green grass.
He will visit you often
You will be glad and try to jump on ancient legs.
The day will come when you can't get up
He will kneel beside you and give you rest.
And when it is over
Man and horse alone
The man will cry for no one to see.
You will become a star and shine on the man
Who made you happy.

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.

Defeat
There are times one must admit to being crushed
By life itself, I moved back to my old house
Far from the crowd only to find it was
Overwhelming me, the house is built on a rocky slant
So every floor is on a different level, which I found
Charming but now I fall over them.
I had this romantic idea I could do some repair work
But I haven’t got the strength.
With a heavy heart, I have put the house up for sale
And move back to Cascais.
I have done my best turning what was a stable into a dwelling
It looks eccentric and but suitable for one who
Seeks solitude he/she will find tons of it here.
If I can’t find a buyer I will let it rot dreaming it own dreams
We had a good run but everything comes to an end.

Bosporus


Bosporus 1956, the old tanker where I was a galley boy
had anchored waited for orders to proceed into the black sea.
A rowing boat came alongside they were selling fez
the latest fad among us ******.
They also sold sweet liqueurs which I drank, got drunk and sick
for the first time in my life; I was 15teen.
In the old days, you had to grow up fast and learn to howl with the dogs.
The winter weather was sunny I was awed by the Byzantine mystic
like a fairytale story. I bought the fez.
The last time I was in Istanbul -30 years later- on a ship where I was a cook.
my fall from officer grade had been painful and political.
in Istanbul going back to the ship I was followed by a back of dogs begging for food raided the galley
they knew I was a generous cook

An Experiment
Yesterday evening I tried to be a vegetarian
Ate a soya chop and the stomach rumbled all night
In protest.
In the morning a pressing evacuation, too much
For the toilet flusher, I had to take out my gift to
Flowers and trees
Using a plastic bag and gloves.
Today I will eat, fried sausage with onion
And mashed potatoes
The vegan food didn’t suit my stomach

The no ending story

  I have tried to tell a story of a rat that fell from the ceiling
  it landed among drinkers in a café I ran,
  never had I seen a café emptying of people in two seconds
  flat; the rat escaped too.  
  I also want to talk about the woman who had been sober
for ten years, a safe hand in soothing drunken men.
I also wanted to talk about the eccentric drinking law
allowing me to sell beer between five and ten o’clock
but the customers had to eat first. usually, a sandwich
after that, they could drink as much as they wanted.
I will tell you about the rat plague when they pull down
The old abattoir, but I will leave it for now since I can’t
get the beginning right, I dislike, rats they are vermin
and I can hear one eating ink in the wastebasket.

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.

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?

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?

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.

Heavy Rain

After Christmas, the angels have a bath,
they also have a bath in the summer.
There are more angels now than before the rules for getting in are relaxed.
It is no longer about being a Christian, but about leading a good life
helping others and so on.
Even Moslems are welcome.
It is no longer needed to have an angelic smile. look cherubic and asexual,
golden locks and a fairytale attitude to life.  
Heaven is getting a bit crowded, thus, when they all have a shower
it rains for days and causes flooding.

Senryu

Endless summer heat
In January when cars won’t start
I’ll dream of summer.

One by one
Rose petals fall like old dreams
Heartache is your name.

Whirling dust
On summer empty lane
Melancholy.

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 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 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,

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.

Chimbote Peru

I was a pilot on a transport plane when
it landed in Chimbote I worked for a small air transport
company “Vanilla Air” who accepted med despite
I wore glasses when waiting for cargo back to Rio
walked around the town. At a café, I met a well-rounded woman  
and sparks flew between us, she, Sophia was the widow
of train master who had accidentally been run over by his own train,
The pension she got from the state was paltry.
at the hotel, she told me her dream was to go to America and
I confessed my wish to write like Hemingway.
We had a few lovely days together, but then the company rang
the cargo was ready to be shipped to Rio.
The co-pilot had disappeared, and I had to navigate and fly solo,
the plane was old and overloaded it took long to get high enough
to fly over the Andes. (Douglas 47type of aircraft)
In Rio I had a few beers and thought of Sophie, a love story was
over there no sequel.

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.

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

Friday  Rain.

