Supermarket blue

  After a splendid lunch of goat chops
With salad, my mood was dreamingly contented
To she got the idea of going to a big supermarket
Except for vegetable, fruit, meat and fish
I trapesed miles after miles in this insanity
Of ****** food, sugary food and horrendous
soft drinks laden with sugar,
Also, the juice that said zero had a sign telling
Me that sugar had been added.
Went outside no bench provided nor inside
You are not supposed to sit down, but shop!

Surgery

After my morning shower, I noticed blood from my middle toe
(the one beside the big toe) I bent down the nail was loosened
I pulled it off and I thought of Socrates.
In a few days, I need a new battery in my pacemaker, a small surgery
when doctors say small, be aware.
I friend of mine, the late actor Clive Dunn, went into hospital for a small
surgery that became so serious he died of it.
I also have to see a doctor about my diabetes
she would see my missing nail I have a ready excuse bumping into a threshold.
Now I got morbid if they cut my right ankle off how could I drive
My car is fully automatic, so I sat on the sofa trying how it was possible
Only the right foot got in the way, but I proved it was feasible.
I put my shoes on and walked about the flat, no pain, perhaps the aching
was caused by the loose nail, which I cured with betadine.
I know I’m playing for time minimizing my illnesses trying to make light
of the oncoming.

Surplus to requirement
My wife was her aunt a lovely woman of forty-four,
then she divorced her husband a man with a title,
a baron, because she felt bored by him – he was
tedious all style and  a small brain- she took a
course and got a medical job that brought her far and
wide, in the world and she also got a new man and
we were happy for her, she was approaching middle
age entitled to some happiness

She stopped ringing us and when my wife rang her
she was always busy, she disappeared from view
and the silence became a chasm on unsaid words
But we know she is doing well has friends her age.
I said to my wife last time we saw her she looked
so remote we had become too old for her

Surprise
The queen in her gilded coach pulled by four horses
Came gliding on the sea and towards shore where a group
Of men waited to be knighted

They had done their duty kept their mouth shut and
Averted their eyes to the state's illegal acts and now
Pay off a title and membership on a board

The queen came ashore she had a white lion cub in
One hand and a hammer in the other and with it hit
Each man over the head they fell to the ground…dead.

The queen a Marxist revolutionary had been silent so
Long but she was old, the truth had to come out
No more horse -drawn carriage, but she kept the lion cub.

Surprise

Woke up in the middle of the night
With an *******, thought of waking up
My wife, but before I could
It fell down to it a natural state like
A sausage roll on a railway counter
in Liverpool.

Surreal Surveillance                                                     ­                                                                 ­                                                  

Put it on the bill; the man said
to the shopkeeper What! Am I a duck?
Cash in hand, please
The shopkeeper could not spell walked
into a bra and got lost,
Later he was stopped by a police agent
and asked about his two dogs,
they are at home, he said.
The microwave has not registered them
said the agent. I sold it yesterday.
In that case, he has yet to connect it
we have a listening device in his iron, but
since his wife left it is disconnected.
You must switch on your computer or TV
we like to know where you are and we
also, miss your dogs.

she was giving birth, a surrogate mother, to a rich childless couple. she had been instructed to not look at the baby, did and relented, she had given birth
a wonderful newborn how could she give it away?
sensible people told her it was for the best, the child would get a good education, she the mother could not give her.
Under pressure by the righteous, she gave the baby away
but she will forever regret her decision.

Sweet dreams

No one loves you as I do
Should someone love you more they are not real
But a figment of your impossible dreams
Where I sometimes enter your mind
Make you a sandwich of blueberry jam not
If I must add of the homemade category just
The way my mother made
On newly baked bread with butter of love.
I never buy anything shop-bought that can be
Had anywhere upon request.

Revenge of sort

The old ship has four cranes for loading
Also, unlading has anchored in
the bay
For four days.
It must be hot all portholes are open and the cook
Sweats in the galley it drips onto the dough
Moreover, into the food, cooks transpire a lot and it
Has to go somewhere.
They call him a fool but eat his sweat a sweet
Revenge a secret he keeps to himself.
The crew pick rust and paint a little but most
Of the time they sit in the mess hall waiting for
Something to eat.
Dinner is served, the cook wash pots and pan
Goes into his cabin lays down on the couch the one
Under the porthole, and sleeps till it is time
To prepare the evening meal.

