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 lizard Sonnet
If you travel to escape the small lizard on your back
you eventually are outside your parents´ home
to find they have long since gone.
Someone else lives there perhaps a child sleep in your bed
dreaming your dream.
You will walk down the street where you used to play
but no one knows and the sense of loss is overwhelming.
Swallow hard not to cry because your memory is untrue.
You left a small-minded town, poverty and screams in the night.
but it was worth returning to remind you what an awful place you left.
I have a small lizard in the kitchen I have tried to **** it
Because it is grey and without redeeming colours that I could use as a pet.
It is also quick and hides behind the fridge where I cannot reach it.
I will let it live for now.

The aftermath

If Russia invade Ukraine
The invaded country will get no help
From the USA who knows about “my back yard.”
NATO but it has no army to speak of
Only generals we can call desk riders.
The big nation will see invasion as a free for all
The USA will attack and occupy Venezuela
And Cuba as a pretext to stop the Russians
Possible bases.
And we are back to a cold war again.

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.

The acting lover

When I was fifteen and a galley boy on a ship
The cook was over the top gay and couldn’t
Help to pick up some of is manner like smoking
Slim cigarettes and waving my arms around.
Many women thought I was gay which was a bonus
As they were teaching me to be-ungay,
They succeeded every time and we're happy this
Had saved me in time this ploy worked until I looked
The working class was big and muscular then I had
To play the shy one fearful of women.
Of course, I had to come clean be my randy self
Looking for *** yet behaving with decorum and not
Like a brute, this has served me well till I got
To the age I was too old, now I’m the granddad
Who knows to too much but keep quiet about it,
But I still smoke slim cigarettes

A North Westerly town

It was an okay town when you got to know the place
a well-lit main road a hospital in one end and the docks
at the other end.
it was equality sat in system everyone had the right to a small
house made of bricks, this led to a maze of housing with roads
so narrow it only had place for bikes, the fire department
used bikes with a motor and a hanger for hoses.
The police used roller skates which the citizens were forbidden
to use.
In between the narrow housing, the were small cafes, shops and a place for,
mostly men could get a massage.
If you got lost, all you had to ask for the main road everyone knew where it was.
The language sounded like the sea slapping at the molos built
to keep the town from flooding.
I nearly got lost once I had asked for direction to the boulevard
as it was called, but I turned south instead of north and ended
up near the hospital and since I was in a hurry
hired a bike rickshaw and got down to the docks just in time
before my ship, that was slipping its mooring I had to jump
to get on board.

Critical thinking

We are all tame liberals now we speak the same language
we believe in niceness and the brotherhood of man our way.
God is a liberal too, and the great ghost will not strike us down
if we sin but forgive us as a matter of liberal routine.
You are free to express yourself if you follow a few guidelines
accept the political drivel the newspapers serve you as truth
and stop believing you are better than us.
If you do, we have our way to bring you back from your rough
ideas, you cannot be a contrarian in our world.
We'll ban you from writing, we own all the outlet cannot tolerate
any views that do not follow our democratic ideals.
Critical thinking has no place in our wonderful world.

Random Journey

Is the inception of a voyage the end of abstract nothingness?
Or the beginning of conscious life as driving to town buying the papers.
I remember a song, “Set sail at Sunset.” humming the words.
A red sun and calm sea, this not the crossing of Styx after sundown
ss it immaturity making fun of me again you can’t sail to Afghanistan?
I can sail there in a balloon and land where the Taliban shoots holes in the sky
smoke American cigarettes, we can drink coffee and have a natter.
The problem is, you can’t see any women like they do not exist.
It is like walking without crutches on a broken leg.
No one reads the “Guardian” in this part of the world.
I sit here and wait not for crossing any rivers but to sail the seventh ocean.

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 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.

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.

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.

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

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,

An oil port

He is looking on to shore and sees an oil terminal
waiting for the pilot, he may arrive today or tomorrow.
Well he is not going ashore at this Arab port it is
usually boring full of men smoking water pipes talking
excitedly about the next revolution and he knows
as a white man, he viewed with suspicion.
He never understood a culture where women are cattle
sit indoors and wait to be pregnant again.
This is a society of men, and as such, they make a mess
of daily life.
It takes 12 hours to load the ship with crude oil, bound
for Antwerp, which is more like the home he understands
the people there can have a beer in a bar and not starred
at with hatred.
Mind, he knows well the white people have done much
the harm in this part of the world, nevertheless he dislikes
their culture, but he doesn´t care to understand them.

