The Carrousel of ***

My sister held a party. She lived across the road from us
My wife wouldn’t go; she was not on speaking terms with
my sister, as they often did.
There were many women there, and one was especially and
charming laughed at my feeble jokes, and when it got late
I agreed to follow her home as it was dark and autumnal
We had *** on a park bench, but it struck me as sordid and
I pulled away, said sorry, and walked home.
I was riven by guilt and also anger. This was a trap I, a man,
had walked headlong into. I cursed my stupidity.
Back home, my wife was fast asleep. She had been at the gin
We had breakfast at ten, it was a Sunday, and I was sad
I was still tired and waited for her to berate me, but she didn't.
In the affairs of the heart, it is better to tell an untruth
because women will only believe what they have decided
to be the verity
Years later, after we divorced- for another reason- she said
She told me she had been sleeping with the man who collected *******
every week, and I thought of the woman in the park and my
sister who had a reason for disliking my wife

When love strikes

Love or the emotion of infatuation 
is a disturbing feeling, making us
willing to risk humiliation
I have met and loved several women
In my life, but I have been in love once
That was when I was middle-aged 
but quite unaware of my years
She spoke English wonderfully
Was it her voice I loved or herself?
The wife I had was English, too
but didn't like to live in Portugal, Liverpool
the place where she thrived
We got divorced, which I didn't mind
thought I had found the love I needed
In the woman who spoke wonderfully
The beginning was a lovely time
I even met her posh mother
The abar was where she drank heavily, but
I sat about rescuing her
To save someone who doesn't want
To be saved is a waste of time
Behind my back, she began an affair
With a Dutch person, why is that
Race tall and wear unrimmed glasses
For a while, I took up drinking, which
I'm not good at it; it makes me confused
I tried to unlove her, but she is still
in my heart as a sweet memory that
Once upon a time, I was young

Living forever

I read in a Newspaper, was it the Guardian
that some world leaders like to live forever 
I wonder what Trump has to say about that
I think he has a moment when I think about
This problem, or is he sure of his longevity
It doesn't matter what other leaders think
Putin and the Chinese leader like to live for
All the time, we understand, they have the power
and all the plans, the thought that someone
could come along is intolerable
They must be hollow inside, soulless inside
like a tree in the forest that is hollow inside

My Indian books

How many small books have I written 
perhaps something between 15 and 20 books 
all of them short, between 60 and 70 pages 
Published by Cyberwit. net in India, and as far
As I know, not a single issue has been sold 
I have been reading the young man's work
it is full of love and passion and demands to be
taken seriously, alas, there are many misspellings
lack of commas and sentences that are not 
structured according to English grammar, but the passion
It's like an open sore of hurt that still bleeds 
Yes,  I know, I was young once and wrote many books
I can't understand why Cyberwit.net never tried
to sell any of my books

The First Paradise

We humans are related to the dolphins 
not so smooth, that's why we stayed  near
sea was shallow
Fruit trees grew near the shoreline and 
often apples fell into the sea, which was
as a blessing, and we walked ashore
On dry land, we become aware of our nakedness
and hastily covered our bodies in palm leaves
Flirting and lifting palm leaves became a sport 
disapproved of by the adults
In the apple trees lived snakes; if a woman was
bitten, she convulsed, and if not given 
satisfaction becomes what we know as Karen 
When children asked where we came from
adults told us we came from Mars
Now, scientists tell us they have found dry
river beds on Mars. I say no more

a liter of wine

Some time ago, before Putin came to power and made Russia
into a modern state, many Russians came to Portugal, trying to find work
They were met with skepticism after years of propaganda about
Russia and communism had taken their toll
The locals offered little help
Every night, when the supermarkets shut, they waited for
the bins are filled with scraps of food, and one gathers rats
went hungry for a while.
One uniformed security guard got the idea of pouring bleach
on the discarded food, rendering it inedible
When people in
The town heard of this outrage, and people protested, demanding that the guard be fired from his job.
The guard's sadism made people look at the refugees with friendlier eyes, and they got temporary jobs here and there.
In front of me, at the supermarket, he had bought a carton of white wine priced at ninety cents.
Counting the coins in his shaky hands came to eighty cents; he looked crestfallen, the shame!
My thought was to be magnanimous and pay for his wine, but that would only make me feel good if he humiliated.
I slid a ten-cent coin onto the counter and said, 'Look, here is a forgotten coin.'
At the exit, he turned and nodded my way.

