Easter Reading
In Lima – Peru- a hippo was pulling the tram car with
its best friend, a water buffalo. They had ended up
here, far from Africa, after the great flood ebbed and
had been blessed with eternal life, only being mere
animals, they didn´t know this. In Lima, no one made
a big issue of this, but when the wider world knew
and some adventurers set about trying to **** the pair,
in vain, the Lima people took another look, especially
since the church thought they were the devil´s own
handiwork, god would never have allowed beasts
besting man. Angry people took to hurling mud and
stones at the animals, also calling them rude names.
From the mountain came a man dressed in white
burnoose, and spoke to the people:
“For years, you respected my creation, the hippo
the water buffalo, with respect and care, I thought
well of you and decided that the archbishop of Lima,
when the time was right, would be the new pope, but you
have disappointed me greatly, hence the new pope
will be the archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina”.
The man, in a white burnoose, paused and said
“It is also the time you electrified the tram system.”

the bridge

In the middle of the bridge, we leaned on its railing
and looked into the slimy, green, and slow
running stream. Its bank, decorated with plastic bottles,
used condoms, a long-since-dead dog, yet grinning as
recalling a filthy joke and a three-month-old abortion,
half eaten by discerning water rats.
Over this beauty of decay hung a reluctant, pale sun
refusing to lend light to this polluted river scene.
The first time we came here, the water was clear, we could
see fishes you held my hands, she said.
My hands were cold, spat into the filth below, dug them
deep into my pockets, hunched my shoulders, and
began walking. No bother telling her that our love was
like a river burdened by too much debris.
All we have in common is our shared solitude, but that is
a dad is better than being alone.

Are wars as natural as forest fires?

The world is a restless war between India
and Pakistan's armies are ready and eager to fight
as usual, the people are ill-informed 
Israel has a problem; people are in an uproar 
the way the sitting regime mishandle 
the constant warfare, there might be a civil war
the USA, that believes in an uni-polar world  but
see they are no longer the world's ruler
Europe wants more war in Ukraine 
Alexandre Dugan believes in a multi-polar world
he is correct; the age for supremacism is over  
Or is it as many people think that war is like the plague 
a natural phenomena buried in our mind
from time to time, to destroy and mass ****** 
will occur, will not stop until the old order is destroyed
then peace can come, and the world is set free

Misty Day
Glancing out of the window, I see the potted plant
on the sill and the house on the other side of
the road, the light is fading, and the plant looks as
sad as a whitewashed wall in the rain whiteness
is an illusion caused by the sun.
Mist of grief encircles olive trees, are blank
tears on my almond tree´s spindly twigs, yet inside
each droplet sees a tiny world reflecting my own,
only with greater incorruptibility of the untested.
And far away, as a whisper, a mother sings a lullaby.

« O

The lonely heart

This loneliness is eating me up
we are miserable in different rooms 
words have been spoken over and over again
what more is there to say
other than platitudes 
When *** died, our love died too
The only thing we have in common
is the fear of being alone 
At night, I sneak into her bedroom
to see if she is still breathing
when I'm half awake
I know she is checking up on me
We need each other as never before
can one say this is a kind of love

overcast

I like rain, not angry rain with an attitude
neglected by the mother cloud and take revenge
for its misbegotten infancy 
lashing those who sought peace and the promise
of forever, with ice blasts  
soft rain that feels like a caress, a day in June 
Drips from my blue umbrella feel like kisses from
a long-time lover

The Dancer

At fifteen, he was a dancer with a  slim body
and narrow hips, after school he walked to 
the dance studio where he was welcome
and danced as long as he could
other boys bullied him and said he was
girlish, but the girls liked him because of him
the felt save 
On and on he danced, the press wrote 
about this talented boy, but the bullying 
didn't stop to prove to them he was not a ***** 
he, at eighteen, joined the Ukraine army
who could use a  boy like him in a forward
position keeping an eye on the enemy
Bullets fly in the air 98% hit nothing much
but a bullet hits him in the neck 
His parents received a medal their boy had
been a hero.