The psychologist

Worried about my drinking I made an appointment
To see the psychologist, he was not there, his secretary
Said he was in the garden.
He sat on the top of a tree imitating a hawk, looking
Down at me and said: “have you never seen a hawk.”
“It is me, doctor, I have an assignment with you.
“Sorry, he said I had forgotten but can't come down
As I'm too ******.
I got a ladder and with the help of his secretary got
Him down, several coffees later he had composed
Himself got hold of his block and pen and asked
“So, what is your problem?

Lost Chances

On a crowded Christmas Street, I saw her
something of the way she walked, I sensed her perfume
I hurried after she touched her shoulder, alas
it was not her, not the woman of my dreams.
I said sorry; she smiled and said that was ok.
in her brown-warm eyes, I saw a hint of invitation
alas, I was in love with the mythical one, said sorry again
flapped my wings and flew into the night sky
to seek her among the stars.
In the cold outer space, I realized she was a seraph
and I, earthling; I flew back to earth looking
for the brown-eyed one, but she was gone.

Conspiracy thinking

What's wrong with that?
It's poetry!
Trying to find a nugget of truth
in the forest of lies.

Wonderland

Dreams have always been vital they are the wing
I fly to a consciousness of old truth.
Now I do not dream much but when I do
I visit places I have been before in earlier dreams.
Meeting people say hello we have not seen for a long time.
The landscape is thorny and cannot be shared by those
who are ignorant of hidden tracks?
It is strange to see familiar faces of those of old dreams
they remember I was a cobbler who worked for free.
My phone does not ring it has s modern chant.
While is asked I by the lake when I'm moving in always.
But will I leave when you no longer stroke my hair
tells me you do not love me anymore?

Horizons

I sit on the verandah look at the sea no ships in today
open view until the horizon after that, on the other side
there are new limits
I have seen many horizons, some of them are blue or green
but have in common stopping me from seeing what is beyond
What if I met a horizon that had no new horizons?
A blank nothingness that has no dreams.
I look behind me and see an island before the fog sets
obscuring its coastline.
It is getting cold on the verandah, suddenly it becomes
the loneliest place on earth, breaking my spirit.
The island I saw on my endless quest is called Saragossa
I steer my ship there to meet friends long since departed
they will tell me what I need to know, the unsaid.

The writers

Autodidact I read not entirely I'm a trained chef
a purser and a milker of cows on a farm
Which the literary cognoscenti find amusing.
A leading newspaper invited some famous
intellectuals to talk about the future
of which they knew nothing but showed
the arrogance of people
far removed ordinary people's life.
I have noticed when they talk about democracy
they mean their rights
when it comes to the man in the street
they think some restrictions of freedom are needed
as their freedom leads to chaos.
That is why when the famous talk about Israel
they wrap their opinion
in several woolly scarves as not to upset anyone.

tabula rasa


when a child has no memory
one can say clean slates, after a few days they pick up
the basic like crying when hungry
from there on we fill the baby  with what we know
a knowledge handed down from our parents, and the child
when it learns to read believes without reflection
what they are told must be the truth.
sometimes the child has a new thought, and it says what if this
is not valid, that is when the memory it didn´t have
is remembered, something that is clean and true about the life
we live an illusion made up of a generation of lies told
to keep us docile, most children dismiss this idea and go on
playing football, but a few listen to the voice of verity
and not knowing how to shut up tell everyone that life is more
then they have ever imagined.
those children are embarking on a long track that sometimes
leads to jail terms and sometimes to an early death
by those who know they are speaking the truth but try to say
the child has a criminal mind.
The road ahead of the few are long, and there is no happy ending
except the knowledge they have gives them comfort

Alright then

It was peace in the valley, a deep harmony of those
who had fled the air of a town´s inequity?
Then there was an avalanche of thoughts which caused confusion
when it settled, a gramophone voice from 1930 sweetly sang
“I love you, yes I do, my darling.”
Back then, singers appeared in suits or long skirts.
Now it is about tight trousers and ****, never mind the song.
female singer elicit sympathy telling of an abused childhood
The men, do tell, of poverty before they made it to fame.
Tomorrow the peace will be broken by shooting, hunters
will fill the valley and bath it with blood lust.
The avalanche has blocked the road where we used to bath
I accept that and find a puddle to wade in.
should I get tired can find a folding chair
and play my turntable and hum along with the old tunes.

