Richard Cliff

It was many years ago I had enjoyed a tasty lunch
and went into a new agent to buy a paper.
Beside me stood a dapper little man he bought
The Telegraph, outside we got talking, and he said,
by the way, I’m Richard Cliff, I said I thought
there was something familiar about you.
The singer laughed he found it funny I didn't
know him, we went into an empty bar and drank
wine talked about this and that.
I enjoyed his company, and he didn't have to be
the showman; it didn't last a horde of tourists
came in and it was Richard, Richard, Richard
We love you, asked him to pose with them in a picture.
Then it was evening he wanted to go home lived
nearby at the gate he had forgotten his key, he shook
my hand swung elegantly over the gate, and that was
the last I saw of Sir Richard Cliff.

The Creator

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

Cloud


What can we say about a cloud
to say it is gloomy is patently wrong
you can say it is white, grey or black (dark)
but a cloud doesn't know it is a cloud
it is the few things in nature that are soulless
but not wholly so, it came from somewhere
it could be the residue of a **** expelled by
the cosmos, well, it has to happen you can´t hold
in a flatus forever if you try a disservice to
nature itself and your stomach.
Which tells us that nothing is quite a lot.

Clouds on Dreams
To believe what we see is often a fallacy on a video
a rat attacked a cat; the moggy scared ran away but was it so
I think not video and pictures can be doctored so we are
left with a sceptical mind
Yet in the Sahara, I saw in the sky a ship sailing upside down
I know what I saw yet it was a mirage so therefore I can
talk about it without being made fun of like the day I saw
a flying elephant it was slow and met a crocodile
that loved me, of course, it was a mirage
That is why I'm fearless telling you this; you will think mirages,
was whisky involved?
There mere suggestion will send me into a rage and I will
never speak to you again.
The cat ashamed, turned around and killed the rat, just in case
you were curious. In the world, the strongest win just looks to Brazil  
and what the heck was I doing in the Sahara?

The cobwebs of dreams

It was a clear day…Too clear I thought. Mother sat in the kitchen,
sunlight made her white hair into a halo. I asked how old she was,
ninety-two she said; knew I was trapped in a dream she didn't
live that long.
By the slow river I saw furniture drifted, my brother said it was
people who lived downstream but bought furniture upstream
and to save on the transport dumped the stuff in the river and
relatives picked it up further down.
Sometimes a table or a chair got lost a risk they were willing to take.
I knew this too was a dream.
Walked along a soft road in a forest, but something was wrong
there was a strange red light emitting from trees; I was trapped
inside a painting by a mad Russian artist; luckily I had a flick knife.
I think it is morning, perhaps not, sometimes the line between
and the subconscious emerges, maybe yesterday is today.

The life of fishes

I bought a cod fish
The fish-monger wrapped it in
A newspaper
I put in in the kitchen sink
Looked it in the eyes
Any recognition
Between two being
Nothing
I cut its head off and gutted it
Its eyes looked like
Black diamonds in the shade
Of the stolen
I fried the fish, ate it
Not long ago it had been swimming
In the cold sea
Avoiding nets and hooks
Did it have friends?
Who would lament its demise?
I wouldn't like to be a fish
Ending up in a frying pan, but
We are fishes too, always get caught
In someone’s war.

Coffee unsweetened

It is morning; the old man drinks coffee
while thinking about a dream he had in the night,
the dream, since didn't write it down is hazy
and soon it will be forgotten; the old man does
not write superficial love stories anymore.

The metaphysical, the abstraction of love that
transcend the physical aspect, has a god-like
quality in its understanding of the world as it
is, and it means acceptance of others opinion
even when it is a moth holed and trite one.

The old man knows he is a micro cosmos of
the world he lives in, this makes him shudder
because he given the right circumstances could
have been the incarnation of evil, but as it is,
his love of the living saved him from evil deeds.

