Homeless
The rain falls gently making no splashes
The wind is absent today.
Safe indoors I look out and know many
Seek bus shelters, and they have no home.

Paris is an ugly city, expensive and *****
Their subways stink of unwashed people.

I think of the unseen whom we don’t see
Mainly because we don’t want to.
In our cosy dens, we should know this
The calamity of losing it all could happen to us.

Spiritual

We hear a person speaks fluently with trained ease
which we later find is of little value.
This person is well-liked as he tells a joke and uses irony
when describing people, he does not like.
We can call him witty.
The person is a politician and knows nothing
about spirituality.
But he knows how to pander to our prejudices.

In Kashagan
The silk road begins
I bought
An apricot
From a woman
wearing
A red shawl
Over her black hair.
A yellow dress
She was stunning.
Kashagan
Has the biggest
Outdoor market
In the world
Europe is puny
And far away.
A new silk road
Is being
Constructed
Pipelines and trains
Expanding trade.
that is ok
as long
as they sell apricots

The weight
He had written two short books
Wanted to show her, his work,
Not now she said, I’m watching telly.
Around the beam that keeps the heaven’s roof from falling down,
He slung a rope fastened to a scrap iron drum using
Himself as a counterweight.
He hoisted the drum up, but he was too heavy
He carried too much weight of pride.
He cried in the night struggled to get rid of unwanted feelings
The drum becomes lighter, descended until
He was lifted to the top of the beam feeling free
Of false pride and ambition.
Why did you cry so much in the night? He was asked.
He smiled, was at ease with himself, but didn’t answer.

Waiting for heart surgery

Fun is over in the sleepless night
No more jokes about the seriousness of
My friend’s surgery.
it is a stark night the wind has stopped
The stillness overwhelms me
Perhaps he is awake thinking of the future
Or if he has any
Silent tears alone in a strange room so
Many regrets, plans he had that came to
No nothing.
Cold sweats on his brow his fear is palpable
He has not been so helpless, the thought of god
Enters his mind would a prayer help?
He pushes the thought away religion never
Meant anything for him, but in this dark hour
Of needs, he will do anything to be at ease.
Finally, he falls into a restless sleep, soon
It will be morning, providence will decide.

Modern democracy


Think of an egg hollow it out drink its albumen and yolk
the empty shell cracks easily and we call it democracy
and free expression which is subjected to unwritten laws.
You can call Trump a son of the devil, but not wish him
hanged, like Mussolini, was hung.

You will be subject to a sensor and put in a cell for a night,
democracy is a schoolyard with high walls if rules
are following the power to be will smile benightedly, you are
a useful idiot and they shower you will see the illusion
of richness if you play their game.

The world is now a fascist state, and they spy on you in shops
or in the street and what you say on the phone is recorded
because if you think and turn they will lose credibility,
followed by a revolution that will set you free providing
they do not infiltrate and ****** your power base away.

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

One Morning


Blue haze is the bay of Cascais
and it is summer were flowers is a good business
now that there are so many deaths
thanks to the virus that will not go away.
Jane Goodall, says we have only ourselves to blame
we have  misused the nature and its laws too long
and now it is payback time.
As usual, it is blameless who suffer the most
as they are often old and sick.
I see two freighters at anchor I can see the cooks
preparing breakfast as the crew sleep.
They will wake up to the smell of coffee brewed
strong this morn,
the cook on one of the ships stands on deck coffee
mug in hand smoking a cigarette enjoying the silence
which is warm and wraps him in a sense of peace.
The older members of the tribulation are up and about
while the younger ones sleep as long as they can,
Blessed are the ones who sleep.
The building where I live is an island drifting about
full of people who have no their world is coming to an end
but the still cling to life as it was
it is to so hard to adjust to a new epoch that holds
no promises of a future bright.

What few see

99% of people do not care about poetry
and why should they?
The sheep who feed among the olive trees,
the furtive fox, is crossing a field.
the forest full of life and rabbits jumping over
A sinking stone walk.
The climbing rose flower surrounding a house.
Where an old lady leaves and her grandson bringing
Her food and the latest news.
The cat sleeping on the old roof
And the eagle high up seeing what is worth hunting.
The beauty of nature we are too busy seeing.
Yet, poets write about it.
It is a hopeless task, but they are doomed to report
Nature´s greatness.

