The class thing

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

The Cook

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

Pressure, pressure

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

A childhood

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

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

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

Greenland’s American future

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

A brief visit

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

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

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

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

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

Syria’s Christians and Haiti

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

What the papers didn’t say

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

Humankind

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

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

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

Riches

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

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

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

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

The big turtle of Galapagos.

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

The daylight ghosts

I took the bus to the village
it didn’t stop there anymore, and no buses were going
that way.
The only road to my house was a track
For tractors and mules.
In my absence, wartime was hard
I met a man who
if I paid to drive to the village for a few Euros.
My old dog sat outside, and I took her some
moments before it recognized me
glad to see me.
The door was open.
I walked into the kitchen.
A man came out of the living room
He was surprised to see me.
He had moved in since the house was empty
The owner had disappeared.
The dog lives in the shed, he said. Not anymore
I said. I have nowhere to go, the man lamented
In that case, you can stay for a few days.
I took the dog for a walk in the woods
On the other side of the tracks, she liked that,
It disappeared, and I couldn’t find my way
back to the house, and the village had gone.
A person with a golf club in his hand told me
The tiny village had been razed years ago.
I had no business being here as it was the future.
And there was no way back to the old days
I had nothing to do here, and I walked towards the horizon.

A village in the sun

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

My English Brother and the Rich
I find it impossible to be envious of the wealthy, buying superyachts one bigger than the other, when they get seasick at the thought of sailing out to sea
Marrying a ***** blond with ******* often taller than themselves, or buying a newspaper and dictating their political views that frequently consist of sour grapes  
Some very rich people indulge in ****** fantasies of the sort a 16 old might have and visit an island 200 times to satisfy their depravity and live in fear of being exposed
I know of a mega wealthy man, whose dream is to be the first human on the planet Mars to colonize the place in case our earth burns Is he going to take his 14 children along?
My father, although working class, was not unlike these people there was always one more woman to sleep with and I now learn he spent the war years in UK fathering a child
I hope it was a boy, my own brother died young, mind my English brother must be 80 by now, in a terraced home freezing, since the pensioners lost the winter benefit

Faulty memory

In the night, the brain had been busy changing my mind.
I have heard many stories in my lifetime, but they are
not forgotten
in my sleep, the story continues and gets a different ending, Sometimes, when remembering my childhood, I tell a story of something that happened to me, only to realize later that I cannot pinpoint the moment and where it happened. When I try to spin the memory, there is no before or after. The conclusion is that I’m telling of a memory that belongs to someone else; a story of a small boy, discovering the wonder of the day.

This and that and the Guardian

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

The shipping accident

It was late evening when the captain of a Russian owner cargo came down from the bridge where he and the first mate had mapped the route from Humberside to Amsterdam. North Sea is always a busy seaway
In his cabin, lit a cigarette, sat down and opened his personal computer to send an email to his wife; he had a two-month vacation coming soon and said he missed her and loved her, if she came to Amsterdam, they could travel to Swiss
Then, an almighty shudder, he was thrown off his chair, hastily got up, ran up to the bridge, to his horror, his vessel had collided with an American reg tank ship; both ships were on fire, but since it was a calm night, the crew survived.
Back ashore, he gave his version of the accident to the relevant authority, as he left the building, he was arrested for manslaughter by the police; he knew the Russians were hated in England except for the wealthy types

The unreasonable hatred goes back to the time of the Tzar when the Bolsheviks killed the Tzar clan his wife had been one of the Queen Victoria’s relatives; the old queen had relatives in most of European royal households.
Politics entered the fray; the captain of the Russian ship was thrown into jail to await a trial that was not properly investigated since the US ship had carried jet fuel for an American base in a mediterranean country
There was a rumor of sabotage since NATO provoked war in Ukraine, the notorious newspaper, the Guardian, which is known for its anti-Russian stance, didn’t hesitate to accuse Putin for bringing the war to British shores

Painting of Oblivion

The canvas is uniformly white.  
As a screen depicts nothingness
And there is immobility.
A red dot appears
When a mass of void moves
Into life in the form of a life
A beast or a man?
The mystery is no one knows.
Why this randomness occurs

The scent of the sonnet

I was watching a TV program about Hercules Poirot
the heroine in
the plot had no **** and wore an evening dress with aplomb….
Clearly, she had not sat on a carpet
in the forest of spring, where the animal of love roams it is
green as spring grass has a pink underbelly that looks like a purring
cat or a puppy that softly barks. It droplets of scents
that makes lovers enamored for a day or s
there is always a tomorrow of regrets for some.