Cognizance
When I consciously aware of myself at two years old
in 1940 when we sat in the basement of a school
and listened to English bombers
looking for the airport, they didn't find it but dropped
a few bombs anyway, hit some houses and a fish factory
the bombs were quite puny then
it looked at my hands I was me, what I did today I would
remember tomorrow I had a will and used it when
needed and often lost in the world of adults  
Freedom, the liberty of thoughts was mine no one could
take that away even when I had to pay lip service
to teachers and so called religious leaders, that is the reason
I shift opinion when needed.
What I fear is if old age is going to rob me of my awareness
of what I'm and what I was.

Cold is the wind in Europe
It is a stormy evening brown leaves flying in the storm, they a
re dank and slimy tore from the tree with no home to call
their own. I'm thinking of Macron, the president of France
He is extolling globalisation, I'm a nationalist I come from
a country that has naturally evolved has its own culture and
an unspoken agreement on how people should perform.
We don't want a global nation with one culture one language,
one thought as dictated by a newspaper owned by the globalists.
It has been tried before under the dictatorship of Stalin.
Macron is, in the words of Oscar Wilde:” Deep down he is
a shallow thinker.”
Migrants are welcomed in my country if the can blend be as us
and not a confused mob demanding changes in the way
we have accepted the system as it is.
Mass migration is a manufactured phenomenon it could
be avoided by investing in the countries they hail from and
is political to sow discord in Europe.
We see how the USA a beacon democracy, has been turned
into a semi- tyranny helped by the opaque forces of Zionism
they want globalisation to serve their end that is  to enslave
and bend us to their will.
The working class in Britain get it and the ditto Germans
to see the way their countries are going and protests
because of the know if this is not stopped a new war will
begin a war that can only benefit the Zionists.

Cold weather front

A few good days fooled us the cold weather returned we thought it was
early spring. I worried if my almond tree had its buds been damaged
and will not bloom and strews petals on the lane,
the illusion of frost, the princes in the tower saw in the fairy tale.
The fire in the grate is exuding warmth the dog no one owns snoozes in a chair,
no, the heart to throw it out
I’m not a tree hugger, but give trees a friendly slap
a sucker for the down and out bought a chicken for a Roma women
begging outside, the guard said, “you must not feed
them” like they should be vermin.
I love my almond tree reminded me of my mother when she was old,
so sweet her face in her frailty.

Cold is the wind in Europe
It is a stormy evening brown leaves flying in the storm, they a
re dank and slimy, torn from the tree with no home to call
their own. I'm thinking of Macron, the president of France
He is extolling globalisation, I'm a nationalist I come from
a country that has naturally evolved has its own culture and
an unspoken agreement on how people should perform.
We don't want a global nation with one culture one language,
one thought as dictated by a newspaper owned by the globalists.
It has been tried before under the dictatorship of Stalin.
Macron is, in the words of Oscar Wilde:” Deep down he is
a shallow thinker.”
Migrants are welcomed in my country if the can blend be as us
and not a confused mob demanding changes in the way
we have accepted the system as it is.
Mass migration is a manufactured phenomenon it could
be avoided by investing in the countries they hail from and
is political to sow discord in Europe.
We see how the USA a beacon democracy, has been turned
into a semi- tyranny helped by the opaque forces of Zionism
they want globalisation to serve their end that is  to enslave
and bend us to their will.
The working class in Britain get it and the ditto Germans
to see the way their countries are going and protests
because of the know if this is not stopped a new war will
begin a war that can only benefit the Zionists.

