Greenland

The Vikings often fished for cod along the coast
We know as Greenland since they had noticed
Where the ice had thawed, green grass grew
Olav, the hairy, thought it would be a good idea
To bring cattle and women to herd cows
to the island and on the longboat where the Vikings
That had turned to fishing instead of pillaging
The coast of France thought this was a grand idea; furthermore, it was tiresome sitting in a boat without toilet facilities and not having a ***** to lighten the onerous life.
Bringing cattle to Greenland was a likable idea
From Hammerfest in Norway, a steady stream of
Viking families with cattle, women, and children
They began farming in the cove where the grass was
the greenest, life was busy
There was no interest in settling when the cows were fat
the women were pregnant, so they sailed back to Hammerfest and waited for the summer season; however, when the weather got cold again, the ice didn’t thaw
the place abandoned
What the Vikings didn’t know about Greenland was that Greenland had been tropical with palm trees and beautiful beaches, where only the rich at the time could afford to go
on a holiday, we know the sort dealing in precious stones
Now that ice is thawing again in Greenland and
Donald Trump has declared an interest in this neglected island the Greenlanders can look forward to a bright future.

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 last bus
This is a day for us losers, no this is not about the climate, from my window it looks like doing well, a dollop of sun there and a splash of rain there, it is no asking for anyone’s permission
With losers, I mean us who have managed to get old, but living wildly and not going for longevity
This makes us miserable because we have nothing to look back on and say, sure I did that
It is not that we didn’t try to make a mark, but
***** and women got in the way, conquest
a ***** in every port
Some of us tried to make a mark by scribbling
Our thoughts on paper, exposed our tiring vulnerability for all to see, only to discover that
No one wanted to know gave a ****, because
One needs a name to make it worthwhile to
Read your missives
So here we are getting ****** every night
Blaming fate for our misery when the bitter truth is we’re not talented enough to be
Recognized
For some reason, we continue to write for
We know what else to do; reflect on that we
Know God is punishing us for sins we were not aware of, as we ****** our way through life

Flying to Mars

There was a young man popular among the girls
But he overlooked them because his dream was to reach the moon and beyond
To do this he needed the feathers of the paradise bird, they were colorful, and made him look handsome, but he needed the stronger feathers of the eagle
When he was ready, he climbed a pile of rocks
The legend said had fallen from the sky a day in May 500 years ago
The girls were there admiring his plumage some
Nervous elders too begging him, not to try this foolish thing
The young, brave man flapped his wings and under breathless silence from the onlooker took flight and watched him to where the sky
Got hazy
The next morning the village woke up to a bang
They found the burned body which had flowed too near the sun on his way to Mars, his name was not Icarus but Elon Musk

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 sailor goes ashore.

the night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125 years old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck
with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
A lacuna of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living room.
They were related to him and knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder are you awake?
Yes, mother, I'm home from the sea.

The Room

Many hospitals have a room away from the daily hustle and bustle of accidents and ill health
A room that has comfortable deep chairs, where the light is not bright, nor is too hot or too cold, staffed by top professional nurses
Here they can come, those with chronic pain
And those who cannot be cured, can sit pain-free for some hours, and sink into a mild euphoria
This room has no place for religion or fear
of Darkness, a blessed room for those modern medicine can do no more

The Genetic pool

I’m my father’s son, I carry his genes
He is a part of me that is inseparable
If I hate him, I dislike myself
These days, I’m older than my father
He is my son, and I love my son
Once I saw my father on the bus
He reached out to say hello
Misinformed, I ignored his gesture
Looked out of the bus window
I saw his tears
Wish the moment would return
It is my eternal shame
My father is my son, I think of him
Gently.