If the woman with small **** happens to sit on a carpet in
the glade she will fall in love and pad her bra
and that is so why should she not enhance her lack of this
bagatelle when there are tringles of love in the air
and if this does not help, there is always divorce
a more lonely man is satisfied with a triangle

The forgotten
We forgot to buy a loaf today, but there is an apple **** in the fridge for breakfast tomorrow   we will feast on cake and think of the daft woman in France, whose name I have forgotten
Putin was offered a 30-day break from warring, and he gracefully thanked Trump for his interest and accepted the offer, but first, the underlying cause had to be negotiated
Trump was flattered; he didn’t get the whole loaf but had to accept a lemon cake, Putin and Lavrov are both masters in chess, and the West, who do not understand what Russia has said
No NATO in Ukraine quarantine Russia has had enough from the West’s false promises, that’s, but Zelensky, the fraud has to go, a new election held and a spring will arrive in Ukraine

A Lizard Sonnet

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

Refugees
I know of a forest where all trees are equally tall
and the distance between them is strangely wide
is so they can get the same amount of sun and
rain will fall evenly on plants and mossy ground.
Trees grow fast here  next year, harvested
and a new sling planted.
For the birds, rabbits, and foxes that had made
a home at what can be called a new estate will
have to move or find shelter in the old forest
that is full of thorny bushes in deep shadows and
and ****** boars that never had a bath unless
caught out in the rain
Nests will be too near others, and there will be squabbling
rabbits and foxes have to make new burrows
and they will be snubbed by the old dwellers who
will call them lazy or, even worse, the new rich should
They have shiny fur or colorful feathers and will
not be sent a Christmas card that year.

Syria’s new rulers
I’m going out to buy two onions, flowers for my wife, and a box of red wine for no one in particular; since I’m the only one in the house who drinks wine, I guess I have to drink it myself
The checkout woman looked like Assad’s wife
Which made me think of the thousands of prisoners in his dungeon; they have disappeared. There could not have been so many; after all, perhaps it was a hall lined with mirrors.
The Alawites, Druids, and Christians, not that are murdered by the thousands, many hides in the Russian base, not the newspapers say anything about, now that Brussel has blessed them

Strewn thoughts

Seven days of cloud bursts
Untold, loveless days
Only April showers are romantic
If not falling from a brow
Behind a white cloud, a sunny day
Spilt diesel on wet asphalt
Does not a rainbow make

After Rain
The audacious sun finally showed up, and green was
the winter landscape, I also saw the sun set just behind
the carob tree, where the almond tree first blossom,
asleep under a carpet of wildflowers and snoozed till dawn.
Over the easterly range, which is the first defense against
Spanish Marauders and the rain on its plane, the clouds
were dark blue, perhaps, more rain tomorrow?
In fading light, a musical note danced down the phone line,
the first spring flirt. And should it rain tomorrow, I will
not be downhearted, this day will keep me warm for weeks.

The politics of reality

A leading Norwegian newspaper takes the view that it is the Alawites and the Christians who are the problem in Syria, which is blatantly untrue. The Brussels Mafia have decided that the former henchman is the right person, which suits Israel too for the time being
What is disturbing is that Europe’s leaders do not understand that globalism is over and that we will see new security zones that will leave Europe a quaint place for Russian or Chinese tourists. For a small country like Norway, the new system is a bonus as it no longer has to rely on the continent

The Mistake

He had been invited for dinner in Peking by a group of business leaders who had invested much money for his venture and success, but they thought his fee was too much. I wanted to discuss the matter
He took the plane to Pekin; when he landed, it was mid-morning, but there was no one to greet him, which annoyed him
He called his secretary, who apologized that there had been a mistake. What she had meant was a Peking. The Peking Duck Cafe in Oslo
He didn’t like to meet those stuffy wealthy people with their stilted language, instead, he bought a Chinese electric car business that gave him pleasure
Those idiotic Europeans who bought a car that was made in China had intended to sack his secretary, but pleased with his business acumen, he asked her if she was a good mother material.