Cold is the wind in Europe
It is a stormy evening brown leaves flying in the storm, they a
re dank and slimy tore from the tree with no home to call
their own. I'm thinking of Macron, the president of France
He is extolling globalisation, I'm a nationalist I come from
a country that has naturally evolved has its own culture and
an unspoken agreement on how people should perform.
We don't want a global nation with one culture one language,
one thought as dictated by a newspaper owned by the globalists.
It has been tried before under the dictatorship of Stalin.
Macron is, in the words of Oscar Wilde:” Deep down he is
a shallow thinker.”
Migrants are welcomed in my country if the can blend be as us
and not a confused mob demanding changes in the way
we have accepted the system as it is.
Mass migration is a manufactured phenomenon it could
be avoided by investing in the countries they hail from and
is political to sow discord in Europe.
We see how the USA a beacon democracy, has been turned
into a semi- tyranny helped by the opaque forces of Zionism
they want globalisation to serve their end that is  to enslave
and bend us to their will.
The working class in Britain get it and the ditto Germans
to see the way their countries are going and protests
because of the know if this is not stopped a new war will
begin a war that can only benefit the Zionists.

Cold winter

It was the coldest winter anyone had experienced.
Birds fell from the sky frozen and oven ready.
He opened all windows let the coal- fire roar, birds
came sat on his roof; so many birds the roof collapsed
the coal fire overheated, the iron melted
the house burnt down; his wife demanded a divorce.
He said to his solicitor: you do your best to save the planet,
its fauna and this are what you get!
He had taken sacks of coal at the depot for this bagatelle.
he was fired and reported, two years prison, which
when you think about it a bit harsh after all he had tried
to save the birds at a time when homeless people froze to death

Common cold
When I was a seafarer No one got the cold or the flu
on long voyages, it was only when the ship birthed
and official people came onboard we all went down
with cold/flu.
When this current pandemic pans out, we who have
been sitting in for weeks will be susceptible to other
illnesses that come along  
our immune system has been weakened and we will
catch anything so hard we may die from a public cold.
Eskimos died by the hundred when the white man
came to safe them for Christianity.

The Complicated Scam
I met a man in a bar he was a monk dressed as civilian
to study the world and he painted me a picture.
How wondrous life was behind a wall, a cell each a habit a
and a pair of sandals. Regular meals of the healthy kind
Monks never got diabetes or heart diseases, and the wine
they drank at each meal was home made.
We had another drink followed by more it was closing time
I rose to leave, and he began crying  
He had nowhere to go, he said, what about the cloister, no they
will not open their doors I drank too much wine and seduced
A novice. I suggested he should take a photo prostrate in the front
Of our Saviour. He thought that was a good idea, but he had
No camera, I gave him mine -  he was a monk even a fallen one-
I never saw him again, but saw my camera for sale in the window
of a second-hand shop

Cobwebs of the impossible

It was a clear day…too lucid, perhaps.
Mother sat in the kitchen; the sunlight made her white hair into a halo.
I asked how old she was?
Ninety-two, she said I knew this was not true she didn´t live that long.
By the slow river, I saw furniture drifting along,
brother said people living downstream went upstream to buy furniture
to save on transport costs they dumped the furniture in the river
and picked up when they came floating by.
Sometimes they lost a table or a commode, a risk we all have to take.
Walking along a soft road in the forest, but something was wrong
I was trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian painter,
Where trees emitted light of wonder, and my mother was 101 years old
I had a knife, cut the painting in half and walked out.
Sometimes the line between reality and subconsciousness merges
perhaps yesterday is today.

Confession
The tall tree looked as it was burdened
with a secret, I walked under the tree looked
up and saw ten thousand black, shining crows.
When I took the camera out of   my pocket
to take a picture they flew up.
On the blue, early sky looked as a black cloud
going east getting bigger and menacing.
A tried to take a photo of the cloud but the sun
was in my eyes. A ripple of a shudder across
the landscape, but the tree looked free as one
coming out of a confession cubicle.