poet at the factory

It had been a long day at the factory but
when there was a break, he jotted down a few words
and during the day, it became a poem- he always
had a pen and block ready, words were so flighty he may
forget what he wanted to write if he waited too long.
Coming home and told his wife
I wrote a whole poem today, a good poem
his wife asked if the poem was about her, no he said it was about a tree
the one at the entrance of the village.
His wife went back to the kitchen and slammed the door
The poet came out of his cocoon and said to his wife:
All my poems are about you, my muse, with you at my side
I can't write about the old tree in the village
They kissed and made up, and both lived long and had good deaths blissfully unnoticed by the world.

Candlelight and Romance

Suddenly, Portugal was flung into darkness
electricity stopped, and nothing functioned
anymore, credit cards were useless
and those types of cards were the norm as
people carried little cash in their wallets 
the day was wounded, walked unsteadily
towards evening, few had thought of
buying candles, the town of Cascais was
fearful and quiet 
Having lived for many years in the outer
corners of the countryside where the supply
often failed, was prepared, we had candles
and means to light them
The evening was quite romantic; we sat on
the sofa held hands, telling stories from
our youth, it was almost a disappointment
came back on, the hours of darkness had
brought us closer together

A great day

Despite financial problems,
the May morning
was too beautiful to behold
the leaves on the tree on the Avenida
was deep green, the flowers 
planted around was red and blue
The place was quiet in a good way
worker slept late on their day, working
for others, low pay takes a heavy
toll, but this one day was theirs
free of the burden of working long 
hours for other I warm, sunny day well
deserved, the cold Atlantic wind
agreed

The God Thing
I often think of God, but Morgan Freeman's face gets in the way
So, now we know God is a handsome actor looking godlike and
that is
Ok, if he had looked Chinese, I might have objected
Death is a conundrum; We accept the physical death
but the problem
Is what is happening to our thoughts from experience?
After a long life, we like to pass knowledge on, but
selectively, as we can not talk about our blunders and our ****** misconduct
I have lived an egocentric life is the only
way I write
but if I have written something to anyone for whom the big
sleep means nothing we are grateful

When the ancient goes wild 
Our hotel in Porto was at the highest point
although we had been promised a room downtown we
didn’t have to walk so far, ***** then I had paid in advance
across the street from the hotel a big disused water tower
from the time people didn't bother with showers
every day making us smell like ****** on a Saturday night.
We decided to walk into town, which was not a wise choice
she with her hips and my feet we were overtaken by a snail
and it was time for late lunch.
Later we took a taxi, and I noticed a big, but dead rat
outside
the hotel had great commotion but as they were getting rid
of the rodent, a car stopped over it.
After resting well, they arranged a trip for us to see
famous
houses an art museum and a ride along the Douro
we had our evening meal in a safe place away from
the water tower which suspected was of crawling with rats.
The tour bus didn't stop anywhere just showed us
The places and statues of famous men point towards
the east the bus trundled down to the ****** Douro
and narrows was full of tourists and cars, it represented
all that I dislike me life, my wife fell asleep, but I
managed
take a few interesting photos of a house that had been
pulled down
but you could still see the painting people used  where

Stay with me

The Zephyr breathes with the lungs
unsullied by cigarette smoke
Siesta nap
a lazy Sunday on an afternoon
when flowers wilt, the sky is recklessly
**** in transparent whispers
of silky clouds.
Breathtakingly the silence
if it should
stop
I would fall into a chasm
of pale rainbows,
stillborn moons,
corroded stars
where words of love
are unheard of, a silent echo
Inhale and exhale, my lovely
Blow a gale
But don’t leave me alone in
city parks where aged men sit
Tell us how old they are.

