Looking at things

Walking on cobblestones is an ordeal
and more is the traffic, I look out of the window
when I walk on my treadmill count how many
cars going around the roundabout.
When I have counted 500, I stop this treadmill
15 minutes have gone by.
When I lived at the border of Alentejo I walked
on the soft grass and counted flowers
saw grass grow into fodder for sheep.
A Moldavian family bought my house, people
tell me how lucky I was selling the house
I had many offers but told no one, hence “lucky.”
My lyrical mine is all but dried up, now reduced
to write about furniture, a sad fall from grace.

Enticement

The girl in the bar that had floors made of stranded schooners
came and sat by us
Many sailors had drowned in her eyes.
On the way to the Saragossa Sea, their blood
ran down cracks on the floor,
Dripped into the sea below the colour of crimson.
Looked into her eyes an evil goddess with green eyes
I followed her to a room in the back
She laughed when she caught me.

My lie is bigger than yours.

So it is Sunday early afternoon light rain
and I'm not a weather forecaster, and   no one pays me
for this observation, perhaps the seagulls do
they are flying low today.
The journalist who bravely fought 15 men, was put him
in a rocket that exploded when high enough, I found
a finger that looked Arabic, but the dog snatched
out of my hands before I could examine it more closely.
The world is so full of lies we grasp at nails
to accept the lie that is implausible yet has a ring
of bafflement enough so it can be business as usual.

Once when  
I lived in the deep countryside
Of Algarve come spring
And knew of every tiny village
When seeing me, the dwellers waved
The strange foreigner is here
It will be summer after all.
I had many friends back then and drank
Coffee with sturdy farmhands.
I will not be there this year, will they miss me?
Perhaps at dusk, someone will say
They saw me riding by and take it as
A good omen

A new home

Waiting to go home to my house in Algarve, 30 years after
the Berlin wall fell with the blessing of Russia, in case you forgot.
In the meantime, more walls were constructed mainly in Israel,
stopping Palestinians wanting to home, we dislike talking about
This is because of the political Holocaust.
The wall between the house and me, old to age, to live life deep
in the Paradis.
The Chinse wall is a tourist attraction, the ugly Israel walls will
one day is building material.
There are many unseen walls among classes the rich build walls
so, they can avoid seeing what is the result of their wealth?
The hope is to tear down all walls whiles we wait.

MY uncle

My uncle gave me a fire truck as a Christmas gift
it was made of wood and had wooden wheels
that fell off after one hour of play.
When I lived at a farm, he came and visited me
helped the farmer get in dray hay.
He stayed at the farm for a week, and when
he left I was sitting behind a stone on the outer field
feeling miserable, he could have stayed
A few weeks more.
He had to go, found a job in a town called
Porsgrunn to stoke the flames of industry.
Worst of all, he got married had several sons
Why did have to do this?
That is the problem with adults they always
let you down.

Alfred and the wilderness  

Alfred, who with the greatest of ease tells, me he is not my father
and Olga, he had a brief affair with In Belgrade, is not my mother
we went for a walk across a green field.
Alfred who is a musician and never ventures out in the landscape
saw some grazing sheep and wondered if they were dangerous,
no, I said they are sheep and born friendly
as God created them, to this Alfred called me a crypto-Christian.
A little Lamb came up to my father, it was so sweet,
as only a lamb can be. he lifted it up which the ewe disliked,
and it butted him in the rear.
Alfred was shocked, got up and demanded I bring him to safety
in the nearest town; never trust animals they are all out
to get us he said while limping to safer ground.

somewhere

It is a beautiful morning in Cascais tourists are still asleep, as is my wife
A police car hastens through the Avenida and the young officers
who likes to drive fast through the empty streets?
Yesterday was a great day in Moscow, so many beautiful uniforms,
blue and gold
When young, I wanted to be a general but being petrified of things
like bullets flying through the air, I donned a white apron.
My days as a recruit in the royal navy were not a success: I do not
handle being given orders without protest.
So long time ago, now I sit on the terrace a seagull lands sit on
the railing and shrieks let it be nosy at it, wants, bravely I ignored
It demands of me not to sit where I sit.