Conflict of the conscious

There things
We don't want
To remember
It is there buried
Under layers
Of lies
Like a worm
Worming it way
Through
Mud
It tries to force
Us to see
To confront oneself
Is a hard thing to do

Confused loyalty


1940 German occupation
British planes
On the night sky
To find the U. boat base
They didn't
But dropped their bombs anyway
Puny bombs
Burning buildings
Dead civilians
I was sent to a farm
Near a German base
Soldiers became my friends
As the war ended
I was home again
In time to see
Women dragged out
Of their houses
Had their heads sheared
Confusion for a boy
The soldiers were my friends
But enemy of
The Country

Her old head
Upon a pillow lie
I held her hand
She withdrew her
Hand
Looked
Into a distant
Past
And said
I wish you were
Your brother

Consensus

Democracy, a hollow word makes me laugh darkly.
Is the USA a democracy? You can vote every 4 years
Among two parties who spring from the same narrow
The base of the elite and is therefore not Democratic,
but gives the illusion like the democratic republic
Of Kongo, to be one and go to war against those who
Has another opinion, say, freedom from tyranny
And interference of foreign countries.
Freed om is more important than democracy which
Is a hiding place for thieves and land grabbers.
Israel, knee-deep in Palestinian blood, is a democracy
That brutalize their own people into thinking they have
The right to defend themselves, thus behave with
Callous insouciance towards the opinion of others.

Conspiracy thinking

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

Continuity
Inside the greenhouse
I laid out dead roses
And the smell of spent
nature made it clear
no waste of tears
as the sun bore down
on sterile beds.
Only the beauty of dust
sparkling
in a shaft of light
danced a promise
of continuity.

Against Official Truth  

Let me throw this firebomb at you and tell you
there is no such thing as world catastrophe caused by Man-
Made pollution. Yes, we get ***** air to breath,
and fish have plastic residues in their stomachs but
this is not the main cause
the truth is that we are in the cycle of climate change
once there were palm trees in Greenland, but too
come nearer our time the Viking were cattle farmers
have you ever tasted a juicy Viking beef?
But we have to clean up our planet for our own sake
our children, and so on, the new ice age will come
and in time will adjust to this new weather system.

Cop26

To Glasgow, they came the high, mighty and the good
tarmacs full of private planes.
They all agreed we have to rescue the world
But first, we have to sell oil and coal
We can´t rely on windmills alone it is cold up north
Norway is set to have zero emissions in a few years.
Norway will still export oil; they have to have an income.
Brazil will stop logging the forest but not right now
Perhaps in 2150 or sixty at a stretch 70.
I was not there at the meeting, but it appears no one
spoke of the benefit of trains reliable prized.
As it is train tickets – since trains are privatized;
cost more than taking a short-haul plane ticket.
I don´t believe that anything they said is possible,
That is because we live in a capitalist thought- sets
grows and income is more important than flooding
and the disappearance of smaller island states.
Nothing will change before we sit fishing for cod
At the slopes of Himalaya.

Corona Beer
At the local supermarket, I bought a bottle of Corona beer
the market has shelves full no one buys it because of the name.
So far no one is wearing useless masks, but I try
not to touch my face and wash my hands as much of the people
who die from the virus are people over sixty- five?
When children get infected, it is mild like a cold, but they are
are spreading the illness to older adults.
Well, I don’t know any children if I see a child, I can cross
the street, but by doing so I can be run over by a car, every year
thousands of people are we going to ban cars?
Life goes on, we take our chances, and some of us survive.

costly stones

the mountain partly hid the lake
was crystal clear and warm
they swam across to the river where its outlet was
we were looking for costly stones.
The lake got shallow, and they waded, but could
not find any pricey stones.
When they waded back, the lake had retracted back
into the mountain, it was now a cave.
They picked some stones and decided to return
next day.
When they did the lake was blood- red and saw
nothing of interest
They did not know why the pool
was red thought the reason was it had taken
colour from minerals in the mountain.
The place was ominous and silent in a fearful way.
His friend had turned into a shadow he no longer
looked like a human more like a hazy dream partly
remembered as the apparition, it had no face
he could have been anyone, even me.
Back at his hotel, he looked at the few stones from
the day before, they had no colour, he left them
on a shelf, and hoped someone would find
the beauty of the stones what he had missed.