A ******'s life

Looking at the map, I have been to most countries 
that have seaports but no time to explore work  had
to be done whether it was Monday or Sunday
I have crossed many seas. The Pacific Ocean had 
long, deep waves, the Atlantic Ocean had sharper waves
while the Mediterranean Sea could not make up its mind 
The Black Sea wasn't blue and looked darksome; the ship
was stuck on ice flakes
The country we ****** preferred was the USA
we could get our shopping done and buy stuff for
friends at home, shops stayed open longer
A Russian town had a beautiful avenue, but otherwise
a city shrouded in darkness
I lost my heart to Guatemala, beautiful beaches near
the docks, a nation of friendly folks
Haiti, Port-au- Prince where Papa Doc ruled with his
brutal men dressed in flowery shirts, sunglasses
eager to shoot at anything that moved
a place where portholes had to be closed for the stink
What I remember best was in Nagasaki one afternoon
I had two hours off work and noticed how few people
I met it was as if they were still in shell shock 
In a courtyard, I came across the graves of Portuguese
****** who had died of the pest 200 years ago 
far from home, died of an illness, I grieved for them 
The evenings in foreign ports were the same bars
and women of ill repute ready for a small amount
of money serviced the ritual of ***, so one could be drunk
go back onboard for a few hours of sleep

Spring Morning

Today, waking up, it was warmer, the winter 
had been cold at times, freezing electric heating
is not for those with a slim wallet

Today, we will write pleasant poetry 
not like the boy at the edge of his bed, his feet
not long enough to reach the floor, crying
for yet again losing his home because his mother
has tuberculosis, has to go to a sanatorium
his has to go living among strangers, he has to 
be nice to and not be boisterous

Yes, pleasant thoughts, not letting bitterness seep
into this day with its mild breeze and clear light
thinking of the dog he had walking in the woods
Heck, the dog died, that was sad, so let us think 
of something else, buying red wine and cheese 
Getting ****** and playing music too loudly is not funny
when you are the only one in the room

Two things on offer to gladding the day go for
a walk or sit on the terrace soaking up the sunlight
tell jokes about my life at sea, forgetting long
nights, somewhere on the Pacific Ocean
So, let us embrace old grudges and enjoy life
of not laughing, we know a giggle is short-lived

Gaza and the pope

The pope who died was known to cry 
when told of the horror in Gaza
he sent Israel a mild-mannered rebuke 
When the pope was young, he rode 
a big motorbike in Buenos Aires 
persistent rumor tells he did more riding
The question hangs in the air
has he got a son?
If so, was his mother a ******* he
had tried to lead away from sin
To make matters worse, was she a Jewish
Was the rumor, even as baseless 
hanging there, hindering the pope 
to speak out against the horror in Gaza?

A true sentence 

As Hemingway said, start with a true sentence
the roof of the school building, I can see from 
where I sit on a cloudy day is grey as lead
when lit up by sunlight that has broken through 
the clouds, it turns silvery and pleasant to see
That is, a true sentence about what I see, but it
is not what I'm thinking is a love story that
began a summer's day, lasted with its drama
when days got shorter and the wind bitter
leaves shrunk and fell on a rainy street
The true sentence is the gripping sadness
the knowledge that the best of my time has gone

Idyllic nightmare 

I know they are good people who want us to leave 
they don't know it is their time, what's up because
our time is fine, but they fail to grasp that they
are past the clock, it has belled twice 
We have admired their garden with flowers
deep green lawn and made of plastic as are
the red roses, nothing is alive, but we pretend
like them, that they are not dead
We failed to ask the obvious question. Why are
we are here? Did they invite us? Or did we show up
in a world that has died, what we see is us who
exists in a world that is no longer real?