The café facing the busy street has big windows
I see umbrellas walking by, some of them stop,
fold wings, shake water off backs and enter.
I remember my childhood in black and grey when
umbrellas were stygian; and a lady
umbrella was a bit smaller, yet imp-like,
had frilly silk borders, but was sable too.            
Rain shades are of all colures now.
                      cheerful a sharp breeze, they turn inside out and that’s ok;
                     it is the festive hues against
the inundation I like.

The warming planet

In the heat of summers
it was nice to bathe in the river
ten minutes from the houses.
A great place to cool off
Not crowded by tourists.
Cigano boys bronzed
And physically perfect
Diving from the branches
Of the generous oak.
Of the warming of the planet
I know little, only this
The river is dry as early as May
been so, for five years.
But old people, tell me
It has happened before.
The river, near the houses
Were dry for years
In the fifties.

The best weather

After a cold, dehydrated winter spring was declared
It made its entrance with torrential rain and thunder,
And so the bad weather has continues
In a way, it is not bad weather the land was parched
And the water level in dams dangerously low
For us people of the land, we know it is unpleasant but we
Also, know without rain the summer sun would burn
Everything to cinders, which would give temporary happiness
For the tourists but leave the country in ruin

The Bashful writer

He had been into a bookshop a few weeks ago
had asked the manager if he could place his books there,
yes, that was ok just bring me the books the manager said.
When he had asked the shop was empty, now it was full
of people and he was too shy and nervous, waited outside
for the shop to be empty.
He was a man of little self-confidence perhaps his work
was not good enough to be sold, he had been refused
so often when sending a manuscript through the net.
In a café, he had a glass of red wine to lessen his anxiety,
it helped, but the bookshop was closed for lunch when
he came back, he had lunch came back but the shop
decided it didn't want more English written work,
“Come back in January,” the shopkeeper said.
He took the bus home knowing well he would not come
back for more humiliations.

The absence

He was trapped on a carousel
that went around and around, never stopping.
For him, every day was a new day
he had lost the ability to remember yesterday.
A woman, who said she was his wife
gave him coffee and breakfast and which made him happy.
Every day he watched the same movie and it was for him
a new movie he must have seen hundreds of times.
There was a family meeting, his wife was so old and tired
he had to go to another home, this distressed him greatly.
In the afternoon he sat in a room with many elderly people
watching a movie, his brain told him he had never seen.
In a clear moment, a light was switched on, it dawned on him
this was not his home.
He cried then, before sinking back to his absence

the loss of Nene


Forever is an awesome word we use without
realize the implication of the verb.
A friend of mine is dead.
I will not see him again in my lifetime I say this
to avoid saying forever.
Summer and winter will pass
snow-topped mountains will remain, but my friend
will eternally be dead.
Ashes in an urn are lightweight
and has little to do with the man I knew.
He is an abstraction
like the dust in the road,
to say goodbye is useless
he is beyond the known.

is everything ****


The petrol prices in Portugal are now so high
the highest European for me to drive from Cascais to Algarve
makes me six hours, (before two) I save on petrol but waste time.
Behind me, angry drivers in BML´s waving their fists who want to overtake
only so they can turn sharp right for a coffee at the nearest café.
Too much coffee makes people nervous.
China has a housing problem, while in Britain, they have a supply problem
Britain has not enough petrol drivers to supply the forecourts
In San Francisco bay, 72 ships are waiting to unload the precious cargo
mainly full of Christmas banality, no capacity they say.
Is the USA becoming a third world country?
The north pole is melting the sea level rises, but never mind that
we want out Christmas and petrol.
In Las Palmas, volcanic eruption lava streams going into the sea
that is for future generations to figure out.
All I want is an electric scooter I bought in China.

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.

Maggots
  
If ******* *****
From millions of seafarers
Over a hundred years.
Think of this floating loneliness
had met up and formed
An Island.
And up from its depth
Sprung the unborn
Like larvae
Whose only contact
With mothers
Depended
On what the ******
was dreaming at the time.
Not a new Atlantis emerging
But an island
Of tedium
And tired desire.
Not on a chart
To see its existence
So, be careful when dreaming.

