End of democracy

I think we are witnessing a historic shift
the page has turned and our ideas about
democracy is regarded with suspicion
because it is in inclusive and give too much
freedom to the individual. This idea that
a person could have his own faith instead
of a faith that included all and those who
cannot conform must die.

This philosophy flies in the face of us who
has fought for this goal, only to find this is
not what the people want and you cannot
fight the future. For me this will a bleak time
murderous and peaceful, but it will not last
the conservative forces will not prevail.

The End of Poetry  
I refuse, refuse to write anymore my head
is a winter turnip you can slice fry and pretend
it is schnitzel   served with spinach and mashed
potatoes, all  of them are veggies that refuse to
be eaten but have little choice but to surrender
at the motto of “Let us try this once more.”
Dreams are the last to go, she was sleeping and
dying woke up and said she had a funny dream
she told me about it delightful memories she
didn't have a happy childhood and a pony,
touched my deeply. Two hours later she died in
the middle of another dream and stark reality
sat in a corner crying. Pallid faces took her away
as I repeated to myself, I refuse to believe what
have occurred, reality had lost its rudder.
I accepted the avoidable opened a door and was hit
by a storm full of spiteful and hateful thoughts,
but I refuse to write about that.

The end of writing


I´m not a poet no more
have crossed the field of roses
in front of me a dark forest where blackened leaves
have yet to fall.
The forest is endless the hope is to find a tarn bottomless
and mysterious and nymphs are calling my name and made
or me a bed of rosebuds, but not under Damocles sword
the spirits of my life have a baroque sense of humour.
I have thrown away my pen,
no more scribbling on a piece of paper or bank statement
if I write it will be with a stick on a beach at the edge of the sea
and see as the ripples erase what I wrote something about
a dream in the land of forgetfulness.
Since my birth there have been endless wars, do dictators
sprout from the earth like cabbage, but to this forest
they will not dare to tread, less they will be petrified forever
lost in the dark flora.

Endurance

Sat on the terrace
Waited for stars.
It was overcast
Delayed a bit longer.
Then it was morning
And rain fell.
Big drops
In each one
I saw
An echo of stars
Too tiny
To see
by the naked eye.

Drowning dreams

The lake in this landscape of stones and sky is dark, forbidding
Alluring, like hypnotic eyes coming nearer and see me.
My depth is endless it murmurs, all your illegal dreams rest in
               Me, come swim in me, dive and I will show you the sensual shock you have been denied, you will see your parents in a ****** embrace
floating by, your lust to join them is''  unbearable and out of you
ejaculations. There will be no respite, no hiding place for dreams
you have refused to see.
Has morning light rescued you from the truth?
As you sink further down the hell of your existence shall drag you
Into the flagellation of desire, and you'll see bones of those who
gave in to yearning, forever living in the hell of the impossible desire.
The lid of the dark eye shudders, turn back now, let me embrace
the forbidden, and your secret will go unspoken, like the shifting
Sand in Sahara where only silence survives.

English Village

It was a beautiful spring morning.
Nothing I know of can be more harmonious
then an English village.
Sycamore trees dripped morning dew like honey
and rose bushes sparkled as ruby.
On an open field, a lone horse came to the fence
I stroked its flank and spoke softly.
It was morning moist and exuded a delightful aroma.
On the other side of the turf, another barrier opened
and a flock of sheep came out.
The horse trotted over I was forgotten.
Continued eastward towards the sun and memories.

Ennui  
I sit on a high stool watch vegetables boil I use
a little water and when the pan is dry I add butter stir
let it brown and I add cold meat I found in the fridge.
Having been a witness to the murdering of food
I'm not hungry anymore, pity my dog was run over
by a train and if she had not she would be dead
of old age; she was still alive looked at me as to say
I trusted you implicitly” seeing how distressed I was
she licked my hand died and forgave me; her bones
are in a black plastic bin in the shed.
I live inside a cocoon of depression and elastic bubble
made of a cow's stomach, everything I remember is tinged
By the thought, I should have done been better.
Had I been a success, I would be happy and think with
A fondness of the daughter, I never had she only grew to be
an embryo, so many embryos lives that never got a chance,
haunt me in the night.
I open a can of lager, like the hooligans in the street of
Leeds do, all I need is a hood to hide my face from the world
and blame the society of my tribulations.