Apocalypse 


I saw the storm approaching. It had a look of evil intent 
People were seeking shelter in the town's only café
I didn't like to share the place with so many, and I had to find my dog before the storm hit
I found what had been a bus shelter, a bunker from a war 
only remembered by historians, or a would-be writer 
The storm hit with a roar of death and insane destruction 
When it was over, the town had disappeared 
A field of sea green grass had taken its place, the stillness 
so acute I could hear the grass incessantly whispering, that
made my dog nervous,  we moved and walked on the sand
of the newborn 
We could not stay still, walking on in the hope of finding
a past that could be helpful when we arrive 
where the future was,  not sure if the old past and the new
The future would merge into a seamless whole

Sauntering


How does one go about writing 
a lovely poem, one that does not have lines
like comparing her eyes to a crying 
Morning rose alone all night in the garden

I like olives, not the plant that is, rather
boring, but it's fruit, in a jar with the pips
taken out and free of bother, going through
pages finding a word that fits with olive

I wrote a poem themed on Oedipus,
But the site that prides itself on publishing
Everything, you can find the poem unless
You are prepared to look to dawn.

Let me say something trite: I'm happy 
to have a roof over my head, but if the
The roof is not yours, one has to side with 
those in power of the day.

1974 and the Guardian newspaper


On a ship, where I was employed, docked
In Lisbon, a few days after the Carnation Revolution
The air was full of anticipation
I took a double-decker bus to the town center
A throng of cheerful people filled the narrow streets
At a paper stall, pornographic mags had moved in
getting the most out of newfound freedom
I ate Fesjoada tras montania (bean stew), drank
a bottle of Sagres beer, and later walked around
streets, but with so much noise, I bought
The Guardian newspaper, which I thought was
a harbinger of the truth
Back then, The Guardian was a fresh, brave paper,
These days, it is rather staid in the political line
pro-American, but it is still a better paper
than the Ghastly "Sun" and the Sunday papers
I still read that paper online, which has good art pages
But politically, we parted ways a long time ago

The fidelity 

the sin of the flesh, why is it a sin
sexuality is a strong and natural desire
but often the downfall of the great
who lacks respect for lust
treats it with a low moral attitude
There are the monks of Thailand
naked feet in sandals, and one assumes
naked bodies under burgundy
robes, can so easily fall prey to when
a lady of easy virtues comes along
this could and probably has gone on
for hundreds of years, but it became
a scandal when money came along 
I understand the monks, but reserve
my contempt for the likes of Trump and
Dershowits

Tristesse 

The hotel room in St. Asaph (Wales) was damp
and smelt of spent body passion, I didn’t have a coin
for the gas metre; in the decomposing bed, a woman
Snored, and from the depth of my soul
the beginning of an anguished scream.
The morning was ashen as my face, and fine drizzle fell.

The hotel bar was closed, and I walked with aching bones
for miles while the heavens descended.
Apocalypse Now!
No such luck, when the clouds parted, the hills
where green with grazing sheep is.
Dear God, where were you yesterday when I married
A scullery maid, have you no mercy?