A sober revenge

there is on the plateau of Spain a town made of yellow bricks
the buildings are of the same size, seven floors and on top an artist studio.
The street bellow was narrow had many bars and shops selling socks
it can get cold in Spain too.
On the fourth floor, in one of the building, lived a couple. He had a drink
the problem and she scolded him for this but since he said sorry-looking contrite
she forgave him and made him a tortilla.
Then it so happened he stopped drinking altogether
and he took over the economic side of the household.
She took to placing bottles around the flat, but to a no awhile he the husband, A sober revenge.
There is on the plateau of Spain a town made of yellow bricks
the buildings are of the same size, seven floors and on top an artist studio.
The street bellow was narrow had many bars and shops selling socks
it can get cold in Spain too.
On the fourth floor, in one of the building, lived a couple. He had a drink
the problem and she scolded him for this but since he said sorry-looking contrite
she forgave him and made him a tortilla.
Then it so happened he stopped drinking altogether
and he took over the economic side of the household.
She took to placing bottles around the flat, but to a no awhile he the husband, stayed sober, and she felt relegated.
With little to do, she got hold of a small restaurant in the basement. Lovely though the man now I can come and get my lunch every day.
His wife resented this. He was taking up a table eating up the profit, so, he was refused a meal.
Undaunted he had his lunch at another cafe and when asked why he was eating
there and not at his wife´s place,
he said, my wife, is not a good cook!
Now there are many empty tables at her restaurant during lunch

sweets

after the war in Norway, there were little in the way
of sweets and what we could buy was rationed.
But all was not lost, my mother melted sugar in a frying pan
when the sugar became liquefied, she put it on a paper
to cool off, she then turned the paper turned it around and
we had sweets, and I remember it tasted wondrous.
Time got better, the rationing stopped and, there were many
children with rotten teeth, the school dentists had a lot to do.
I was not especially fond of sugary things and because of this
I still, except three teeth have got my own.
This, however, didn´t stop me from getting diabetes which
my dear doctor insisted were caused by an overindulgence of
***& coca-cola and beer.

Syria, my lovely

Asma al-Assad, the wife of the president in Syria
  her crime is to be married to Bashir al- Assad.
Since the president of Syria is sitting pretty, they had to find a softer target hence his wife.
Hadn´t she defended the Syrian army, said they were brave
they must be after ten years of war?
Remove her British citizenship, and we shiver by the thought.
There was an insurrection, and it was crushed.
It could have stopped there if the west had not meddled and
American bombs terrorized the civilian population.
This endless war many Syrians fled, who can blame them?
NATO, too, got involved, this dangerous beast full of generals looking for a fight.
any action, as long it has a pre-fix, “democracy.”
Assad´s chemical attack on the civilian population, surely a war crime.
A Canadian reporter said it didn´t happen, it staged by the white helmets, and no one was reported dead.
The lady reporter had upset the narrative, was sent home in disgrace and now covers handball matches in Seven Rivers.
I Denmark they are sending the Syrians back they say it is safe, they will be safe if the west will stop interfering

Syria's Children

He sat down to write a poem for nature
When he closed his eyes and saw bombed out buildings
Rain dripping from wrecked concrete onto
The street where it formed a muddy pool but that
Didn't stop the children playing captains of the deep sea
Another bomb fell and obliterated this harsh idyll
What was left was mist and fire where it once had been
A muddy puddle.

