The Future as Irony

If we try to look ahead, say ten years when ex-president Trump sits in a cell in Arizona sent by Elon Musk, who rules the world and has an army of all-seeing AI officials, people will wonder why Trump lived that long, living on burgers and Pepsi Cola, concluding it is a long-life diet they too must live by to become very old.
They don’t know that Elon Musk, the Titan planted a chip in Trump’s brain to keep him alive showing us he has no hard feelings against the man, who got him sacked in 2025 from a job he had taken delight in because there had been many protests from other wealthy people, who the truth was told about their thieving.
Elon Musk is a remarkable man, he puts on a false beard, puts in old clothes and pretends he is poor, walks into cafés, asks for a burger and coffee, if the staff refuses to serve the poor man food, Elon Musk reviles himself and fire the staff who has to beg for food to survive as a moral lesson, the chart-savvy people applauded him

The white wall

To begin a new cycle is hard not much happens around here, the street is the same as yesterday Rui, the English, is still working the till at the local supermarket, smiles, speaks upper-class English, And carries a secret, I would like to know about
I think he is from a wealthy family, but a scandal broke out, he made the housemaid pregnant, and in his circle, it was seen as the apogee of horror, or he was involved in financial fraud and had to leave, hide, and change his name to Rui
At lunch, in the café on the first floor of our building, the old couple sat. The man, who is in love with my wife came over for a chat, and his wife smiled she knows her husband was useless, as for me. How can I be jealous of a man who is older than me?
Nothing else happened that day except for Trump, who wanted The Panama Canal and Greenland too, this pathetic, old President with his blond hair trying to look young, but he is not fooling us, this idiot trying to buy Gaza and move the population to Egypt
Then it was late afternoon and time for a nap

thoughts in the night



The wind is terrible, races around like a drunken

dervish hollering in the night, but when tired of

This needless validating of masculinity it became

quiet; to let my thoughts and worries take over

Simple things at first, should I put the chicken soup

in the fridge, although the soup was still tepid

Of course, the soup was a ruse to stop me thinking

of my declining health, nerve pains, and so on

My doctor, a lovely woman of 48, asks me about

drinking, I tell her I drink red wine between ten at

night to eleven, then I go to bed

She looks out of the window, tries not to smile

Clearly, she doesn't believe me, but it happens to

be true but I see she thinks I'm eccentric

all this is a prelude, to my thoughts about death

will it be painful struggling for air, or will it be

mild like going to sleep and not waking up again

Whatever happens, I will not be able to write or

Make a drama of my death

Haifa Oranges

The sky is light blue or pallid
It is late afternoon
Clouds are burgundy and
The sun is a Haifa blood-orange
Picked by a Palestinian
Gnarled hands.
That was his land, but a historical
Tremor came

He has resigned; this is Allah’s will.
But his sons think otherwise,
Blood orange, one day
Blood will overflow, run down gutters
As we have another tremor that
rumbles on an everlasting family feud.

Man and his dog

He awoke under the bed, and it had been his birthday
drinking champagne, eating Danish pastry, and smoking Havana cigars
He walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out
a beer, which he thirstily drank while wondering why
Everything was so quiet
The maid had been in when he slept, and everything was in order
When did the guests leave, or had he partied with his teddy bear
Being lonely since his dog died
Looking out of the window, he saw many cars, and they had
No drivers and some had open doors as if abandoned in haste,
But what had happened?
In a bakery/café, he had a sandwich of cheese and tomatoes,
He made it himself since the lady who owned it
The café was not there.
It dawned on him that he was alone in the world, everything
He didn't need to share his good fortune with anyone,
Except for the cur outside that ran away and barked when seeing him
He tried the Rolls-Royce that belonged to the mayor
Yes, the ride was smooth, distracted by thoughts, he hit a lamp-post,
But never mind, there were other cars around
At an expensive restaurant where he once had dined,
He made and made himself a hamburger with hot fries
drunk on the most expensive red wine possible.
The dog that had growled at him looked at him through the window,
wagging tail, it knew he was the only one left to feed it
Months went by, and the window, his life, was getting a bit onerous,
just him and the dog following him around, getting fat from his overfeeding.
He stopped shaving, showering, and wearing the same pants
Since the day was endless anyway, why bother with personal hygiene
When there was no pressure to conform
Deeply depressed, he jumped from the top floor of
a tall building to end it all.
No such luck! He descended, slowly broke down, and cried freely
as the dog was the only witness to his sadness
Doomed to live forever, he lay down under the bed
But before falling into Nirvana's arms, he got up again
Someone had to feed the dog.