The Anguish

An old memory inhabits the shadowland
she had a headache, doctors made tests, yes, her case was fatal
After the funeral, her sister arranged coffee and cakes
and sandwiches.
Relatives eyed the furniture and her many dresses
since most of the things in the flat had belonged to the departed
some of the stuff would fall to them.
I found this distressing and hoped the wake would be over
they did leave and left me to do the washing up.
Her presence was strong, she filled my thoughts was as
I could hear her talk.
Gradually she let go and got her golden memory of love.

Rainbow alliance

On a barbed wire fence between Chile and Argentine
hangs thousands of plastic bags, some of the bags from top shops
London, New York, Paris and Bonn.
Here are Japanese, Swedish bags, Arabic bags, and occasionally
bags from North Korea.
The fence between the two countries is an international garbage
collector, it is also an eerily beautiful place like a sad rainbow
overshadowed by neon light.
There used to be skeletons here that also had broken bones
as dropped from planes; the corpses have been removed, but if
you are lucky you might find a skull or a thigh bone cleaned
By the wind; the plastic rattle drowns the call of the condor

The story of love

Tash Mahal built by a prince
for a wife, he loved despite having many spouses.
A beautiful palace admired for its architecture
and reduced to mere splendour.
On a narrow road going uphill, I came across
a clumsily built cement block
made by a boy who loved Maria Emilia
Thorny bushes overgrew his work.
Yet, it was here I sat down and cried for lost love.

The passing

It is so long ago; the memory is fuzzy as an old photo,
the room was warm, the coal fire burned lustily
I looked out of the window the street lamp swayed,
and snow fell. I turned to my grandmother and said
If the snow continues, I will take out my sledge.
she was still her reading glasses had dropped on the floor,
oh, yes I knew but kept looking out it looked
So peaceful I will stay here and admire snow fall forever.
I picked up her reading glasses placed them back on her
face, we had no phone I had to put on an overcoat  and
tell our neighbour, but before living, put more coal
in the oven, a helpless gesture, but I didn't want her to be cold.
Many people came; they took her away while I looked
out of the window watching falling snow

A solution?
as the slaughter of
Palestinian’s
continues.
We must look
to Israel
and see
if there is
general protest
against this
brutality
and demand
a policy change
towards
their neighbours
Knowing many Jews
they must be
appalled  
By the sitting
Israeli governments
political failures.
If not they are
victims
of the Zionists

The rulers

The poor rule the world, live in badly built flats
buy plastic ******* for the children as toys.
They can't cook and their diet is fat and disgusting,
but without them, the rich would not be wealthy,
fewer cars on the roads full of potholes as there
would no one to keep the road drivable.
And their big offices would stink as no one cleaned
them, which really doesn't matter as lifts would
be out of order, and no janitors to change light bulbs.
So you see, the poor are privileged they are
the rulers of our modern society the opulent can't
do without them.

The amber moon

Super moon last night saw it from my terrace
18% brighter and 20% nearer, said the meteorologist
How unromantic can you get?
Hugh yellow and beautiful, so close I could reach
The moon with my broom, I felt the pull levitated
And dared to dream big.
Beauty should be shared till it becomes
A memory pooled by lovers, but you were not there.
This was a night of the vague nearness of the one you love.
I walked on a sandy lane thinking of your absence.

A Day of Precipitation

A window is a good place
To look out
When it rains beautiful to see
From a warm room
A bookshelf of old friends
Some remembered others
Rediscovered
So let it rain, rain, rain.