His pleasant poem about a track and olive roots trying
To trip him up, the shepherd, his dog, and sheep coming
His way the good small of wool like an obscenity today
And did little to assuage his fear for the future.

tabula rasa


when a child has no memory
one can say clean slates, after a few days they pick up
the basic like crying when hungry
from there on we fill the baby  with what we know
a knowledge handed down from our parents, and the child
when it learns to read believes without reflection
what they are told must be the truth.
sometimes the child has a new thought, and it says what if this
is not valid, that is when the memory it didn´t have
is remembered, something that is clean and true about the life
we live an illusion made up of a generation of lies told
to keep us docile, most children dismiss this idea and go on
playing football, but a few listen to the voice of verity
and not knowing how to shut up tell everyone that life is more
then they have ever imagined.
those children are embarking on a long track that sometimes
leads to jail terms and sometimes to an early death
by those who know they are speaking the truth but try to say
the child has a criminal mind.
The road ahead of the few are long, and there is no happy ending
except the knowledge they have gives them comfort

Traitors

The red roses over there,
yes those in the blue
ceramic vase on the table,
are eying me hungrily,
they could so easily
grow roots in
my belly and
produce black and green roses.

Till I had no more
nourishment left and
was a skeletal being drained
of a useful mineral, and
petals would fall off seeds
blow in the wind to
other hosts, the last indignity done.

Tanka
Under the church's floor
Hundreds of rotting coffins
A Jesus made of marble
The priest shivers when alone
His flock had sought new pasture

Tanka

Marilyn Monroe
I loved her greatly
I wedded a blond
She spoke with a scouser accent
When her roots turned russet.

Arm dealers look out
When walking on your green lawn
Watch out for landmines
The mad horde of the limbless
Are seeking a ****** revenge

Tanka

“Straws bends with the wind
That will uproot you, old oak,”
A yellow stalk said  
“Look behind you, the tree said
The farmer carries a scythe”

Tanka

Tiny footsteps
Leading to a decorative pond
It had lilies and leaves
A scream tore the sky apart
Lilies and leaves

Tanka
He died alone
what an amazing expression
we all do
your friend lets go of your hand
alone you enter Hades

Senryu
A lie is
A poetic way of telling  
The truth


Tanka
There are many truths
Fanatics think they have a monopoly  
Their version is right
There are many religions too
Each on the keepers of the truth

Tanka as a Poem

I have been outside
Nature is beautiful they say
It was rather cold
The sun, one euro polished
Clouds are the suns' flunkies

Inside looking out
Nature looks like fantasy land
You can't lure me out
The wilderness is insecure
And sometimes the wind blows hard

I'm civilised man
Outdoor is discovery channel
Sharks and dark water
Nature needs a glass divider
Enjoying our inimitableness

Tanka like

We the classless
seek no revolution, only fairness.
We like quality
a well- balanced diet
And cold German pilsner.
The stinking rich,
one assumes they do not have bath often,
can continue to pong.
We seek no egalitarianism
but cold German lager
and a comma -less life.

Tanka like
we the classless
seek no revolution, only fairness
we like quality
a well- balanced diet
And cold German pilsner.
The stinking rich,
one assume they do not have bath often,
can continue to pong
we seek no egalitarianism
but cold German lager

Tanka

Hazy Sunday dawn  
A man on a rime frost field
Has shot five rabbits
He has tied them to his belt
Blood drips on his trousers’ legs

Tanka as Poem

I have been outside
Nature is beautiful they say
It was rather cold
The sun a polished one euro
Clouds are the sun’s flunkies

Inside looking out
Nature looks fantasyland
You can’t lure me out
The wilderness is insecure
And sometimes the wind blows hard.

I’m civilized man
Outdoor is discovery channel
Sharks and dark water
Nature needs a glass divider
Enjoying our inimitableness

the tapered

It started with great ambition six lanes motorway
after some time it narrowed and became a 4 line.
That didn´t last it got narrower two lines will do.
then on the road with a line in the middle and that was
OK as well til the asphalt disappeared driving on grit
causes many punctures.
A track, get off an walk to reach the blue mountain-
when getting there, it was slippery and cold.
There must be another mountain that fits the dream.
The highway was optimist youth pointing out stars
not seeing the road got narrower, and it was too late.
The trail is for old men who wait for a miracle or
for someone telling them where to go when the path
leads them to nowhere in particular while dreaming of dancing nymphs in the glade.

The beauty of lies.