A New Planet


For me, it is too late.
But had I been young, I would
Have done my utmost to find another planet
Livable for humans.
Think of it as a planet without borders
Not carved up into countries and rivalries
And threats from states with big land.
Just one continent where anyone could travel
Where they wanted no passport controls
Or unsightly walls.
A planet without religion to upset the peace
And of course, no political parties
No rules set by the mighty, the authority
Who diverts rivers without asking the people?
In short, a planet for the people and
Animals in the wilderness.
Alas, since humans are settlers.
They will take their flaws along
and in time ***** it up

Summer and a dog

Pure sunlight on a forever blue sky
beaches full of laughing people and
Happy Holiday, by Cliff Richard
Out of the sun glare came a cur
an emaciated dog that had walked
and walked for many miles to reach
a goal, finding the way home
Under a bush, it collapsed, and I gave her
water, found food for her, yes, She
probably she had been looking for 
her babies, they had taken away
It was all too late, she had died, it's 
Untold suffering had come to an end
Wrapped her in a plastic bag and left
her by the bin
The sun was blood-orange the day
had ended, deep shadows we could
see again, the sun had been blinding

Paradoxical revolution  

Enough of this, I have been standing still far too long
I shall become revolutionary, not murmur descent
For fine-tuned ears, no, I will scream my hatred to 
the ruling elite with a megaphone, cultured dancers
Delight, amaze, waving a wand like I'm a magician, and
wish for the capitalists to sink under the sand
I shall spare no one, least of all the friendly billionaire 
the only wealthy man whose flaws are open 
For you to discover, he is a poet of the heart, and his businesses are a sideline while waiting for the magic
of words
I shall demand that Facebook and X must stop selling
****, they will be closed down
Get me right, an equal society must become unequal 
for the sake of the common good.

Double yellow lines 

I sit inside a massive fog of nothingness
plays on my imaginary piano using one finger
a ditty, sun outside, sun inside, sun only sun
I feel massively and supremely untalented 
Now that the amalgamation of writers, poets
dancers, trampoline ladies, and painters that
lived inside of me, has turned into a block
immovable zero 

I look at a black dot ringed by a grey cloud 
If I stare at this long enough, the cloud might
disappear, only it is not, it turns into a dervish
The amalgamation has fractured, and I sit on 
a rowing boat on a green sea, watching gulls
white as angels fly upward into a hole in
a void, at last, there is silence, and I'm at ease
With my vastly incompetent self

Lavender

On a milestone in a small town, I sat trying to write
a poem, and a man sat on a wooden bench watching
me; he had a newspaper on his lap. A cat under a car
was watching him; perhaps he gave it something to eat
from time to time. With a sigh, I put my notebook back
into the side pocket of my jacket. No poem today.
The man began reading his newspaper, and the cat looked
away and began grooming itself. A bus stopped two
elderly ladies alighted, bags full of shopping, and all was
back to normal, but I remember the air of summer dust
diesel fumes and the aroma of lavender.

We are not cynical

She had been married once or twice and lived among
the rich, that was what happened to air hostesses when
there was a frisson about this job.

Her last husband came from Amsterdam, a doyen of
the fur trade, elegantly dressed, and a walking stick
With a stick, one assumes he was quite elderly.

He had bought her a flat with many rooms, too many
one of lesser background would think, then to her 
surprise, he suddenly died

So what was a girl to do, sitting with a flat not all
paid for, sensibly, she rented out the flat to people 
Who could pay and keep the heating on come winter

Then she met her final man just as her legs were
getting tired, he would do, she thought he had a car
and doesn't bother about a high-flying life

Thus, a love story blossomed, if not a lady and a trap
Yet, a love story of a sort, he needs her to do the talking
So he can sit in his room and write

the philosopher

The ambulance helicopter
landed on a field near the houses
and upset the mule who was
considering the philosophy of
Bernard Henry-Levy.
It had just reached the conclusion
The man was a featherweight
thinker, but looked good in his
a dark blue velvety suit.
When the clatter of the chopper
subsided, it wondered how many
doctor titles and universities do
A man needs to be careful before turning into an idiot.