Dropping bombs

During the World War 2, there was a town in the west of Norway
that also had a passable airport where German planes could take off
and shoot at things near the British coast.
RAF tried to find and bomb the airport, but they didn’t but dropped
their bombs over our town on the way back.
Some people were killed some were maimed for life.
When people get bombs thrown at them, it is reasonable to think
they get angry, with no understanding of the war effort.
The enemy was, as far as the town dweller was concerned
the British, so much so when British troops came, they were met
With stifled smiles.
That is why I think Putin should stop his attacks on Ukraine
whoever noble his aim is to get rid of fascism, he will forever
be seen as the enemy by bombed-out people.

For a small poem


Night rain falls softly
On a cobblestones
Seen by a streetlamp
From roofs rain rolls
Down like tears and
Not a word is spoken.
                      
A little nothing
                      
A cat sits on
                      The steps
Not catching rats
Admires
The moon

The Intemperate  

Alcoholism is an irredeemable illness
often compared with diabetes which is also incurable
however, with diabetes, it is possible to reduce it by
taking insulin and avoiding certain foods.
However, you can't cure intemperance by drinking beer!
He was a well- known actor had everything to live for
When in Algarve the old discredited counsellor
tried to get him to go to AA.
He blankly refused said he didn’t want to live
since his wife had died of cancer, which turned
out to be eight years ago.
One day he met him struggling to get up a hilly street,
He stopped offering a lift, but the actor in his cups
told him to “**** up”. Later that night he came to offer
his apologies threw up on the kitchen floor the old man
got him into bed.
In the morning he had raided to fridge for beer know
he wanted a proper drink, and he was driven home.
There was nothing the old therapist could but hope.
The news came he had died at 56 killed by *****.

I knew of a family
In an unpainted small house
In the poorest part of the town
The man of the house
Had met his love, Maria
Together they produced 8 children
I wondered where they slept.
The oldest child’s name was Kalle
And became my mother’s boyfriend
The man of the house a made living
Driving horse and cart emptying
Peoples ******* taking it to the dump.
He had a beer in the cart
And sang when driving to the stable
Where he spent time grooming
The horse and feeding it.
He sat on a crate reading the papers
Which he could not do at home.
Still, he loved his Maria and I saw them
Holding hands, she had no teeth
“poverty” and had gone fat.
Yet it was a happy home we celebrated
Our Christmases’ there.
Kalle, who liked to wear a suit
Got a flat with a toilet in another town
And we didn’t see him so often.

Musical chicken and an old man  

The old man with too much time on his hands
tried to get a chicken to cluck to music, he played
a tune on his mouth harmonic and fed it grain,
nothing and he came to the conclusion that chickens
are stupid, only a fried one is a good fowl.
The bird belonged to his neighbour, who has a chicken coop,
scrawny looking lot with matted feathers,
While the chicken
he had tried to train was fat; the neighbour killed it
for his dinner, and didn't even give the old man a leg.

Metrology

The weather plays a big part in  me
When the sunshine and the wind is calm
I feel the lightness of being.
When storm blows and dark clouds  
My mind gets dark, and I think of suicide
However, I like to watch thunder and lightning
stay on the terrace and sing
“Hit me with your rhythmed stick” a bit of a song
I remember.
A full moon is depressing it is as it is trying to lure
me into the ocean it is the silvery glittering
that attracts me to do a daring thing like swimming
with wales or having fun with dolphins.

The Killing of Floyd

So, the policeman who Killed Floyd by pressing his
knee on his neck, the sentence was ******, but was it?
The police officer accidentally killed Floyd as he was trained to do.
The why police are learning their dubious craft has to come
into focus, the whole police department has to be scrutinized,
and the new “servants” of the people must be accentuated.
To concentrate on one man who is insensitive and stupid does
Not solve the problem of the American police.
First of all, the poorly trained officer must understand a gun
It is not for shooting people who are fleeing, but the weapon is a defence
Only used when attacked directly.
I cannot understand why a single police officer has to bear
The burden of guilt that is pervasive in the American society
is by its nature, overly fascistic and too dependent on the GUN.
The victory (political) can be a pyrrhic one if some people can disregard
Law and order.