Entertainment
It is eight o'clock the news people have finally exhausted
every ounce of news from the Paris Tragedy. Even people
who were in Lyon at the time have been interviewed.
The local news is tame, they try to spirit it up by reporting
a car crash, but have the haunted look of a man who slept
with George Bush, whose tryst began this pandemonium
that ended in a Parisian working class district  

A performing program takes over, nubile girls who can't
dance or sing, do friends and family clap and cheers.
The program is inept the colours are garish, but they are
not killing anyone just nursing a hope of fleeting fame.

Enticement

The girl in the bar that had floors made of stranded schooners
came and sat by us
Many sailors had drowned in her eyes.
On the way to the Saragossa Sea, their blood
ran down cracks on the floor,
Dripped into the sea below the colour of crimson.
Looked into her eyes an evil goddess with green eyes
I followed her to a room in the back
She laughed when she caught me.

The Intrepid

Tall Savannah grass, he had to drive on its only road it was narrow
had no pavement, he rode his scooter could see the ears of big cats
listening.
It was noon, the lions didn’t like the smell emitting from his scooter,
animals only eat when hungry.
He stopped switching off the motor he wanted to be attacked by a lion,
be eaten alive he thought life would give meaning to his futile life.
The silence was total heard insects crossing the road sound like a regiment
on war foot.
Now or never, walked into the tall grass remembered lines like
“I’m the master of my destiny.”
What rot! He knows nothing about the future.
The savannah was an oat field, a farmer shouted scared the lions away.
Sometimes we will be eaten by the worms in the soil
that is undignified.

The Intrepid

Tall Savannah grass, he had to drive on its only road it was narrow
had no pavement, he rode his scooter could see the ears of big cats
listening.
It was noon, the lions didn’t like the smell emitting from his scooter,
animals only eat when hungry.
He stopped switching off the motor he wanted to be attacked by a lion,
be eaten alive he thought life would give meaning to his futile life.
The silence was total heard insects crossing the road sound like a regiment
on war foot.
Now or never, walked into the tall grass remembered lines like
“I’m the master of my destiny.”
What rot! He knows nothing about the future.
The savannah was an oat field, a farmer shouted scared the lions away.
Sometimes we will be eaten by the worms in the soil
that is undignified.

Envy

Look at this man
he has got a Mercedes. I have not got one
my heart aches I covet this car.
No matter how hard I try, I can not afford to buy one.
But I can take this man´s pleasure in his car away.
I hate this man and his ****** car.
Scrape the bodywork on this gleaming pride, accidentally
run into him, sorry my man, the breaks failed.
Do anything to, he tires of his car and put it up for sale
my glee was boundless when the vehicle was sold.
But what do you know, he bought another Mercedes.

Epigram
Beware of tradition it can be harmful and Intolerant
Hateful of those who do not share your way of life
New ideas will be met with scorn old ways was best.
Not true, don't let convention steal your freedom

Epigram
It doesn’t matter how far you go
What height you climb to the top
You will always feel like an intruder
The stigma of poverty clings to you.

Epigram
I do not write lyrical poetry anymore
leave that to young hearts not damaged by cynicism,
which is poetry’s biggest enemy; lyrical poem
should be free of realism and have a dreamy quality

Epigram
you can never be famous in your wife’s eyes
she has seen the pain hidden in your smile,
the bareness of your soul, she has seen your
discontent on days of yet another refusal.

Epigram
I don't want to wait long patience is not my virtue
But when it does happens it will happen too fast
Just as I want time to slow down.

Epigram 3

If the universe has a limit, will the limitation
Be a wall, made of elastic a rubber band that
Can be overextended to the breaking point
A balloon that can be pierced at will, or like
The horizon, you see it, but it can't be reached.
And what is beyond the boundary?

Epigram 5

Self-awareness must not be confused
With self-consciousness which can be
Devastating for people with fragile egos  
You cannot be as good as your inner self.

Epiphany

1950, there had been a war, but things were going back to normal.
My mother had a new boyfriend who also had a small cabin on an island
and a rowing boat.
On a nice Sunday, we rowed out, mother had made sandwiches mostly filled with jam,
a thermos of coffee and a bottle of soft drink.
Her boyfriend gave me a line with a hook and a sinker and told me
to go to the shallow and catch something.
I did as he said, but must add I do not take kindly being “told.”
There were many tiny fishes that looked like swimming rainbows
I was enthralled by them; in the crystal-clear water, it was like looking into heaven.
I must have been in a dreamlike state of mind, took a step forward and fell into the water.
The boyfriend came running, mother too, she was worried about my health,
we returned back to town, so I could get dry clothing and cacao drink.
The boyfriend was grumpy, suggested I had fallen into the water
to attract attention.
I didn´t try to explain that for a moment I had seen the wonder and understood everything.
Mind, he could have been right, what does a boy know of life.