The last poem in my new collection

An utterly Useless Tale

On a big round oak table in a living room, a vase, in its small crack, lived two house ants. They were sitting outside,  considering a box of matches on the tabletop.
“if the box was empty, I’m sure I could push an inch or two the first and said. “Yeah,” the other snorted.
A man came into the room, took a matchstick out of the box, and put it back on the table, this time by its edge, and walked out.
The first ant giggled and said, “If we both push the box, it will fall on
the floor, no one will know how it ended there.”
They traversed the vast expanse of the table, pushed the box off the table, hurried back into their crack, and laughed heartily.
They had been frightened
people usually **** house ants at first
sight. The man came back, saw the box on the floor, shook his head, picked it up, and placed it back on the table. Our ants were in stitches
They were tempted to push the box on the floor again
But gave it up, the risk someone could come in  with a duster
was too great
Back at their crack, they went to sleep

Jordholmen’s public bath
Back in the days of yore, few people had a shower unit they might have had bathtub that was used once a week when the whole family bathed and the loser was the dad usually with daughters by then the water in the tank was tepid
I friend of mine told of a public bathhouse, near the docks, where one could have shower in cubicle, get a towel and a bar of soap
We ran never walked back then to the bath house called Jordholmen, I didn’t have money for cuibcle, but the lady said I could share a shower with my friend, but she only gave us on towel and one bar of soap; well as a capitalist his used the towel first, but that is nothing new
I came quite attached to this bath house, it was  a great change to have wash in a bucket of warm water in the living room by the fire, or in the kitchen in the days of May; we have lost hot water in our house in Cascais, my wife despairs for me it is like the old days warming water cleaning bits and pieces in front of the fire

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

A village in the sun

There is a small village with a few streets that have no name and houses have no number twelve I bought a small home that had stood empty for years when not used as a stable for the unique Algarvian white long-eared donkey
Retired workers in the village up the road where the shop was located next door to a café where they sat enjoying their beer fixed my house and soon I with my dogs everyone in the Algarve has a dog and I could spend my time writing poetry or walking in the wood
This Idyll was too perfect to last, one day a group of English tourists came to my village, and I, the only one who spoke English sealed the village's fate by telling them what a wonderful this place was and that there were several empty houses for sale the homes were snapped up and before you could say, Adam, the village became English
Cans of beer in the ditches, late-night parties ******* dressed women craving *** and sun the idyll was over it was time to leave my refuge from a noisy place filled with people who said how much they loved Portugal

The Burden

He is so wealthy perhaps the richest man
In the world, he enjoyed his lucre and sired
A dozen full, of male and female children
He has reached middle age, and his youth has
Gone the body, no longer as elastic as before
He has realized as many men before him that
Life has a time limit
Great wealth is also power people listen when
A rich man voices his opinion, he has thrown
himself into body politics, perhaps confusing
Opinions as truth
The problem is he has yet to learn the language
Of diplomacy and is on his way to acquiring
Powerful enemies on his journey to solve
the World’s myriad problems
I believe he is a good person at heart
has to learn business and politics collide
His to be wary of hangers-on who follow him
On his road, but will leave him quickly should
disaster strike
His colossal wealth is a burden, a certain
Tiredness on his face one can call depression
A slight irritation in his voice, why can we not
Understand him better

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

A moment poem

A storm blew in the night
Morning light calmed the monster
The sea in the bay ripples
As often before rain goes to Spain
The water is silvery near the shore
It is Saturday, the town awakes

This and that and the Guardian

I read on -x and -----I read on Facebook of people writing stating their opinions about his and that no come thinks we are at the brink of war because
of wrongly accepted hinder a monologue
That can bring an understanding of opponents' dream of peace, they are ready to go to nuclear war to preserve because they know whatever comes next is the oblivion of the human race
A leading newspaper knows if the man who writes an ad kisses the woman who is a consultant are kissing or not, and we know those people have not noticed their world is lost
It is not about office furniture or about food cooked by overpromoted cooks who tell us what we should eat and admire them at the same time for the simple art of boiling potatoes is made is art
We have lost the reality that it is not about grades but a ticket to connections by who gets in to are made in the fairy land

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.”