The Adventurer 

No, I tell you, Elon Musk, I will not
Go to Mars, it is dry, and has pink nights
and wind-blown days

Settlers will live in caves without 
dogs and cats to make life on Mars
livable without caresses

No, Musk, I refuse to go unless your
assurances the cave living will be
temporary and live will last forever

I have found a planet that is lefty
Where right is left and left is right
with a teddy bear for every child

The tryer


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

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

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

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

The Icon

A famous actor is dead, we viewers 
saw him decorously dead in a bed
I have seen this actor in movies playing
handsome cowboy, nothing rugged
no jaw clenched or hateful snarling 
White smile when on horseback 
The sainted Guardian interviews others
stars, who loved him
An actress, who, during filming, saw him
Every day, yes, he was the greatest
wondered why she didn't fall in love
One worships an Icon

The Breakup 

How cruel I was
cold shoulder against love
no reconciliation 
her heart was as cold
as mine
The night was endless
The day saved by a dog
I had some news beginning
but without her
She was not a part
It ended fairly 
She had a home, but not
near
My aloneness was great
the dog and I, in the forest
unruffled by reality 
Eating lunch in a beautiful
café, she came in and I 
desired her greatly 
I was in love, wrote hot
poems nothing could
ever go wrong
We know, life is perfect 
I had tiered her out;
She wanted to be free 
Freedom is a must, but
When freedom hurts those
We love, we have failed

Architectural and Dogs

A large house on one floor with a multi-shaped roof
a myriad of inside doors fit for slamming when
House guests occupy all seven toilets
The owner of this house is a semi-retired person
Who, after creating a human, fails like
Elon Musk with his exploding rockets
The gorillas were such an attempt, but he was 
kind and let his mishaps live in the deep jungle 
Well, his foray into the architectural business failed
He took retirement but kept an eye on his dogs
Dogs? Yes, he created dogs for humans who 
might find loving another human, not wanting
to **** the other, find ample time for many hugs 
and cry proper tears at funerals

The Will to War.

We are living in a difficult time for European  leaders
They are preparing us for a war that will go on forever
beneficial for the manufacturing industry
They don't want a real war, but need psychoses 
of war and steal our democracy 
people in the Nordic countries are asked to buy
food to reserve at home should a crisis occur  
What are they talking about? Most of us live from
paycheck to paycheck
Furthermore, we are asked to zeal our homes 
And stock up on ion tablets, do they think that
Everybody lives in a suburb, and most of us have
flats, often cramped, in big cities 
Our right to speak our  minds is undermined by
those who are social democrats in name
There was a time in the sixties and seventies 
when democracy in the north was vibrant and
alive, although you could freely shout **** 
without being censored, but we could open  
a business or settle somewhere else without 
Should you feel aggrieved, the X will listen
If you disagree with your missives

Nagasaki

There are nights when things become clear 
when the Pacific Ocean lived up to its name 
I sat on deck, listened to the heartbeat of
the vessel, which ticked faster when an engineer 
opened a door and came out on the deck
Laughter in the mess hall, no, I was not at ease
in their company, too old at sixty
I have tried the swagger, the misogyny, where 
Women were either ****** or mothers
The ship was bound for Nagasaki, and I had
been here before when looking for a graveyard 
where Portuguese sailors had died when
Japan was an unknown land
When walking down the gangway,  didn't 
to say goodbye, it was dinner time anyway
before flying back to Europe

To love your enemy

I should not say this, but there is no way to hide
I had a wonderful childhood when our country was
at war and occupied  the mighty German army
walked in and out of an army barracks, riding on their
enormous horses, dark chocolate, drinking morning milk
until peace broke out, and it was back
to stark poverty that felt as if the daylight had been
switched off by an unseen hand 
Headlong into communism, almost a humorous but
That, too, had its sell-by date, and a cold war began
As a ******, we were in demand moving American 
made gods around them had moved their industry
abroad and only exported wars
Once upon a time, I loved the USA, and I still have a pair 
Of the jeans bought in New York, the jeans have shrunk
But I keep them as a memory of a glorious past

