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.

The weather is agog


For those who don´t get it
nature is revolting
drowning island
flooding cities.
New York is the new Venice
rowing boats are in.
The top floor
is where the rich dwell
drowning of those
lower down is common.
The lady of liberty has lost her head.
Sharks in Wall Street
what´s new?
Refugees in the Andes
they are poor and white
Americans.
The clime is heating up
bananas from Greenland
still, we haven´t got it
calls it freak weather.

The freedom of the media


Freedom of speech and freedom of information
have now been restricted unless you watch the news
from approved channels.
I watch the news from the USA channels, from BBC
and Portuguese news; not to forget France 24.
I watched Russian TV since it carries alternative news
Take the news of Donbas, did you know the Russian
speakers tired the Ukraine army shelling has fled to
Russia, hundred thousand, by bus and rail.
This the western media keeps away from us because
we might consider Ukraine in a more sober way
The nail in the coffin of freedom of dialogue is shut.

Togetherness

It was not my time to speak today
I must rest as much as possible, need a new
battery for my reserve heart and have to do
with my damaged heart.
My feet are swollen challenging to walk, but drove
my wife to the cemetery and the ashes of
my wife´s brother was placed beside his
mother´s coffin
I was driven there an uphill walk got a lift.
Nene, his name, rests beside his mother, he was
her favourite son both words together on a glass door
it was a touching moment.
Drove my wife home slept for two hours and had
a restless dream.
A skeleton and ashes one has to be religious
to believe the two will ever meet, but for now
they are together.

Africa
South Africa is a ramshackle state
When it got rid of apartheid the people
Of Soweto did get the spoil
But are poorer than before
The ANC is corrupt and sinking deeper into the mire
Of crime
The Zulus want a state of their own.
let us blame the successful Boers who feed the nation
take the acres of land and give it to those
who doesn’t know how to run this type of business?
For the rest of Africa too many minerals and oil
The big corporations want their arm warlords and the winner
Will get a percentage, and the poor land workers bear
The brunt of this wanton killings.
Someone has to speak up, there will not be another
Mandela soon, not for a long time.

Armageddon

As I was coming out of the local shop
with bags in both hands, I do this to keep the balance
as I’m elderly and not a steady walker,
When the heatwave like a shimmering wall was
coming towards me.
I turned my back to the inferno of heat as horses do
When the winds blow, but there was no respite.
I believe we have degraded our planet; this is proof.
I struggled home not far was near, but the going was slow
Finally, I entered the building exhausted and dizzy.
The porter took the bags and helped me up some stairs to the lift.
At the flat windows were shut to keep the heat out.
I knew, had I been less fortunate, say, without an abode
the heat, would have killed me.
Sudden heatwaves, unexpected frost freezing fog, hurricane
and burning forests, it might be too late to save humankind.

The orchard

It was a beautiful apple tree with low hanging fruit
shaped by a gardener whose parents had been Jehovah witnesses
(His parents didn´t believe in Christmas)
made to look like a decorated Christmas tree as seen on postcards.
On the tree, a twig stuck out that had no apples appeared dead
as I reached up to pick an apple the twig was a snake and said:
“Don´t steal the fruit that belongs to the old people’s home.”
Have you never heard of Paradise when the snake tempted Eve?
“Yes, I know I was there, but have changed gone woke now speak
nicely, before we strike with a drone, the twig said”
I picked an apple anyway; it began raining, and I had no umbrella
I got soaking wet, and the next day I had a nasty cold.

A message to earthlings

  Earthlings, we gave you a planet and you fouled it.
  We had high hope for you since you can reason and show empathy
  but you were overtaken by the sin of greed and arrogance.
  You have exploited the home we gave you
  you had no respect for animals, you let them down and eradicated
  the Tasmanian tigers to take an example, we find it hard to forgive.
  We have released a plague upon you, to teach you a lesson, we wish not
  to eliminate mankind as you will do that yourself.
  Some of you may go to Mars but your thwarted mind will follow and
Soon take the land will declare independence, wave flags about and fight
another state; and squabble over minerals and rocks.
Who knows you humans might find the Tasmanian tiger hiding in a cave?
And since you have blood on your hands, eradicate this animal again.
We will not wish you a happy NEW YEAR you do not deserve one

From a Balcony in Paris

Fine rain
open umbrella
Sitting on the balcony
Of a hotel
Overlooking
Haussmann-Saint Lazare.
Throngs of people
Something has changed
People drink
Starbuck
Eat hamburgers
On the hoof.
Old restaurant closed
Converted
To fast-food joints.
I sigh
Drink from the bottle
Of Bordeaux
To avoid
Getting rainwater
In my wine.

