A Reflective Moment
Now in my late seventies I have left behind me
any vestige of religious feelings, on the contrary
I think religion is bad for humanity.
Death is therefore not an enemy but an end of
conscious life. Then the process of degrading begins
and last till we are earth and the dust that settles
on books that never got read because the TV was
a bigger draw ones taste is decaying.

My lack of beliefs has freed me to sleep and not
worry whether I wake up or not I snooze like a baby
which has stopped crying and should the morning
arrive – I hope it will- and a new day begins, for
when you die the world dies too.

The Chinese (told to me by a South African)

They are all over Arica now building houses,
Railways and roads using their workers
There is little work for the local population.
If you take a train in Africa, there are many graves
By the embankment, of Chinese workers who
Died there they even haven’t got a name.
The Chinese buy-up farmland products are sent
To chine to feed the population there and the locals
Are starving.
Chine is not about individuals but the plurality
Like a locust swarm leaving the land bare and now
They are building a road the goes to Europe: and on
The way they buy farmland it until the last plant
and leaves behind devastation.
So, look out what is coming your way.

Argentinian Tango

The night had been crying of icy tears on the window glass
I kissed the glass a thousand guitars played in Buenos Aires
the night Eva Peron died.
From ignominy to a famous mistress, it takes a high-quality ****.
Sentimental fools had lost an icon, a dream, a fairytale princess
who would give the shirtless hope?
She ******* her way to the top and said, all right, Jack!
A grand mausoleum where we can walk around and spin into a golden calf.
In time, sanctified, and padres will tell of her of greatness
the pope will give her sainthood and include her in his prayers.

Arguing with GPS.

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

A River
It is a river in the middle of the landscape
not a famous river it has no university buildings
and it doesn't appear in ancient books.
In winters it froze up in spring it was deep to
cold to swim in, in summers for a short while
It was a place to go bathing, and then it became
too shallow, a yellowish dribble not fit for
anything but drinking water for sheep.
And that is the life we get what we deserve not
what we want, and no over-top lyrics is written
about it, just as well we can't have its banks
crowded by poets.

Armageddon

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

Armaments
  

Now that the debacle of Afghanistan is behind us
we have to find something else to keep the war machine going
“Aucan,” an alliance of Anglophone countries are formed
A defence of the Chinese who dares to build
their navy.
Canada was not included too many French speakers live there
and they talk about peace with the enemy which everyone
Is too polite to answer.
I can´t see why Britain is here, but they do speak English
and has a long history of meddling in far-east countries.
Nuclear submarines, to counter any attack, after all the Chines
are fine trading partners,
we poor people buy our shoes and socks
in Chinse shops.
This; is about money and the stupid people who run our world
hopes a nuclear war will never happen

In need
When I feel lost and in pain, I think of the armless man
who came into my café he needed a *** badly
Everyone looked up to the ceiling I had hoped a nurse
would stand up, where are the nurses when one needs one.
I'm no hero, but I helped and since he was armless
I washed my hands.
Later I gave him a coffee which he drank with a straw,
they were going to fit him with artificial arms, he wore
his belongings in a rucksack and he smiled to everyone
as ****** dared people often do who wants to help them
I hoped he would leave before he needed to evacuate,
but I should have asked him why he travelled  alone.

Armies
A general so proud
Now he is burned to crisp
And we are told by a cowardly press to rejoice.
Revenge!
Don’t look at NATO only a naïve Norwegian can
Believe in this useless rust machine.
What we need is a new army
Helping the French to extract more oil from
Central Africa.
Who is the enemy or not depends?
On how effective the propaganda is, but
As the rule is: Generals are all stupid.

The armless

Once I had a snack bar selling soft drinks and unhealthy food
long hours of total boredom and fattening.
I tried to get a drinking license, but a Christian party was
in power at that time, said no.
One Sunday morning, a young man without arms came in
he was drunk, his fly was open, wanted a beer but settled
for a coke with a straw; then he fell asleep.
He awoke and needed a ***. I helped him with this.
Later he told me he was going to Oslo to have artificial arms
fitted, I was glad for him.
I closed the snack bar for the rest of the day took the dog
for a walk, my problems were trifling compared with his.

The Rose

I was born a beautiful flower
Up my stem a mouse climbed
To inhale my scent and sleep
In the centre of my rose bud
Alas, the raven knows of no
Beauty I was an innocent ruse
Stealing the beauty of sleep
And in my feeling of freshness
Self-indulgent caressing words
I saw nothing untoward
I should have seen.    
We roses are too beautiful
To be political revolutionary
A rose uproar in Portugal
But it was quickly strangled
By social democracy

A rose poem
A walking cobbler came to Yasmin valley
That had a small brook with swimming ducks
Even though since everyone wore clogs
He decided to settle down in this pleasant vale

The cobbler was educated in Frankfurt and
As we know the Germans are astute workers.