The Stone Pulpit

Norway has many fjords and dramatic mountains
The water in the fjord is deep blue and clear as 
a baby's tears that mirror a part of a mountainside
where a big rock has a flat top, attracting tourists
because it looks like a pulpit
Many visitors enjoy the thrill of sitting on the edge 
of the pulpit, and deep down there is the blue sea
For a depressed person, it would be easy to let go
I would have thought the murderous edges would
be fenced to stop such a suicidal attempt 
I wrote about the danger, only to be censored by
Facebook, which is monitoring my post
I was also advised to seek help for my fascination
of people whose problem I can only imagine

A Fable

I was spending an afternoon with a billionaire 
On our walk through town, we came to an art salon 
on its wall, a painting I liked but could not afford
The billionaire offered to buy it for me, but reserved 
The right to take the artwork back should I die
because he is an art collector,
The salon refuses to sell to the billionaire, who buys the salon
and everything in it, at a price no one can afford to
refuse; my rich friends hand me  the painting
that I no longer want, because I liked the idea that 
something costs more than I can afford 
The wealthy man shrugs as he has made a good deal
This afternoon, later that day, he paid for a burger 
and coke, and I don't mind him paying

Wordsmith

When writing, shall we dare call it poetry
I, because of my lack of academic learning
cannot seek inspiration in the classics,
except for the god Sisyphus, who
I find it funny, realising I am laughing at myself.
The lacuna between me and poetry, I have
tried to fill with words, one day I can build
a park for lovers,
At my relatively old age, which is no more
Then, a blinking star, I have read hundreds
of books that have been stuck in my mind.
A few writers' names are remembered,
most of the American writers, sprinkled
by Norwegian and Russian authors.
When writing, I draw from this well
What I need to cobble together the wisdom
which is everlasting, because I'm  bringing
forward what has been said before me.

The Awakening

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

To have, or not to have

Many people are from the outside, beautifully formed
with a mind that can absorb empathy and warm sympathy
but life itself makes us harder around the edges, as it is 
It's not possible to live fully, shall we say, without knocking oneself free of cultural norms
Can friendship exist between the classes?  
Yes, but it can be a strain
The wealthy can be sentimental watching a movie on TV
about poverty, but they will be hardheaded when making political changes that make classes more equal
Of our three classes, I have been through them all in my time
born into poverty, rising above its self-loathing tendencies 
despite its richness of local wisdom, funny memes, and
often jubilant humor
Finding myself among the middle class who are stuck between two cultures, don't manage well, show contempt for workers, and loathsome dripping respect for the better off.
With this, I mean the royal household. I can't think of a more 
An abject group of people, who, when paraded in public.
I have a very wealthy friend who suffers from being unsure if
people like him or not, I tell him to give me his money, it will
set him free, I shall bear the burden, whether people like it or not, alas, I have not been able to convince him

The Ending

The only tree left in the  whole world
was opening its leaves to welcome
the day to the survivors 
Among extinct animals
the Tasmanian tiger, beside the Hubro
They had been friends since 1936
There was no artificial light, and the stars
had paled as night became day
Humanity was missing; it had not made
The transition to a planet at peace
dropped heavy bombs killing their own
A war cry, after us, there will be no one
The enemy of peace will be vanquished
even when we too died

a letter to my editor
I have tried to get more cash to spend
on introducing me to a bigger audience
I contacted many of my readers on X and asked for
A contribution sent to Hillshire will not come
amiss so far nothing.
I could have asked the man himself, but I will not
He suffers from the insecurity that rich people
People who suffer from that, we like them for the money
I happen to like Elon Musk because he struggles
with a deep-seated shyness like my brother did
So his life is not that easy
So, therefore, just print the fucken book and send
a couple of copies to me, I shall be nothing more
than mulch in the acre of poetry

The Hope

In a poem I read
Trees are so green
The avenue was full of green leaves
fallen to the ground
Curled up, pale brown and dry
blown by the cold wind
I can hear a whisper
We are still beautiful
Within us, there is knowledge
of a spring to come