The Mistake

He had been invited for dinner in Peking by a group of business leaders who had invested much money for his venture and success they thought
his fee was too much. I wanted to discuss the matter
He took the plane to Peking
when he landed, it was mid-morning, but there was no one to greet him, which annoyed him
He called his secretary, who apologized that there had been a mistake. What she had meant was a Peking
The Peking Duck in Oslo
He didn’t like to meet those stuffy wealthy people
with their stilted language, instead, he bought a
China’s electric car business gave him pleasure. those idiotic Europeans who bought buying a car
that was made in China
He had intended to sack his secretary, but
pleased with his business acumen, he asked her if she was of a good mother material.

Trees, cars and Elon Musk

The branches of trees on the avenue
Was stretching upward this morning
To be a decorative tree is not easy
Standing still looking leafy
Once they had been mere sampling
In a forest of other trees, feeling safe
Protected by tree too old or crocked
Stand under a tree and hear a murmur
They agree electric cars has no fumes
But older cars are better lookers
My car swell with pride she 28 to day
A self-driving AI long before Elon Musk
Said he had invented a driver-less car

A moment poem

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

It was, perhaps it still is, popular to take aerial pictures

of farms, frame them, visit the relevant farms and try

to sell them. I had a suitcase full and walked from farm

to the farm I didn’t sell many and was tired when I came to

a small farm, so minor that it was not in my portfolio.

I was thirsty it was July but, I wore a suit with tie to look

businesslike. Knocked on the door it was opened by

a woman who looked affable – this was long ago these

days no one opens doors to strangers- I asked for some

water and she led me to a well lowered a bucket and up

came a pail full of the coolest nectar. We spoke, a widow

a tractor accident had killed him, and she was childless.

I felt a strong ****** pull towards her and could read in her

eyes she felt the same also, but I was too timid to act on it.

I thanked her warmly and left. Years later I read about her

had been married five times and poisoned all her husbands’.

First light of dawn
Uphill, he walked still dark, he had
to be at the farm at five milking times.
The westerly wind makes the climb hard
the cattle will be mooing in their pens
the boss is grumpy, he is hungry but
has no time to eat
milking eight cows by hand is no joke.
End of the last hill he saw the farm's
the farm, there is light in the kitchen,
Emma, my dog, barks and stops when
she hears his steps, the morning light he
stop and catch his breath, they are not
I am going to think that he was hasting
  a quick mug of coffee
a slice of ham, just like any other day
they will wonder, the maids whisper
but do not ask where
and with whom he spent the night.

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

In the defense of what!

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

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

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

A Day of Reckoning


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

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

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

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

A day spring day 1952

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

A dreamy poem
Last night and half asleep I wrote a poem
About love not expressed but understood
A sad story of two unhappy people
Both unhappily married to someone else
I spoke the poem into the night
It sounded emotional and I cried a little
In the morning, the night poem was forgotten
I was too lazy to try to recreate its mood

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

A spring poem
I try to write a poem since it is the first of Mars
The spring sun was looking huge, but not for long
A black cloud bigger than the sun muscled in
Stop! You are trying to write a poem, not tell us
About the weather, but since you are at it
did the cloud shed cold rain
I can’t say, I was indoors in my bedroom looking out
a poet never arises before noon

The joke is on me
When I read that Starmer, when visiting Trump, had with him an invitation from the king of England, offering Trump dinner
I thought it was a joke, but it was true. Trump was flattered and accepted the invitation
Of course, he is an egomaniac who thinks he is a royal American king, and why not!
The difference between the two kings is that Trump has power and the English king is reduced to a face on loose pocket change
Is President Trump a good ruler? Well, he is autocratic and gets things done, not always with aplomb, but no one is perfect
In a world of liberal democracy, we end up with
EU is a talking shop trying to force nations to see
The Brussels way and to think they are called democrats, when its leadership is making life difficult for dissenters like Victor Orban, a sane man among sycophants.
The leaders of any country are to look after their inhabitants’ well-being. If not, then new leaders   must be elected, but in our democracy, we see little movement at the top because their idea of democracy is to elect themselves, not much is done for the people
China and Russia have autocratic rulers with a high living standard, but one is not allowed to swear in church, and that is accepted by most people who favor democracy, a system they know nothing about until they move to New York and see democracy firsthand; the living conditions among the masses are atrocious