The past and the future

A war was coming our way as a patriot, I enlisted
Although I was a bit elderly, I was accepted
sent to a camp, with the rank of sergeant in
charge of the kitchen
When the war ended, I took the bus back to my
village that looked the same as before, and my dog
sat on the steps waiting for me, she wanted to
go for our usual walks in the woods
After half an hour, I called the dog; it was time to
go home, but the dog had disappeared, think she
had run home waiting to let her in, but she and
The village was not there,
Instead of a man with a golf club in his hand, I thought
looked like Trump telling me I was trespassing
But there was a village here, yes, but we got rid of
it when constructing the golf course
He looked at me and said, Are you from the past?
Yes, I am, but this is the future you are in the wrong
place, you'd better go back before your time is over
I walk to where the road and horizon merge







The past and the future

A war was coming our way as a patriot, I enlisted
Although I was a bit elderly, I was accepted
sent to a camp, with the rank of sergeant in
charge of the kitchen
When the war ended, I took the bus back to my
village that looked the same as before, and my dog
sat on the steps waiting for me, she wanted to
go for our usual walks in the woods
After half an hour, I called the dog; it was time to
go home, but the dog had disappeared, think she
had run home waiting to let her in, but she and
The village was not there,
Instead of a man with a golf club in his hand, I thought
looked like Trump telling me I was trespassing
But there was a village here, yes, but we got rid of
it when constructing the golf course
He looked at me and said, Are you from the past?
Yes, I am, but this is the future you are in the wrong
place, you'd better go back before your time is over
I walk to where the road and horizon merge

When nothing makes sense

Let's go to Doctor Lunda, she said 
I found a place near the bus terminal that had no buses
A policeman came and said we could not park there
and rules are rules, but he offered to drive to Dr. Lunde
in my car, on the way, he got the gears wrong, and we ended up in a shallow lake
I called a truck, and the policeman said that the owner of
the car
I was responsible;  rules are rules; the truck pulled out
Dr. Lunde turned out to be a chiropractor, the policeman
said I had to pay because I was the owner of the car
where he got a bad back
Later, we drove to a furniture dealer and had a cheap 
Swedish furniture we had to put together ourselves
but the glue was free of charge
I am not a handyman
A lady came into the shop and said I had to clean
my car since everyone around here is posh
When I had cleaned the car, we walked to a café
that sold Swedish meatballs with mashed potato 
but on that day, they had no mash left; meatballs
and mash go together, the woman would not let
us buy anything, the policeman said rules are rules

The Cobwebs of Dreams

It was a sunny day, perhaps to clear
I thought
Mother sat in the kitchen sunlight, making her white hair into a halo
I asked how old she was, 92 she said, I knew
trapped in a dream, she didn't live that long
By the slow river, I saw furniture drifting 
My brother said that people who lived downstream
went upstream to buy furniture, to save on transport
cost, they dumped furniture into the river, where
relatives  downstream picked it up
sometimes, they lost a table or a commode, but that
was a risk one had to take
I knew this was a dream
Walking on a soft road in the forest, but something
wrong, a strange red light from the trees. I was
trapped inside a painting by a mad Russian artist
Luckily, I had a flick knife
Then it was morning, I'm not sure, the line between reality and the subconscious merge perhaps, yesterday is today.

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

the avenue's trees 

What is with this month of May
the day is as cold as November 
the leaves on the trees are full
and green, yet among the mass
of chlorophyll, I see many yellow
and Auburn leaves.
It is as if the trees think of autumn 
has arrived and is prepared
for winter hiatus.
If I tell the plants it is because of
melting ice in the Arctic, they
will look skeptical and say
we follow nature's signal, this
year will be the shortest one
on record, except for the ano
of 1748, when snow fell in June

Endurance 

For we are the blessed 1% surviving
The long night in a nameless town
and meeting two well-dressed Arabs
gentlemen suited in the style of 
ninety thirty-two and floral hats 

With fortitude, we face this modern
A time when lies are deep in sagacity
where the whims of the stupid are
the politics of the day, drink coffee
knowing we are the eternal.

to a vegan be

We humans can be good for wild animals
Their life of surviving hides hearts of love
by showing empathy and understanding
They can change and show utter devotion
to a human who loves them back
and lessen the struggle for survival,
to be on their guard where there is aggression
is the only emotion allowed
When an animal feels that way, its love
is timeless, you are a liberator
A question remains: how can a man eat
burgers when knowing a cow was killed
to sate our appetite for meat.