Morning in Paradise

The sun warms my face
and also the sea in the bay
It is not blue anymore
silver and white
I wonder why we struggle
to live long
Most of the time, we
are in pain
prodded by a doctor, who
doesn't say what it is
You are too ****** old
The mighty don't worry about age
trying to find a way 
to stay longer in power
pain-free 
as the sun lit a *** behind
a cloud, I wonder how 
It feels like waking up dead
a Sunday morning

the fear


The fear that has no name, it is there, churning away
for no reason, until today when awake
with peace in my heart
I used to be angry with myself, which made me disengage
With life around me, I became morose and bored
to serous, no fun to be around
I used to wake up early, sit by the bed for hours, not
getting anything done, getting up, drinking coffee
Shall I eat a cake or not
I had seen that day at the local supermarket
to elderly gents on holiday, they had bought beer and
looked at ease in their elderliness 
That was what I had to do, not pretend to be a pretending youth
But embrace myself, sagging stomach, muscular arm
turned into chopsticks 
What the ****, you silly man, you can write and
express yourself and be fearless of your opinions
With my sanity restored, I slept until eight

A tour back in time

I hired a car and wanted to drive to the countryside
where I spent part of my childhood.
By a farmhouse that looked familiar, I stopped
A dog came out of an upended barrel and greeted me,
Is Jason coming home?
The farmer and his wife came out, and he patted me
on my head, and his wife gave me a hug and said:
“A little boy once lived here.”
In the kitchen, they gave me two slices of the loaf with
Blueberry jam was my favorite food as a child.
The couple had not aged in fifty years, and their
eyes, I was that little boy
I took my farewells and promised to visit soon.
A bus drove past, throwing up dust, and when
It settled the couple
The farm had disappeared into the mist of time.

This is a day of sorrow.

Jane Goodall has passed away
I fell in love with her in 1970
When I saw her beautiful face
In an article dedicated to apes
I wrote her letters declaring
my undying love, but never did
she answer me
I walked the streets near home
No, I didn't go to the jungle as
I have a fear of gorillas when
They beat their chest 
I have loved an impossible dream

Educating Rachel

Now, let us try this again to write a document
With one letter marching nicely in front of the other
Like adding instead of using numbers to give the written
words prettiness, even if the theme is about unnatural ***.
The fact is that there is a diesel smell at the bus terminal
At six in the morning, when the cleaning lady starts her
low-paid work has nothing to do with anything, had they
They're going to university, they could sit in fine offices
and go to the hairdresser at nine, a woman who can just
read and write, luckily for the ladies, she skipped school.
The driver of the bus enters farts loudly, and that is ok
But I could have shown some respect. It is odd to think
If all women had higher education and looked up to the blue
sky, who should make my dinner?

We who loved America 

I enjoyed  America and remember touring 
a Sunday outside Houston (Texas), met in a café
a group of openly armed, elderly men 
They were courteous people one could meet 
I understood guns have cultural meaning
In America, we in Europe don't understand 
I remember a saying, "A country where the populace 
is armed, people are polite."
I stayed on the ship longer than needed, but had
To go home and get educated, I studied management 
and later ran a restaurant 
I was never at ease in my country, not that I suffer
Retromania, trying to escape my past, but
I was back on a ship again, this time as chief steward
plying the waters of America and the Caribbean.

Restless Summer heat

It is odd how we forget we live on a restless planet
the talk of the melting ice cap is true enough; it melted
before when Greenland was a hot house for plants
In Spain and Portugal, the impression is two lands
are burning tragedy we blame people for
but we overlook that there was a serious fire in 1823
so nothing is new on the planet
Flooding in Pakistan has happened for a long time
where people work on land, that is the path of
flooding and avalanches, not every inch of land
is suitable for mankind; we are on borrowed time
Earth will shake us off like a louse on a dog's fur

Superintelligence  

If superintelligence is about collecting data 
to find out why young people run, some people don't 
and based on this information, invent a mobile bike that
has 3 wheels and runs on a battery. I'm skeptical of 
Superintelligence is like your mother's brother who
is divorced, moved into your home, and is telling everyone what is best for them; a snippet of what your dad said
"No wonder his wife left him."
I see it is possible to write your own autobiography, your
name and address, that's it; the book with your name will
be in the post, they have the nerve, superintelligence 
Intelligence is most of the time used for evil purposes 
Adolph ****** and Josef Stalin were not duces, not to forget
Netanyahu, who has led the children of Israel down 
a disaster, made the people into uncaring monsters like
The Germans felt about the Jews
If superintelligence knocks on my door, I shall not open it because I get so easily impressed that I might be an eager fan.