Odd man out
He cuts a lonely figure
Only he isn’t.
Avoided learning the language where he lives
To avoid tittle-tattle.
He is a failed poet too.
Rancorous and silent
But does smile and say thank you a thousand times
As is the norm in this country.
He wishes he could eat as much as he wanted to
But is constricted by diabetes
And a wonky heart.
He is often cranky.
Waits to set sail to the Saragossa island
He sends poems to a publisher, who answer but want money
He has published a few books
Which makes him feel like a fraud
His last wish is to be accepted by someone who will publish him
Not telling him he is terrific than asking for cash.
He finds facebook too nice
Likes the twitter where the truth is often spoken
And no one reads his work.

The perception

I was two years old sat in the bomb shelter in the basement of an old school
when I became aware of myself.
I looked at my hands, knowing what I did now I would remember the rest of my life.
Above us, English bombers circled they were trying to find the airport,
which was occupied by the German army,
The bombers did not find the airport but dropped bombs anyway before returning home
hit a school, a fish factory and some houses.
I looked at my hands again I had a will could use in my struggle
in the world of adults, the liberty of my thought made me feel jubilant
but also, a bit frightening because from this moment I was responsible
for my action.
What I fear is old age is it going to rob me of awareness
of what I´m and what I was.

Haiku
Invisible flowers
Hidden among razed houses
Jordan valley

Haiku
Army vehicles
Inside sat soldiers of doom.
Broken olive trees


Haiku
The heartless triumph
They lose their humanity
Apathy is their price

The Unanswered


I look up to the night sky, so vast too big for a mere human
to comprehend.
Why should I be alone in this immensity?
No, there must be something more a ruler of this beauty
How else can I understand?  
Am I, a lone star fading into the universe of none existence?
people seek god, any god, as cosmic loneliness
has no answer.
That is why we turn to religion that offers a simple response
to our foreboding.
Our inability to accept the loss as a natural conclusion
of being born into conscious life.
To know how wondrous the world is.
O, the splendour of the night, what is the beauty I will not see?
In the end, the sun goes on shining, rain falls every spring
flowers bloom as our quest goes unanswered.
What´s left is silence.

From Russia with love

Russia is a strange and great country, not quite in Europe
and not quite Eastern, they react to mayhem but seldom
intimate it; for those who are history less they won
The brutal war of 1940 and 1945 by breaking the back
of the German army and making it possible by Britain
and the USA to take the credit.
Norway has up to know had a warm relationship with
this giant, in the form of a barter system, we gave them
fish and they sent us cars for everyman.
It was not the USA that made car ownership possible, but
Russia flooding the market with cheap cars as foreign
cars were hard to come by.
The cars where called Moscowitch and were fundamental
no heating system and a tortuous suspension, but
for the first time, every man could be
a proud car owner.
For those who remember, it was a dreadful car but
nevertheless, a car.
Lately, to our regret the relationship has suffered, this
Is mainly by American political pressure, and partly
by the Norwegian oil industry that has made her
a wealthy country.
This newfound arrogance is miss-placed and silly
we must treat Russia as the friend she is and not
forget we own her a depth of gratitude.

One morning in August

It is early morning, but the petrol station is open
A man stands outside drinking a beer and smokes a cigarette
Not for me to be critical; he needs it to face the day
Before goes to walk in an office on the other side of the road
He is chewing gum; probably he does some tedious work
Repairing computers.
The petrol station is filling up with cars I noticed the prices
Has gone up, others hang outside drinking coffee and
Talking about how expensive it is to drive, but in our society
People often have a long way to drive to work, and it is
Too cold to be sporty and use the bicycle, even the electric ones.
I have had a shower but since my balance unsteady so early
I sit on a kitchen chair inside the tub only get up when
Cleaning parts I cannot reach sitting down.
More and more cars fill the road, and I can’t be standing
Looking out all day long I have other things to do

