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.

Long for the Ocean
  

   The old man sits as usual on the terrace overlooking
   the bay of Cascais, the weather is hazy to today take
   his reading glasses off, still cloudy but less so.
   Three ships anchored waiting for a pilot to navigate
   into Lisbon, Cascais has no harbour but a marina
   full yachts and sailboats belong to the wealthy, he went
   there once and was not impressed, too expensive
   for his pocket, ok, it is possible he felt a bit resentful.
  The old man sighs he spent 30 years in the navy
  and the oceans were his friends most of the time,

Poetry she read

At the inauguration of Joe Biden
It was a grey affair and the new president’s speech.
In an attempt to sound lyrical, other ways dull.
The capitol looked like a military camp the fear of Trump lingered.
A young girl read a poem it was sweet and pressed
The right buttons and it also helped she was black, which
Is the colour of our time.
The only time anyone read poems is on occasions like this.
I wish the young girl well; she has had exposure and will
After this, publish a book and be remembered as a great poet.

Enigma

The USA has Trump
and the whole world suffers under his tyranny.
But we must not forget he was elected
and will be elected again.
Does this half of America guilty too?
or are the people so uninformed and propagandized
they think Trump is excellent? (because he says so)
Many Jews say they dislike the leadership in Israel
but do nothing about to stop it,
or they will not survive as a country if they are not
cruel towards the Palestinians.
Macron of France is a tyrant, ignores peoples wishes
and only listens to bankers, the workers i
is not essential in his rarefied world, and we do accept
his immoral serpentinites.
The British ditched a social leader; now they have got
a man who works against their interest and given time
will bring this once great country to its knees.
Have they got a leader they deserve?

I have forgotten the name of.

My friend who knew things said it was because
the man wanted egg and bacon for breakfast preferable
of the fried kind.
It is annoying they have come to fix the internet and
I keep thinking of the painter's name especially of say
“Late night at the diner” How can I forget yes, I blame the internet?
it has made us lazy, just look it up don't bother to think.
I wonder if my friend still thinks the man in the song only wanted
breakfast?
Was it Edward Norton?

The ghost and a Child

I have a recurring dream I hadn´t been to my house for a long time, remember I had been happy
there with my little dog,
we used to walk in the woods, and when I was driving around in my motorbike, she was glad to see me returning.
I took a bus up, the driver didn´t ask me for money and being rather frugal. I was glad.
Outside the house, a little girl was playing, asked her If she liked living here?
Yes, she said, and I have a dog, she said.
The dog came. It was my dog; it didn´t recognize me growled when I called the dog's name.
Inside the house, a couple were arguing, she said, I hate this house. It gives me the creeps
She sat down where I sat, wriggled a bit (which I liked)
she got up, stroked the seat (which I enjoyed too) but, she was bothered and sat on another chair.
They didn´t see me, I thought they must be blind.
Outside, I asked the little girl if her parents were blind. No, she said, but they can´t see you because
you are a ghost only a child like me can see.

Destiny
The majesty of the vast ocean
denied.
If you are lucky, you might see
choppy water
in a summer lake.

Unlucky captain

He was captain in the army
but desired to become a general
so he volunteered to fight
in Afghanistan.
This was natural since came from
a military family connected
to the royal household.
He used to boast to the newspapers
that war was better than ***.
His vehicle was struck by a mine
and his dreams stopped.
Flags on half- mast church bells tolled
which they wouldn't have done
had he been a sergeant?
Even in death, the class shows its ugly face.
He or in this case, his family received
the highest  
honour and his son vowed to be a solder
to fight for his country.
No one saw the truth the captain
was in Afghanistan because it was good
for his future his promotion.

Sunny days

This is a beautiful warm day after a cold night
I chanced it and went for a walk to the woods
the track was now widened for cars.
The pace ended abruptly by an iron fence.
I could see no house, but someone had made
a statement – nolle me tangere.
I found another track the lead into the next village
but it was too overgrown, and without my dog
to lead the way, I gave up.
  I strolled across a field where sheep were busy eating
  All the red flowers, the scene looked like a painting
  I leave it up to you to guess who?
Saunter among olive tree; they are so old make me
look like a tenderfoot; my feet were back on the asphalt
Road, tired they were needed a rest, so, we strolled home.

A moment in time

I remember a hot summer night
unusual hot for a Nordic country
all windows were open.
My mother, brother and sister sat around a table
drinking coffee.
It was a glorious moment
my happiness was so intense I cried
I knew this moment would not be repeated.
My brother kidded me, I take so quickly to tears
but I could not tell him the why
Without them, I feel so utterly alone, and they died too early
there was no time for a farewell.
I live in a foreign country the past is a treasured memory.