Recuperating after hitting his knee on a boulder
On a bed of Yasmin, he reclined and fed by maidens
Some inhabitants came to him with clogs as a gift
Exponentially happy he cried and was a happy man.

The artificial islet

There is an island in the sea
ten feet deep it has a mountain to
of baby diapers which fertilise
the layers of sand blown by the wind.
Some birds lay eggs there
the hatchlings have plastic wings
but cannot fly.
This island is man creation and has
no worth other than a warning for
for shipping in the vicinity.

The artists

Alfred, my chosen father, who denied
The paternity has his statue erected in Faro
At last, they honoured him for being glorious
Brought colour to an otherwise gloomy town.

Graffiti made by the likes of Banksy charms,
Most of the rest is scribbling on a wall.

I know little about a painter but Caravaggio
Spoke the unvarnished truth about our life.
His critics like to point out he was illegal too
What else to expect from a truth-teller.

The Ruin

There is a ruin only a few metres away
from my back terrace, once it was a ruin that could
be repaired, and I looked inside it had once been white
I could see the mark where the cross had been,
but it also had a well in the middle of the floor, it was
too small for my needs I didn't buy it.
Now the roof has fallen in and it beyond repair, yet
it has a dignified charm of the utterly fallen.
Once it had been some one’s home children had
been born here and they had played outside, now it
will be torn down and there will be a space
and it will only be remembered by me and by elderly
people who will only recall when the house is no more.

A sad shanty

We had sailed the seven seas
the schooner I met in the tranquil bay
she had a figurehead made of mahogany
anchor chain made of silver
and her deck was scrubbed every day.
Alas beside her a brig made of the same
timber as the schooner
and had never left the safety of the bay.
Side by said we slowly heave but our
dream of the south seas has been suspended

Ascension

I walked on the vast plateau the everlasting wind of time
had blown away, the sand exposed millions of skeletons
and the memory of man ***** the brain was walnut-sized.
The brain is larger now, filled with images of *******
and wars on many fronts.
I came to an oasis I must drink or explode into atoms
but the water was full of coagulated blood.
I walked on crushing rib cages gleaming in the moonlight.
A vast iceberg blocked my way, sparkled like a diamond
decorated with religious promises of salvation.
I had to climb up and over the hindrance if I wanted to know
what was on the iceberg’s other side?
Emptiness or the final axiom?
I reluctantly began my ascent, the hands cold as my heart.

The Merchant seafarers' war

When world war two started Norway was
neutral but unsure which side to stay on.
The English thought occupying Norway
but they were too late the German army had
done the occupation.
The British sent a ragtag military force to Norway
trying to cut the country in half to stop further
advances but were told to pull out.
Norway had at this point a big merchant fleet
It was sequestrated and used bring good and weapon
for the allies.
This left thousands of ****** nowhere
to go those go tried to flee was arrested and sent
back as crew members of any merchant ship.
They the crew lived under a constant pressure
(one out of ten) never made it home can you imagine
how they year after year lived in constant fear
a tank ship full high octane for planes with the enemy
U-boats lurking about. When the war ended and
they could go home they were treated with indifference
like shirkers who had avoided the war.
These seafarers where heroes of the highest order
but the government ignored them, they let down the pride
of Norway, one can say without them the war might
have lasted much longer

Security guard

I was broke, no work for me at the shipping office,
got a job guarding tractors; sat in a hut that was cold and had no heating
and bad light. Well, this job was better than sitting at home
lamenting my unemployment, but my god was it boring.
Sat on a tractor pretending I was a farmer ploughing a potato field,
and that was tedious too. The uniform they had given me
was too small for my frame looked like a walking scarecrow.
At midnight another guard came to take over and I asked him
how he could survive the tedium. Me, he said I go to sleep
I have full time work during the day.
Next day I got a phone from the shipping office it had been
difficult they said I had a reputation for not playing ball
and being argumentative; took the job handed in my uniform.

a slip of a girl

Her body is enticing
Like a bud not yet a flower
Unashamedly in the shortest of short
Clinging to her plummy ***
Dance into my cafe.
Soon she will be a beautiful
Woman bursting with poise
She will get much attention
Some unwanted
Then one day she will
Fall into a man
A flower in his lapel
She doesn’t know that this
Her adolescence  
Will be the best days of her life