Epiphany

It was an incredible summer in 1950 the war was over things were getting
back to normal, mother's new boyfriend who worked at a factory had
a rowboat and paid holiday leave. A Sunday early we rowed to a small island
in the bay, mother had brought a blanket, sandwiches in brown paper bags
mostly jam I think and two bottles of soft drink, water and cold milk that soon
was off, and a thermos flask of coffee. The boyfriend gave me a line with
a hook on told me to go fishing- telling me what to do is not easy not even for me-
in the shallow water near the pier as bait, I found a worm under a stone thread
the living thing on the fishhook.
the water was crystal clear had tiny fishes that looked like rainbows swimming
about I saw the sky I was in a trance thought I was what I saw took a step
forward and landed in the water people came running helping me up back I was
in real-time mother came running to shout at me as mothers do and worried
about my delicate health. Rowing back into town again the boyfriend was grumpy
and suggested I had fallen into the water to get the attention I said little in my defence
how could I explain for a moment I had understood everything, but on the other hand, he could have been right, how is a boy supposed to know

Epiphany

It was an incredible summer in 1950 the war was over things were getting
back to normal, mother's new boyfriend who worked at a factory had
a rowboat and paid holiday leave. A Sunday early we rowed to a small island
in the bay, mother had brought a blanket, sandwiches in brown paper bags
mostly jam I think and two bottles of soft drink, water and cold milk that sun
went off, and a thermos flask of coffee. The boyfriend gave me a line with
hook on told me to go fishing- telling me what to do is not easy not even for me-
in the shallow water near the pier as bait, I found a worm under a stone thread
the living thing on the fishhook.
the water was crystal clear had tiny fishes that looked like rainbows swimming
about I saw the sky….I was in a trance thought I was what I saw took a step
forward and landed in the water people came running helping me up back I was
in real time mother came running too shouted at me as mothers do and worried
about my delicate health. Rowing back into town again the boyfriend was grumpy
suggested I had fallen into the water to get attention I said little in my defence
how could I explain for a moment I had understood everything, but on the other
hand he could have been right how is a boy supposed to know

If it had been the bike repairman
or, the mechanic who never overcharge
when bringing my old Lada back to life,
I could have understood….
But A Free Mason!
I blame the classless society when a perfectly
honest factory girl falls in love with
likes of him…. and even worse goes and
get hitched to the man

Equines
One really ought to start with the beginning only it goes so long back
That it is impossible to remember.
I remember being born but that was just an interlude, cold and
Unpleasant and being kissed by strangers.
I like horses though, but that has nothing to do with my inception.
But then was anyone ever born, we are just a part of a bigger
Broader picture where we but an unconscious number
But I do like horses and would have loved galloping across some
Grassland and jumping over brooks.
And now we have emboli fever which is either over-hyped,
Ten thousand dead by September or it is the new plague coming
To reduce our number ...and yet, and yet I would like to be a horse.
As I wonder if USA will ever be able to live for a whole year
Without starting a war somewhere

Equus ferrous

There is a storm blowing when blue waves crash ashore
white horses with flying mane gallop up, blocking the road.
The stallions become a river, pushing useless cars aside
to drown in their futility.
The town below is a lake, rats escaping the sewers runs
up to the third-floor frightening people with their anger
eat babies’ eyes.
A new generation of the unseeing kind, the previous one
could see but didn´t understand busy
as they were playing with the cell phones taking selfies.
Everything ends, calm sea the wild white horse went back
to the bay, and the rats moved back to the sewers

Erratically you

It was by chance I came to Portugal.
I was a failure in Norway and a bigger loser in Britain.
I could not absorb a culture that makes the working-class
dumb workers and ignorant soldiers.
It was a day in May when I came here, didn´t want to live
by the coast, which was like living in Liverpool with sunlight.
I bought a ruin/stable got local workers to help me restoring the place.
One day I looked up and said: “I´m home.”

