The Breakup 

How cruel I was
cold shoulder against love
no reconciliation 
her heart was as cold
as mine
The night was endless
The day saved by a dog
I had some news beginning
but without her
She was not a part
It ended fairly 
She had a home, but not
near
My aloneness was great
the dog and I, in the forest
unruffled by reality 
Eating lunch in a beautiful
café, she came in and I 
desired her greatly 
I was in love, wrote hot
poems nothing could
ever go wrong
We know, life is perfect 
I had tiered her out;
She wanted to be free 
Freedom is a must, but
When freedom hurts those
We love, we have failed

a letter to my editor
I have tried to get more cash to spend
on introducing me to a bigger audience
I contacted many of my readers on X and asked for
A contribution sent to Hillshire will not come
amiss so far nothing.
I could have asked the man himself, but I will not
He suffers from the insecurity that rich people
People who suffer from that, we like them for the money
I happen to like Elon Musk because he struggles
with a deep-seated shyness like my brother did
So his life is not that easy
So, therefore, just print the fucken book and send
a couple of copies to me, I shall be nothing more
than mulch in the acre of poetry

A day like other days

She, leaving the bus, had forgotten the umbrella
Strolls, her face is more African now
She has a walking stick, says it is for her balance
My love for her has grown over the years
I cannot think of the time we were apart before
We met twenty-two years ago.
We have Christmas Day here, but the next day we travel
a hospital in Lisbon that specializes in hip replacement
We will stay the night in the metropole and have a good meal.
look at things- for my part,  like the grumpy North Korean leader
Then back to the Algarve with trees and big boulders
Tomorrow we are eating at a hotel that serves cabrito
sauté potatoes and a lot of sweets
since I'm driving only water for the journey 
or tomato juice.
It is an ordeal for me to be among people, I don't know
I will take 5 ml of ******,
It will keep me calm until I simmer down and laugh at bad jokes
as told by an exhibitionist.
We can't stay long since we are living in the morning
On a short walk outdoors, I saw my dog, who walked beside me
I bent down to pat her head, but she saw something
and ran into the bushes, I called her
name; Bambi came here when it dawned on me she had been dead for ten
years, and it made me think of my own mortality
but not in a gloomy way.
Sun, blue sky, and stillness, the hunters have gone
drinking in a cafe,  but the visit from Bambi perked me up
So did a cup of coffee when coming home
nothing out of the ordinary yet, I persist in dreaming of tomorrow

Tristesse 

The hotel room in St. Asaph (Wales) was damp
and smelt of spent body passion, I didn’t have a coin
for the gas metre; in the decomposing bed, a woman
Snored, and from the depth of my soul
the beginning of an anguished scream.
The morning was ashen as my face, and fine drizzle fell.

The hotel bar was closed, and I walked with aching bones
for miles while the heavens descended.
Apocalypse Now!
No such luck, when the clouds parted, the hills
where green with grazing sheep is.
Dear God, where were you yesterday when I married
A scullery maid, have you no mercy?

I can assure you

Had a dream while sitting at the edge
of a hole where they had removed a stone
and the mold was soft to the touch
that I had died, but also said to myself that
Were I dead, I wouldn't be able to dream
I have growth on the side, which looks innocent
like the one I had surgery on, the new one
is on my back and tends to be ignored
I must see a doctor again before the ulcer
sprouts a green plant that has a red rose
that needs to be handled, not by a gardener
The hole had turned into a newly dug grave
I didn't care for this dream, wished it would
I assured my frightened self that I was not
dead, and the self said I will believe that if
You wake me up at eight

Unhappy lunch

I could sense as soon as we entered
the restaurant that was a family run business
there had been a turmoil in the kitchen
the servers were father and daughter who
normally worked well together, but to day he
was in the kitchen, his daughter said, when
I asked
There were still many costumers, but they
kept a low profile and spoke subdual when
eating, we had entered a war zone
when our food came it was served on a dish
where my meat was grey like it had been
boiled, fries were uneven remanded of sailor
who had jut made ashore from a sinking ship
falling exhausted to the ground, and the
fried egg had been killed into a hard shell
However the salat, possible made before the
civil war, was good
Needless to say I refused to eat the served
my wife more skilled in diplomatic niceness
told the girl server to pack the food to take home
that I for some reason was not hungry
the lesson is, do not upset chefs in their kitchen

A Middle-class Newspaper

Marina Hyde is a journalist at a newspaper
I officially do not read, but since I had read
That paper has been around for over 60 years.
a habit;  a good or bad habit, I don't know 
but the paper could honor me with a prize
Regarding MH, I have a slight dislike of her
The surname Hyde conjures up evil ******
In a back alley, nevertheless, I sometimes 
agree with her, although she is very social
aware middle-class person, of the strident 
Kind, one tries to avoid at a party
For no reason whatsoever, I read an article
by Jonathan Freedland, of America Today
He used a word I find impossible to spell, but
I agreed with that, based on his words
I wrote a short piece about it for X