Darling tell me lies tell them gently
Lies are so much softer than the cruel truth
that leaves behind the cold taste of winter storms
demanding the truth, we rather forget about it.
You slept with a man two days ago, I have been told.
if it was a sudden fling,
we can laugh about it and for a good meal.
However, if you tell me, you have been seeing him behind
my back for many months, I will see it as a betrayal.
I will not condemn you, but you will be ignored, for all time
I will never speak to you again.
While I walk the streets and crying roof panes,
wondering why I had done to let you down.

Tears at night

I heard a child crying in the night
Why are you crying son, my father said?
I feel so sad, why are you weeping?
I long for the old days when livening near
The forest where my dog and I walked.
I wish to return.
You are too old now, my father said, think
Of your struggle carry firewood and water
The hills are steep.
I had dreams back then of being famous
it has come to nothing.
If you believe in yourself, it is all you need,
My father said.
A sigh from the son that went louder and
Louder and ended in anguish holler.
Both father and son fell asleep and soon
It will be morning.

the crying


Silent tears fill eyes
From a well deep inside
Regrets.
A life lived but not fulfilled.
Silent tears fill eyes
Love not received
Love not given.
Silent tears fill eyes
The sound of a plane afar
Will it ever land.
Silent tears fill eyes
If not dreams
Will fade and flowers wizen.
On the steps a child
Looked towards the morning sun
Her heart was full
Of love and future.
A bomb falls when it stops
The child will be no more.
Silent tears for the cruelty
That kills children.

The Temptation

The girls in the bar that had floors made of
Stranded schooners timber came and sat by us
Many sailors had drowned here
On their way to Saragossa Sea their blood had
Run in the cracks on the floor
Drip, onto the sea below the colour of crimson
I looked into her eyes an evil goddess with
Green eyes yet I followed her to the rooms at the back
And she laughed when she caught me.

Haiku ten years old

Wet leaf in a pond
Ants abandoning sinking ship
Shore line yonder

Tsunami brewing
A child wades in a muddy pool
Escaping tadpoles

Ornamental pool
Red plastic bucket afloat
Eerie silence

The Oppressed
Time is churning us in a mass of confusion
But something is forever the need to side with the downtrodden.
Two of my uncles, ordinary working class lad,
Spent time in jail and tortured because they helped the Jews
because they were in need.
Israel today doesn't want or any use for men without education
Help was not political it was just human.
When I see the endless cruelty committed by Israel, I take side
With the Palestine people and try if not by heroic deeds but by words
To help the oppressed people, not for a political agenda
But a human one.

Terra Dal Fuego (sonnet)
Ushuaia the southernmost town in Argentine when I dreamt
of going there, we got around about on sturdy horses
herding sheep with Portuguese immigrants, islands protect
Terra Del Fuego from worst of the oceans meet, and it is
called the roaring forties. Now it is a modern town no horse
manure in the road the smell of wet wool has gone too
yachts moored in the harbour they sail the Magellan Strait
thus avoiding the duel where two giant oceans meet

Ushuaia was the end of the world no one came here except
weird people and no temperature difference between
the seasons, yet no it is bustling with would be sailors with
rolling gait suited for a heaving deck, but they can wait for
calmer weather; the amateur sailors wore a captain’s cap  
and blue blazers with shiny buttons on

Testing Water
It began with a sign in a window have your water tested here, I knocked
On the door, they had meant drinking water.
Next day I brought a bottle your water is not drinkable they told me
I rang the water board the ******* water I pay for is not drinkable.
It has not been drinkable for 26 years I was told you foreign swine the man
On the phone said. Listen to me you **** I was in Luanda in 1975 when
The Portuguese army melted away and we from the foreign legion had to
Keep the population safe. SLAM!
Next day the water board came cleaned the cistern, the driver of the truck
Had lived in Norway for five years it was he said living with icicles 4 dead cat
Skeletons and a dog that still had fur on it head, I fed it and it grew a body
But the dog was not happy, when I took it for a walk it trice to tried to throw
Itself under a bus, I learned its name was Prince, one morning it disappeared
And was found in a pond having been dead for fifty year it preferred to stay dead
I understand that having tried to be famous for fifty years it is like waking up
And eating soggy cornflakes in the morning.