Race riot



In an English town a young black man
was arrested in his home and taken to the police cell,
something about the young man who had been involved
in a brawl.
In the morning he was released without charge.
He was not his jolly self, coming home, his mother said.
He went to bed early fell asleep the slumber
continued forever.
The police got the blame, and perhaps he was beaten,
a neighbour woman said, he had bruises all over his body
as usual, when people tell lies, she talked too much.
The black community came out stood outside the police station
shouting about police brutality.
Violence arose.
There was talk of compensation for the mother´s loss.
I have a dislike of uniforms, but in this case, I believed the police
They had nothing to do with the young man´s death
The newspaper published a picture of him
He looked rather bland and ill.
I know what the verdict will be he had a weak heart and died in his sleep.
But this is not what the people will accept; the riot will go on
until the authorities, for the sake of order, pay his mother some money
and soon, the young, black man is forgotten.

Serious now

A man knocked on my door
He was collecting laughter
Mournful he was when living
Empty handed.

from a day

Remember there a good time when we thought “Reader's digest.
Was high literature, the teller of the truth?
When I was propagandist luring us with fine words
in lies.
When we got older we learned and these days even the Guardian
follows a political policy skirting the truth.
There are the lie and the truth, but convention stops us from telling
anyone how it was.
I wrote a story of sea life and young men the story was met
pith d deadly silence because I used the language of a time gone
when a ***** was not a ***-worker.
People feel offended when met with untarnished truth,
write about the green sea and not of mass- ****** of old people
in Sweden.
An editor wrote me a long letter of refusal when to simple
words like “******* “would be better and less insulting.
But that is the way it is better to be kind than truthful.

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.

The Dolphin
He sat on the terrace thinking of his four children
their mother was a dolphin who lived in a pool behind the houses.
She begged me to set her free, I did and saw her swim away
jumping of joy
Her children were obese full of blubber, and had small arms and feet.
When we went on my boat fishing, they, when catching fish
ate them raw.
When old enough, my children joined their mother had settled
near the Azores, where the sea was mild.
I was on a ship passing the island when they swam alongside and waved.
The transformation was total. They had flippers.
The captain asked, “do you know them?
Yes, I said they are my children.
You are mad, he said, yes that is the price to pay for loving
a dolphin.

Summer evening  
The day is gone
Darkness is moving in
My day
Correcting poem
Writing new ones is over
Time for TV.
I have read the news
Not uplifting
Seeing Trump
The elected dictator
Triumphant boasts.
Why are the Americans
So stupid
Can he not see
He s shyster
Dragging you into
A new war
Marching happily
Into war for his benefit
Thousand of your soldiers
Die painfully
For his honour

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

Biography

I have tried to make a biography of myself
I managed three pages and found my life was so boring
it was not worth the effort.
I began fantasizing I had been a general in the foreign legion
worked in central Africa as in security agent
finding out of people who wanted a free country and not influenced
by Franc's interest in the region.
Unfortunate people were thrown into jail and some of them executed.
I helped France installing presidents who took bribes
and followed the will of the French.
Later on, Paris, I got information that someone was trying
to assassinate the De Gaulle, they were disgruntled officer that had
fled Algeria when France gave it independence, by doing so
was to make the region a Francophone sphere.
As an agent, I reported this the crazy generals went through with it
and an attempt on De Gaulle´s life followed.
Of course, the plot was thwarted and the guilty shot.
I got bad conscience about my work left the legion and got a job as a cook in the merchant navy, and that is nothing to write about.

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 love impossible

The cafe was full, a young woman
was looking for a table, I told her to sit at mine,
she did, she was Irish and, yes, had green eyes
and I fell instantly in love.
We exchanged phone numbers I rang her the next day
her phone was disconnected, she never rang me.
I was devastated felt as fate had robbed me taken my true love away, and the five children we
would have had. ( had given them names)
if I remember right, she wore a sheepskin coat and an emerald ring, and I wonder if she still has the ring?

Down the dumps

Fog everywhere, walking on a mass of corpses
sludge of rotting flesh, sinks deeper into arms and legs
embracing me like I should be one of them.
Swam ashore in the lake of loss, soup of death
banks of bones.
A woman in white helped me up; she too
a haze and disappeared.
Totter in a desert of nothingness, heard footsteps
death wanted me to return to the lagoon of
reconstructed dreams.
Heart pounding, but there, the horizon’s dawn
the sun of life warmed my face if only briefly.
The sky rained the blood of the evicted.
Drops of rubies, in each one, the nucleus of me
lies and delusion engraved.

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 disgrace

She lives in a shack
five children,
the sum of five broken promises.
A TV station
gives her a bag of food
and a washing machine.
To help people in need is a duty,
but poverty as entertainment
                       is ****
                      to make us feel good about ourselves.