The war and food

During the war years in Norway 1940 to 1945
there was little food, but the coast was teeming
with fish, my brother and I often walked down to the pier
and in a matter of minutes had dinner.
Needs make you into a thief we stole potatoes,
apples and coal for the fire.
We had a variety of fish like boiled, fried or made
into fish-cakes, but in the process I developed a lifelong
dislike of fish, but I do eat fish as long as it doesn't like
aquatic vertebrate.
After the war nicking food was no longer seen as legal
but with food in shops it was no longer needed

Bitter Love

In the night, I whispered no one love like us
entwined we’re one body a mass of sated lust.
Her room above an ice-cream parlour was
an angle’s boudoir.
I left for work in a cloud of pink infatuation
and felt benevolent to all creatures in the world.
Nothing could touch me now the coast
was clear of underwater reefs.
Suddenly it changed a boyfriend, a fisherman
came back from the sea, it was him she loved
in our throes of ******, her thought was of him.
A fall from grace, total humiliation, the beauty
fragmented into thousand pieces of the utterly
repugnant memories.
She and her lover boarded a ferry to Denmark
and that was the end of our love affair.

New beginning

After 200 years after a devastating that whipped out all life
the nature that had healed itself began blooming

the first sign was minute flowers covering wounded fields
tree roots awakened tiny samplings became a green forest.

In the sea, microbes changed and looked like fish
Swam in the swallow some of them could breaths in air.

The fish near the shores felt threaten by a bigger monster
sought the beach, and as time evolved, they looked human.

They had brains used to snare other life forms for food
The saga of humanity started again without a past.

Was bound to make the same mistake again till a new
Armageddon was bound to happen again.

The visit to the past
I took the bus to the village
Only it didn’t stop there anymore, and no buses were going that way.
The only road to my house was a track.
For tractors and mules.
In my absence wartime was hard
but I met a man who for money could
drive to the village for a few Euros.
My old dog sat outside it took some
moments before it recognized me
it was glad to see me. The door was open.
I walked into the kitchen. A man came out of the living room
He was surprised to see me.
He had moved in since the house was empty
The owner had disappeared.
The dog lives in the shed, he said. Not anymore
I said. I have nowhere to go, the man lamented
In that case, you can stay for a few days.
I took the dog for a walk in the woods
On the other side of the track, she liked that
It disappeared, and I couldn’t find my way
Back to the house and the village had gone.
A person with a golf club in his hand told me the small village had been razed years ago
I had no business being here as it was the future.
And there was no way back to the old days
I had nothing to do here, and I walked towards the horizon.

Living a poem
At the hospital, I woke up in the night went to the loo.
Coming out I didn’t recognize the hall a woman came
told me to go back to bed, “but my father told
me to stay here” and I knew I was in a dream I could
not remember the title of
When young this tendency to become was strong
but with advancing years and cynical sobriety my
reading of poetry had cooled.
The nurse took me to bed I invented her into it she
chuckled, go to sleep now. I in the morning while
waiting for pre-breakfast coffee and a scone and
the nurses were busy sticking needles into me
I tried to remember the title of the poem, and I think
it was called “the boy on the burning bridge.”

The Eve

Today is the last day of 2019
Later people will fill restaurants to eat overpriced chicken,
Drink cheap champagne get jolly and sing in
The New Year makes promises for 2020 that will not be kept.
Wake on the first day, look out of the window and
See the day has not changed.
It has been a fraught year with conflicts nearly spilling over
To a world war and millions of people are desperate to find
A place where bombs do not fall.
For me having lived through it all it is a miracle for which I’m
Grateful most of the time. I had a moment of fear when
I knocked on my wife’s bedroom and she at first didn’t answer
Without her, living would have been pointless.
Tonight, we’ll eat at a small restaurant, go home drink some wine
And watch the unfolding on TV.
To sit beside her, sharing a blanket, the night is cold is a pleasure
No one should be denied.

The sitting president of the USA (irony)

My dislike of Trump is deep
like that of any dictator driven by ambition and cruelty.
Then I read the twitter and find tittle-tattle
about him and the women in his household
written for a lot of dosh
by those who knew him and his family briefly.
The intelligentsia make fun of his use of words
which I presume to make them sound learned.
For those who have not got it yet
he didn´t become president because he is
blithering idiot.
Trump´s base
is in the so-called “flyover states” who are annoyed
by Washington and the high fliers there.
His opponent in this race a Joe Biden is seen
as a Washington insider and have nothing to give
the American people, except a white smile
by an older man with a dentist grin.
Trump is all talk he has not started any new war
should he be elected again he might even be
a friend of Iran.