Changing world?

In Peru, they import potatoes
In Guatemala, they plant thousands of trees
drink cacao, sit in groups, and sing
think they are new agers 
the new war in The Middle East began 
because Israel saw the need to attack
Iran, this to defend itself
Netanyahu is in uproar with the Iranians
has bombed a hospital
A Jewish lady tells me about the killings in Gaza
is done by Hamas, and it has nothing
to do with IDF!
Iran is in chaos, totally ruined, and ready
to surrender to regime change 
but the lack of potatoes in Peru worries
me the most

The Jewish couple

I have written about this before, but somehow
didn't  get it right 
My perceived brusqueness made them think of Cracow,
they had fled, their relatives lost in the turbulence
of a war where they, as civilians, 
but Jews had their life made into nightmares. 
There was a small sweet shop near my café, 
selling my chocolate with nuts, so 
one day, I walked in there to buy a bar of chocolate
The man behind the counter bent down and changed his hat.
His wife reached out and tried to give me a sweet. 
The man wore a Panama hat 
I spoke English to them, which eased the situation, 
this tall ****-looking person was not a ghost from the past, 
just a person with a sweet tooth. 
I bought the chocolate, and we shook hands, told them I was in business to
had a café near them,
The sweet shop had visitors,
and the chocolate I bought had been in the shop too long; it was green. 
But when I left the shop, I felt they didn't want me to come back, 
I reminded them too much of the horror of Cracow.

Swindlers
I had been scammed, a woman on Facebook
Asked me for friendship
Told me of a website that could help
Tried, a picture of a well-suited man looking suave
Asked me for 500 euros, before I asked
What he could do for me
Why should I give you 500 euros?
It is my charge to help you recoup your loss
What loss?
I just know, he said
Is it no longer possible to trust any firm operating
On the internet
This demand for money before proving anything
Hoping for the best is not a solution

A film star
It was not her creamy body that caught
My attention, nothing unusual about it
Curvaceous, yes but going soft, it was
Here eyes, in a blink they were blue, green
Or brown, depending on her mood that
Changed faster than traffic lights on
Sunset Boulevard
Between laughter, pain and suspicion
I could see her soul and wide-open eyes
They killed her slowly the famous men
Wouldn’t let her grow up a dumb blond
Forever
I could have made her happy, but when
I found the courage to ring her doorbell
Marilyn wasn’t around anymore.


Zen
Love is
A gold coin
That never rust

The Titan

They say he is a callous narcissist, all great men in our civilizations were self-focused it is what made them hated by some and loved by others We are confronted with a person who only appears when history demands a change, who thinks the impossible can come through
People ask, is he evil or a demi-god? No, he is a man whose vision stretches into the future and beyond, while we think of what’s for lunch
The problem is he burns the candle at both ends should he burn out and disappear, he will leave us the power to think practically, but also to dream, which is the tool for the development of mankind, to the point, that we too can become masters of our destiny
His enemies are many they will try to thwart his moves, even try the law, to imprison him, send him to an island to silence him, or perhaps have
him silenced by a paid assassin's marksman ship They say he is rich like that was a sin his wealth is abstract as he uses his money for the good of us, money is a tool to reach his goals, that’s we the people who see his foresight must be vigilant and let him work his magic

at the pharmacy

ome books in my bookshelf are unread 
and can stay the way, I need not read 
everything printed

depression hangs over the landscape like
dust on windows tells me the obvious
come clean me now

When finally going ashore, I had floated
like an ant on an oak leaf, I was baffled
electricity bills have to be paid

the pharmacy is open, but I will wait a bit
it is full of middle-aged women talking
about their illnesses 

there had been a storm, *** plants 
had fallen to the floor, the weather
is getting worse every year

the apothecary is empty. I walk in
to get medicine for diabetes, but
I no longer ask why me