Counsellor

For a short time in Liverpool, I had a job driving
to a house (always working-class) where the man of the house
according to his wife, had a drinking problem.
The man sat in the living room his wife was in the kitchen crying.
The man said, I like a whisky after work, and I go to the pub,
what is wrong with that.
Every day, I said.
Yes, a man got to have his freedom!
I suggested he should not drink for two weeks and see how he felt,
then I left an address for people he could contact if he wanted
to stop his alcohol consumption.
The houses I visited was sad because (not always alcohol) the people
involved didn´t talk to each other.
Sometimes there was a meeting when the whole family surprised
the man in the living room airing their grievances, it always ended in tears
from the man accused.
My thought was to invite the crying man out for a drink it is a brutal way
to attack anyone this way.
No, this job was not for me as I tended to have sympathy for the victim.
My advice would be to get the hell out of the house and find a place
where he could get some peace from interfering with women.
Of course, alcoholism is real, but to get help, they will not get it at home.

Counsellor
  
  He was an independent therapist
  for people who thought they were drinking too much.
His first question was: why do you drink so copious?
The answers were varied; he asked them to address
their problems, and desist from alcohol for six months,
Sometimes it did the trick.
Those who could not see he sent to A.A.
He had experience from working at a private clinic
where the religious aspect played a vital role.
The expert rejected his system, lost his licence
to practise his amateurish an uneducated views.
He has met people who thanked him for finding
they were not alcoholics and by those he had
directed to A. A.

The Cowhand

A cowboy has thin legs and a leathery face, if his horse breaks a leg,
he can’t walk, puts his saddle on the ground plays his mouth harmonica
waits for a new horse to come trotting along.; cowboy lives in Texas,
in Montana, he is a  pretend movie cowboy

A cowboy isn’t gay, but likes masculine things such as loud farting, wrestling another cowboy to the ground and make love the same woman as his mate when going to the ***** house; and talk about it in the bar. That, is what
the manly thing to do, for a blue-blooded Texan cowboy.

Crabby morning

He looked down into the toilet bowl
had shat and flushed, 80-year-old **** going to waste
down a drain and into the sea.
70 years ago when he lived on a farm human and
Animal waste was used as a fertiliser the waste had
been useful potatoes grew big as did cabbages.
He had read the Chines collected stuff dried it and
Made it into powder and sold for strawberry farmers.
He had a shower and shaved, used proper blades
no electric shaver for him, he hadn't drunk coffee
yet and was cranky.

Cremation
A man was running to the tobacconist,
Bought a packet and hastily opened it took out a cigarette
Lit it and inhaled deeply.
Then his head moved backwards, and he fell and died.
They covered him on a plastic sheet but the cigarette
Was still burning, the layer took fire, cremation.
The fire spread a house was burning the fire engine came
Spayed water and the ashes of the smoker disappeared
Down a drain.
They opened the drain found some black stuff and a shoe
That might have belonged to the cremated, well it
Was something, enough for burial, and what nowadays
Is called closure.
The tobacconist took this as a sign from Good only
Sell the angel’s dust.

Critical thinking

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

Crossed lines
Why are quiet evenings not enough
the mind will not slow down or make sense
in the blinking light of thoughts.
Wine is of no use the brain turns into ruby.
I must hurry, catch thoughts before they
turns into banalities.
The night waits for me to articulate the mystery of art.
I have to nail down words that are always
a bit paler than the ones thought of.
Once again, I have given birth to an ugly duckling
but I will not send them into the abyss of delete,
I will wait till they can walk unaided before sending
them into the world.

Cry Freedom, the Lapland


It is not only Caledonia and the Flemish people
who are crying freedom, a new nation has been born
It stretches from Norway, Sweden and Finland.
The Swedes has accepted this new state as the female
activists said it would be discriminatory and racists to deny
The indigenous people their right.
Norway refused point blank, and as a retaliation has shut
shops selling oranges and bananas.
The Norwegian has seen through this ruse, if the new
country called “Lapland” is a state it will lay claim to untapped
oil in the Barents Sea. It is said that Exxon is behind this,
me, I blame Putin.