Dark life matters

Woke up in the night it was very dark
put a hand out couldn´t see it.
I wonder how it is to be blind?
In this flat, if no one rearranges the furniture
it would be easy, find the kitchen too.
Opening the fridge is a breeze, it is of no interest
if its light comes on or not.
Remember to clean your hands!
On nights like this, I should be contemplating my death
but my vanity gets in the way.
Should I smile or look grim, and would they remember
to put tanning cream on my face?
I friend of mine who works at the local supermarket is black and carries his skin with pride,
is always glad to see me.
How can you drive at your age, he asks?
Easy, I feel my way.
He finds this hysterically funny.
If I stopped at a handicapped place and a police officer
asked me why I parked there.
I park here because I'm handicapped.
You don´t look handicap, he will say.
I will take off my sunglasses and say, officer, I´m blind.

THE HORSES
There was grassland with a river crossing, a natural barrier.
White horses on one side, and muscular brown horses on the other side.
If one looks well, there are foals of mixed race, they good genes and will
in time carve out their land, higher up, near the hills and water.
When farmers wanted a horse for ploughing, they lassoed a brown horse,
for lighter work, like driving the ladies to the church in a buggy, a white horse
was chosen mainly because they were malleable to handle.
Tragedy struck, developers bought the land, houses were built, filling
the grassland with noise streets and polluting the river.
The horses fled to a sparse mountain ***** on the grass, and many
starved, their life span short, and the puma was a constant threat.
The horses mixed freely they had to when their survival was at stake.

War kills

Retina less windows
Bodies were strewn on foul streets
A photo of Grozny
Summary execution
Death sways from unlit lampposts
Friend or foe
Who knows?
Conspiracy of peace
Both sides declare victory
The truth is debris

It was love

I sat under a bridge
That crossed the stream
Small fishes
Nibbled at my feet.
Agnes came
My girlfriend
She often annoyed me
But let me
Kiss her.
She threw pebbles at the fish
I bit her arm
She ran home crying
Telling her mum
I didn´t love her anymore.
I said I was sorry
She showed me
The bite mark
Asked her to marry me
She said yes.
It didn´t work out
The age differences
Agnes was six years old
I was four.

Pre-Surgery

A green long-leaved plant on the table
she says doesn’t need water for the next fortnight.
Does the plant bear flower?
No, she says it is supposed to be green striped like this
It has a lovely colour and is not a bother
Not like the rose plant that craves a constant attention
If you leave it alone for a week, it wizens.
The Christmas tree is white this year to give the
illusion of snow
this tree doesn’t need looking after, I say
It is better to buy a Chinese tree and save the forest
she retorts.
Surgery tomorrow, only light food and water, I feel grumpy.

President Jacques Chirac
Was laid to rest today and with him
The Europe we loved, the civility and elegance.
Democracy and decency when Paris
pulsed with life.
These days one has to get to the regions
To meet the real French
Paris has been taken over by foreign tongues
Whose demands are not French but
Adoption of the life they lived on
The hinterland, say Pakistan or Algeria
The hope they would integrate and become
Real Parisian was a dream too far.
We have to accept that the old ways are over
Moreover, who knows? It might be better.

Trapped

My life is in three parts
30, years as a ****** until it became unbearable.
30 good years in the deep hinterland
a place of contemplations and trying to write,
walking with my dog in the woods, there was so much to see.
I feel imprisoned.
My house is sold, I have nowhere to go.
Living in a building of snobs who rather wait for an elevator
when the transport lift is free.
Surrounded by nice middle-class housing and planted trees.
My years at sea is no longer obtainable, my life in the upland was a dream
And here I live inside a nightmare of all I dislike.
The worst thing that can happen to any man has happened to me
The loss of the future.