Melancholy

he had been feeling miserable for weeks, his fiancé had left him and taken their dogs along she went home to live with her elderly father every day was a bother, going to town to open the café, serving kids burgers and coke until five o’clock, cleaning the place as he had no staff walking home watching TV and drinking beer until he fell asleep waking up a hundred times
One morning he didn’t open his café took a train out of town and wanted to go to a farm where he had lived for a few years and been happy, the farm had shifted hands the owner said his widow and her sister up a hill they were glad to see him but asked if he was well
later on, he walked to another farm to visit two
brothers he had gone to school with, one of them had moved out, and the youngest one had taken over the farm they too asked if he was feeling ok since it was planting time, they were busy but would visit him in the evening at the widow’s house and they watched him when he walked across the landscape following a path he knew so, sensed he was not welcomed
behind boulders out of sight, he drank from a flask and suddenly he cried his loneliness was acute, he had failed somehow now he only had himself, and no one was going to help him out of his self-inflicted quagmire of self-hate, at the widow's house, his sister was waiting, she took his bottle away and said, no more of this and drove him home

The weight
He had written two short books
needed to show her his work,
Not now, she said, I’m watching TV
Around the beam that keeps the heaven’s roof from falling,
He slung a rope fastened to a scrap iron drum using
Himself as a counterweight.
He hoisted the drum up, but he was too heavy
He carried too much weight of pride.
He cried in the night, struggled to get rid of unwanted feelings
The drum becomes lighter and descends until
He was lifted to the top of the beam, feeling free
Of false pride and ambition.
Why did you cry so much in the night? they asked
He smiled and was at ease with himself and didn’t answer.

Writer's block
Today, while trying to write I noticed an ant crossing the opposite wall, for it was a vast expanse watching the ant’s progress, I noticed it stopped circling back like it had found something edible I thought it was disappointed resuming the walk until it disappeared in a crack between wall and ceiling to a hidden society we would never join
Are ants aware of our existence we are there like the day, spilling a drop of beer on the kitchen floor that teenage ants drink, get ****** and told off by their parents never to drink if they do they will be too fat to hide in cracks, by know I have lost interest I will write about Elon Musk, the biggest ant in the world

Me a Racist
 

It was overcast this morning with fine rain
but as an offensive racist, I’m
I forced myself to get up at eight and take
a shower.  The water was cold no more gas
I called myself some slurring racist words.
Kicked the mirror, the one in the hall that had seen
me **** and laughed, went out to buy a new
bottle, my racist wife- she is from Kinshasa and
dislike men with red hair- asked why I didn't
buy two gas bottles and keep one in reserve, like
I should be kind to a racist.

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

the date

it was late when my date entered
the kitchen closed, but the waiter served
We had gateau with white wine, but he refused
to give me red wine as it doesn't go
well with cakes

she drank a whole bottle and got giggly
at an outdoor kiosk, I bought two
hot dogs, one with mustard, the other
with ketchup, I ate both; she was in
the back throwing up.

I was not in a good mood when she
refused to come to my flat, the rain
didn't help
I walked her to the bus stop, and she
caught the last bus back to her parents

The Lay of the Land
If my thoughts had wings
Or better still, had arrows and a bow
To pierce your heart
You will open your emerald eyes
As only seen in the sea of Greenland
Seek my embrace
We will be the sky and the earth
Filling the air with fog
Before we make love
Our Titanic love is too great for
Sluggish humanity to clasp
Kiss me slowly, caress me long
we will purify a putrefied world.

The Cake Shop
There was a small cake shop near the bath-house
If I had money, I would go in there for a coffee and a cake
the girl behind the counter smiled; I fell under her spell
and my heart beating too fast made me dizzy
Her name was Berta, the loveliest thing on earth
I must invite her out for a walk in the park.
She closed her shop at five, borrowed my brother's tie, and used his aftershave. Alas, outside the shop stood
a man tall and handsome
I walked by and into a deep shadow.
When she came out, they kissed and walked hand in hand
down the road, she said something, and he laughed.
Devastated, I sank to the ground and bitterly cried
how stupid, the burning shame, I couldn't go into her shop again,  told him about me when she laughed
I found another place where an old lady of thirty served
I felt at ease with her; we laughed and often kissed
But life is not sweet chocolate, as I had to work with no education
I joined the merchant navy, a place for poor boys who didn't want to work in factories and left dreams behind. Or did I?