The Birth of life

I was born by a woman, this because I'm human
and not a horse, my mother had many faults as a housewife
but she instilled in our honesty and forthrightness
and not stay silent if you have an opinion that is not what
everybody else believes, and I have followed her rules.
I happen to think that abortion is in principle a crime against
nature to end a pregnancy for any reason that is not medical.
I'm the lucky one we lived in poverty yet my mother gave me life.
When pre-born my soul had lived aeons of time and
seen how countries had withered and taken over
because people lived in luxury where wine, *** and lust was
more important than giving life
nations who had forgotten their future and imported
children from afar lands which altered a culture
and replaced it with chaos and failure.
The slave is stronger than the master.
Now it is happening again; women have been lured into
thinking that they are not equal to a man if they  
bear children, which is the highest anyone can reach.
Women are our future let us not forget this simple truth.

Senryu

A year is a breath
A trivial cosmic moment
For me it is life

Life is not a plateau
But a stormy uphill struggle
The upland is a dream

He stopped dreaming
In the middle of the night
Death fell soft as rain.

Cleanliness
On my frequent lone walk by the old docks
I came across a building which turned out
to be a communal bathhouse.
It was incredibly cheap for a few pence
I got a towel and soap and had my first shower
I was at the time, elven years old.
And when I was short of change asked my mother
for not ice cream, but for a shower.
My brother said only poofters went there, how would
I know? I Didn't see anyone wearing badges:
“I'm a gay person.”
There are shops where the old building stood and
by life's irony sells perfume and toiletry.

The boy on the bridge.

At the hospital, I woke up in the night
got up, walked into a hall I didn’t recognize
A nurse came and told me to go back to bed
“My father told me to stay here,” I said
I knew it was in a dream, a poem I had read
many years ago, when I could remember
with clarity what I read.
In the morning, waiting for breakfast,
coffee and a scone, a nurse was busy
sticking needles into me.
I tried to remember the title of the poem
“The boy on the burning bridge?.”

The oldies blog
I know of a writer/poet who has dedicated
His blog to old age, being considerably older
then him, I think he is on the wrong track.
To write about a poet who couldn't find his
Specs, his wife saw them in the freezer beside
The ice-cream is chuckling, but overall people
Don't want to know about infirmity.
To write down what happens to an old person
On an everyday basis is not what young
Readers care about, say farting and trouble
With peeing, they want to hear about love and
The falling of love and the heartache it brings.
To see the object of desire talking to other men
The jealousy that gnaws holes in their heart
Old men should sit on a park bench, play cards,
Domino which is suitable for them but leaves
The rest to the young poetry belongs to them-

A bluebottle’s tale.
Flies, dark a biblical curse flew, over Alexandria
darkened the sky and hummed hell´s song.
This was not butterflies, in a summer glade.
A bluebottle got to a small hole in the window
they were bringing profanity upon the world.
I looked into its intelligent eyes a soldier drafted
to bring wars and hunger to the world,
(No, not a locust plaque that for its own sake
headless exists.)
to make wars and split nations into many pieces.
God had fated humans should remove each other,
he had made the error given humanity free will
and refused to be held responsible for this fault.
Since we are at the foothill of doom
His will be done.
A new breed of mankind, with small brains and no imagination.
of a Zarathustra or Jung, to give us the idea that we deserved
a better way to find harmony and everlasting niceness.

Small fry

Fingerlings are playing among seagrass in shallow water
they stop when the big shadow of an adult passes overhead
sometimes they play is so exciting they forget
and end swallowed whole by a fish that knows no mercy.
Alas, the tiny fry has a short memory and soon leave
the seagrass attracted by shiny pebbles shines like nuggets
of gold on a summer day.
The play stops as it just like old school friends drift apart
to other seas and too smart to anyone bearing false bait.
There are no promises for elderly fish when finally caught
a fishmonger awaits them or the supermarket’s frozen
counter displayed in all their faded glory

Appreciative
  
Six o'clock
In the morning
Is the best time
To get up when it is summer
Stay on the terrace
Inhale the air
Before it gets hot
Make a coffee
Just being alive
Elderliness is to be grateful
For little things