Racial tension and Floyed
A picture of a committee in defense of human right a picture where serious white man and a woman in a business suit and to black persons This was serious business no one smile except the two black persons that spoiled the gravity of the solemn undertaking
Most black people I have met were like me from a working stiff background I was employed on ships they were mostly onloading cargo from the said, ships, they appeared more open, talkative then us Scandinavians, we don’t say much unless we are drunk in a bar
there was an unspoken racial barrier that made a man whose lowly job was to oil the engine feel racially superior; this was daft as the oiler had more in common with black people than he realized as we both suffered from segregation by those who wore suits working in an office
In America, with her many racial problems, we tended to side with the oppressed black people we had not noticed politics had entered into the fray; let to a man called Floyed, was killed by a cop who had trained for riot control in Israel Floyd, an addict, was not a person to look up to

The Grocer and Dreamer

The local grocer calls his shop
The best supermarket in town
Although his shop is small
He has big dreams, sells jam
tinned beans, bananas, lemon
and chocolate cakes
He also sells local wine made
on a plot, run by his brother
In the morning, he has fresh
From a bakery that has few
Customers as it sells real bread
That is not packed in plastic
A big supermarket nearby
Will open soon
Our grocer, harassed by health
Inspectors every week sold
The shop to the new supermarket
They promptly closed his shop
The grocer who had big dreams
Bought a van and sells groceries  
In the countryside

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?

A Lizard Sonnet

If you travel to escape the small lizard on your back
You will eventually be outside your parents’ house
Only they have long since go
Someone else lives there; perhaps a child sleeps in your bed
Dreaming your dreams
You walk down a street where you used to play
But no one knows, and the sense of loss overwhelms you
Swallow hard not to cry because your memory is untrue.
You left to get a small-minded town, poverty, and screams
In the night, but it was worth going back to remember what
An awful place you left.
I have a small lizard in the kitchen; I have tried
To **** it because it is grey and without redeeming colors that
Could make it into a pet, but it is too quick and hides in corners
I can't reach so it can live for now.

The Royal Stonestreet 42

In the house in Stavanger, Norway, where I grew up four families were living in poverty after the war in 1945, well, poverty was relative as we were able to survive without social interference
In the basement, an elderly man had two bedrooms and a kitchen he had to share every Saturday when the women were washing clothes and ironing
The elderly man was mysterious he had female visits every so often, who drank and fought when the police were called the women had to leave, but the old man was not arrested, it turned out he had been a hero no one knew why, since he was mother’s uncle she didn’t know either
On the first floor lived two families, one had only one room and shared a kitchen with a family that had two rooms, but no one had a bathroom there was a toilet on their landing that was for the whole house, and filthy ***** on the second floor a woman called Sunway lived with her two sons she shared a kitchen with us who had two rooms when Sunway had male visitors, her sons had to sit in the hallway, not that her guests stayed long, but the hallway was a bit cold on winter days, but they were always well-dressed and polite
The father of the youngest son was a German soldier, he believed his mother drank coffee and talked to her friend the door was looked at as they didn’t like to be disturbed by children running around, and the oldest son wore a smirk like he knew what was going on
When a rumor circulated that Sunway was a *******, my mother who at the time worked at a fish factory, defended her, the woman had
no income and had to look after her sons Sunway eventually got a bigger flat with two bedrooms for her two boys, the youngest one went to university and did well, and the oldest one didn't work lived with his mother, but was arrested for ****** his mother and beating her was sent to prison.
I wonder why it is when time was hard some survived intact while others became a burden to themselves and drowned in shame.