The Escape

A man coming home from work saw a shadowy figure
leaning against an olive tree.
It was death sharpening his scythe polishing his hoof.
Them and said, no, not me, I´m too young to die
furthermore, I have to go to Madrid and work as a solicitor’s clerk.
In Madrid, he knocked on the relevant door, opened and the devil
sat there smiling.
The death said, from now on, you are my little helper,
go back home and **** your parents their time has come.
Greatly disturbed, he took the first plane home, and there
leaning against the same tree death stood like a shadow
in the autumnal evening.
In the house, his parents were crying they had buried
their only son, but they didn´t see or hear him and he was truly
the devil’s helper.
This story is based on a Syrian tale of a man riding to Damascus
across the desert to Baghdad to avoid death.
A drone pilot mistook him for a jeep and fired a rocket.
The man had to walk to Baghdad, but without water and dates,
he perished.

An ethical poem
A big crow and a sparrow which had painted itself
in the colour of a big bird to look masterful became friends
Both suffered from a bombastic belief they could
take on the elderly eagle and its brood.
A virtuoso war a million other birds killed who only happened
to be flying on peaceful errands.
The Sahara became rubicund from a distance looked like a carpet
for kings and potentates.  
From Eastern states, vultures came to feed and defend
to get the big crow and the preening sparrow off their territory.
The crow flew home, the sparrow took a bath to look common.
It did not help the sparrow it had done crow´s bidding
was shunned and had to fly from suburban gardens to another
and sleepless sit under a bush.

Ethnicity
                              When I came to England
I couldn't get a job opened a café instead
in a district called Wavertree, Liverpool
Someone said Jews live there I didn't see any
the people I befriended told me they were Jewish
that made no difference to me.
I never cared what ethnicity people, have never had.
But I'm highly critical of Israel which I regard as
racist country an apartheid state
that treat the Palestinians
the way the **** did to the Jews
and other minorities.
It is therefore offensive
to call the Jews an evil race
as they are victims
of the Zionists just like us.

Europa’s Struggle  
Like life wars go on and on, it is in our genes under layers
of prattle there is a murderer who wants to **** the different what we do not understand and loathe .
This influx of a foreign culture has demanded too much of our self- preservation as a race. Destroy them now!
We tolerate crime in our society but what we read is of crime committed by people we have given succour we baulk somehow
they should not be criminals.
They hate our way of life we call Christianity that now is a liberal culture that blathers about forgiveness.
They came to us because we could not let them starve it was our duty but we do we feel our duty as a burden.
If we follow the call of our ethnicity should we not stop them coming into our life making us think about if our values are  ossified that we should give up without
a fight and let Europe be a sect for whom death is glorious
I don't know; I'm old I will not live in the new Europa will it bring peace, no,  our genes, screams for war by people who are backwards  in time and only know old hatred for whom progress is not a teaching approved by their book and music
is a call from an elegant tower
Not to forget their cousins who worship Mammon and will go to any length to satisfy their blood lust, immoral,  greed and try to enslave us with their slimy ******* and a main- press printed by bought editors and sycophantic journalists.
When those in the name of another faith vandalise Louvre or places of beauty will we find our strength and push them back as we did before.

Europa’s Struggle  (new version)
Like life wars go on and on, it is in our genes under layers of prattle there is a murderer
who wants to **** the different what we do not understand and loathe .
This influx of a foreign culture has demanded too much of our self- preservation as a race.
Destroy them now!
We tolerate crime in our society but what we read is crime committed by people
we have given succour we baulk somehow they should not be criminals.
They hate our way of life we call Christianity that now is a liberal culture that blathers
about forgiveness. They came to us because we could not let them starve it was our duty
but we do we feel our duty as a burden.
If we follow the call of our ethnicity should we not stop them coming into our life
making us think about if our values are  ossified that we should give up without
a fight and let Europe be a sect for whom death is glorious.
I don't know; I'm old I will not live in the new Europa will it bring peace, no,  
our genes, screams for war by people who are backwards  in time and only know
old hatred for whom progress is not a teaching approved by their book and music
is a call from an elegant tower Not to forget their cousins who worship Mammon
and will go to any length to satisfy their blood lust, immoral,  greedy and try to enslave
us with their slimy ******* and a main- press printed by bought editors and
sycophantic journalists. When those in the name of another faith vandalise Louvre or
places of beauty will we find our strength and push them back as we did before.
We cast these negative thought away we are mensch we help the less fortunate and
Above all fight fascism and defeatism in equal measure.