It happens

Like driftwood in a restless sea of humanity
is the story of my life, plans I made never came to fruition
the current shifted course, I ended up in a land, not mine.
I lived in relative harmony near a forest and nature
and had an obedient dog; life was calm and easygoing.
There is good times and bad times; I had lived in a cove
where the current doesn´t reach, but a big storm came
and I was back as driftwood no rudder and no plan.
I ended up in Cascais, which I thought was a place for
ex-kings and president, thrown out of their country and
now living off the spoil of their robbery.
Cascais as I know it is a place full of cars driving fast
a few trees here and there, but not a half-decent park.
What do I know, everyone around me wears jeans and
a T. shirt and since this is equality time one of them
could be an ex-king.
As for planning nae, I leave that to the current.

Morning sight
  
A man and his dog
Are coming out of a house
The man has an umbrella
The dog is not happy.
It stops by the curb
Empty its bowel, *** and
Sniff a tree.
The man, further down
The street calls his mutt
It ignores him
Runs back to the house.
This is not the weather.
For long walks.

Military service (compulsory)

Stationed at a camp
The discipline, not too tough unless you had never done up your bed.
They gave us some old German rifle not
Shooting anyone, but for training.
I liked to go guard duty patrolling the perimeter
There I could sit behind a big stone and smoke
The worst thing that happened to me in the
Military service, sitting behind a rock I had
Forgotten my matches and had to cut me
Patrolling short.
From time to time I stayed out too long and it
Ended in a fortnights jail, this suited me to find
Books to read and my room.
The rest of my military service was a waste of time.

When in need

After getting lost in a rotating door
I got into a vast foyer couldn’t find the loo
Peed behind a big plant hoped people would
Think I was a Christmas decoration

The fountain of youth lasts long after
***, a memory that had nothing to do with me.

I was told to leave by the porter and around
The rotating door he ended up outside
I was inside he was confused I had a beer at the bar.
Older men *** when it is needed, and that is that.

the future

I have been listening and seeing a program
by David Attenborough about the dire state of our world
listening to his voice, I felt his sadness.
He ended with a hope that we can find a way back
to a sustainable future.
I felt the last lines he spoke about hope was not
reflected in his voice.
I think as humans we are destroying ourselves
the USA and the Russian Federation are threatening
each other with nuclear warfare.
Should Biden win the race it will get worse he is
a warmonger and will confront Russia, unlike
the much malign Trump who has kept a lid on things
despite his showman bluster.
I think the eradication of humanity is imminent.
Nature will recuperate, forests will grow but
I fear we will not be there.

The Ring

When I asked my girlfriend to marry me, she was thrilled
and said, now I can quit my boring job and be a housewife.
She called her parents they were coming into town
the next day, meet us at eight o’clock sharp.
I had bought my fiancé a ring of old gold with green gem,
it looked expensive but wasn´t
I put the ring in my camelhair overcoat, the coat was ****
more expensive than the ring.
Going to meet the new family, I was a bit nervous stopped
at a bar had a Rom and coke, as I was about to order
one more drink my friends, came in; laughter and talk.
When I looked at the time it was about 9, I rushed out
And forgot my overcoat
to find a cab, there wasn’t any, so, I had to walk to the house
and arrived about ten 0’clock.
Rang the doorbell, she cried and refused to let me in,
I knocked on the door, when it opened it was her father
Who angrily shouted that his daughter wasn´t marrying a common drunk?
It was the prefix “common” that hurt me most.
Back at the bar, my dear overcoat was stolen but my friends
Consoled me, we drank some more.
Two years later, I saw she was getting married in a small white church
in the neighbourhood.
I went to her wedding but sat in the back didn´t want her to see me.
I have good eyesight and noticed she wore the same ring
I never got around to giving her
That made me wonder if the bridegroom was a thief.

The mystery of man
This is the third day after new year and the day
equally dark and miserable as they were before
the new has number changed.
On the Eve of festivity, drunk people thronged
narrow streets hoarse voices and screams
upsetting dogs and cats.
oddly, we celebrate the new year with
warlike gestures like fireworks.
Most of my friends are dead, yes, we too danced
the golden calf, not knowing what life was about
I still don’t know.
On the third sober day, the same old **** bombs
killing people, as arms dealers drink champagne.
Our democracy is for the well to do
for us subjugation and waiting for Godot.