The cabal
The newest news is Europe is a fascist, with rules and regulations, and little freedom of thought if you write something they dislike be prepared to get arrested and jailed; the USA is a land where we are free to be critical of President Trump and his ***** pal, Elon Musk and you will not be harmed, ignored if you have no economic power meaning the poorer you are more freedom of speech you can enjoy.
The EU in Brussels is nothing more than a Brussels sprout hated by everyone except those who say it is a healthy vegetable; it is presided over by an elderly woman with iron hair who talks to herself in empty offices; NATO is a rusty tank in a potato field that can’t even be converted into a tractor its American general has gone home, like it or not, Trump set us free  
A big thanks goes to Tulsi Gabbard, who whispered the truth into a thankful ear, telling it that Europe was the enemy of freedom!

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

Android City

The Guardian had an article about
Elon Musk's town in West Texas
The article was somewhat ill-willed
one got the sense of Android city
eerie and eccentric like the movie
The lesbian leaning Guardian and
Elon Musk doesn't see eye to eye
the article was not friendly

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

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

To Know Without Knowing

Red moss, crimson as the blood of a slaughtered calf,
I knew I had seen it before but could not recall
where or when. To see a landscape painting, knowing
I had been there before
In the Valley of Cobblers, children ran barefoot on
summer grass and scented wildflowers
unpasteurized milk, and healthy, innocent laughter.
I know this to be true, but I don’t know why.
I think of reindeer; will they eat red moss used
as they are to the grey variety? The sun keeps shining
like Spanish blood orange with a wicked cold.
The good earth is dry and waits for rain
The Red Moss is a forgotten love story. Perhaps
if I sit still long enough and wait
I will remember it.

Every so often
sometimes in life, we make a path that we realize was made by others to trap us into doing what they want
it feels silly to be fooled, but the ones that fooled us didn’t do so out of maize which makes it difficult to correct  
when a person dedicated to a rustic life, a dog, and writing his thoughts of the day he nevertheless dreams of a big city life with a throng of friends
when this moment occurs, he can easily be led astray by people whose agenda and purpose that is not what you were here for
the dog that had been beside you for 13 years died, the walk in the forest becomes a memory lane the grief stops one from seeing the beauty

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.

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

A poem

The blue flowers in the kitchen thrive
in the shade, and fading day is welcomed
In days of pain, mortality is not an intruder
Old battlefields have the greenest grass
bodies going back ***** they came
the blue flowers in the kitchen look lovely.

Goodbye
Macron and erstwhile Starmer are meeting to talk about the USA’s change in politics against the war in Ukraine to find a new solution, but they fail to understand they and Brussel are redundant, they kissed Zelinsky’s corrupt hand and swore fealty to hubris how to get out of this Both men have in common they are power pervs selling their soul to stay at the top although they have nothing to contribute, they are egged on by the Guardian’s a Woke newspaper that this feminist  paper opinions is they have lost against reality of today’s worldview they are redundant Step aside new time has arrived and you are ghosts in the engine of realistic time

A day spring day 1952

It was a day in April, the boy sat by the milk ramp waited for the man, who drove from farm-to-farm, collecting milk for the Dairy in local town There was only one type of milk he knew of it was full fat and tasted smooth and creamy He, became aware of how beautiful the landscape like seeing the nature for the first time and as it tuned out it was also for the last time, his mother was back from the sanatorium He had to go to her, he got a job delivering gods on his bike and never returned to the farm, but the beauty of that day has stayed with as a time of glory when the world was unspoiled

A Day of Reckoning


Forenoon, it had been raining during the night
the wizened winter landscape was now green
and amongst olive trees long-legged sheep grazed;
their pastor and, on occasions, executioner, sat on
a boulder casting dreams into the future; man and
beast, rustic peace, pity I hadn’t a camera.

On my way to the village to buy the papers, a sheep
had been run over by a truck, with its stomach burst
open and its content glinting in the sun, it was still
alive. Ah, you dumb animal abandoned by everyone  
it looked at me without any hope of deliverance,
so I reversed my car and ran over its head.

As the skull was crushed its eyes popped out, landed
at the middle of the road that now had eyes to see
with, the shock of this made it shudder a long rent in
the asphalt ***** black tears trickled. Quickly 
I threw the eyes into the thicket which was instantly
transformed into a field of tinkling bluebells.