Cucumber

early morning
I had to eat something
found a cucumber in the fridge
that was otherwise bare.
Peeled and boiled them added a bit of butter
and a pepper
stirred well when cooked and I had
mashed cucumber.
It tasted terrific a wonder for a diabetic
I have to remember til next time
the cupboard is bare.

What is culture

Watching “france24” one would think culture was invented in Paris.
Well, it wasn’t
The Parisians are rude and live on onion soup.
The reason Paris became famous as an art place
Were cheap rent and poor painters and writers flocked there
Well, it is not cheap anymore.
Culture is to show respect for other nations and language
Of which the French sadly lacks.
Anyone who has taken the underground in Paris in the morning
Can testify to this.

Daddy’s girl

Little girl spoilt
by her daddy
likes to be
a little girl again
life was safe.
Sugar and spice
and a few tears
when meeting
life's shadow
the dead of her pony
Daddy bought
another one
Joy tinged with sadness
love should not
be replaced so quick.
She looked at her daddy
eyes filled with tears
when he died
no new daddy would appear,
except of course,
she could fall in love
marry a man
who reminded her of him,
but it would
never be the same.

Dalai Lama


Dalai Lama, the Buddhist monk
giggles a lot
when interviewed on TV
he sounded like Readers Digest
platitude upon platitude
between giggles.
He walked a lot wore solid boots.
In the background, a Tom & Jerry show
with the sound turned off.
The impression was that of a village idiot.
Why does the Chinese bother with him?

dance like no other

Ghana had declared independence from the tyranny of British rule, and much was at stake.
As the building of a dam project, gold and diamonds.
The Russians had been trying to use the situation to their advantage; something had to be done.
The English queen flew to Ghana and met the new president.
In the evening, he asked her up to dance, and they were a perfect match.
In his strong muscular body, she melted and became
A warm, willing woman.
A waltz of gods.
When coming back to Britain, her husband, prince Philip got a surprise
and nine-month later, a new prince called Andrew was born.
Alas, he was a spoilt prince but was protected by his mother
she had her memories.
Andrew is now a neglected prince who, middle-aged and fat,
roams the castle but is for now protected.
It was a pity the fire in her ***** could only produce an utter failure.

Dance Nocturne


August night, is an abyss hotter than the day
and the wind the blows was born in hell.
From open windows in their dark interior
the primal scream of *******,
wriggling bodies trying to produce a child
that like them soon will die, but first, it must
go to through the ritual called love, which is but a primitive
urge to copulate the planting of seed before sinking
underground spent and forgotten in the mass graves
of boredom, decorated with flowers
that radiates death to come.
The Tasmanian tiger howls to the moon and
forever vanishes into an ancient forest, while werewolves
sway to a Mexican dirge.

Dangerous Encounter
It was a June Saturday after dinner I walked along the docks
and noticed a man I knew putting crates of beer on his boat that
had an outboard motor. He lived on the other side of the bay and
invited me to come along and I accepted. In the middle of the bay,
The man slowed the motor his face was white as Arctic icicles, eyes
like burning lumps of lava, I felt cold and was in immense danger.
The man said: “if the boat capsized I could swim ashore, could you?”
His boat had oars I picked up one and placed it across my knees.
The man looked as he was making a move, I said: “I would not do this
if I were you.” At the pier I helped him taking the beer ashore, I didn’t
accept his invitation to come up to his house for a drink.
While waiting for the regular ferry, I had coffee at the local cafe and
noticed my hands were still shaking after my narrow escape from
a man who had ****** in his heart.