The starving masses

We should welcome those who flee from
tyranny, **** and ****** with open arms
it is our human duty to do so.
We must accept Islam as a religion equal.
To ours and put the same restrictions on it regarding demonstrating their faith.
in public, worship should be done in synagogues
churches and mosques.
Our culture will not be threatened if we
respect and people of other colour and faiths,
we will instead expand our understanding, and it will enrich us greatly.

The soul of Christmas

Now that Hanukkah or Jul is upon us there talk about souls
floating about in listless bodies.
To believe that the soul is an entity a part of the body
is a fallacy the last bastions for the day-dreamers who think there is an afterlife?
The reluctance to accept death as an integral part of all life.
Graves are a gift to florists and those who steal flowers from graves
to make homes charming and festive.
So, what about the soul? does it disappear when Alzheimer comes knocking
one hopes the body will join the soul before memories are erased.

A character trait

She was divorced with one child a daughter
had met a man she liked going out for the first meal
the daughter was playing it up her mother tried
to calm her to no avail.
Her new friend lost his temper and shouted, whatever
his profession he was no a psychologist.
Deadly silence at the table, the man tried to say something nice,
but it was too late. They had chocolate pudding for dessert
which the daughter refused to eat.

Literature & *****

Poor Edgar his world was dark, laughter was
a gasp on dying lips. He mined the deepest
ravine where not even the summer sun reaches  
but he was able to, in a moment of clarity that
lit up his tunnel, to give us great literature,
a look into his world of horror.

There are other Edgars who walk in our streets
or sit in lonely rooms wearing a cape of despair,
their laughter too is a shriek of agony, a bitter
smile set in a pale face of utter defeat, for they
cannot articulate and share with us or turn them
suffering into readable literature.

The wild beast

On the savanna runs the spring-bock not easy to catch by lions,
but as it gets older and slower, it loses out and becomes a meal
for the predators.
A million years ago my ancestors hunted them too, the killer
instinct is in our blood.
Portugal remembers the past in Fado the sadness of time lost.
On a farm with brown and white milking cows, one of them
gives birth to a male calf, it is slaughtered after a fortnight
there is no point feeding it.
The male spring-bock is luckier it gets to copulate and run
free for many years.
We struggle to live long some people buy bikes in the hope
to live to a hundred and four, if sounds long it is not
only blink by a star.

The virus

This forenoon
is like a new summer day
people smile
behind mask.
their eyes sparkle
like the worst is over.
Superman,
not the movie one,
is in hospital.
the hope is, up from
the sickbed
the Phoenix will fly
on fluttering wings of peace.
failing this
we put our hopes
in prayer
that he might not suffer.

The killing of a nation



Women’s right is at a crossroad, the right to education

work for a corporation sitting at the table of decision making

that is useful for business but not unsafe for people.

They are conned we all have conned into

thinking this is the future.



The highest accolade a person can win is to give birth

to new life and bring them up to be sound

and kind member of the society, only a woman can do this

but many of them have forsaken what is important in life

New life.



Every woman in Europe should have five offspring

or the civilization we live in will die out.

Instead, we vilify single mothers for giving birth

we have to pay for we should put them on a pedestal 

for bringing life into the world.



Abortion is killing the nations of Europe, but we do not

understand the implications of this

We become a minority to a culture alien for us

Women who have done their heroic duty

are vigorous enough to run a nation.

Her birthday

We’re having lunch in the Cascais centre
at a posh restaurant with a sea view.
The price of the lunch was outrageous
steak with salad and chips, which she
could not eat because of her teeth
she did eat the French fries.
She had a glass of white wine I had water.
I had suggested we take a taxi, so I too
could have a glass of wine.
Nearby a luxury hotel, it was splendid
she had spent a fortnight there with her first
husband, 300 euros a night, and in case
you misunderstood it was the room price.
I was glad to drive back to our house.

Half a life
To be fifty was a difficult time
the youthful dreams didn't materialize
the road to Rome ended
on the factory floor or no promotion
to the board of decisions, and your words
went unheard.
You look behind you the furrow you had
wanted to leave, is none existing.
A deep sigh, time to get the pick-ax and
continues to break stones, pay taxes, bills
and watch TV. About the successful, those
the few lucky once who had the right
connections, free ride on your back to
the top of the pyramid.