From nowhere a road gang of small, denim-clad men  
with big hats appeared, they were badly paid and lived
on road kills. Expertly strewing soft sand on blood, filled
cracks with healing asphalt, and off they drove with
their dinner. Empty road it had no knowledge of what
had just occurred, it was up to me to remember.

Campo Alegre re-printed

Under the houses on stilt
That has no sewers
And built for ******
To service sailors in Curacao
A barren island
In the Caribbean Sea
Pigs live under houses
Grew big and ugly
When one is slaughtered
The meat tastes of a drunk
******’s *****
And cheap perfume
That hides
The grotesque ***
In the name of need

Mermaid
This afternoon a mermaid swam to the shore and took flight, so you didn’t, know that the beautiful creatures who live in our seas can fly, she lifted her delicate silky wings and flew seeing me staring forlornly by the kitchen window with a dishcloth in my left hand not seeing a fairytale being I used to believe in as a child
She knocked on the window I opened up, but not much because close up she lolled like a Karen of the type saying men are useless but call you to open a tin of sausages or fetch her slippers in the bedroom Suddenly she took fright and flew away but the
knocking persisted it was my neighbor who wanted me to scrub her back, I helped her out of the bathtub, and before stood a scrawny 84-year-old mermaid

AI as soldiers
We see them walking naked through the town’s square, ***** and ****** organs not needed for the time being, the onlookers are not offended but worried about the strident gates of the new being walking like a soldier in a merciless army killing creatures big and small that have blood and have the sense of smelling the roses and is capable of falling in love and admire a full moon their overlord is a person dressed in a half-length black coat, who has the chip that can switch off the monstrous development into junk science an adolescent boy’s dream of tomorrow.

Stage Fright
This has been a long Sunday it started off with two toasts with cheese and the glucose rose to stratospheric, insulin is needed where the heck
Is the ****** needle, mlg if you please followed by a thundering heart and unwanted anxiety, I have tried to overcome for over 60 years
In my younger days, I tried to overcome my nerves by drinking whisky as a calmer which made me annoyed with anxiety-riddled myself
My wish was and still is to be a brave person, who is able to express himself with confidence But, no deal baby, I ended up alone in a room
It is not like I don’t know what caused my total lack of confidence, our dysfunctional family was poor and I was literary farmed out
I was fourteen years old when I was set free to get a job as an errand boy in an office of nice people, who made me feel loved and wanted
Somehow, despite my nervous hands and clumsy manners, I was able to get an education, which was well-paid, in the Norwegian merchant navy
Later in life, I was in the café trade both in Britain and in Norway a business one has to be social and I had the hope to be cured of awkwardness
Finally, I sold out and went to live in Portugal where I bought a ruined house, fixed it up, and for years lived alone with a dog as companion
My dog died, and my aloneness became ghostly until I met a woman and my life changed, but my nervousness didn’t, but it didn’t bother her
I look back on my life and ask how the hell, did I managed this, with a lump of fear in my stomach nervous hands, and a lack of self-confidence
The house on the prairie is sold, and my rustic dream is over, what the hell man, stop worrying about where to live tomorrow

As I sit in my chair, I stretch and feel, without hesitation pleased with myself, a voice utters, you are a ****, now, take Elon Musk……

Not tonight my lovely

I must stop writing about
The women I met in
my tumultuous youth
that lasted into middle age
touching the years
of elderliness
I do remember a woman
In Taiwan
She had beautiful hair
That turned out to be a wig
She was scaringly bald
Perhaps she had had cancer
She was flat chested too
Wore boxer shorts and
Had an *******
No, not tonight, misses Wong
She routinely dressed
Adjusted her wig
Down in the bar, I drank whisky
To think I had kissed her
With passion