A slum outside Paris

A cardboard city thrives a place where no one has
to pay the rent and electricity are purloined.
is it impossible for middle -class folk to understand
but the Roma thrive despite living by a city dump
where you dump your trash wash your hand and are
happy to live in a block of flats and house the rules.
Now they want to get rid of this illegal city that cost
nothing to run and need not tramlines. But they are
not like us do not share our values, no they are not
like us the do not deplete the world's resources and
when the last car has stopped the Gypsies will as they
always have done crossing the landscape with their children
women and dogs carried pulled donkeys on ancient carts.
And the man with a wristwatch and finery will offer
them riches for a lift to better times.

a little argument in Portugal

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

A small collection

Working on a small poetry connection
There is no haste a poem a day keeps the mind focused
And not drown in self-pity.
It is needed good laughter, the fun of a joke
That can have a stream of seriousness underneath.
Excellent fun docent appears by itself it stirs up
The tired mind, something remembered, because
Life is – despite dire predictions- bitterly funny.
Old men departing wisdom is an uproar of pompous
Idiocy you can’t help but laugh out loud.

A small poem

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

A small war

At the outskirt of Europe a war
has broken out in countries where everyone drives Lada
mothers interviewed are proud of their sons
defending their land.
Should one son die, a big picture will appear in the living room
neighbours invited to coffee and cakes
his proud mother will tell what a good boy he was
and he died with honour.
I suppose in **** Germany, mothers said the same
until there were no sons left.
There will be peace, and everyone will claim victory
life will go on among the semi-literary people
who are doomed to live among high mountains and not learning
from past mistakes

The small words

“All that's mean nothing” not my words
but I often think about it, when reading the newspaper
I look for the no-news the filling of space
the news is often there and when **** flies they are taken
by surprise busy reading the headlines.
Being so wrong the want to set aside democracy and civil
behaviour the by- line has become a headline we must
demonstrate denounce the new from the stage or pulpit
by the pompous and incompetent
perhaps it would help to read the alternative press they
have less to lose and don't worry about circulations  and
no capitalist master to serve

A cigarette

Dawn and the mist, what else expect
On Lake Martin early spring?
Swamp cypress dripping with Spanish moss.
I have stopped rowing, water swirling around
Oar blades.
The silence is absolute; I dare not inhale
A bird shrieks, the lake shudders
An evil thought has entered Paradise.
I hear the faint noise of outboard motors
The moment of ethereal stillness was gone,
I lit a cigarette smoke inhale, blow
Rings of delight in the morning air.

A solution?
as the slaughter of
Palestinian’s
continues.
We must look
to Israel
and see
if there is
general protest
against this
brutality
and demand
a policy change
towards
their neighbours
Knowing many Jews
they must be
appalled  
By the sitting
Israeli governments
political failures.
If not they are
victims
of the Zionists

The Lovesong
  I woke up early in a good mood thinking of writing a love poem to my wife.
looking at the YouTube, I came across
“The three tenors,” couldn't resist their beautiful voices.
I was going to find “I believe in angels” by Abba
but first the famous tenors.
Wife woke up told me to turn it off she couldn't sleep.
I remembered Lorenzo Marcus 1964 I was on a ship
unloading cargo destined for Rhodesia.
Everything has changed now LM is now Maputo
and Rhodesia is Zimbabwe, and it was a good time
for a white person.
So I didn't play the Abba song as the lyric is banal
and I was no longer in a loving mood

A Sonnet to Women
I woke up one morning and was free of my intrusive sexuality
for years this was a problem when viewing glorious paintings
of women and not thinking about having them, the wonderful
statue of Venus didn't escape armless and helpless she was still
ogled upon by my eyes of unbecoming covetousness. Freedom
at last, I can now talk to women without  feeling a hankering to
see them naked committing immoral acts in my bed.


I love women I have a friend who paints women as they are not like
the dumb blond some want them to look. But beware they can be perilous
if thwarted and cheated in love, they can tell a man what he wants to
hear they are great in acting having been subjugated by men for too long,
they even got the blame when Adam and Eve had to leave the Paradise

Suppress women
And you get a society
Of men shooting holes
In a dark cloud

Driving on the left side
Of the road
Makes a nation somewhat
Intransigent

Asymmetric war
Saudi Arabia has more weaponry they can handle
A small country with a few drones crippled them
And the USA sends more weapon and troops
That is useless in this type of warfare.
The armament industry has been fed and
the weapon looks shinning on the tarmac along
line of tanks going nowhere and remarkable planes
that has no purpose and only a few pilots who bomb
from a great height in case they should be hit, then
comes a few drones from the enemy and upset
the oil production in this country that has little
of value other than oil.
They know they know they can’t obliterate anyone
The Houthi runs a ring around them so much so
The Saudi are so vulnerable they seek a deal despite
the US protest, you can’t fight an asymmetric
war the unseen that might strike when it is least
expected as there is no battlefield.
The Saudi’s are running scared without oil it
A land of dunes.