The last puzzle

When the last piece of your life's puzzle
finally fits, and you have outgrown the old man
who still crave recognition
He spends his, what might be his last summer
in his den editing and editing 
not to leave alone work done when young
He cannot be what he once was
A new life walking on soft sand and a smile
at hungry sea gulls flying low in the forever
hunt for food, not likely 
He knows he will, read about the politics of our
time to form an opinion and keep it to himself
He has resigned to his shortcoming smile and
Forgive the old man

Wit

Where were you when I was arrested at a public toilet for drinking
of a flask of brandy- the man beside me was a police officer out
to catch people like me who needed a drink to survive the tedium of
living in a provincial town in the middle of a landscape of cows

Where were you during the court case when the judge said I was
a disgrace, a plague on the backside of humanity, drinking in public
It is a serious crime, the buffoon thundered, throwing the gavel at me
It hit a guard in the head, who was knocked out

Where were you when I had to run the gauntlet of jeering reporters
and people pointed me out in the street, and a hush when
I entered a café, and the waitress refused to serve me coffee
You went on holiday in Spain, drinking red wine.

I can assure you

Had a dream while sitting at the edge
of a hole where they had removed a stone
and the mold was soft to the touch
that I had died, but also said to myself that
Were I dead, I wouldn't be able to dream
I have growth on the side, which looks innocent
like the one I had surgery on, the new one
is on my back and tends to be ignored
I must see a doctor again before the ulcer
sprouts a green plant that has a red rose
that needs to be handled, not by a gardener
The hole had turned into a newly dug grave
I didn't care for this dream, wished it would
I assured my frightened self that I was not
dead, and the self said I will believe that if
You wake me up at eight

*** & the Sea

We do live in a moral time, the exchange of money.

for some company, a meal and laughter.,

is frowned upon, but without these willing women, my

Life as a seafarer would have been an impossibility.

Some married ****** stayed on a ship for

Two years to save money, but they never thought of

The ****** life of their wives. Mind, some of the women

Had lovers, and why not? Being married to idiots was

Not easy, and they could not write to their husbands.

And say: “Come home and do me over.”

Prostitution is bad; it is about using women for ***.

Gratification, but it is a business if properly seen to

Help many lonely men, who are victims, and

Not thoughtless oxen smelling a cow in season.

The Danish Mermaid 
 
The famous mermaid of Denmark we know well 
a grey figure, the color of seals with ******* 
That was not seen as a threat to anyone's sensibility  
I have described the old mermaid, I didn't know
There was a new one, whose large, **** **** had 
caused uproar among the female population in
the democratic kingdom of Denmark 
The spokesperson for women claims that women
do not look that voluptuous and want the statue 
removed from public display, shielded from eyes 
of lust of men who know what, 22 years old
looks like in  hushed evening light
The women of power who run the charming land
have prudish tendencies and will not upset their
sisters showing what a young woman looks like
**** and full of life

dressed for ******




Autumn leaves have made the track in the forest a wonder
to walk, the summer is over, and now the best time of the year beckons.
Stillness, a squirrel is busy collecting nuts; they have seen me before
and see no reason to stop their task.
A black snake scuttles across
the track and appears annoyed, like I should have disturbed
The natural order of things: snakes catch squirrels.
It was a serpent that ****** up Adam and Eve's dream of Paradise,
a small bungalow and a few pigs, was that too much to ask?
Up north, they **** seals, they eat our fish, so we **** them and women
They were beautiful coats, especially baby skin fur, but that is ok,
The sea is our larder.