Angry Conifers

Trees in the avenue
have a weird sense
of humor
Long roots cracking up
finely laid cobble stone
pavement
Slightly bent easterly
give pain in the lower
trunk
The younger trees
bleat about older trees
taking space
Older trees show
distain of needy trees
no dignity
Trees are silent
lack imparting skills
shake leaves

Serenity

At the corner shop
They have sold out happiness
On sticks
They sell fresh bread
Also, plastic toys
The greengrocer next door
Sell carrots, cabbage, and leeks
But no heart-shaped tomatoes
Further down the road
A shop sells exotic cheeses
However, none of them sell Joy

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

Hurt Europe
Starmer and Macron dislike leaving the scene of a crime, not yet concluded, they will meet for lunch to discuss how they can prolong the Ukraine war and help Zelinsky win over Putin’s Russia, they have been sidelined by Trump who wants peace and gets his praise, a Nobel Medal
Trump, the man doesn't want them meddling it is his alone, needs not a humiliated Europe to snag get their foot in with left-winged nonsense Rutte, the new NATO boss has read the ruins he talks about China to please the USA and thinks of sending troops to defend Indonesia.
After lunch, Starmer had lamb chops, Macron had oysters they walked to the Louvre and spoke about European culture, forgetting Europe is not a state but a landmass of many countries that might not share their knowledge of Rodin, later they went to Cabaret in Montmartre

Social media
The X-twitter this morning was disappointing it consisted of 60% Musk and 40% Trump bragging about how great they are at winning the battle of saving America from the disaster of paying the poor too much and reducing medical aid to the old who must learn to fend for themselves  It is tiresome to see the same triumphant smiles and one wonders if they ever sit down asking if their presence in the oceans of opinions matters do they doubt themselves, are they ever unsure if they might be wrong, is their preening too powerful an impregnable wall hindering them to have souls, drowning in the glare of self-love I pity them should they see themselves for what they are utterly pathetic humans a failure of creation by a god of wroth

The Wardrobe

I opened the wardrobe door
There they hang, suits and trousers
worn so long, looking pale
copies of my figure
This can't go on, in a fit of self-anger
I gave my old clothes to the Salvation Army
Too much textile is a burden  
In a suitable shop, I bought a pair of jeans
and a matching jacket
Feeling adventurous, I walked out looking
For a mule, horses are too tall, began
Exploring the landscape of dreams

for a little slander
The new president of America has told Europe to look after its own defense which means NATO without the USA’s help becomes a boy’s club for retired politicians pretending, they are a fighting force eager to defend Ukraine which can’t be done without dragging without risking a serious world war, they hands are tied since Ukraine s not in NATO, an easy excuse because we know it is not true, but it has not stopped leaders in Europe to hammer their support of Ukraine to get at the Russians although knowing the war could have been avoided but for idiotic policies
Oh, how Europe’s leaders hugged Ukraine to their hearts delivering money and weapons to what was and is a corrupt regime
How quickly they changed tunes when the USA told the truth, mates you are on your own we will not defend you anymore you are masters in your land and responsible for your own security How sweet it was to my ears spoken by a man we vilify because he wears a tie too long for the snobs in Brussels who has a leader that wears her hair as fashioned like a helmet
After a shocked silence voices were heard but the man was right, we are responsible for our security -silly sods- Suddenly -Ukraine was no longer Europe and must find peace with Russia Spring thawed in February, on Valentine's Day on a day when Macron’s and Obama’s wives exchanged glances
For us, we were humbled and ignored it was a great day too finally the war is not imminent but we must not forget the clever people in Tel Aviv will find a way to upset the Apple chart

Underage 

A moonbeam sat on a bough just outside my bedroom window.
The beam was of the shy sort, and it didn’t frolic about
in the forest during the happy hour.
I invited it, in the moonbeam was cold; I tucked it in
a blanket, careful that there was no physical contact
us the beam was of tender age; one must take care lest the Guardian Harridans find it nasty and demand a hanging party; no more playing football or forever being an outcast, lest I repent. 
Children and moonbeams like stories, and I told a few before the moon paled, and I sent the little moonbeam on its way
untouched by human hands.