Odd, is the poet

He was the odd boy in the family
in a town that doesn’t rhyme with anything.
He wrote strange words in a notebook
the teacher told him to stop this nonsense
and learn that 2X2 makes four.
Declared he was a poet when eleven.
His mother was shocked at what happens
to my son is turning into a Nancy boy.
He came to England where people are so correct
mowing the front lawn every Saturday in
their Sunday best, their dream was to appear
middle- class.
He came to Portugal, rented a car came to
the village where people said halloo and how do you do
they have a song in their hearts.
When a Faddist sings she closes her eyes, it is like
she is dreaming of her song of love and sadness,
and that is ok because he is a dreamer too and hopes
his wife will understand his jokes.

An island afar

In Tasmania, the sheep were full of sot
a land where white farmers had killed off the Tasmanian tiger.
The sheep’s only enemy was the man.
There were a fire people sought refuge in the water
and sheep left to find their food wherever there was a green spot.
I was in Hobart once, l it must be classed as the most boring city in the world.
people here were eating fish and chips fried in sheep fat
This place of bungalows, secure in their little life in a cocoon of the trite,
do not improve on their culinary skills

Another summer
Summer is over the night arrives hastily
it was a delicious season spent indoors
his cancer didn´t like to sun.
To sit there and dream of summer wine and dance
reading brochure of adventures in Thailand.
Once he travelled to Paris, walked the street
trying to get a whiff when Paris was Hemingway´s
Ezra Pound’s Gertrude Stein’s and James Joyce’s.
Instead, it was another overpriced city
but he went to the house where Edith Piaf lived
her name was on the building and the street
where she had lived had a lived-in patina.
He was not invited, to a literary salon but
Shakespeare’s bookshop took in two of his
modest book

Living forever

The knowledge of living forever
is already here, all one has to do
is renewing one's cells once a year
beginning at the age of forty
or there about when a person is
self -sufficient.
It is also possible to renew cells so
often that one regress to infancy
and looked after by your son who
is unable to grasp that he is changing
his father’s *****.
But longevity has its own risk how to live
you can alight from the 9 bus
and be knocked down by a car,
the autopsy would show the killed person was not
forty years old but 110.
The best way to be old is to **** someone in Oklahoma
get 200 years in a padded cell
be  fed through a slot in the wall
And when the years come to an end,
refuse to leave the prison, your home on earth.

Tour 1

A man with blue-rinsed hair was the tour’s leader
we stopped outside Edith Piaf’s former home where she was born
The house is still the dwellings steps into the house
were well-trod.
Our leader held up a picture of the lady, a photo I had seen
on YouTube, he told us a fairy tale about her goodness
for a moment, I thought he was talking about a saint.
We retired to a café where he sang, “La vie en rose” and forever
Destroyed the most beautiful of songs.
Tour 2
Fighting my way through the metro and jostling with rude commuters
I found my way back where Edith was born; the street was taken
over by the Chinese wedding, the brides were lovely.
While sitting on the steps where Edith used to live, her voice
came back to me; the offensive man with blue-rinsed hair
didn’t succeed in destroying the song
It was a beautiful autumnal day, Edith and I walked to a park overlooking Paris.,
we drank absinthe and coffee.
At a safe distance, I saw the fabled Eifel tower looking old
yet elegant in glorious sunlight.

The unwanted guest

We are having guests tomorrow
I hate it upsetting my day
Eight people and one of them is a woman
I once loved and wrote poetry about.
It is embarrassing I used her as a muse
But I’m not interested in her personally.
The only good thing is we are going to a posh
Restaurant and I don’t have to pay.
If they order something dear and it is not
Good for my diabetes I will have to say so
And have an omelette with tomatoes.
The husband of the one I used to like works
In the oil business in a poor African country
So wine is out I get loose lips when drinking.
It will be an ordeal I have to suffer not
To upset anyone and leave my political views at home.