His women

All my life, I have done my best in avoiding to be a father
The reason was to avoid the drudgery of married life
That brings us to Elon Musk and his many children 
Some of them through the natural way others conceived 
artificially, as he believes in building a stronger who can 
tackle the future, I agree with EM there is much 
Tainted blood in the world
I think of his many women if they do not love him 
It must be of financial benefit for them to secure them
From poverty, Fair enough, but does this make them 
A more moral person than the woman I met in Jamaica
She loved me but needed someone to pay for the gas

Job description

If you like to be an executioner
can be failed as doctors
or nurses who needs the thrilling
feeling masterful

Given the last, fatal injection
give a sense of power
so strong it can lead to premature
*******

What can be better legally ****
the condemned and feel
proud of a job, both well paid
emotionally rewarding

Mice in the shed, she demanded
I do something.
I found three mice,
surprisingly easy to catch, like they
had been saved.
Living on old newspapers and
stillborn manuscripts
not much of a diet.
**** them, she demanded.
I put them in a shoebox
made a few holes and gave them
some bread crumbs.
In the tall grass, by the road verge
I let them out, and that  they would
rather stay in the box.
Finally, they got the message and
disappeared.
I looked up and said:
“What about it, God? Any chance to
Win on the lotto?

glasses

On my desk, the driving glasses, a 15-year-old is in a right
mood for it has been a struggle
for the glasses to be
accepted again after I bought a new pair that cost me a fortune
The state of the art frame, 
yet useless, but I will not buy new ones.
My old glasses
purchased in a small shop that had no pretensions of being unique as
master of Spectacles,
alas, you have to tell people you are wonderful and apex and that
cannot be surpassed or not, people avoid you and go for the
liers and cheats in suits.
I fell for ads and bought the overpriced pair that could not
difference between red and green
What relief it was to rummage through my office drawers to
find my old glasses.
is not what I wanted to say; what I meant was by looking
at the lenses if they
could tell me a story and remember something I had
overlooked  a thing on
my mind lost it in the life of April

A very rich man, not the one who springs to mind
likes to leave behind as many children as he can
Clearly, it would be wrong to have an affair with so many women, almost immoral, where emotions disturb the proceedings, therefore, artificial insemination is used
The rich man is in a sterile room, ******* into a tube, the result he hands to a flunky who carries the result into another room where the business is done, but sometimes things go wrong and he has to repeat, for this there is a stack of pornographic pictures he can look until he get an ******* suitable for the purpose
Sometimes a baby girl is born, which he accepts but would rather have boys; he aims to have thirty children and hopes there is no mishap generations ago giving him a child of the wrong race. Should this happen, he will not despair, but happily point out he is not a racist

how it is done

The piano tuner

there used to be a greengrocer on the ground floor
except for potatoes, there was not much call for 
another vegetable, the shop closed a piano tuner rented
the space and partly white-washed the windows
he didn't like to be seen by passers-by 
I sat on the gate into our yard pretending to be a cowboy 
when he asked me to help him in the shop, yes, I was glad 
to help got boring being a cowboy
He sat me on a piano stool, opened up my fly, began
playing with my innocent *****, with his right hand he
wanked himself, I was too petrified in fear I didn't
run away; when he *******, he dried himself with a hanky
in his pocket and, in a brusque manner, told me to leave
Outside, it took me a while to realize this man was a pig
but I was too ashamed to tell anyone and instead went
up to our flat opened a book by Robert Louis Stevenson
and began reading about islands and bright light

The secret hint

I was watching a TV program about Hercules Poirot
the heroine in the plot had no **** and wore an evening dress with aplomb
She had not sat on a carpet in the forest of spring where
the animal of love roams is green
as spring grass has a pink underbelly that looks like a purring
cat or a puppy that softly barks. It droplets of scents
that make lovers enamored for a day or so, sadly there is
always a tomorrow of regrets for some.
If the woman with small **** happens to sit on a carpet in
the glade she will fall in love and pad her bra
and that is ok, why should she not enhance her lack of this
bagatelle when there are tringles of love in the air
and if this does not help there is always divorce much lonely the man is satisfied with a triangle