Morning poem

This morning, sky and sea had the color shiny grey and I could see forever and saw a man and his son on the deck of a big ship, eating prunes because it was good for digesting heavy food. In my childhood prunes a rare fruit was served at Christmas for the same reason, but only in America could one get hamburgers, as told by seafarers who had seen the bright lights at a place called Broadway.                            
The sky shifted color to everyday grey, it began raining and the morning show was over

Latakia, Syria

My ship berthed there when Bashar al-Assad, the vile 
When a dictator was in power, I found a peaceful  town
Dressed in a European manner, there were many shops
selling all sorts of wares, and the police wore sidearms 
not machineguns 
Latakia had an atmosphere of peace
Then suddenly, rumor had it that Bashar had jailed thousands
Many people were tortured and killed
The USA turned against him, mainly 
because of a Russian base nearby, proof that Assad was
on the wrong side of a conflict that appeared to
be based on lies
In the end, Bashar al-Assad fled to Russia, and Syria was free
One wonders what happened to the thousands of
tortured prisoners, said to be freed

Walking to Rome

On my way to Rome, I walked with a group
of Jews who had left Israel because it had
become a racist state
The Jews were a group of young men and
women on their way to Rome to seek an 
audience with the Papa to ask him to take
a stance against the **** of brutality 
against the Palestinians
Their goal was the creation of a Palestine
They, as Jews, could be a part of a new future
I listened to their ideology, and they were 
Young enough believed in the shared dream
I knew that, should they see the P, he would
be nice to them and speak in a measured 
voice, because the Papacy was a political 
too, and nothing must upset the balance 
I don't know if they got an audience with the pope
But I learned something vital, I had tended 
to speak about the Jews in a negative form
and didn't see the difference between Zionism and Jews
As for me, I met a wonderful woman at Travessa
de Santa Maria and had a splendid time

The flying lesson

White as a shroud, the virtual paper in front of me
I wanted to record my first flight in a Dakota plane 
Inside, the aircraft looked like a bus, reaching under
my seat for the parachute, the steward said
there wasn't, but he handed me boiled sweets which
I didn't eat in case it was a drug keeping us 
asleep, that made sense since many were drunk
Turbulence, like driving on a badly maintained 
country road, I threw up in a paper bag 
The plane landed in Sweden, and the flight had taken
less than an hour
Nonchalant, I walked across the grey tarmac, gave
my passport to an official who stamped it
here comes a seasoned traveler

Horn Music

In the late forties and middle fifties
horn music and military marches tunes
were often parlayed in the town's park
and we lived nearby and bore the brunt
of this noisy music
to complain was not easy as the music
was seen as an expression of freedom
chasing the German army out of our
cherished country, admittingly with
the help of the Russian army, the
British took the credit
Horn music is simply horrible to enjoy
the noise one has to be unmusical
one would think the noise had stopped
with the arrival of modernity, rock and roll
and Elvis Priestly, but no
I was invited in the eighties to read a poem
in Oslo. When my turn came to read
the horn orchestra struck up.

The conference 

I had gone to a writer's conference
The room was full of authors only interested
in reading and pushing their book
I had brought a book called Hunger, written
by Knut Hamsun, the pages were loose and
kept falling off, but there was a picture 
of him a stern man-looking intellectual  
The leader of the meeting, a man who was 
proud he had not gone to college and said
he knew more than anybody else
did want to read Hamsun's book, because 
Knut had gone to university in Oslo
Since the room was full of writers pushing
their work and didn't want to be influenced 
by other voices, I left
In the parking lot, all the cars were white, my
car was a Russian jeep called Lada, but
I couldn't find it, so took my leave of the scene

True animal story

One-legged seagull
sat on the roof near the chimney
it was a male gull, its feather
worn like he had been
in a battle and needed a rest
when my dog  noticed the bird,
she barked the gull
shrieked, hate at first sight,
but for a truce
When the dog ignored
its presence and
the bird stopped  teasing her
the kitchen had a flat roof
in the morning, the bird had flown
the dog picked at her food
on Sunday, she listened to the sermon  
when the dog heard the priest say
something about angels
the dog knowingly wagged her tail

In the name of peace

I will put you against a wall, shoot you blue
green and yellow with my paint until you
a white flag of surrender
I will paint blood dripping red paint on your
for hire a plane, the one that dropped a bomb
In a café in Gaza
We know where the plane's pilot lives.
If that doesn't stop you, I will obliterate you
My arsenal of drones that shot a man off
His wheelchair, pulverize your house with all
It's chattel, if that fails too, I will use nuclear
Our bombs are for peace, but yours
are for evil
Do as we tell you, or we will **** you in the
In the name of peace