Sand in your eyes

Full moon tonight, a supernova to sound educated
last time was in 1948 when the catastrophe hit the Palestine people.
I was twenty at the time and believed what the papers wrote.
Even the killing of Folke Bernadotte by a fanatical Jew was overlooked hadn´t they suffered enough,
the Hebrew people it was a relief the bothersome people left Europe, the whisperers said.
Where are your hands, Pontius Pilatus?
Now we have killings in Paris and minarets, Europe has a Muslim
problem and no one dance in the street anymore.

…And It Was Her Summer


“Go back to the children’s home, she said I have no work and
can’t afford to keep you” Late June afternoon she sat on a bench
with a man, I didn’t know. The man smiled I didn’t like him, but
took the coins he gave me to buy an ice –cream for; I was still
hanging about so mother got up and slapped me across the face.
” Get lost you, stupid boy!” My face was burning I threw the coins
into the lake and ran away. When I stopped running it was night
and I could see sheep in a field, I was tired and cold, thought of
seeking shelter in a little wooden church, but it smelt of fear and
I thought of ghosts, so I walked on till I came to a workman’s hut
near the road, it was easy to get in; here the smell was of coffee,
and kind men in overalls, perhaps one of them were my father?  
It was morning and warm sunlight when they came, they were not
angry, but gave me milk and bread and showed me the quickest
way to get home. The sky that day was enormous and from a hill
I looked down to the town, I could see the school building it must
have been early, no children in the yard; but I just sat there and
could not understand why my mother didn’t want to see me.

The Mist
Cascais was enveloped in a silky, grey fog last night
that reminded me of Marilyn Dietrich silk- stockings
she wore in an ad many years ago.
Ernest Hemingway and her were a great love story
not consumed.
Above the stockings, a nearly full moon shone, it
gave hope for the future, the lockdown will soon end
it will be ok, but not as before taking life for granted.

Dawn of man

Out of the night came the dawn a mild breeze
blow petal off a rhododendron, a magic carpet
on a whitewashed wall sunlight and shadow dance.
The dogs were still asleep, the **** had not crewed  
Quietness, except for an old man fearing his death
his solace is in the day.
A plane across the sky leaves behind tired dreams
of next year’s vacation.
Alfredo is up starting up his little tractor harvesting
carob beans before it get too hot; he used to have
a mule took a long time back then; the mules made
the landscape looks prettier.
I have been here a long time a tranquil bay far from the sea
leave to me soak up the peace before setting sail
for the timeless ocean.

Morning in the bay

This morning the water in the bay
is in a whispering mood, mellow and no temper
at crashing waves on the shore.
There is, near the water, a mysterious building that looks like
a luxurious old passenger liner without a motor
I'm told famous people live there, I don´t know
why they are famous, but I think they are of the type
which endlessly are interviewed on TV, talking about the obvious.
Or they are from families who can trace their ancestors
back to when Cascais was a fishing village.
I don´t think many actors live here they are too pedestrian
reducing the tone of inherited leisure.
Young people on the beach believe in eternal life
none of them wears masks, death is what happens to the old.

The Choice

I sat alone in my bunk
Waiting for the ship to reach the shore
Not for brevity

But stay docked for many days
So, I could enjoy the freedom from the ship
Down the gangplank, I walked singing
Halleluiah.

with a glass in hand and a girl in arms
I lived the life, till the captain said
You have to choose between
Ship or shore.

A ****** life was not for me
I walked ashore never looked back
Halleluiah.

I sat in a glade when the mermaid
Of the forest’s lake

She invited me to her pond
It was deep and blue
I said, no and walked my way
While singing Halleluiah.

Madness
Stood by the window, saw a man with a cane, walking
down the road, I waited for him to return waited all day long
till I was so hungry that I rushed into the kitchen
grabbed an apple and continued my vigil waiting for
the man with a cane to return. Darkness comes the road has
no light I had a flashlight to lit up part of the road  
should I hear some noise? Two in the morning I heard him
he looked startled in the flashlight, this was the moment when I knew
I was truly mad.

The dawn, after the rain had trumpet its force on the old roof tiles
it ceased to a soft drizzle harmless and tender.
Yes, I know I should get up at seven steeped as I´m a protestant work ethic.
Overcome by laziness, I slept for two hours more.
In my drowsiness, thought about how our freedom has been restricted by the internet,
our thought and secrets are no longer our property but shared by authorities that want
to know our innermost thoughts.
We are prisoners of an all-embracing society that will not tolerate thoughts
other than banal comments about a friend's birthday.
What we heralded as a great instrument for communication
is perverted and spied on by our leaders.
Free speech only exists for those who have nothing to say and accept living
in the land of the convention.
Nothing can be nobler if we demand our right
not to be censured
and called seditious because we will not be trapped
in the trivial acceptance of perceived lies.