The big Illusion

I’m too tired to find any meaning in life. We are born, and our only function is to sow our seed and then depart the scene before we become a burden to the new generation who, after jubilant years, will see that they are born into death. to entertain ourselves, we make a simple act of leaving our seed behind by using magical words into something we call love, and since the thought of being dead forever is too harsh to contemplate, we invented religion and live our lives in an illusion, a fairytale of final lies, we do see the day we die when we are swallowed up by the relentless eternity

Towards the thaw

As the days of spring are here, I should be happy having made it through the winter. The April breeze brings regret, remembering what had been pushed aside, no, I was no mother’s favorite son
Recalling every detail, overthinking every word said, reacting with angry silence as a defense to hurts felt as a betrayal. No, I was not a sweet boy happily playing in a backyard with a toy
The spring breeze also tells me of an ending, my doctor’s remark of scaring bathers with dark blue blotches on my white body, it is like the process of death has begun when still alive
My anger keeps me going. I was dealt a pack of cards and did my best, bought the small blue houses on the monopoly board the affordable ones. I have no regrets and wait in silence

180 barrels
A trendy couple fled a tourist resort and left behind 180 barrels of human waste; one wonders how they could accumulate that much ****; the pair fled to Guatemala, farms cocoa plants and lives on a diet of bananas. A woman called Meghan, makes it clear that she is also a Sussex, whatever that means, has a podcast, and tells us she is thrilled with her success interviewing other privileged women. We are pleased to read these inanities and think if the 180 barrels of crap have sprung a leakage
The local news is, a Ukrainian who fled when the Russian army came knocking on the door looks askance at me since my view is different from the other people in the building. He came to Portugal with two new and big Mercedes, enough said!

The tree of ages
There had been a storm, not a squall, making it difficult
to walk from the supermarket to your car, leaving you
with tussled hair and breathless, no this was
the real thing, the holm oak, crashed to the ground
roots and all blocking the road.
It was an old tree that had lost weight and bark slung around
it was like a poorly fitted mechanic's overall, so it had to happen
it was what ensued after the fall, and it had to move
still alive, they cut it in half and pushed it aside with
a forklift truck, no ceremony here, no kind words, the tree
was blocking the traffic; not a word of regret, you see,
hadn't it been for the storm, the tree was well enough to
stand by the entrance to the lane for 100 years to come.

Soldiers’ Women
On the plateau, a file of women in black,
war widows waiting to serve tea, bread
and rice from two men in a pickup truck.
The men spoke hoarsely, scurrying them on,
found their work embarrassing, they would
rather be back on the mountain fighting.
Thought of the women as superfluous, yet they
had given birth to boys who fought and daughters
who was married to a warrior.
The women didn't look the men in the eyes,
spoke softly about the health of grandchildren,
they had miles to walk down to the village till
meager soil and tend to skinny goats.

The applause
I had a drink before going to a poetry reading
since I was nervous
drank a few whiskeys and spoke dramatically about the plight of the Palestinians
I needed help to get down from the stage since my glasses were at the hotel.
The next day, we went to a meeting where the top of
The educated class go, I thought they were idiots
they had erudition but no
learning, So I got up and spoke for fifteen minutes.
The silence was colossal
think of a needle falling from the galaxy
and landing at the Himalayas, I had sinned
said the global warming was a natural disaster and had nothing to do
with global warming.
The meeting was unreported  in the local paper
but what do
I do not speak this Roman soldier’s language.