Shibboleth

It includes our political parties
Distant past their prime when they had a meaning.
Also, Christian theology is passé
As philosophies anchored in old thinking are
Like rusty ships waiting to for dismantling
A new approach for our modern question about
Life and dead must
be written in a language
That reflects the time we live in
It is not about old ideas being dressed in jeans
However, a fundamental rethink that if not breaking
From the past entirely, find a new expression
Because the structural problems will always
Be there the question, what is the meaning of life?

Little fishes
It is not easy to be baby fish
They are on their own from the word go
Avoiding bigger fish.
No time to build sandcastles
Or play hide and seek in the seaweed.
It is about survival most of them get eaten.
They have no empathy, we have but
Ignore it when killing children in Yemen
And ****** them.
Some children never see daylight
Abortion so easy to come by sees to that
Forever dreamless eternity
We are losing our empathy and humanity
We are becoming like the fish
Survive or die no one will care for them.

After a storm


There was a storm in the bay,
blue waves crashing ashore
and flooded the coastal road-
Today the bay is calm but look
at sea, it is grey anger
doesn’t becomes it.
The Haar is coming in a shawl of mist covers
the cargo ships
that moves lazily on a temporary tranquillity.

The Creator

Lately, I think it has to do with ageing
have been thinking of religions, one can say
Exploring them for the best option, they all fail miserably
To the point, I will call organized faith humbug.
The idea that someone has the key to the truth and
If you don’t believe for them, you will go to hell.
My contempt for religions in all its form is contempt
And assault on people’s intelligence.
We know now there are other, planet somewhere
Not unlike our and if they are human life with the same
The problem, should we ever get to one of them it would
Be like coming home.
I can believe in a creator of this, call It god if you like
But if the creator has not any conscious thoughts the idea
Becomes meaningless.
Yet, religions have always been their peoples in the deep
Forest of the Amazon had one, the believed in nature
In trees, flowers and animals in what they see and hear.
The missionaries came and preached their god as the only
True faith and by doing so destroyed the fabric of what
They had believed.
I don’t know how the universe came into being it is an enigma
that has little to do with the right sort of god.

the high Jump


Over the bay, I saw a rainbow dripping colours
into the turquoise water.
Nothing can be that beautiful I have seen it all
Jumped from the balcony but the terrace underneath
ours was bigger.
Nothing was broken the flat was empty except
for a Picasso painting and one by a man called Larsen,
concluded the people who lived there were Norwegian
I walked up the steps to my flat, let myself in
the rainbow was gone but on the surface of the water
I saw spilt diesel oil that often has a rainbow
colour but lacks beauty.
Where have you been, she said.
Nowhere really just jumping about a bit.

Future
Trying to write about the future
Is almost impossible without the past
Intruding talking about yesteryear.
Perhaps the future is like a thousand
Mirror reflecting itself endlessly.
I know there will be wars it is our burden
The opposite coin of love.
There is no vista opening-up
A panorama of beauty, but there will
Be moments when the glam of war stills,
When sea and sky meet in an embrace
Of utter tranquillity, and for a second
We think life is worth living.

The rocket accident
They were so proud of the families of the crew
going into space, they stood on a podium
especially made for them and it was decorated
with American flags.
A lot of smoke and fire the rocket took off the applause
was premature suddenly the rocket was engulfed
by flames and it exploded.
It took a few minutes before the families understood
their loved ones had pulverised, gone forever.
It was a moment reminding me of “the bridge
over San Luis Ray” what happened in the life of the five
crew before this fateful moment.
Few remember this tragic moment, but it is worth
writing about we forget the losers so quickly, but I think
we can honour them by not forgetting

Trying to sleep
I will lie down make no fuzz think of nothing
And relax, the past is a foreign country no need
To go there, it is like raking yesteryears leaves.
So, you feel hungry too late to get up now anyway
No food will not **** you have diabetes shut up go
Sleep, and before you know it a nice girl will serve
Breakfast…oh yeah!
Try not to remember any jokes you brother told
it was thirty years ago back then you laughed
At things that are not funny now.
Can you think of an example, (shut up and sleep!)
We found older adults funny the way they walked,
And you think that was funny?
No, not know that I’m old and walk funnily too.
Well, I don’t think much of your sense of humour.
Are you upsetting to me now? No, shut up, sleep!
“tell me a story, tell me a story before I go to bed
You promised me you said you would…”
A bit of a song I heard.