The horror of the night

I had rented a room in the town of Puerto Lemon
in wonderful Costa Rica.
I was going to have an affair with stewardesses
but since the crew came from one of the ******
gossiping little coastal towns in Norway,
we had to be discreet.
From the darkness of the night and into the light
in the room, flew a wonderful insect.
It was made of gold and the size of a cockroach,
the unsightly insect that once had been human
but had committed a grave sin and in his anger
God had turned them shuddering ugly creatures.
Out of the cracks in the floorboard burly ants came
attacked and ate the golden beauty.
It only took a few minutes then they disappeared
back to their hiding places.
I awoke the woman who was fast asleep,
we walked back to the ship, she first, I took longer.
Needed a drink at the nearest bar to overcome
the horror I had witnessed.

The Gazelle

I met a Gazelle in Marseille
she was chewing on my jacket
I took it off to keep her warm.
She was hungry, gave her my jumper
not enough.
In Marseille I was naked
She had eaten my wallet also

Revenge of sort

The old ship has four cranes for loading
Also, unlading has anchored in
the bay
For four days.
It must be hot all portholes are open and the cook
Sweats in the galley it drips onto the dough
Moreover, into the food, cooks transpire a lot and it
Has to go somewhere.
They call him a fool but eat his sweat a sweet
Revenge a secret he keeps to himself.
The crew pick rust and paint a little but most
Of the time they sit in the mess hall waiting for
Something to eat.
Dinner is served, the cook wash pots and pan
Goes into his cabin lays down on the couch the one
Under the porthole, and sleeps till it is time
To prepare the evening meal.

The Roma

I can’t stop thinking of the Roma people
There are many of them in Algarve,
Horse and cart to the annoyance of car drivers.
Horse manure their only pollution.

When a bank goes belly up, you can’t sue them
For misusing your deposit.

When all aeroplanes have stopped flying and
Cars are rusting by the roadside, and there are no donkeys
To plough the fields, the Roma people will continue
Their journey towards the sunset.

The heroine

The neighbour on the other side of the narrow lane
was a ****** addict but had been “clean” for several months
and he had become a fun,  a learned man to converse with.
He was not in his house, but the tape was playing the same
song over and over again “don't tell on me…” I think.
It was dark outside I stood on the terrace and saw his shadow
at his door and knew he was dead.
His shadowy appearance shocked me I had seen a ghost,
went inside and said to my wife Victor is dead.
I saw his last thoughts. Nonsense,
she snorted you are frightening me he is out with his friends,
with “friends” she meant gays, yes Victor was gay in a small
a society that frowns upon homosexuality.
They found him dead he had succumbed to the craving
had taken an overdose of this devilish stuff.

Birthday Party

The day began to find a place for lunch which was difficult
most roads were closed due to a cycling tournament
We got out of this mess and ended up in the streets where the rich lived.
My wife was enthralled by the beautiful gardens in the district
I nodded but was not impressed, preferring real nature.
Finally, we stopped at a small inn, that was ever so posh,
just in time I was getting grumpy due to low blood sugar.
The meal was expensive but plentiful, and we took the rest home
for a feast when I would not need to drive and enjoy a glass of wine.
At home, I saw on Facebook, many had sent me gratulations which
is gratifying, and I love my absent friends.
Those who didn´t send, greeting especially the English,
I forgive
they do not like to show a display of affection.
The English are this way, is it was a good thing they left
the EU, are a people of great pride and still hankers
for the days when Great Britain was an Imperial power.
No, there was not a great party just my wife and me, that is ok
we are bound together by an emotional seal of loneliness.

Cloud


What can we say about a cloud
to say it is gloomy is patently wrong
you can say it is white, grey or black (dark)
but a cloud doesn't know it is a cloud
it is the few things in nature that are soulless
but not wholly so, it came from somewhere
it could be the residue of a **** expelled by
the cosmos, well, it has to happen you can´t hold
in a flatus forever if you try a disservice to
nature itself and your stomach.
Which tells us that nothing is quite a lot.