People I met on and off the screen

I like to watch a TV program, Father Brown
the actors are like old friends I know what they are thinking
one of the most charming figures is the police inspector
he naturally gets everything wrong from the start
and is very rude to Father Brown.
Of course, I see them as actors in real life they are totally
different if I meet one of them in the street
I would have said, look at him he seems like an actor
I have seen on TV and walked on.
I once met Cliff Richards in a paper shop he was buying
the Telegraph ( a rightwing paper)
He was a small man and pleased that I didn't fawn all
over him. We had lunch together, at a little place that had
few tourists, and with some wine, he was good company
relaxed too away from the fans.
When in Algarve I met many actors and found them
to be kind and thoughtful people, and not the way the often
are portrait in the "Sun" and other ****** papers.

Thoughts of Death

Death is a foreign country
I wish not to go there as I'm only used to life
despite we do our best to destroy our planet.
The aboriginals in Australia call death
dream time, there are times when I ask if life
is dream time and death is a reality.
To meet souls who cannot dream floating about
as dust in a landscape of oblivion.

Frank Sinatra

I saw a program of him when he was
an athletic young man till he was old and grumpy
with a low hanging belly.
I didn't like him much although he had a wonderful
voice with a clear diction
in reality, he was a small man who liked the company of gangsters
he had bodyguards and liked to be a man of the town
a tough guy who got into fights his guards had to pull him
out off because he was puny.
Since the internet is down I'm reading “The Senility of Vladimir P”
by Michael Honing. A dystopian novel that is also funny.
Vladimir too liked to be tough and was, on his younger days,
mind, he still is. The only thing Vladimir and Frank had in common
was their modest stature. So the moral is, never make fun
of men not as tall as you.

Happy family
When I was 51 I had an affair with dancer
She didn't want the baby and gave it to me.
Can you imagine? The village women rallied around
A thought is how to change nappies.
I also had to take in a dog no one wanted because it was
aggressive, not a bit of it she had a purpose in life
protecting me and the baby.
Years passed and when she was six she began school
I drove her there but had to sit outside so she could
see me, later that day we drove into town to buy
suitable clothes what I picked out she didn't like
so I left her to it.
I heard a scream; she was in a panic I was not there
picked her up she clung to me and said: daddy never
leave me. We were a happy little family the doom-struck
her mother came back and claimed the child there
was little could do, so dog went behind the sofa sulking
I sat on the sofa drinking wine.
Life goes on the dog and I went for walks that got shorter
and shorter as she was quite elderly had a white snout
and sagging stomach and was grumpy in the morning.
One day I went into town when coming back she had died.
I borrowed a ***** to dig a hole but had no strength
But I saw two big sandstones leaning toward each other
Forming a grotto I put her in there.
As I said year’s passes when I was 71 I needed surgery
Think it is called a bypass, sitting there with a tube in my stomach
There was a knock on the door and in came my daughter
Cried as I have never cried before, she was studying
to become a doctor. When I was feeling better I wanted
to take the bus home. She would hear nothing of it
And arranged for an ambulance, she was in charge
a right bossy little madam,  of course, she had a job in Faro
but she visited me every other day, telling me what to do.
Then she got a posting in Cascais and with my new wife, we moved there. Her mother had said she was not
my real daughter like I should care she is my
nothing can separate us, but I wish she hadn't been so bossy.

Obsession
Autism in the likes of Julian Assange
And Greta Thunberg is a force for good
But their passion can be tragic for them
As they go to any length to follow
The mania that rules their life.

I had a tailless dog, who had a mania looking
For its tail, circled till it got dizzy.


Obsessive people can be tiresome but they  
Have great courage and suffer for their beliefs
They are heroes for their quest for honesty
For what we should be grateful.