Jordholmen’s public bath
Back in the days of yore, few people had a shower unit they might have had bathtub that was used once a week when the whole family bathed and the loser was the dad usually with daughters by then the water in the tank was tepid
I friend of mine told of a public bathhouse, near the docks, where one could have shower in cubicle, get a towel and a bar of soap
We ran, never walked back then to the bath house called Jordholmen, I didn’t have money for cubicle, but the lady said I could share a shower with my friend, but she only gave us on towel and one bar of soap; well as a capitalist his used the towel first, but that is nothing new
I came quite attached to this bath house, it was  a great change to have wash in a bucket of warm water in the living room by the fire, or in the kitchen in the days of May; we have lost hot water in our house in Cascais, my wife despairs for me it is like the old days warming water cleaning bits and pieces in front of the fire

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

We meat eaters

In the café on the first floor of our building
The food served is cooked on the day
Sometimes they serve fish which I'm not a fan of but when I have picked out the ******* bones
the fish tastes fine
They serve wonderful chicken that only a few days ago ran around not knowing they would
Be lunch, but that’s life, we humans eat human flesh too when given a chance, living deep in the jungle and fried female **** are seen as
A delicatessen only served to the chieftains who are the upper class in their world and no, if you
Ask, there is no beans on the toast

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

A Handcart and a Ring 
 
A man I knew had a handcart and became self-employed
I often saw him in the town with a load of parcels and sometimes furniture
He was a contented man. 
One day, on his way to the railway station, the wheel of his cart came off
four suitcases fell into the street.
So, what to do? 
He traced his steps and soon found the missing pieces that kept the wheel 
on the axle, but he also found an expensive diamond ring 
he put it in his pocket as he was occupied with fixing the wheel 
and get his load of suitcases to the railway station 
In the paper, he read about a lady who had lost a dear ring
he contacted her via the paper, and she was happy, 
she didn’t give him any money because, as she said, honesty has its reward 
The people at the paper thought this was too mean for words
made a collection and handed the kind man the money. 
A Picture of him and his cart, the paper, and a nice story for the paper to sell. 
when too old to push his cart around, he became a poet of the small things in life 
and not about  the life of aristocrats

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

A sink bucket
Today I forgot to buy milk, drank black coffee 
it is easy to remember the past shines like jewels
It was the winter of 1952, and my brother carried
a big sink bucket, I was the smallest one
and we were on our way to the coal depot to
find a hole in the fence to steal coal.
We were caught by a man who wore an armband
of the new people in command
they were taking no nonsense from
anyone least of all seven-year-old thieves.
I have often seen that you put a uniform on someone who
who never had power, they behave like little ****** sprats.
On the way home with two empty buckets, we came across
a wooden fence that had partially fallen, we took as many
planks as we could carry and had a warm Christmas Eve

The cabal
The newest news is Europe is a fascist, with rules and regulations, and little freedom of thought if you write something they dislike be prepared to get arrested and jailed; the USA is a land where we are free to be critical of President Trump and his ***** pal, Elon Musk and you will not be harmed, ignored if you have no economic power meaning the poorer you are more freedom of speech you can enjoy.
The EU in Brussels is nothing more than a Brussels sprout hated by everyone except those who say it is a healthy vegetable; it is presided over by an elderly woman with iron hair who talks to herself in empty offices; NATO is a rusty tank in a potato field that can’t even be converted into a tractor its American general has gone home, like it or not, Trump set us free  
A big thanks goes to Tulsi Gabbard, who whispered the truth into a thankful ear, telling it that Europe was the enemy of freedom!

In the defense of what!

There is a foster child called Nato his is big and strong fed burgers all his life, his father has had enough tells him there is no pocket money at all He has to go to his family in Europe ask them to support him, but they will not because they sold the family silver long ago, Nato sinks into despair and disappear  from public life, except for a bar called EU’s run by a Portuguese bloke and his gal from Germany and according to rumors have an hot affair, but they do well with hangers on like the Norwegian who openly cried when he lost a place among those who thinks they are relevant