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.

The cry

A warm August day
A child
Drawn to the ornamental pool
A surface of lilies
A mother calls
Her child
A face
Whiter than the lilies
Floats in the light
A scream
Pierces a hole in the sky
A fraction of a second
Nature is silent.
Then it gears up again
Ad nauseous

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.

A tomato Video

Conversation with an omelette you can, if it is filled with tomatoes.
Apparently, trees talk to flowers a tomato soaks up this information
gives it to us when we eat one. After going on about tomatoes
the lecturer cuts a tomato in half and we hear a scream
the speaker declares he has two tomatoes plus a ****** finger.
Many videos’ maker's dreams, is to stand alone on a stage and talk about
things the makes no sense to others other than themselves.
They thank, the audience who are blissfully absent, and blend
into the dark background convinced they are famous.
Spending an evening looking through videos, I determined after due deliberation,
they were inane and utterly dreary.
Their point was to stay under the spotlight, applauded by phantom fans,
their mother and aunts for a few minutes.
Finally, I struggle to know what a tomato makes out of being eaten alive!

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.

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 bottle
In the bottle where the evil spirit called Lucifer lives

Introversion
Just home from an art exhibition
brought a couple of poetry to read
but I didn’t stay long left my books
on a shelf and sneaked out.
In the old days a glass of red win or
so helped me overcome my natural
shyness, but my hands were shaking
spilling the water in my glass on to
the canape
My shyness is the bane of my life I‘m
supposed to sell books not give them away
It is a phobia and it appears there are
Many this suffer from this annoying
crawling obsession.

Separate tables

   He came sat down like they should be old friends.
   Do I know you, she said?
   Yes, we were lovers once.
   Long pause.
   Yes, I remember, but you have gone fat and bald
   I thought of you as an *******.
   You are a wrinkled old shrew, thought.
   We had some fun, he said.
   For you, it was,
  You would let me touch your *****, said it was
  Private property, she said.
  My dear, it was a joke, he said
You are a pompous old *******, she murmured for
No reason at all.
He stood up to give her a piece of his mind, but
The dinner bell rang.
They ate at separate tables.

The residue of a past

Lately from the murky part of his being
an unbecoming feeling has been floating upwards
lurking on the surface a misplaced desire.
He tries to shrug away to ignore it an let it sink back
to the murky depth that resides in humanity.
It is the nearness of her when going down the lift
the hand holding when crossing the street that
bother him and goes beyond the descendant relationship.
He dreads he might say something stupid and upset
the equilibrium between them. As it is he accept
the sense of warmth they are just friends driving along
the coast enjoying the vanishing summer.

The games we played

I was busy when you rang, I said, I will ring later.
When later came around I rang you, but you were busy too
had no time to talk.
You will sit by the phone waiting for me to ring,
but hurt by the tone of your voice I will not ring before tomorrow.
So, when I ring you will say something sarcastic
I will slam the phone down.
Sleepless and restless, something has to give
I finally ting you to say “I love you.”  
Empty words, what I would have liked to say was this:
“*******, you silly woman.”
Pretence never lasts our love fizzled out.
So long ago. I can´t remember her face.

The Inheritance

When my mother died, she had a flat
Belonging to social security and the was nothing
Of inheritance to speak about
She had a bookshelf full of books. Most belonged and
Were stolen at the local library and she was selective
When it came to literature.
There were also books Stalin would have approved  
Happy workers at a collective farm.
When I came the flat was empty; it needed a lick of paint
ready to receive other clients, the bookshelf was gone.
Relatives had taken furniture and pictures
Which I assumed needed the more than me.
I felt sorrowful about the books they were my mother’s
Soul, most likely they had been thrown away
By non- readers; mind I had read most of the books
She was particularly fond of Dos Passos and
John Steinbeck, but books never die, I remembered them.
My mother and literature go together I no longer
Read as much as I did, but my mother’s eyes are still
There, in my dreams.