Charles Aznavour and I

Once in Southgate, I bumped into him
I apologised, so did he, and we continued on our way.
Further down the street, I said to myself
you touched a famous man, thought of running after
him telling I knew who he was, but since he knew
this already, he would think I was deluded.
I later saw a picture of him on the door of a restaurant
Where he had a “gig”; one is modern.
The ticket price was high, and I didn't care too much
of his singing, his public was for the cognoscenti
who had once been in Paris.
Me, I like Edith Piaf we lived in similar streets.

The Dark Heart

He sits in his cell can't read newspaper or use the internet,
the centre of his mind is the coldest place on earth, and
so much of him is us.
He committed an unspeakable crime killing children,
his mother died for his sins; his father hopes his son will
Will have the sense to commit suicide.
His cell is frosty blue; those who feed him avoid eye contact,
no one reaches out to touch him and former friends,
Even those in sympathy with his fascism have forsaken him.
He cannot hear this he will not hear, he is king of
his mind – a prisoner- and must not stray from his path.
Cosmic Loneliness, if he wakes up from his slumber of
self-delusion and sees how grotesque he is,
there will be no one who will embrace him and give succour

Edith Lived here

Black & white photo
A house where
Edith Piaf lived
Casting a long shadow
On a summer street.
Blank windows
The house is unpainted
As always
Edith has gone
Her voice lives on
She had no regrets.

A fine day in Cascais

A beautiful spring day in Cascais, the centre full of people
which I found a little disturbing.
We moved slowly on old legs like weather bitten barges
in a sea of jubilant racing boats.
It was warm, down by the sea, and we were overdressed.
My wife’s niece had the patience of an angle adjusted her
strides to our gaits, not easy I’m sure she is a picture of
healthy living.
We had lunch, theirs was fish, I settled for a Greek salad
no wine though knows from experience unless you by
a full bottle, the wine served individually in glasses tend
to be inferior to the residue of bottled wine of dubious taste.
We drank beer, and the healthy niece stuck to water.

Boby Fett’s adventures

I used to be a friend of Joseph when he was a bank robber
when he robbed a bank in Tbilisi, I helped him to get away
the money he said was to help his cause.
One can say he owed me a favour, which came in handy.
There was a revolution and Joseph became a president
that was ok, but he became brutal and one evening
when we sat drinking Georgian wine, we had a discussion
I called him a butcher.
I thought I was going to be shot, but since he owed me a favour
I was sent to Siberia with a bag of potatoes.
Luckily, I had a box of matches in my pocket a knife hidden
in my shoe, therefore able to survive to the last potato.
A wandering Sami people with their heard of reindeers on
the way to Scandinavia saved me.
For the Sami tribe, there is no border.
I took my old name back, Harry Finkelstein, a name I had kept
secret from Joseph, my friend from the bank robber days.
I got a job on the Manhattan project keeping tab of screws
needed to make a bomb, the rest is history.

Family drama

Â

A couple, in their late fifties, is coming out of the supermarket,

he sits in a wheelchair, she is pushing him along.

He is grumpy swears at her perhaps she had spent too much

money on groceries

She loses her temper parks him on the pavement and drive off

While he sits there smoking a cigarette.

Five minutes later she returns helps him into the car, fold

the wheelchair drives off.

On his lips a smile quivers, triumph or love?

Â



Le marriage est plein

De grandes esperances

Irrealisee.

Mystery
It occupies my mind sometimes I can't think of anything else
walking on old tracks were many walked before me some of them barefoot.
Death is surrounding me.
Leafless tree no bird or insect visits them n planes
among spring flora their useless boughs and branches
are unwelcome truths I take pictures of
a rare flower not yet discovered by a botanist and made
academic with an unbelievable Latin name.
The small bush so delicate it will be taken by the zephyr
in the morning while the sun is still cool.
Sheep will eat them and I will not fret except
black pellets were wildflowers stood.