The Photo


When I was nine, the war had been over
for about two, years, but the German army had left
behind uniforms, so we dressed up
and made a **** salute thinking this was the way
the Germans greeted one another.
I know better, know they primarily shake hands.
A picture for posterity was taken of three lads acting it up.
I had forgotten about the picture although
it is on a frame on the top bookshelf.
A tiresome anti-****, born in 1960, didn’t think  
the photo had any historical value and wanted me to destroy
the offence we children had committed.
He got upset when I refused the request and called
me a **** storm trooper, left and slammed the door.

A waste of time

I have been so busy writing
that I have not had time to write.
Ploughing meagre soil
the harvest not enough to feed my heart.
A mountain of words that tell nothing
more than a wall to hide behind.
“what was it all about Alfie?”
A question that has no answer.
My August casts long shadows
and the famine continues.

Spawning


  The children, in the street near the factories, looked unfriendly
  avoid them, and my brother said their mothers where ******
spawning Nazis during the war.
Their mothers had haircuts at the police station, bald as eggs
serves them right they and their children should be
sent back to Germany.
The street, also ours, was typically working-class no gardens
no colour anywhere like living in a maze of greyness and damp.
My brother had his knowledge from listening to the adults,
men who had done nothing under the **** occupation except
trading with the enemy for cigarettes and ***** and using
their wives as bait.
Now they were heroes pulling the headdress of the unlucky
calling them ******, but like so many things that too ended.
Hair grows back beautiful women in the street, and the Norwegian
are blessed with short memories.

Furtive meeting

We sat in the park a packet of ****
a bottle of wine, on the back of a napkin
I wrote her a poem about love.

While struggling to find the right word
I hardly knew her, she fell asleep,
wine of good quality can be strong.

I counted my cigarettes had five left
saw the tempting light of a night bar
left her sleeping, went and had a drink.

Coming back, she had left my poem
written on the clean side of a napkin
was on the ground torn to shreds.

We have got him now

All the Politicians of the republican persuasion
who defended Trump by being silent?
And they waited to the last moment just in case he was able
to overturn the election.
When all was lost, and Trump was finished
washed up and had his innards removed, did they turn and said he was a crook.
These cowardly enablers.
We cannot give them a free pass, and they are as guilty as Trump
by holding on to power as long as they could.
And the businessmen/women he had made rich, what will they say
they were in it for the money.
They will say they feared him; they did not, they took him for an idiot
who had gone bankrupt many times?
If we want to get rid of the swamp, we can start with the corrupt people
Who would (had Trump won) continued defending his actions?

a little argument in Portugal

at the pharmacy
a man tried to get in front of me
I would have none of it
We had words.
But something he said
Stuck in my mind;
We don´t like you (foreigners)
We only tolerate you.
The people at the pharmacy
Fell silent.
I had the sense they agreed with him.

Not the same

The result is another poem unlike the one
I wrote in my head.
The poem that has another conclusion
this because the inner voice changed my opinion.
I try the Grammarly that informs about passive
the sentence, well it was meant to be passive, worst
of all, it suggests a change of words which is
Ignored I’m not writing a document.
The Grammarly helpful with my lack of commas
I then correct the poem and send it on its way,
but it is not the poem I wrote in bed.

The Aged
If young people knew
How hard to be old
They wouldn't use their car horn
So much when seeing
An elderly driver.
To drag your old body
To the shower
Remember which medicine
Is for what
Yet we the old cling to life
As we know nothing else.
It is a good thing
The young don't know
What it is to be old
If they did, they might jump
Off a cliff
And get it over with

The Eagle

Fair flowers
Among the rocks
Flora of sorrow
Butterfly winged
In the breeze.
On a tree
A crow throats
A warning.
An eagle soars
In its claws
A white rabbit.
It sees
Fair petals
Flying
In the breeze

A happy ending?