Old lady dead

The old woman had died had been
a friend of my wife long ago.
I had only seen her once when she
aid in Portuguese “he looks a bit old for you.”
I do understand the language but often
Pretend I don't understand, more comfortable that way
Save me from talking about useless things.
She had elected to be cremated it was cheaper
that way as she never liked spending money.
It took her a long time dying about a year her daughter
was irked she inherited the flat.
She, the daughter has moved into the flat
and has a great idea about the kitchen and
new, modern furniture.
Yet her death had upset me, in the night
I thought about worms and other insects,
cremation was a good thing for those who
didn't want to share their rotting flesh
with anyone.

Surprise

Woke up in the middle of the night
With an *******, thought of waking up
My wife, but before I could
It fell down to it a natural state like
A sausage roll on a railway counter
in Liverpool.

Homeward Thoughts

When I see the white jet stream of an air carrier
high up on the blue sky that wholly cloud,
like a grazing flock of sheep
I think of the country up North, I left so many years ago
was I right leaving?
A question that remains unanswered.
A chasm of time has gone like the mist of Saragossa Sea,
mysterious and frightening.
A land that only exists in my mind,
should I go there, I would be in dreams I was young
and life had many promises.
That was before death ravaged us and took those I loved.
No, I think I will be in Portugal a little longer.

Tanka

Marilyn Monroe
I loved her greatly
I wedded a blond
She spoke with a scouser accent
When her roots turned russet.

Arm dealers look out
When walking on your green lawn
Watch out for landmines
The mad horde of the limbless
Are seeking a ****** revenge

Trump, the mystery

What confuses me about President Trump
Is his enduring popularity among mostly lower-paid workers?
While employment is lower than before it is mostly
Truncated paid work not making their economy better.
Is it because he speaks the language of the uneducated?
Or simply because he appeals of their hatred
Of politicians in Washington who speak over their head.
But there must be something more a synergy we who
Are not Americans are being unable to see?
The deep division between the ordinary man and the elites
That can bring the USA to the brink of civil war.
The democratic party appeals to the intellectuals who by
Their very nature can’t win anything
However, there is ono politician, a democrat and socialist
Who workers listen to, but will the deep state permit
if given power, he will upset the capitalist apple cart?
Or indeed are we ready for him?

The Mask

If you take the mask off
The ones who play Santa
This year
You will see the grin
Of high fiancé.
Once again we have walked
Into its evil trap
Set for naïve Christians and those
Who think it is their duty
to celebrate the birth of Christ
in this unbecoming manner

The water well
There is near the houses a deep well
you can´t stick a bucket on a rope many ropes are needed.
They used to hire a man usually the village idiot
to spend his life hauling up buckets of water.
Villagers believed the water came from the Yanjing river
A man who had gone to school disagreed; it is a deep
underground river, he said. For this, he was disliked.
One day he fell down the well, but since it was not
manmade and smooth a big stone sticking out saved him
from falling all the way down.
Broke his leg in the fall, he did.
With a dangling leg he had to claw himself up, however
they gave him water to drink, his struggle made him thirsty.
When he got out, he spoke a strange language
the villagers, thought was Chines, it never struck them
he was stark raving mad.
Now, an electric pump was installed, they saw him limping
out of the village talking gibberish.

Fairground of the mad

Around and around it goes
Lies are better than truths
Honesty is for fools
No one believes the politicians
Or anyone else
Opinionated *******’ rules ok
In a world that lost its
Moral compass its humanity
If you are not greedy for power
You are a loser.
And since everyone is lying
You have to take sides
Pretend you believe one
Side – best lies- over the other
And the carousel goes faster
Till we all fall off
And ask nature for mercy

Propaganda
  
It is a cold day, no more sitting on the terrace
watching ships sailing by and dreaming of the old days.
With little to do, I watched on Netflix about the making of the **** party.
Time was hard in Germany people were looking for a saviour
****** and his henchmen came.
Sig Heil.
Peoples’ stupidity never amazes me, believed the propaganda
the promises of a better time.
Millions followed him, this man without charisma, but he promised
to make the country great and the people unthinkably followed
to the bitter end.
71, million people in the USA voted for Trump his lies didn´t matter
people preferred lies even when confronted with the truth
they still believe he could lead them into a great America.  
Now we have Biden.
The new president has promised many sane things, yet he
is regarded as weak
He lacks the panache of the liar.
And he, being a member of the political establishment, is not able to cut
the head of the snake
because he is a part of what is wrong with America.
Only groundbreaking revolution of what ails the USA, but it must
come from the people and not highjacked by oratory charlatan, can remedy
this sickness of the soul.
No single person is a god;
we have to turn to the Christian faith, with all its fault finding
the compass to rectitude.