The Evening Light

I ought to take an interest in death
But I no longer find it an interesting subject
It has to do with acceptance
Which I find comforting since I’m not religious
But has a strong spiritual streak
I believe in the mystic
What we fail to understand in normal life
I have second sight
I can see the near future only I suspect it is
Caused by experience
I believe in ghost by those who have not
Accepted death they are generally unhappy
And totally powerless they can't call up
The devil since he does not exist
I have seen my dead dog on several occasions
She lives in my mind, but I do not dream of her
As I used to and now she is in black & white
Demise is in a way a monotonous subject
There is no future in it, here I manly laugh
Look at my watch I will have drink at eight swim
In ocean of mild intoxication

Lamb Stew

The ewe had
Two lambs
She rejected
The weak one
The shepherd,
Picked it up
It fell asleep
Cradled
In strong arms
He took it home
For his wife
To make a stew

I sat on a rocking chair
On the veranda
The stone in the garden was
Covered in moss
The cicada sang fireflies lit up
The night as pilgrims in Mecca
Slaughtered lambs

Everlasting war
The new normal in the twentieth century is war
it has continued without a break a perpetual machine
of mass killing, someone somewhere must see
war as a business in which every country has a ****** hand.
Politicians, the handmaiden for manufacturers
of weaponry claim, they only sell the weapon for peaceful
means this as bombs fall in Yemen.
The Afghan war against the Taliban has lasted 17 years
and will not end before all foreign troops leave,
but the war continues, and the poppy fields bloom.
Many smaller countries in UN see, it cynically, as a training
ground for officers and they know well
the Taliban cannot be defeated on the battlefield that
have no lines of combat against the Peshawar people
who fights for freedom, but we chose not to see this.
On an island in a ****** river they count not corpses but the money they make.

Execution
Shots in the night
The child asked at
the breakfast table
they hushed him.
It had
been snowing
the prisoners camp
was empty
but he saw bodies
on the ground
A sergeant
took his hand
led him home
said the prisoners
had moved
to another site.
Later that day
his friends
the soldiers
were silent.
The winter sun
softened
the snow.
Next day he saw
grass greening
it was spring

The exile
    No matter how far
    To the other side of the moon
     if you like
    Sadness follows an exile.
    Never at ease
    Thinking of what is forsaken
    Finding it impossible
    To find the way back home.

Exiting day

This has been a hell of a day, watched brides choosing
a dress for the wedding and women having surgery to fix
faces that didn’t need to be done, but many women
are never happy the way they are and that is a shame.
Later I watched grown men playing around with 4 wheels
jeeps through mud and other obstacles.
I have seen obese people so grotesquely fat they needed
an operation, for some reason, must of them were blacks.
                       and mostly poor the American diet doesn’t seem
                       to fit them I blame the food industry that makes people
eat all the wrong things. I will top the evening off
watch a funny program no point getting sad about
the human folly.

Ex. Seafarer
As a former seafarer, I have been to most countries that
have a harbour, but I have not been to Nepal or Tibet and
I have never wished to meet the great Lama a man wearing
handmade boots. Once in Japan I went to the movie and
heard John Wayne speaking Japanese, I laughed out loud
and was politely asked to leave.
There was a time when I thought of settling in Costa Rica
but it didn’t work out a love story gone awry; no not so
it was too far from Europe and there was much more to see.
I lived in the industrial belt of North/west of England for
a time and never got used to the social life of pubs, where
it appeared to me people took pride of being   ignorant.
I live in Portugal now, we sometimes drive to the coast and
ogle the tourists who pay too much for everything.

Extinct
I saw a picture of the Tasmanian tiger
it was taken in 1936 and showed the last one on earth
I felt so sorry for the extinct animal
I was angry too here we go, white people to a place
that promises land we could not have where we came from
but what do we do eradicate animals that have lived
from time or long before human footprints.
Can you begin to image the loss when a living thing disappear
forever the burden of our guilt and now as the climate
of the world, chances are we will disappear to
Now I read a few animals might have survived which give
Hope to humankind. If they exist and not dream by dreamers
like me, one can only hope that men with guns will not
go hunting for a rear trophy

Facebook
Are we too uncritical
on Facebook
also helpful and ultimately dull.
I’m not thinking of baby pictures
and cute Facebook
Are we too uncritical
on Facebook
also helpful and ultimately dull.
I’m not thinking of baby pictures
and cute puppies,
but of opinions, I disagree with
not voicing these objections.
Is the facebook a place for mutual
self-congratulation a display of
achievement, however, banal.