The cloud of Abyss
It was a perfect day cobalt sky and azure, glittering sea
When a stygian cloud came from the east the Lord of Wars
Had spat phlegm spraying us with horror

Inside this monstrosity body parts, headless bodies were
Flying by the noise was unearthly and my little dog
Sought shelter under my coat bought in Hamburg.

When the cloud had passed, I saw a landscape
Devastated as Ypres in the Great War when then as
Know millions of people had died for nothing.

My dog was limp and had stopped breathing I blew
Life back into it and in the terrible noise of the sky
We heard nothing, not even the stillness.

The master of wars was paying us a visit, the peace
We had enjoyed had lasted too long it was time for
Bloodletting, the revenge of the sand dwellers

The acting lark
Since I was not going to be a George Ramsay of cooking
I decided to become an actor, paid my money and went
to the relevant studio, which situated in an old building
in Liverpool.
Up a rickety floor that had a lift conductor for a reason
that escaped me since he stood the and I had to press
the button for the third floor.
The hallway into the centre of learning was lined with
former actors I didn´t know.
The lessons began.
My teacher was a beautiful woman with a magnificent voice
she taught me to speak clearer, louder and confidently.
When the theatre in Chester needed an actor in minor, I applied
but was turned down.
I didn´t mind as I had lost interest in this artform pretending
to be someone else.
My next step was to learn public speaking, this I failed since
there were more than five people in the room, and I fainted.

The acting lover

When I was fifteen and a galley boy on a ship
The cook was over the top gay and couldn’t
Help to pick up some of is manner like smoking
Slim cigarettes and waving my arms around.
Many women thought I was gay which was a bonus
As they were teaching me to be-ungay,
They succeeded every time and we're happy this
Had saved me in time this ploy worked until I looked
The working class was big and muscular then I had
To play the shy one fearful of women.
Of course, I had to come clean be my randy self
Looking for *** yet behaving with decorum and not
Like a brute, this has served me well till I got
To the age I was too old, now I’m the granddad
Who knows to too much but keep quiet about it,
But I still smoke slim cigarettes

The actor

Tom Chance was an outstanding actor and friend
I saw him play a professor dying of cancer
The death scene was especially moving.
Tom had cancer too that killed him a few months later
I admired how he was able to separate
The role of real life.
Sometimes I wonder – I wasn’t there- when he died
For real he was able to see it as an act
He was going through.
Tom was not famous when “resting” he worked
As barman and mixed drinks with elegance.
I liked tom he was my friend but was I the fig leaf
Of his act, to give the impression, he wasn’t gay?

The after goings on

When the preliminary is over
                      and the smell of rotting flesh
has become soil
possibilities are endless.
                     To be an oak or an olive tree
or a preening almond tree.
A yellow spring flower and green grass
so beloved by goats and children.
                        Or simply irritating weeds
in some curmudgeons garden.
                      I would, like to be a stallion
but since I can't be anything physical
                      It will be plant life for me

The aftermath

If Russia invade Ukraine
The invaded country will get no help
From the USA who knows about “my back yard.”
NATO but it has no army to speak of
Only generals we can call desk riders.
The big nation will see invasion as a free for all
The USA will attack and occupy Venezuela
And Cuba as a pretext to stop the Russians
Possible bases.
And we are back to a cold war again.

The Aged
If young people knew
How hard to be old
They wouldn't use their car horn
So much when seeing
An elderly driver.
To drag your old body
To the shower
Remember which medicine
Is for what
Yet we the old cling to life
As we know nothing else.
It is a good thing
The young don't know
What it is to be old
If they did, they might jump
Off a cliff
And get it over with

Love's Agony

You are the long evenings, the deepest night.
Sweet dreams you are not, in your embrace I'm not reborn
the future is bleak.
I know well a night spent with you gives birth
to bitter regrets.

I promise not to seek you won't help,
I love you more than life itself.
The blue hour casts long shadow and I can't
resist its alluring echo.

Our lair is feathers of tenderness,
but thorns of demanding ferocity.