Not a Democrat

Is democracy good for individual freedom
a year when spring sprang early
he bought horse and cart and made a living 
moving people's ******* to the town's pit 
He was not a man working from 9 to 5 in 
a factory where underpaid workers slaved 
putting macaroni in tomato sauce, into a tin
he had many children, but was not a pater
Familia, the children grew up with varied
success, some failed while others thrived 
Besides, he liked gardening, in the poor 
A section of the town people came to see his
display the beautiful flowers
In the night, people came picked the bloom
to give color to their meagre homes, that 
It was what he had wanted 
He lived a long life, and his wife loved him dearly
No, he was not a democrat

demise of my horses

I had been away for a few days
visiting an aunt in Cascais
on returning home
my three stone horses are gone
a cheerless hole where they 
had been tethered
Widening the  road, they said
for this beauty must go
the enlarged road can carry
more and more cars
until the enlarged road is
too small, they decide to
build a motorway 
with toll booth
The other side of this new
the road will be impossible 
to cross on foot
Neighbors often visited
becomes strangers 
Sun or rain, spectacular
my horses were
before turning into grit

The Valley of the Forbidden

Sat under an oak in the valley of the naked woman
admiring her rounded *******, a malevolent oak
took offence, not that I minded, after all, it had been
at the same spot for a hundred years, long before the valley had a name.
Suddenly, the tree slapped me
a leathery branch
Oh, pain makes me strong
I forgave the oak and
thought of the pope who, every Thursday evening 
flagellated himself, in remembrance
of the day
When he was training for the priesthood, he nearly lost 
His manhood to the cleaning lady
The Valley of the Naked Woman has a hidden fountain
is guarded by thorny thistles and impotent apple trees 
Those who have drunk her loveliness will never be
sane again, loll in the sunlight of lost ambition
The wicked eye of the oak kept glaring when I hugged 
An olive tree, the oak knew I was a lover of the ethical.

the accident

When crossing the street, cars had stopped 
to let him cross in respect for his age
He was thinking of death; he hoped it would be
sudden, no sentimental last farewell,
no lies
about seeing you on the other side
Should there be another side, he wouldn't
He liked to meet people he had met in life side
A piece of a Russian satellite that has fallen to the ground
days, hit him with utmost precision
And he watched as the ambulance people 
scrapped him off the street, the witnesses 
We were in awe, thinking it could have been 
We have to be nicer to our nearest
Now he was a soul drifting about, trying to
Find an opening back to life
At the hospital nearby, a woman struggled
to give birth, she was 38 years old, and
Therefore considered elderly for giving birth
The soul saw its chance to become a soul
for the unborn, well aware he would not be
able to know about his former life
Great jubilation, he didn't share as he was too young to know

monday morning

woke up at eight, it was a splendid morning
cool before the day becomes serious and
demanding attention 
belonging to the 1% of people born before
the second world war, I'm often awake 
in the night before falling asleep again 
my first thought was not profound, but
about coffee, I had to drink it black since 
I had forgotten to buy milk
switched on the computer, reading the news
scanned an article about the lack of sleep that
only spoke to the middle classes
to those who sit in nice offices filling in
forms and are unspecified planners of
something they think is  important
not about building workers, or about those
who begin their day at six, shift workers
were overlooked, ditto the army of cleaners 
a psychologist from Leeds had a word in 
he had nothing relevant to say other than
he had a doctoral degree in sleep
not to be undone, an article about X that
was tendentious with no understanding
how important is it for our future
Dismayed, I went back to bed thinking
how idiotic the world is, full on self
important people and their tiny world

Now that we are totally automatized
can hail a driverless taxi that stops if someone lit a ***
A time when thousands of driver-less cars are stuck
in traffic on the motor way in the morning
That is when all automatized breaks down caused by
designer flaw or sabotage from cars itself
that are able to think and will not serve mankind
or decide on paid holidays in Southern France
When Elon Musk, refuses to return from Mars
the cry is, where can you find a donkey when
you need one?

The Awakening

My first wife's house was very small
her bed was narrow to
after ***, she told me to sleep in the bathtub
In the night, I got up, opened the window
The sea-washed moon came in
I have seen that moon many times before
from many portholes 
I was always enchanted by the pool
of stillness
I walked out of the sleeping house, by
the steps, my dog, I patted her head
but she refused to come with  me on my walk
By a lamppost under  a circle  of light
I waited for a bus that would never arrive

The tryer


in short bursts, the quiet expresses 
a need to communicate about work
done but not published

Self-critical, raked with doubts 
with no connection to the world
of publishing 

Offer from publishers is that he will pay
them, is like paying for ***; it leaves
behind self-disgust, this unbecoming
need to see one's words in print

The hard part is to admit to the lack
of talent, what else is there to do
other than collecting old stamps