The fall of the west

Easy, abortion worrying, call for an appointment at five.
A well-educated woman has a career to consider
this is her right to pursue her dream. (Work before pleasure.)
a mother is hard work and the pay is lousy
Birth rates in Europe are sinking, upsetting the balance of the future.
A less educated woman has to work also one pay packet is not thanks
to our capitalist system called hard graft
In Portugal, the birth rate is low from one generation to a distressing fall.
Old people die out there are not enough people to take up the slack,
which in the end ruin a country?
If an unmarried woman has 3 to 4 children, she is seen as a loose
Woman, we punish her and her children sending them into poverty
while we should applaud her for saving the future of Europa
What is needed is economic stimulus making motherhood well paid
a career to strive towards.

Social Housing

It was a socially correct house each one
Had a window facing out and a window into
The next room, privacy is the beginning
of capitalism; and curtains were out seen as
afire hazards.
A loophole, plants were allowed and people
Planted in front of inner windows and later
Wherever there was an open space.
A greenhouse?
Yes, they began selling the food surplus at
the town’s square and generally behaved like
A new middle-class; it goes without saying
That the right people got a juice tomato
And thus, corruption began and a social
Experiment failed.

Let Iran live

Those who want a war in Iran, ought to look
At the people in the street, shopping laughing a good time is had.
Millions of them will be killed and maimed by war is as idiotic as it is senseless and solves nothing. Other
than giving more power to the Saudis and the elephant
in the room which tactfully not mention.
I ask Europe not to give in to” a coalition of the willing” you
Plant bombs, **** people on others behalf
And call it democracy.
If you do the retribution will be endless

Self-determination for all

  Freedom is not always what it is supposed to mean
  It gets curtailed by the influence of the world we live in,
for many freedoms is scary, they prefer freedom within
the cage that is full of seed in all colour you can think of;
such as a religion of choice and ******* to satisfy your
hidden desire.
A canary sat on a perch inside its confinement and noticed
the gateway was open, it flew out and the feeling of freedom
was intense, think sitting on a bookshelf and crapping on
a newspaper the “Guardian” on the small table by the chair.
A window was open, more freedom, it flew out sat on
the branch of a tree, feeling totally free and no one would say:
how blue the bird is?
A raven, shiny black saw the bird and the was that
a few blue feathers are blowing in the breeze.

The stone casts of the life


The journey has not ended
since I had a fall on the terrace the dream was over
I had been holding on selling my old home for a slushy reason.
No, I have not resigned I will not give up on anything
it is just I have to find other alternatives.
No, I have no firm plans they never came to fruition.
I have had the fortune to live a dream.
Now I live in a flat too big for me four bedrooms and
I only sleep in one of them.
The next step I live to what life gives me I don´t need much
when I was a ******, I had a cabin, books and a bunk.
I never dreamt of a castle.
Except for recurring depression, I´m quietly contented.

War in Europa

Never have I seen so many well-dressed refugees
fleeing a country where few bombs fall on people.
Never have I seen a media totally unbiased
stirring up a war that has yet to produce victims.
This winter, the hungry and the cold were stopped
at the border of Poland stopped by water cannons
and dogs.
The refugees came from Libya, Afghanistan, Africa
and most of them were not pristine white one could
be forgiven thinking we are watching discrimination
of the worst type.
War is to be condemned, but the media is suffering
from amnesia, whipping people into a frenzy like it
should be the first and only war in Europe.

Democracy for everyone

The democratic party is in power now
and Trump, for all his flaws, didn´t want a war in the middle east
he sent many soldiers´ home.
The new President Joe Biden sent them back to Iraq
he has an issue with Syria.
There was a revolt many years ago that with the help of the CIA
developed to a civil war, and bombed fell, killing thousands.
A War the USA lost, and the failures on the ground turned into ISIS
and nearly won if it was not for the Russians and Iran,
who pulverized the murderous thugs?
Under the sainted Obama, there were many wars, (Libya) springs to mind)
Joe Biden wants one too, the sight is on Syria bringing Democracy whether
the Syrians like it or not.
Since Joe Biden is an old man and soon will die, he should think
of the Palestinians
so, he can meet his maker with a clear conscience.

Kitchen drama

We were poor
Shared our kitchen with the woman next door
She was in her thirties
I was fifteen.
We met in the kitchen
It started with a kiss
It ended with full ***.
Mother found out
Called our neighbour a ***** gave her a slap
Across her face.
To me, she said.
How could you with that woman!