The class thing

I’m working class from the very beginning, my mother worked in a fish factory putting sardines
In the meantime, she went to work before me. My breakfast was standing in the kitchen, eating a slice of bread with margarine. if the school served breakfast, I ate there
I noticed early in life that those who spoke with educated voices got better treatment than we who spoke the street parlance
I tried to speak as the educated did, which made me tongue-tied and deeply shy, but it helped me to get an education of sorts
It was only after stumbling, falling, and reading that I came to see I hail from an honorable class that built our nation after World War 2

The Cook

Among pots and pans
the heat of an oil stove
Not a place for dreaming
He saw the glittering sea
That had a cooling breeze
On its surface
For years, the open door
Was his freedom
Where does the ocean begin
The sea life ended
Jamaica was his destiny
A youthful dream coming true
Love only comes once
But its ember continues
Will he find where the ocean
begins

Pressure, pressure

Why can’t they leave him alone
Today the bay window
Demonstrates a panorama of beauty
He longs to go there
Taste the salt sea
To sail away from all this
Back to Jamaica
To places he had been when young
When laughing in the rain
When there was a now
The future too far away to contemplate
Clouds are gathering
There will be rain in the afternoon
The bay window
Has tearstains from
Too many yesterdays

A childhood

Stony was the soil of my childhood
A tiny room above the stable
Cold was the night
A straw mattress and mice
Ice crystal on the roof
Dreaming of running somewhere
Anywhere but here
A pale dawn
The sun is white this morning
In the barn animals stir
No more time to dream
Tomorrow he will run away

we had it coming
looking at pictures of an empty Piccadilly Circus
or the Eifel Tower in Paris is empty of life except
for police cars cruising to fine anyone breaking the law.
The emptiness is enormous and frightening to think
how quickly humankind can disappear forever
When the pandemic is over, there might be another one.
Millions of people all over the world rotting in their homes
the disappearance of humans is a near reality.
The only hope is that we lived a tolerable good life.
The future will consist of animals hunting each other.
Cities will crumble art and culture of no value.
We had it coming, I despair.

A Horse and ale
The brewery had many horses to carry crates of beer
around to small shops,  each horse and its driver was assigned a route
The horse I liked was shiny black and had been used for
funerals before
over the years, they got a bit broad hipped and stomach-heavy.
The horse knew the route and stopped outside the grocer's and waited while
the driver unloaded crates of beer.
The horse sometimes had an ******* thinking of a favorite mare bit
strange animals only know one way and askew foreplay
The driver usually had a bottle of beer at each shop, and when
the round was done, he was in a merry mood and sometimes fell asleep. But the horse knew the way.
After unharnessing the beast, he brushed its coat, checked the hooves
for the horse, the highlight of the day, and gave it a big slice of bread.
So long ago, there had been a devastating war
Jews immigrated to Palestine
and got a piece of land they called Israel; we believed what the papers said
the persecuted people deserved a homeland, but we did not realize that it was.
A historic injustice had befallen the Palestine people and echo that will not
stop before the real Semites get their land back.

Greenland’s American future

In Nuuk everybody lives in festive houses made of wood, green, blue and red looks homily in the winter landscape
Thei are the people who speaks English, building
A dry dock for submarines, that will protect the sea from intruders, like the Russians and big code fish. The Greenlander will live in nice apartments
That have lifts, naturally the have to pay rent
There will be more shops selling imported food
Soft bread and, of course hamburgers for all
There will be bars with dancing girls included
The local can get drunk and been thrown into the snow
Some locals will lose their apartment leave in the street with dogs and the hapless will be wrapped in blanket given by the Danes, American tourist will come looking at the filthy streets and feel at home
The transformation will be complete, the local language forgotten, spoken only by the very old Innuits, naturally no one speaks Danish anymore
Except for the local doctor a despicable socialist
This is the future for people who become victim of super power, who believes in their exceptionalism

A brief visit

I sat trying to write
A poem of love
Yes, once Love hit me hard
I sensed someone
Standing beside my chair
Yes, it was her
Twenty years had gone
She looked the same
She smiled with eyes of love
Then, she faded away