A camel and a dog
Tired of performing
Every night
At a circus.
Escaped.
The camel walked
On top of it
Sat the dog
guiding the camel.
They found the valley
Seen on a map
In the window
Of a book shop.
They lived happily
Till the died.
The dog´s tongue
Stung by a bee
Could not swallow.
The camel died too
When the water
In the lake
Got brackish.

Frosty love


Her kiss like putting your lips on an iron railing
a frost-bitten morning.
Her eyes were icy stars in the coldest of nights
in the tranquillity of the meaningless.
A beauty flawless.
Her body unbending as an ice maiden in winter forest
her lips had spots of cardinal crystal.
Futile, my attempt or resurrection.
I struck a match in the vast silent night and was free.
In the glade, among roses of gold,
my new love waited,
Hand in hand we walked to where the day begins

The losing

It was a magnificent bull it dominated
and cowed any upstart bull trying to flirt with his bovines
there was a lean bull that refused to be chased off the field
it came to blows, at first it looked like the big bull
would win, but it lacked stamina, defeated it walked to the
stables the humiliation was all too much
and it refused to come out until the farmer gave it a bar
of chocolate with nuts.
The bull told itself OK, So I lost, but I´m still the biggest oxen
around this neighbourhood.

The visitors
A knock on my entrance door, I opened up
and seven people came in one of them looked at me
like she should be in love, perhaps she remembered
me 40 years back in time. The house had been rebuilt
the steps leading up to the second floor were outside
the girl when they marched out kissed my hand
and I thought: am I a pope now?
She looked like the Palestinian girl – unarmed- had been
shot by a female ****** who did this foul deed in
the name of her country she had been told  Palestinians
were out to **** them, the female shooter was defending
her blood dripping country.
I knew the six others too one was my brother
the other my sister and the rest old friends but none
of them recognised me.
The ladder up to the second landing was long I saw
them disappearing into a cloud, closed my door

This is my Recollection

A salutation to mules, donkeys and horses.
They have disappeared from city life
but without them, no city could be built.
Without the beasts no them, no field to plough
we owe then our way of life.
The beasts were sacrificed in our senseless wars.
We remember them not that saddens me.
There is a hole in the ground, a dot beside an oak
where the mare of many foals stood.
I miss the sturdy beauty of donkeys and mules.
The aroma of their work is gone, and we are poorer
of the vision, we shall not see again

Once a summer

Like a beached whale the rowboat lies on its side
its bottom had been tarred and the aroma mingled
with ozone of the sea.
When the tide turns the boat will float again and look refreshed.
Seen from the wooden pier the sea is crystal clear
looks emerald.
Small ***** and tiny fish feed in the shallow.
When the sea slowly inhales and exhales pebbles softly fizz.
The sky is the sea´s lover, doomed to forever be apart.
The sea pulls me closer it is hard to resist no be absorbed
by its beauty.

Astonishment

The queen in her gilded coach pulled by white horses
Came gliding on the sea, towards the sandy shore
Where men stood waited to be knighted.

They had done their duty to keep their mouth shut
And averted their eyes to the state’s illegal activity
Now, payoffs a title and membership in a pash club

The queen came ashore, she had a white lion cub
In one hand and a hammer in the other hand
She hit the men over the head; they fell and died.

The queen, a Marxist revolutionary had been silent
for so long, now she was, old the truth had to come out
no horse carriage for her, but she kept the lion cub.

A WRITERS LIFE
There is on Facebook pictures of dead film stars
like Elisabeth Taylor, who was born in London
and photos of her childhood.
I don´t really care about this. We should remember her
as a great actress, see her movies and shut up.
Then we have Ernest Hemingway, who is one of me
favourite writers, alas, he often appears in the picture
of his life, not so much about his writing, more about
his adventures, which I do not care to read about.
Dos Passos, another great writer, lived a smaller amount
of daring-do, but he surpassed Hemingway in his  
say, The Bridge over San Louis Ray”, not to forget
John Steinbeck, Theodore Dreiser and William Faulkner.
I like American writes, pre-word processor,
and now they are going mad producing toms of too many words.
The thing is this. I don´t want to know about their childhood.