Small things Remembered

The shop at the corner
Of my childhood
Has stopped selling Danish pastry
Nor has it Coco macrons,
Milk and cheese
The rooms are bare
On its counter cutting cheeses in smaller portion
An old fashion weight
Used when selling butter
Dusty windows
Forgotten, no one says: remember where
We bought our milk?
The bell that rang when opening it door
Will not chime anymore
Perhaps someone will buy it and make it
Into a wine-bar, it is the trend now
They are trying to make us into posh alcoholics,
And I have a sudden hunger for Danish pastry.

Dark Forces

There is a sense of ennui the déjà vu after a feast
life is not what we thought it was, the banner of battle
no longer flies on top of the town hall.
The hero is not a hero but a figure fluctuating in the wind
and ruled by outside forces where he is only the visible  
to fool the world into a shared vision of bravery.
There are so many other problems the scourge of pest
the sizzling heat burning human skin crisp
and rain that kills and sea that floods the landscape.
The undertone is getting louder; we have been lied to
dark forces seek a unipolar world, malleable people
into enslavement, where words are no longer truthful
but lies are endlessly repeated until lies are the truth.
It is late in the day, but there is a rumble of a fightback
the freedom of the individual precariously wilts like
grains of life die if not rescued by the rain of revolt.

Dark is the Night

I wake up at nights
And think of death to the point
When I wake up and it is dawn
Now that Fidel Castro is dead as well
I'm losing the last link with the past
I was in Havana pre-Castro
Wild night of debauchery great for us
But I saw the suffering as the dance
Got wilder and wilder in our ignorance
As young sailors we thought was
Paradise; then the man came down from
The mountain and like Jesus chased sellers
Of dubious wares out of the temple he chased
The *****-masters away back to Florida mostly
And sent women to school
The price was high his sullen neighbours
Never forgave him for taken their playground away

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.

Dark mood


the sun shines on the blue bay
many sailboats out, the breezed is in a friendly disposition.
Many white sails the people in boats have a joyful day.
I’m not a participant only an onlooker, wishes
That one day I will wear a captain’s cap and bark, hard
Starboard or too much sail watch out for the boom.
I play happy but want to go home when is it going to happen?
I need a weak to sort out things like cleaning the house
Someone else can look after her for a while.
At this time the almond trees are in bloom the grass
Is profound verdant, new spring has begun, I like to be there
Bearing witness to beauty, before the war starts.

Darkness

Night is the time to think deep
Usually of ways to cheat death
But it has black wings
That might strangle you before
You find the formula of how
Not to expire.

Night is for owls, ghosts and ghouls
Shine a light in their eyes and
They don't recognise it.
The ill wait for the dawn many
Don't make it and die before dawn
Just as the sun is about to shine.

Night is also the time for dreaming
Of *** and unlikely partners
Of horrid things and birds of prey
Trains that fly to the moon
And avocado men in funny hats
Banana split and ice cream.

Dawn of man

Out of the night came the dawn a mild breeze
blow petal off a rhododendron, a magic carpet
on a whitewashed wall sunlight and shadow dance.
The dogs were still asleep, the **** had not crewed  
Quietness, except for an old man fearing his death
his solace is in the day.
A plane across the sky leaves behind tired dreams
of next year’s vacation.
Alfredo is up starting up his little tractor harvesting
carob beans before it get too hot; he used to have
a mule took a long time back then; the mules made
the landscape looks prettier.
I have been here a long time a tranquil bay far from the sea
leave to me soak up the peace before setting sail
for the timeless ocean.

Dawn´s sky


Dawn, the sky is lit up by the unseen sun
clouds from the ocean were coming in they looked rain heavy
not a sound broke the stillness.
This the last day of the year and he was still here on the terrace
able to see the birth of a new day and he was privileged
the world had given him a gift.
The night had been restless and fearful, the thought of his death
had disturbed him, no point resisting the oncoming it was futile
he had said to himself and the dark night.
He felt a chill the rain was coming in faster than he had thought
He got inside, made a coffee and warmed food from yesterday
Feeling good he had always been frugal it was his way