dear crow,

wish dream as below
so is above or so
a balance too

natural magic know
the imagination-the will
o..

the simple and beautiful
from the weather to a feather
humanity and co..

ii

you are a little boy
flapping his hands
at what he wants but doesn´t..

crying and crying..
you want mummy´s hand
you want to waste..

when you have what you wanted
o dear-you don´t want it..
lying on the floor in the supermarket..

driving in your little car
o peep-peep
look at me..!

exactly the same as a
bottle of coca-cola dark
and clear..

and crow, who is to blame?
someone over there!
poor dear..hamburger..

iii

still,there is redemption
an uncarved block-
a mirror..

there is always the sun
love literature and love
agree to differ..

others like you love
yourself..learning..
etc..

wish, is imagination is will
is reality-yes, lily..little circles
of smoke are civilizations

that rise and fall with the latest
weaponry-a knock at the door-
she come back a parcel-

is it death?no,a single black
feather..and a note love and war
and a sack..

**** casting spells now..one word-
archetypes, it says..
she spreads her toast..

dear crow

i wished for nought and
that is what i got but
in nothing..

there are sweeties and love
laughter and faith
integrity..poetry..

as goethe once said
be careful what you wish for
in your youth for in middle-age
that is what you become..

i don´t know if that´s true, lily
i wished to be a millionaire by the
age of thirty-hum..
i was a ***..well,

i studied literature and music
but where did it get me..
drunk and living on a beach
still it was a niche

not rich but interested..
maybe,that is something money
can´t buy-it put the i in i
and a blue sky..

dear crow,

you are naive now
my little fowl-
for every free nourishing

bowl(of soup) there is a sad
hamburger deflating in a polystyrene
container..somewhere..

profits before people-we
are to storm the bastille
naked starving before anything

is done..not that i preach
violence (only to be betrayed again?)
i suggest you plant a garden

and write a poem..yours,
lacking humanity and any sympathy
lily..

the, i mean, system seems
to have got very mean
for the hungry there is
the food bank-now, says crow
i know nothing about banking..
but generosity and compassion
are not usually attributes synonomous
with feeding the hungry and a bank..

perhaps a different name..but by putting
food and bank together..perhaps-
there are images-like collectors
at the door-we have come for our
mince pies and assorted canned goods-
sign here..another name..stop!are you and your children hungry..?
zero per cent interest

or a cafe where we can get a bowl of soup
and wash up..philantropists can do..
volenteers and the community so
i can make a bowl of soup for o
a pound-don´t say this would break
the bank..no..

dear lily

i take it is a no
some time so-money
and it´s accessibility or
civilization..

for some it rains and they
hate and for some there is none
and they hate..
probably..but everyone must..

no excuses..need first..
eating-name-of-game
and a roof over one-
food and shelter-and as this
so-called civilization falls
like many before..

their difficulty more accute
homeless next to criminality
hunger tedious..?the fruit
we harvest bitter truths..
so what to do..

ii

crow wants mercy or
something-where has he been living-
some dwell on the stars..

he wants something for nothing..
why should i
why should you-

don´t give me that empathy
humanity dying strains of a
forgotten waltz..