Freedom for Greenland
It is an ominous signal when the wife of the vice president visits Greenland, ostensibly to see its nature and be ever so friendly, but the Greenlanders are not fools they know Trump is sickling to get hold of this island, if he does the defenseless people will end up as rough sleepers in the streets of New York
The Greenlanders are simple folk living, have modest houses for a lump full of dollars they might be pressured to become American citizens
Money given is a lot in Greenland, and in New York almost of no value, should you regret it and try to move back into your little house it will be too expensive to buy, and anyway, the military will restrict movement no more hunting you can be shot as an intruder bleeding in the snow Whatever happens, get a deed to your house because the motherland cannot help you mainly because the politicians have been bought out to

Morning poem
From a prince’s shining light will it be possible to see the beginning of the day as it was before dawn the moment before it was unkissed by anyone but you before life began as the story go And no one knew what to say about the day
Before anything was born leaving the darkness behind like an unwanted dream of what was before the light was born
Is it not possible to see what life was before the mountain kissed the shore unseen by anyone but you not yet awake to understand the wonder of a new day so never mind the light if you have seen the beginning of the day the last kiss before I die
I shall say no more.

Children in Palestine
He sat down to write a poem for nature
When he closed his eyes saw, bombed-out buildings
Rain dripping from wrecked concrete onto
The street, a muddy pool, but that
didn't stop the children from playing captains of the deep sea
Another bomb fell and obliterated this harsh idyll
What was left was mist and fire where it once had been
A muddy puddle.
His pleasant poem about a track and olive roots trying
To trip him up, the shepherd, his dog, and the sheep coming
His way the good small of wool like an obscenity today
did little to stop his fear for the future.

Brutish Trump, Meek Musk?
Trump comes across as a brute and scares people off the middle usually nice middle-class people who do not what it is like working on a building site or spending years at sea with men appear ruffian but mostly, is a braggadocio and as such nothing to be alarmed over in Trump’s case he is not likely to start a war with China, Russia or Iran Trump likes powerful autocrats, he respects as much as he hates effeminate Macron also Starmer
With his perfect modulations, yet sits cross-legged when speaking to Trump who is not in the habit of showing the heels of his shoes, but as we know English leaders have hidden distaste for those they think are inferior to them
Trump, like many rich people, pretends he comes from a modest background, his father was a wealthy man in real estate which made his journey easier; the millionaires we see today are from wealthy families and that is Ok, but their idea of poverty is miles away from the mark
The hatred we see of Elon Musk is grossly unfair He is at heart a good man with a dream of saving humanity from itself, but I fear when the chips are down politicians will put the onus on him

Syria’s Christians and Haiti

The first Christian church was built in Syrian,  as I write this the horror is killing them the new death cult regime in Syria, a cult we give money to, and not mentioned by Western media as Israel continues to bomb Gaza to their hearts content This is only possible when the bombs are free of charge courtesy of the USA
On the home front, we read about erectile dysfunction, no they are telling me who thought
my own problems were caused by the old age
Haiti, the sad state is in the news again, last time
I was there, Papa Doc, was in power he employed
Thugs, sunglasses, and sports shirts to keep order
but they harassed shopkeepers to hand over money, when Papa died his son took over, he was an idiot and any resembles of order fell apart
Port-au-Prince was a beautiful city, but now it is a vast criminalized slum, Haiti has always been poor and met resistance from other countries who were against a black sovereign state. It never got the help needed from white societies who said slaves could not a country make

What the papers didn’t say

We read the octopus is an intelligent animal, I’m not sure if this is true but they can be trained to
play with dipping bottles filled with water. The sinister side is the female octopus, who after ***
takes her partner's fertilizing instrument with her
and soon the male octopus will die. In our world, it is not that bad, a man risks losing the house and
the lawn he had lovingly trimmed, but he had done his duty leaving her two lovely babies
his ending might come on the streets of San Diego Today I will not be cynical but leave this octopus behavior to Marina Hyde
Gerhard Depardieu is in trouble for ****** assault
which denies, ******* the maid, in the kitchen is
nothing to bother about and the maid was a willing participant, I think the great actor lives in
Russia, I hate to think why he does
The great IDF has killed 50.000 Palestinians and
those left alive are starving to death, if you are in doubt about not stopping mass ******
We are not able to hear their cries our sight is
on Ukraine to stop that war that the people in Brussels want to last till 2029 and never mind the killed soldiers, it's war baby take it on the chin