Haiku
Drunk I was last night
Today my wife doesn't speak to me
I'm sad and lonely

Haiku
I've stopped smoking
Time hangs heavy in the air
In the smoke-filled pub  

Haiku
New Year’s resolutions
Bring out the worst in people
Makes them boring

The Dawn

I have voyaged far, crossed many oceans
I have seen the unseen, the grotesque.
We are cable of, but I have also met kind
people, I never sank into the abyss of cynicism.

I have seen flowers no botanist has, but I keep
it, a secret the nameless will be hidden.

I rejoice, for I have found my modest me
obliquely I was not here nor there confused.
as semi-transparent waiters passing my table
erased me from their memories.

How did it come to this?
Sitting on a terrace counting how many
Ships are anchored in the bay.
I know most of the ships especially
The coastal runners, the big trawler has left an ugly ship
With a crew of the last chance saloon
No self-respecting seafarer would join a ship
That empties the ocean of life.
How did it come to this?
I am watching ships come and go in the bay of Cascais.
My plans for the future have been overtaken
By the veracity of the day

Do we live too long?

I have been listening to a program on TV BBC about Health service
which in Britain is said to be too costly because we are living longer?
Longevity should be celebrated and not seen as a burden
like the old should be guilty of being aged.
Portugal which a relatively poor country, take the Health service
for granted, but of course, it is a country where the timeworn are respected
When I collapsed at home in Portugal, it took the ambulance
twenty minutes to get here just in time to get my heart started again
I was fitted with a pacemaker, and it didn't cost anything.
In Britain, the ambulance would not have been in haste, and I shudder
to think what it would have cost had I lived in the US.
We should be grateful for the National Health Service in Europe.
It is the young and the rich, who want to privatise the service,
the young because they can't imagine getting old, the rich
because they will not pay more taxes and use private health service
of the posh kind with soft seat and no waiting line.
I'm glad I live in a civilised world where illness and cost do not include compere
where saving lives are the mark of culture.

A Life
My life has three stages, I was young once
it didn't last so long, and the downturned came
in my middle thirties, I sank into a gloom which
now is called depression, everything terrible happened
in quick succession divorce, ***** and lose women.
I sought company with people who were my inferiors
and they took advantage of my need to be liked.
It took a long time to get out of this fog I never got the help
I needed all I heard was “pull yourself together.”
But dawn came into my life I went to live in Portugal
I discovered the joy of writing and the pleasure of silence.
I have lived a wonderful life for thirty years and let
go of my ego, to enjoy the day I have the freedom to do nothing
And feel good about it. Today I have been listening to music
on you tube until the strange cat that lives on the terrace
protested; well” the three tenors” sing loudly.
There is much poverty among the old also in Portugal should
I feel guilty because my life is good? No, I will not have slept
on a park bench I have been through the mill, and it was luck
that got me out of it, so I go on living as long as it lasts

The Enemy among us
The western world has lived in peace for sixty years
mainly because of EU and shared horrid memories.
This has not been the Palestinians case who were
shooed away to give room for a colony called Israel and
those who object – freedom fighters- are called ISIS.
The USA have dropped bombs in the middle -east for
a long time and produced more ISIS fighters which now
is a common name of all who do not like being bombed.
Ex-president Obama sends drones they are intellectual
from the out- set. Trump drop a bomb the biggest in the world
it made a terrible noise, and 36 Taliban were
killed, they too are called ISIS.
(In Trump's case one wonders if he suffers erectile dysfunction)
China and Russia is ISIS in disguise, as are left-wingers
and those who do not believe in the American dream.

Body obsession

Naked, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror
and asked are you sure this is you?
I’m a fat man with ******* and a big stomach but legs
thin as twigs on the almond tree.
I have diabetes, but that is no excuse, somehow
I eat too much
90% of my food intake is vegetables, not potatoes
no rice or bread, no beer most of the time, so how
could it come to this when what I like is banned?
I like whisky mixed with cold water before bedtime
and now I wait for the health brigade to tell me
Whisky is fattening, bad for the liver and the heart
I will not believe you; too many lies have been told.
I’m body shaming myself. Pathetic!!!