What stones tell

I followed a track in the landscape, rocks dug up
clay clings to the stones unhappy and exposed in the daylight
need a good shower, but it will not rain for a while.
Not that it matters, stones will be churned into grit this year.
They have been in a dreamy limbo for aeons; the dream they
dreamt is a whisper in the wind, walk softly and listen.
TV is full of triviality photogenic politicians who talk loudly
are our leaders of tomorrow.
False promises, forgotten like the grit.
Dream time over, what is left is the stark truth giving light
in the walk of the life destined for us, the human race
as the stones murmur in the wind.

Scepticism

When I grew up
I stopped believing in God
Toys belonged to the young
And Santa fanatics.
However,
I leave a small light
On the bedside table
The fear of the dark
Never left me.
However,
I knew Christianity had taken hold of me
The dark hue of the sinner
Is always present.
However,
I believe in the day
Truth must not be hide
In churches recesses.
However,
Blood splash on walls and tinsel
On the ground
New Year in Istanbul
The fear never left me.
However,
I saw a happy child play in the puddle

Sputnik and other vaccines

The pandemic is a time when humankind is attacked nations should work together. Instead, it has become
a business propositions.
Who will sell the most vaccine (not necessarily the best)?
Who makes the most money for the Pharma industry?
And not the cost to the people who need it.
In an article in the Guardian several pharm/chemical
industry and to my amazement the Russian vaccine called
“Without irony” Sputnik was not mentioned, here politics
enter the stage while we wait for the ending of this scene.

Getting over an obstacle
It is uncanny when I’m prepared to drive home
Something happens it is delayed
This time it is the hospital I can’t go there
Since it is free a new appointment takes forever.
The hospital doctors try to stop the Whale from
Swimming to Greenland, the water is too cold.
All animals and fish seek back to their origin
I seek back to where I was reborn were, I grew
up in an ln landscape of olive trees and vine
bushes, a place was the roads were narrow and
silent only disturbed by the bleating of lambs.
The small dwelling my dog and the walk we
Had in the mystic forest of dreams where everything
Was possible.

Collapsing world

Isn't odd the world is on the brink of collapse
yet more airports are built sometimes at unlikely places
to get the swarm of tourism in.
It is ok for a traveller to walk in the streets of Paris but
not leave trash at the foot of Himalaya and plastic bags
spoiling beaches.
There was a noise on the balcony a big seabird had
collided with glass partition of the railing the bird
suffered a bent beak but was otherwise looking fine
if a bit shocked; of course it could no longer feed and
slowly starved to death.
A warning to us who fail to see the looming breakdown
of our world

Wherefore
  
there is a question, philosophers and goat herders
have in common with the rest of us a modest multitude
the query is, what is the purpose of our life
from a single ***** cell to fighting its way to survival and life
and we ask for what purpose?
We know the outer shell of what we are is based on
the environment we live in, such as education and friends
we meet and dream about.
But the question remains, why are we survivors and what
is the purpose of life that often changes unplanned by us?
The cynical among us have an easy answer,
but they cannot tell you why they become suspicious and
why Adolf became ******.
The nearest answer I can think of is that life is a prelude
to a new existence, an astral life form free of ego and ownership
will not be asked, we are free
liberated of the life that weighed us down on earth.
God is not in this picture, an abstraction we give thanks to when a war ends
and pray to during a new war which is like wildfire
there are always conflicts that are not planned but just happen
on life on our planet.
humanity is like a lost child in an amusement park, the colours
of the blinking light are a warning, outside the park is dark we look
for guidance but cannot find the answer.

Winter 1945

Shote in the night.
White faces
Snow fell
On cold bodies
Killing field.
I knew and didn´t want to know
Someone
Took me by the hand
Carried me home
Innocence confronted
By death.
In the night, I vomited
Must be something
I ate last evening.

The Shark

Sharks are smart
After wandering the oceans
Also, nearly eradicated in the cold water
Of the north.
Decided to seek revenge
By going ashore and with a shark’s cunning
Sought, financial centres where there was the power also.
They dabble in politics too and sit behind
The president's throne whispering sedition and flattery.
The sharks are successful they want to be
Rulers of the world and enslave us
Beware of sharks!
You can find them in the funny way they walk.