As The Sparrow Flies

It fell from the summer sky the bird, dust on roadside ****
not pretty place a flutter of its wings and then nothing.
It, a sparrow didn’t look particularly old and birds can live long,
but the call to joined the celestial heaven had been sudden
and no time for spring rituals, sitting on phone lines flirting.
God’s canary bird had escaped its cage – it had read a book that
God was not great- and she replaced it with a much lowly bird
grey winged- yes, and quarrelsome, they tend to be and they
will be asking questions. I know of a couple they have a nest near
the roof terrace when I go up there they never stop their shrilly
thrilling until I leave feeling hurt because I know where they live
on the third roof tile to the left, and I know they have shat in
my deck chair. They have produced fledglings which have turned
out to be as uncut as their parents, but I have said nothing.
Sometimes I wonder if full freedom is good, as humans and birds
we think we have the right to rule the world, but we are leaves
blown off the tree and we now little of tomorrow.

As the wind blows

I knew of a man who could see the wind
As it came in from the sea, a mass of air
Bluer than the sky and he also knew when
it ended getting paler and blowing like
a zephyr inland.
There is always a wind blowing
somewhere on the planet this to circulate
the air we breathe to make it light and clean
and free of pollution and methane gas
of cows in Holland.
Sail ships needed the wind to trade
Overseas and to explore new continents
Now we have windmills that circulate air
But otherwise are an eyesore, a blot
On the landscape.
If you are in doubt ask Nietzsche.

Astonishment

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

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

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

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

A story of a Mountain
                      


                      The mountain on the other side of the bay was born
before colours were introduced to make the world a jollier place for humanity,
mind it has three hues, black, grey and white, without these
shades the mountain would have been unseen, a shimmer of the morning light,
to avoid an accident, it would have to be spray painted every four years.
The mountain is not a place for a Sunday stroll; they say it is slippery and
if a bird overflies, it drops dead; and no plants grow in cracks.
But where the mountain meets the sea are crustaceans the size of dolphins,
and one lobster can feed a family of five, so in its sterile exterior the mountain has a hidden richness and looks glorious at sunset.

A story of love

Eva Braun was a Greenland seal who lived in an aquarium
Herr ****** liked animals; dogs adored him.
in childhood, his call for love denied him
his dream was sitting by the fireside stroking a dog
and feeding Eva in her aquarium.
In the country, I lived on many tiny islands
bridges built; the islands no longer feel like islands.
Nevertheless, we stood at the gangway of a ferry
that was going to an island that didn’t have a bridge
I knew you were not coming back, pleaded with
you gave me a phone number when I tried to call
it sounded as was dipped into a fish tank
I heard repressed laughter; it must have been
fun to joke with a man you no longer found useful.
C'est la vie…

A sudden poem


I have travelled long
Blessed by Gobi's new moon
Seen tall ship sail upside down
Yet, I found my way back home.

A dog and a Swan

I remember a black swan in a hotel's pond
it was a master of his domain or walk on the lawn
surrounding the lake.
A little yapping dog a spoilt thing how had caviar
for dinner, got to near, the sawn grabbed and
drowned it and lovely was the peace.
I should have interfered and try to rescue the cur,
but the swan made it clear not to step in, in a way
the ****** dog got what it deserved. this ladies and
gentlemen was an alternative poem.

A swan and ducks

In the garden of a hotel, we could afford
a black, beautiful swan in a fenced-in lake
to protect from entering.
It was a murderous bird; it dragged dogs
underwater and drowned them.
It was noticed the swan liked to **** dogs
with German names, swans do not speak
so, whether it was contra or pro political
was for humans to find out.
The swan go more and more aggressive
and no one thought of the obvious reason
it needed a mate.
When the penny dropped, the swan had
been sent to a zoo, found a mate many eggs
were laid swanlings everywhere
in the pond of the hotel, they have ducks
but they are so common.
Just momentarily thought there are so many
knife-wielding young men in London
could the reason be the lack of love?