Unwanted affection

I’m writing a play about an older man who was helpful
to a woman crying in the street and he thought that
was the end of the incident.
At night a knock on his door, the woman wanted
to thank him and before he could turn around, she sat
on his sofa insisting on holding his hands and him
felt her hand was like a wet haddock.
He knew she mentally disturbs but didn’t like to say so
the worst thing was he was watching his favourite show.
He feigned tiredness got up to open the door,
she offered to stay he froze by the horror of the thought.
She left after kissing him on the cheek.
He rang the porter and told him never let in this ****** woman.

Remembered is the loss

I sit in the sumptuous living room with my wife
we have a bed the king would be proud of
a lunch café on the first floor and den for myself
my old age is blessed.
My thought goes to the village far and beyond
the road up there is now full of petals white and rosy  
my cottage is where the road bends to the right
I see smoke from its chimney, a dog bark.
I was happy here animals and people knew me
alas, old age caught up with me, I had to leave
my almond tree and things that let my heart sing
Years of contentment more is asking too much.
Fly memories, fly to where the sun sets over
the blue mountain range and into the sea.

The occupation

There is a small house in the sticks of the Algarve
It has been alone for a month and has taken the looks
Of an ignored older man who needs to change his shirt
Moreover, a hot shower.
I take it mice have moved in feeding on my duvet,
Moreover, I have to get rid of them don’t know-how
I could gas them, but I’m no sadist, I could catch them
One by one, release them in the woods but they will
Remember the good life and return.
I have to become concerning only mice can prove
They have lived here the last ten generation are allowed
In the rest, it will be expelled.
I could see the Us air force, but they bomb everything
In and ask question later.
So, I have to be a Swedish liberal and embrace the mice.
I digress as it is as I live on a traffic island and like to go
Return home.

The painter
The sky this afternoon was odd clouds
looked as ice-bergs floating on pink air
the seagulls kept their distance.
A grey wolf scratches on my door
I let it in
had a leg of lamb it ate it all then fell asleep
Then it wanted to leave and, I saw it disappearing
In the dim lit hall, I asked no question.
But made me think of a Russian painter who
painted the trees black with a red background
and you could sense wolves starring at you.
The sea in the bay is dark with white spots has
the Russian gone mad painting the sky and not
telling anyone. I wonder if his name was Kalovsky
not that I know but the name sound Russians.
I go back into the hall the wolf has gone but it
left a pile of dung as prove it had been there.

The demise

Death to the white man it had
not been for him they would have lived
In wigwams or under bushes fought small wars.
“The ****** of Khashoggi was a throwback
how the ancient tribes behaved.”
The white man brought civilisation
new innovation, literature and culture.
Now we **** people at a distance don't
see the agony, the blood and cut out pieces of a body.
The white man plundered the world
with the Bible in hand insisted savages
should believe like him and be loyal slaves.
But he never conquered the soul of man,
and now it is payback time.
Death to the white man!

The pursuit


Three blackbirds
Are chasing a young seagull
In circles, they fly
Until the gull
Find an opening
It flies
Toward the ocean.
The blackbirds
Cannot
Following the gull
There.
They return
Sit in a tree
And squawks
Among
Themselves

the diminishing

we have not noticed yet, a few old folks dying
they are not being replaced by new births
and then there are fewer people than before the young
remind unborn as older people die,
we take no notice at. First, farms are unattended and
the vegans are first to ring the alarm bell
not be a cause of no cow, but the lack of grain.
The world population is shrinking, like the rivers
and lakes were we used to swim.
The emptying of humanity is unstoppable we are
on the way out we made a mess out of the world
and now the piper wants to be paid.
When only a hundred peoples are left, they will
commit suicide as no one wants to be the last
the person in the vastness of nature-

Storyteller

Now, as spring light fades into
a soft blue night, I turn to you and ask
Tell me more.
The river doesn’t run rapidly as before
The lake is dry
No wind blows away broken dreams.
Tell me more, if you can before, the light
Is an empty space
The stillness has lost its echo.