A pact we made in a church, which reeked
of bunt wicks, desiccated roses and the redolence of death.
The name of our love is…Agony, we can't
put stop clawing each other asunder

Algarve

The cold northerly wind has died down
if it wants to blow it can do so in July and August
when the heat is unpleasant, and the birds and I sit under or in trees
the time of year when the sun is an enemy.
It is the immense clear sky in Algarve that attracts me, not
the beaches, and the smell of suntan lotion I can do without.
No other country has such pure air it brings the best in people
even the Nordic become mellow and malleable in Portugal.
We are having lunch in Albufeira they tend to cater for
the English palate, food without garlic and onions are not food,
I rather drive to Almodovar and eat Pernil with cabbage
and inhale the aroma of garlic, but not today, perhaps next week
if all is well with the world

The Algarvian

The Algarvian people, not the urban lot are more African than Europeans.
They have conception of time if you are meeting your solicitor at nine he might
turn up at eleven. If you are going to a local fest and it starts at nine there
will be no one there before 10.30
If your mechanic tells you the car is ready at noon it maybe noon next week,
you see to avoid offending people they say yes to everything without
the intention of keeping the promise
As people, they are untrustworthy but charming but it I prefer efficiency.
On the road the true Algarvian comes out uses the horn for a little
reason a cacophony of noise; it ends blood like the African revolution.
And never make the mistake to give workmen money before the job
you will not see them for a fortnight
Algarve also has a rotten clime 10 Celsius in winter and 40 in summers.
But you can survive here if you stop believing what they say.

The Aliens have landed

This is the third day of the new, year and days are equally dark
and miserable as days before the fireworks and drunk people
filling streets with hoarse screams, scaring dogs and cats who
do not understand the collective madness that grips people by
celebrating peace with thunder.
Most of my friends are dead and yes, we danced around
the golden calf, we wanted it all, we got illnesses and old age.

The third day of the new, year and it is the same old ****, car bombs
exploding, a WikiLeaks no one reads as the truth is bothersome
enjoy yourself; our democratic system is going down the drain
and no one will look up and see when they are swamped by
an alien culture and the darkness.
We have been conquered by our lack of respect for our system
and not a rifle shot has been fired.
Kneel down you infidels; there is a minaret in every town.

The alternative Saga

Eric the brave Viking
could pillage a village all by himself
**** every woman regardless of age.
In Franken land, he got a venereal disease
Which he spread wide and far?
But hi, he was a Viking and couldn't care less.
He led several Viking ships and headed
for the Med, but he met Arabs fighter and lost
Later converted to Islam. After many years
He reached Jerusalem where he met others from his country
and joined them on the way home, but when they heard
he was a Muslim they threw him overboard
in the straight between Morocco and Spain,
and so ended the life of a brave Viking.

The Alternative view

Nature is not democratic
It doesn't listen to the call for democracy
which as its name applies is a rule by the majority
and when the masses take the lead
They lead us into a one party one thinking Identity.
Be like us, and you can write what you want
as long as democratic lines are followed
Capitalism,
Communism,
Nationalism,
Socialism,
Belongs to the twenties century, big political parties too
are on the wane.
Politics, as we know, is local and decisions should be local
and we favour a structure the human into consideration.
We must never let one ruler lead us if we do
we get a Putin or a Trump, two equally bad examples
one is cynical the other is a fascist by heart.
We need an alternative and do away with the left or the right
this schism is leading us into a new war and we must
Not be afraid to sensor states that brutally suppress
other people not like them.

The American Preacher

It must have been in the middle or late fifties that
a famous preacher was coming to our town,
a big circus tent was erected beside the evangelical church
to acuminate the throng.
This was pre-TV time, and there was no entertainment
except walking in the park and feed the birds,
this man's appearance was rock-star news.
He spoke fiercely in English and a person beside of him
translated; it was so odd many people were
in ecstasy hollered hallelujah, and prayed with the preacher.
He was a gigantic fraud of course, and my mother said so too
but she was a communist and disliked America.
Today, in a newspaper on the net I read he had died at ninety-nine.
Billy Graham was his name.

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.