At a Private Clinic
I went to see the eye doctor -can't spell it- some tests
I had to do it used to be free at Faro hospital
They are farming out work to clinics if you
Can pay but if you are poor farm worker you are ******
And they give a white cane
The doctor also wanted to have cataracts done but
That I could do for free in Faro for now
Health service should be for all whether you a rich or
Poor, but no it is a business now
And the doctors’ female or not look the same tanned
Faces pristine I suspect the use the same self- tanning
Lotion- do it is to look healthy and fooling no one
The woman in the reception tried to make me by a medical
Insurance, she had lips like a giant ****** but sharp teeth
Not a good idea to try anything funny.
250 euros I paid for being looked at in the eyes and to
Think Portugal had revolution equality for the masses.
I think I will go to Spain have family there they will
Take me until they see I'm a grumpy old man who has
Been faithful to the idea of socialism and will not
Shut up about it.
C'EST la vie.

Atheism

When I grew up
I stopped believing in God
Toys belong to the young
And Santa fanatics
Yet
I leave small light on
In my bedroom at night
The fear of darkness
Never left me
Yet
I know Christianity had
Taken hold of me
The darkness of the sinner
Never left me
Yet
I believe in the day
The truth must not be hidden
In Churches' recesses
Yet
Blood splash on walls tinsel
On the ground
New Year Eve in Istanbul
The fear never left
Yet
I saw a happy child play in a puddle.

August in Athens is always confusing
I spent the evening looking at a white wall the moon had lit up,
waiting for the movie to start.
Staggered into a church where bearded priests handed out bags
of yesterday’s cake.
The elderly lady behind me got none, it was her second time
she had been in the line
I gave her my bag and felt good about my act of charity.
In the deep shadows of the park, I found a grotto displaying
Jesus in he looked like a sleeping angel, one painted by Caravaggio.
The painted Jesus opened his eyes smiled like an urchin selling himself to a paederast.
Behind two nuns giggled and I fled this religious horror.
Came to a lone bar run by a horse that had fled a Russian circus.
As Alice Walker said,” horses make the landscape more beautiful.”
I drank ouzo, she had hay.
At midnight we rode through the summer night.

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.

A Thought
  
My foolish heart its colour is blue
and my thoughts are rainbows which I ride
on to a mystical past and it is pastel hued.
Insecurities are blinking yellow.
The spectral takes me to the moon places
I will not go near.
It presses on to go deeper to the swam I’m
a bottom feeder eat trout in the raw
for its colour, I crave the light and lust for
The rainbow that stranded me in silver light
on a planet that has no history,
I was my face in the part of me that is unsullied
soon it will be morning.

Thoughtless Day  

I was looking out of the window
The view was a road and an opposite wall
And I decided to think of nothing
Emptying my brain for all the ******* and
Lies I had read today and let it sink into the silt
Of the forgotten yet is silt that one day can be
made of mud and do a lasting service
for mankind, and since the settlers keep bulldozing
Palestinian dwellings, no, no I will not think of
This and why should I since I'm not thinking
Like the rest of the world.

Man, it is difficult not to think about love and death
And all the things in between so I look at the white wall
It is five years it was painted, but it still looks new.
No, this is too hard I will go and make a coffee eat
A biscuit and think the freezer need to be defrosted

A time called Noel

It is a cold morning, soon it will Christmas
and people of good-will are going out in the night
to feed the poor, the homeless and other  
victims, of our capitalist system.
Glowing in goodness, they think not the poor
need shelter and food every day.
The traffic in downtown Cascais was intense on roads
not built for this onslaught, we ended up at
the biggest supermarket the one that sells to among
other useless ****, plastic bicycles
Millions of these bikes toys end up in the ocean
and it is a fair bet fish don't use them, I rather
see an ocean of wisely used condoms.
The supermarket was so full I panicked had to run
to my car, waited until my wife rang she had
a trolley full of stuff, but luckily no bike.
I got a fire- engine for Christmas as a child, it had
wooden wheels that soon fell off, I lost interest.
I think it ended up in the wood fire so one can say
it was useful to the end.

A tired day

Yesterday I walked to the tax office
Not that I had any business there
But the woman next door said it only took her 15 minutes
To go there.
It took me two hours going there and back.
Tired today watching cartoon a man was knocking
On the door of a suburban house pressing the doorbell
selling vacuum cleaners
A beautiful woman opened the door
My doorbell was ringing too; it was the waterman
And by the time I had paid him and taken the water
Into the kitchen, I was too late to see what had happened.
I like a cartoon; the impossible becomes doable.
The ship with for cranes is still at the anchorage perhaps
They can’t get a master.
Should I offer my service

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!

A trip to Wales

I was driving among hillocks; the landscape was green
it was spring and sheep-dipped in coal dust, grazed
with their offspring
Parked near a pub in a hamlet, it had a name
I could not get my tongue around it and enter
into a dark interior.
The few customers ignored me yet eyed me
perhaps they thought I was English looking to buy a cottage.
I drank powder coffee in a sea of Welshness
my foreignness disturbed me
and the locals.
I left.