A Gentleman´s Alexandria

His wife came into the living room looking sideways
she had brought cold beer and snacks.
She walked back to the kitchen where their four daughters sat.
This was a modern household; his wife wore no vail.
When we left the children had disappeared, just as well
I don´t know how to speak to the young ones.
My Egyptian friend took me to a nightclub, music and noise
not to forget belly dancers.
My friend soon left with one of them, and that was ok,
I had been his cover for a night out, and all bills were paid for.
Strange man, the shipping clerk, he had four daughters but no boys and that made him sad.

The beauty of lies.

Darling tell me lies tell them gently
Lies are so much softer than the cruel truth
that leaves behind the cold taste of winter storms
demanding the truth, we rather forget about it.
You slept with a man two days ago, I have been told.
if it was a sudden fling,
we can laugh about it and for a good meal.
However, if you tell me, you have been seeing him behind
my back for many months, I will see it as a betrayal.
I will not condemn you, but you will be ignored, for all time
I will never speak to you again.
While I walk the streets and crying roof panes,
wondering why I had done to let you down.

Arguing with GPS.

Pernicious words, hatred spewed in impotent rage
against the female voice telling me to turn left at the first roundabout
“Shut up, silly cow, I know this road better than you.”
“You never follow my instruction is it because I'm a woman?”
“No dear, it is because I know the roads around here better than you.”
  “So, you don´t need me anymore?
  “No, dear is no so when sitting alone in the car it is nice to hear a friendly voice.”
   Sobbing and soft music from the GPS.
  “You have to follow the instruction,” she said, sounding like my doctor.
   He got angry and said, “I can turn you off if I want to.”
   She said you will regret this when driving to Lisbon.”
  When arriving home, the voice said, “you have arrived at your destination.”
  For heaven’s sake, I know.

Green Umbrella
We were out driving it began raining and the window whiskers didn’t work.
My wife went out of the car walked in front
I could see the umbrella it was green, but the progress was slow especially up the hill and we had to stop many times.
At home, I dried her hair and washed her tired,
sore feet made her a cup of strong tea till she
was ready to make my evening meal.
Green Umbrella
We were out driving it began raining, and the window whiskers did not work.
My wife went out of the car walked in front
I could see the umbrella it was green, but the progress was slow,
mainly uphill and we had to stop many times.
At home, I dried her hair and washed her tired,
sore feet made her a cup of strong tea until she was ready to make my evening meal.

Today is the impending

Christianity appears tepid we do not think of it
as a centre of our life.
I dislike all religions they are fairytales for adults
that demands to be taken seriously.
Ladies decorating the church with flowers while secretly
lusting after the vicar.
We remember Blair and Bush both are Christians
in its name, they invaded Iraq and killed thousands
of perfectly innocent people,
The Christians have for hundreds of years and foisted
their version upon masses who already have a god.
The occupiers of Palestine belong to the western culture
and they will be the biggest losers when the weakness
of our insipid culture cracks as the world implode.

Is Tanka a poem

We the classless
seek no revolution only fairness
we like quality
a well-balanced diet
and cold German lager.
The stinking rich
one assumes they do not bath
can continue to pong
we seek no egalitarianism
only German lager.

Our leaders

Men in politics don't love women but they
live in a society where one has to be happily married.
When they go to a party with their wives who a dressed
inexpensive dresses and jewellery it is to show
Their economic success. Men in politics and business
prefer to **** each other and when they watch ****,
dream of the handsome political assistant they like to
**** his ****. Political women are nuisance you can't
play golf with them and have ****** charge banter
About touching their *****. They only touch up
women to show they are the alpha male and love women,
for them, there are **** stars and wives both are
equally despised, they are not gay but by ******* a fellow
politicians they assert dominance; they have gone to
expensive universities and learned only one thing that
money matters, love never come into this equations
they are despicable unable to grasp the simple life and
they are our leaders.