Humankind

In an article, the question was what is the meaning of life? Many answers were about personal fulfillment and what made a person happy, but no one could answer that question. This I think is because we in the West are not religious, we do not believe in a God we are alone and that is scary and has an echo of colossal loneliness and the universe is empty
Night and day, light and dark, the fundament of
In all religions, perhaps the question of the meaning of life was asked and not answered
How the man-animal came into being is academic  
But it was an animal that could think and become a human-dominating the living world
We can assume they were not friendly and had clans going around killing each other as we do today
The meaning of life is this, with a bit of love thrown for the sake of procreation, that it has no meaning, we live and die and are dead forever

Nepal
Nepal I know little of this country, nestling
Among colossal mountains
It used to be a kingdom, but the king was so
Autocratic that he lost the job.
Later on, I have this from memory, one of the princes
Shot the royal family as they were sitting down for tea.
This didn't help him to become a king,
I think he is a monk now and is fed by the poor.
Nepal is also a place where Pakistan and India sometimes
Shot at each other when not freezing to death
At high altitudes in summer uniforms
A recent earthquake brought Nepal to the news for a day
They have been promised help to rebuild Kathmandu 
As usual in such cases, the money gets siphoned off and
little
Reach the people of Nepal.
To whom who cares, Nepal is also the birthplace of Buddhism.

Rich man poor
The man from
the gutter
who fought
his way to the top
has much hate
and contempt
For those who didn't
succeed
because they were
too kind and
had consideration
for fellow man.
When the rich man
Donate money
He is called
a great
humanitarian
and it is
envious to
I disagree with that.
A bronze statue
in the park, but
it will be
hollow inside

Riches

Dark clouds hang over the valley this morning
will rain,  I hope there will be a rainbow too
I have a silver ***** ready, a plastic bucket
leather boots as well.

Last time, I found a nugget of gold where a multi
colored arch got stuck in the ground, my brother
took it, lives in the Bahamas now, and pays
no taxes and have seven servants

He wasn’t happy, so they sent him to Betty Ford’s
clinic, where they teach him to accept his guilt and
stop beating himself up because of a trifling
culpability, attack of remorse can happen to us all;

Forget your sins. Sober is bliss, and God forgives
and speaks English. If I am rich today, I will not tell
anyone, keep my money under the mattress, live
like a pauper, and enjoy my solitary treasure.

The big turtle of Galapagos.

Turtles, in general, are not good at communicating with anyone, at least those odd figures who talk a lot and sometimes sing
The big turtle of the Galapagos does remember when a big storm had blown over the world and many ships had run ashore on the island
She had been ashore laying egg in a hollow and when she emerged, her way to the ocean was blocked by broken ships, big chests sailors used to carry around since they had no shells He appeared in front of her, a man in linen trousers said he would help her and began clearing the beach, talking at the same time as humans tend to do
His name was Carlos Hamsun
and he wore linen trousers and a matching shirt, since he was alone and had no servant, his trouser were rather *****
Nothing much happens in a turtle's life, but when something happens, it remembers like having  
a picture taken, a photo that never fades
Since she had spent years when not laying eggs, there was not much to tell, that is why she remembered
Carlos Hamsun, humans have bad memories and need individual names
especially now with so many tourists hogging the beach, making it difficult to find a suitable hollow to lay eggs.
Not that she lays eggs anymore, but she likes to go ashore dig a hole and rest a bit, which is not easy now that
a ****** zoologist has made her famous