We must haste

They are so happy, the parents, grandmother’s uncle and aunts showing on Facebook the addition
to the family.
Do they not for a minute think what the child´s future will be?
The world is on the brink of total collapse, but no one takes this calamity that is coming our way, will **** them and the children.
The polar ice is melting so much sea, it is drowning smaller islands
who will become refugees seeking shelter somewhere safe?
Nowhere is safe with fire and endless tornados turning houses into driftwood.
Big cities will be unhabitable and sink under the greedy sea.
This is happening before our eyes, we build bigger airports
and larger aeroplanes; yes, and ships too.
Ah, I hear you say, we can be rid of fossil fuel and rely on electricity
to do that fields where cows grazed had to be converted into solar farms.
And we have windmills, but it will not be enough even if we built a million
of them filling the landscape with their ugly appearance.
The rest has to come from converting coal into electricity.
The hardest thing of all is to get rid of cars the clogging up motorways befouling, the air, we breaths.
We have to learn living closer to our place of work is a more compact smaller world we can't all use bicycles unless we're middle class
And use the bike for recreation.
If we do not repair what we have besmirched, there will be no future for the new generations.

Liberal Democracy

Think if you lived in a liberal democracy
With almost restriction, except one.
If you write your sentence must be how you like
And respect women, even if you think they sound
Like the harridans in the Guardian, a bunch of tarts
Do not use words, like ****, **** and ******
As it fits women’s physiological makeup.
After this, you can write whatever you like to do,
Before I forget, never hold a door open for a woman
She will take it as an affront of their dignity.
You are now a certified middle-class person
And have *** without a ******, but ask first.

Sleeping sun

The audacious sun finally showed up
and green was the winter landscape; I also saw
where the sun sets, behind the carob tree
soundly and snug under a carpet of wildflowers
the sun snoozes till dawn.
Over the easterly range, which is the first defence
against Spanish marauders and the rain on the plane
the clouds were dark blue, more rain tomorrow.
I the fading light musical notes dance down a phone line,
The first flirt of spring?
Should it rain tomorrow, I will not be downhearted
this day will keep me warm for a week or so.

The Battle
There was a hell of a fight in heaven, Lucifer wanted
to share power with who would have nothing of it and banned Lucifer
from heaven. But Lucifer who knew of the human weakness
and gladness of shining pearl told them to consume and consume
and we were blind oblivious of the beggars and the victims of famine and war. Only when our oceans become a pool of waste and plastic began to react but we were not ready to
blame ourselves, but the producers of plastic bottles.
God is senile and there is no Putin to take charge to put a cork
In the evil spirit called Lucifer.

The summit 2018

Buenos Aires was and perhaps still is a lovely city
it was here, many years ago I was thought by
a young ******* to do the tango and other exquisite things.
Right now the city is invaded by a coterie of leaders
from all over the world carving up their interest sphere,
peace talks it is called, and that is ok if they are able
to rein in a Saudi crown prince an upstart who is a killer
dripping of blood spoiling the carpet.
Mind, the nations that supply him with weaponry
are guilty too for the bombing of Yemen, pity Israel is
not on the agenda and they haven't even got oil.
Soon the show will be over the people can take over
marching in the streets of Buenos Aires, waving flags
of protests about taxes and in the night do the tango

Getting old together

There is an unspoken acceptance you share in silence
No need to be entertaining you are boring if you tell the same story twice.
Yet, you do.
They say there is much to learn from soap opera, a lecture I can do without
we have two TV, and I hold my tongue.
She sits in the living room, I sit in my study
we meet briefly when it is time for bed.
We speak about plans for tomorrow and the coming winter.
A kiss of a good night.
She goes to her bedroom
I go to mine.
We live in a peaceful home; the only sound is the ticking clock.

Winner takes all

He sat on the sofa feeling disgruntled, watching TV
about a young woman who read a poem about hill climbing.
I have climbed many hills, he said to himself,
but there was always a steeper hill to conquer.
Take sport, he said, women win everything you care to mention
even football and ice-hockey the last bastion for men has been invaded
to the newspapers delight, of course, the editors are women,
as are the contributors; it isn’t fair.
His wife enters. She has been on the treadmill for an hour,
asks him if he has done the dishes? No! He says folding his arms in protest.
Do them now the cleaning lady is coming, she may think badly about us.
Triumph, at last, he thinks, typical female worries about silly things.