Senryu
A cynical person
Protects his soppy heart
From mawkishness

Senryu
A lurid nightmare
Is an extension of a day
That went ******* bad


Senryu
                      They say he is rude
When objecting against old age
They expect poise

living in the shadow

The restriction we have been living under in Cascais
has been slightly lifted, and we can walk freely about
as long as we use a face mask.
For us elderly it is not so bad we are at home most
of the time anyway and have no need going out
celebrating for its own sake.
For the young, it must be hell, say, keeping social
distance and no holding of hands.
They have secret parties were the throw off the mask
drink and dance, never mind the virus.
To the shock of many young people catch the unseen
enemy and many dies or are maimed for life,
they wrongly thought it was the very old the expendable
died, they could live with this as long as it was not
the grandparents.
The wearing of masks has become political in Texas
people marching in the street carrying placard proclaiming
“My body, My choice.”
Freedom without responsibility can be lethal.

9/ 11 the cruel aftermath


Dented western hubris, the mirror cracked
self believes shocked the vanity foundation.
How dare they we are the top predators
our rage will be swift and massive.
Falluja, the western army killed anything that moved
my thought went to Palestine a state of olives
and goat herding, who paid the ultimate prize.
Propaganda is the mixing of truth and deliberate lies
there are those who say Palestine never existed
but old maps tell a different story.
The wheel of the future is ruthless, Israel is tolerated
as the new province of the Caliphate.
The 9/11 is for you to avert your eyes and forget
the mass ****** of the indigenous people of Palestine.

the video

He received a video from his distant past
he played the video to his amazement
people long since dead and forgotten
Walked, talked and danced in the street of his childhood.  
Eerie it was, he knew the people he had overlooked
where on the way to the future?
Later that day, he remembered more, why had he so beastly
To the little girl age, boys do not consort with girl
he couldn’t tell that.
At night the video became a panorama of past lives
he saw a truculent boy and asked why was I like that.
He knew the answer, as a child, he was abused
by the stigma he carried in his heart, suspicious of friendship.
He woke up, didn’t want to remember the past is dead
and can stay this way, nothing more to see.

Loving thought

Love is a delicate Spanish bluebell
In a field of thistles
You pick the flower at your peril
It may die in your hands and leave you
With a prickly **** of regrets

Tired Angels

He was a lucky man by his side angels walked
or perhaps flittered a little jostling as they all wanted to be near him.
Absentminded, he came near the fiord walked across.
He was out cashing ***** that clung to the sheer cliff wall, yes, and a plastic bucket.
He got five ***** and walked back the same way the angels sweated he had trusted
(unknowingly) their blind faith in him,
to the point when some of them were at a point of giving up.
Looking after this person is hard. One angle sighed; the others mumbled in tacit agreement.
The angels watched him boil the ***** and eat everything, not offering them anything;
how could he?
We should have let go, one angel said, let him splash about with his bucket.
The thought of this made every angle laugh; one took out a harp and beautiful music-filled sea and
land with everlasting peace and the satisfaction of a job well done,

A one-sided coin

When Germany was invaded and ruined
every German claimed they knew nothing
of the atrocities against the Jew.
The same thing will happen to Israel and
her people will say they knew nothing
about the barbarism committed against
the Palestinians.

When we're young

When you are young, say, twenty-five you, say, things like
I hope not to be old not meet girls have ***, with a group of friends.
we didn't have any, sitting drinking
There used to be five of us we were at the top of the world
death was so far away.
Then the group shrank, one becomes a Jehovah witness,
one became a drifter two got married I was drinking alone
and somehow live was no longer glorious.
They are all dead now, but for some reason or as punishment
I lived on, although in another country.
Yet, I have no religious hang up, I believe that in death.

The Ending?

Not quite, but Palestinians have had enough.
They were thrown out of their houses to get space for Israelis.
They are resisting so much. so the IDF has called up reserve soldiers.
But Palestine cannot achieve this alone; it´s up to the world
To finally wake up and see Israel is a pirate state the
Practices apartheid as a matter of politic.
The Gaza strip has been sending a puny homemade rocket
Into Israel, rockets that break a window or two and is big news in the USA
Telling us how terrible the Arabs are.
I despair I watch Portuguese news, which consists of football
And old men sitting around a table analyzing the matches.
Bless Portugal, and football is better than war.