The facets of love.

I love you, and your face loves itself
for its perfect nose, green eyes and rosy lips
your fragrance has a narcissistic allure.
The way you walk, the pavements adore you
Rain shies away not to make your hair wet.
I love you, and your face loves itself.
When you cross the street horn bleats
by themselves, white cars turn pink
your fragrance has a narcissistic allure.
The sun doesn’t burn your skin makes
it golden glows in the dark
till one day the mirror tells of a wrinkle
you know years are ganging on you
your enemy is time, wait in the wings
The furrows settle on your forehead
I love you but your face doesn’t love itself
Car horns do not blare anymore
Get off the road, you lazy old woman.
Your fragrance of youth has lost its allure.

Fado

What is there to say about Fado, this guitar sound?
And the guttural voices, that has a twang of
Arabia in its heart and is pure poetry.

Life, loss longing and finally death in songs
that celebrate love's unbearable sweetness,
our tragedy and the unobtainable.


Yes, sing me a Fado, let me hear the guitar
I will close my eyes, float in a sea of melancholy
and remember you

Israel, the failed state
Israel is a modern state
Where people suffer much anxiety
Surrounded by enemies
They think violence is the only answer
To find peace.
Remorselessly the continue down
The path of oblivion when they for a short time
Was winning it was destroyed by arrogance
An unwillingness to show charity
Defending the downtrodden.
Israel is an oddity in the sea of the Arab world
When they finally see this, there will be
a clamour to find a haven in Europe
Where they came from as few Jews can trace them
Ancestry back to biblical times.

Failed States
So they killed Gadhafi to free Libya and
got the Western world to help them. Alas the rebels
only fought for what they could get,
and now Libya is a failed state. They have tried –rebels-
to get rid of Assad with the help of USA, the country is
on its knees, but some nations are seeing through this charade
and are willing to keep Assad in power, for the time being.
It will not be easy the Americans and the Israelis
are doing their best to turn Syria too into a failed state.
it is up to us to stop them

Failures' hiding place

I have done a lot of work even been an officer
With shiny buttons but never succeeded in the world
Of practical work ended up on my personal skid-row
Sleeping rough people look at you with contempt some
Ignore you other shouts hurtful remarks
Poetry is a good place for losers of the race here they
Dream, write words on paper build a shiny citadel and
Have the key to unlocking wonders.

Faiths
When I grew up there as only on religion available-
choices are better now- Christianity. We had bible
classes every week and I found it entertaining
but I never got the message, I simply lacked
the gene that makes people believes in the impossible.
There was a time when I was around sixteen when
met a Christian girl and went with to meeting, sang
and prayed, while preying on her, but it never got
more than holding a damp hand. I went to the movies
instead Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman now
that is a reality for you. I'm old now and set in my ways
I know I shall die but, an abstract god play no role in
the drama of my death, that role is reserved for me.

Fake News
News not from the Department of news
Are fake and opinions not mainstream are
Russian propaganda

Robot for cooking and cleaning needed
Six hours per day; lessons in Russian and  
Lubrication oil is free

Falls flowers

On the road to Bolequeime on the way to a German supermarket
that sells proper Teutonic sausages as autumnal flowers blossom,
some of the blooms sit on white plastic chairs wearing shorts.
Sometimes a car stops, no, not a man in a white van, a big car a businessman
on the way from his office stops getting quick blow-jobs.
Best this way no need to undress an act that causes people to stare.
The human blooms have water bottles the gargle; no one here smells like rosebuds.
They used to, in the summer gone throng nightclubs and the beach
but only slow walking men fill the bars and beach.
Like a beautiful ****, they trek inland, sit by the roadside and wait.
The flowers look nice in fading light, but not if you know what love is.
the **** of autumn sits by the verge, sells despondency

haiku, the beginning of fall



Saturday morning
there is a chill in the air
leaves fall silently.

Leaves are urchins
no one to discipline them
the lost generation

Summer is still here
by noon it will be hot again
the last gasp of death.

Yellow leaves on roads
the process is beginning
from the lost to soil.