Home town
Yesterday I saw him play billiards, a famous man
There are not many celebrities in my hometown
We have not many things to be proud safe for
A duck pond in the center, geese and rats in
The basement of the café
The famous one was once a boxer in the USA
But never made it to the top, but came back
In my hometown, his fame was assured; he had
Floored Sonny Liston in the third round, but
Liston won the match
A friendly man who hides his sadness, of not
Being famous in America
In the years to come he will be pointed out
“See the man over there, a lovely mover, once
He floored Sonny Liston.”

Horn Music

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

A very rich man, not the one who springs to mind
likes to leave behind as many children as he can
Clearly, it would be wrong to have an affair with so many women, almost immoral, where emotions disturb the proceedings, therefore, artificial insemination is used
The rich man is in a sterile room, ******* into a tube, the result he hands to a flunky who carries the result into another room where the business is done, but sometimes things go wrong and he has to repeat, for this there is a stack of pornographic pictures he can look until he get an ******* suitable for the purpose
Sometimes a baby girl is born, which he accepts but would rather have boys; he aims to have thirty children and hopes there is no mishap generations ago giving him a child of the wrong race. Should this happen, he will not despair, but happily point out he is not a racist

how it is done

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

Human versus pre-human
Are humans born with a soul? I don’t know but I think a newborn child has yet to acquire a soul   A newborn absorbs everything it sees, including colors and voices, the way it is lifted up given a bath hugged, and song too, absorbed into the new memory bank and stored The child is not aware of this, but it is the building block to acquire a soul that can rudimentarily think, hence a soul that learns right from wrong now, if an AI figure is fed information like this does it, acquire a soul that has moral knowledge? If this is true, the ramifications are disappointing because we are only equal to an AI, who in time will master how to recreate itself

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

Flying to Mars

There was a young man popular among the girls
But he overlooked them because his dream was to reach the moon and beyond
To do this he needed the feathers of the paradise bird, they were colorful, and made him look handsome, but he needed the stronger feathers of the eagle
When he was ready, he climbed a pile of rocks
The legend said had fallen from the sky a day in May 500 years ago
The girls were there admiring his plumage some
Nervous elders too begging him, not to try this foolish thing
The young, brave man flapped his wings and under breathless silence from the onlooker took flight and watched him to where the sky
Got hazy
The next morning the village woke up to a bang
They found the burned body which had flowed too near the sun on his way to Mars, his name was not Icarus but Elon Musk

Idyllic nightmare 

I know they are good people who want us to leave 
they don't know it is their time, what's up because
our time is fine, but they fail to grasp that they
are past the clock, it has belled twice 
We have admired their garden with flowers
deep green lawn and made of plastic as are
the red roses, nothing is alive, but we pretend
like them, that they are not dead
We failed to ask the obvious question. Why are
we are here? Did they invite us? Or did we show up
in a world that has died, what we see is us who
exists in a world that is no longer real?

Are wars as natural as forest fires?

The world is a restless war between India
and Pakistan's armies are ready and eager to fight
as usual, the people are ill-informed 
Israel has a problem; people are in an uproar 
the way the sitting regime mishandle 
the constant warfare, there might be a civil war
the USA, that believes in an uni-polar world  but
see they are no longer the world's ruler
Europe wants more war in Ukraine 
Alexandre Dugan believes in a multi-polar world
he is correct; the age for supremacism is over  
Or is it as many people think that war is like the plague 
a natural phenomena buried in our mind
from time to time, to destroy and mass ****** 
will occur, will not stop until the old order is destroyed
then peace can come, and the world is set free

Jesusita 

God only had a daughter,
Jesuitta, whom he gave to teach us love. 
She was a good little girl with blond, curly hair, and often helped her mother 
with the washing up and other household chores. 
As she grew up and became a shapely young woman, 
she coveted by men, who could not grasp  her preaching
of unconditional love was not about ***;
They began talking behind her back. 
Rumors had it she had twelve lovers
there was talk of ****** with wine, fried fish, and fresh bread.
She went to the church, demanded to be heard, and asked why there were no women priests and why they let ****** merchants sell overpriced artifacts. 
The clerics, who had had enough of this noisy woman, told Pilatus to do something.
He first ***** her and, to his shock, realized that Jesuitta was a ******; 
This knowledge haunted him for the rest of his life. 
Nevertheless, he threw her to his Roman Legionnaires as a usual ****. And the men taunted her: 
“Is this what you meant by calling love absolute, 
they bawled. 
Their women said nothing. 
They put her on the cross as the ***** of a thousand soldiers 
ran down her legs, she died with forgiveness in her heart.

Job description

If you like to be an executioner
can be failed as doctors
or nurses who needs the thrilling
feeling masterful

Given the last, fatal injection
give a sense of power
so strong it can lead to premature
*******

What can be better legally ****
the condemned and feel
proud of a job, both well paid
emotionally rewarding

Joe Biden

Today, I want to rest not get engaged with the trouble of our time, I will sit down, drink coffee, and, think of nothing.
I thought of Joe Biden falling off his bike, walking on soft sand, and falling on the steps to his plane when not finding the exit
Does Joe Biden, the former president of USA How corrupt he was serving the rich and his with no thought of the people he represented
Does he have a dark moment when he knows What a failure he has been, his cowardice, his Lack of honor, a life lived in utter futility
I should feel the revolution he deserves, but in My heart, I know, could have been like him, had I the lust for power and fame.
All life ends in death, how trite is it that, both Jo Biden and I will be erased from other people’s Memories, and no one will know we existed

Just a thought.

If the Palestinians
had looked like the Danes
and with blond hair and blue-eyed
Less Semitic
Would West Europe have done more
to save Gaza
From the genocide we witness
Are we witnessing racism in action

Kaleidoscope

A man unsure of how to address women
walked into a tube of colored glasses
and bits of painted paper.

he was brought up as a Presbyterian, were
women were held in high esteem
wore long gloves when going to a ball.

He thought the color in the kaleidoscope
where tartish-like women dressed in red
standing on the pavement near a bar.

Yet he felt drawn to the colorful women
they exited him, unlike the young women
who looked dowdy at the church.

He thought of sin and a moral dilemma
should he pay a woman in a red dress
see what it was all about, the *** thing?

He did and had a hell of a time; he did
time and time again until the day *****
danced on his eyebrows.

Latakia, Syria

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

The Magic Almond Tree

And now it is time

For the ugly almond tree to blossom

And be a bride of spring

And how beautiful she is

Amongst dowdy olive trees that may

Have cornered the culinary market

The beauty belongs to my almond tree.

How did this come about?

A Nordic princess married an Arabic prince

In Lusitania but she missed the snow

And was unhappy.

The prince prayed to his God and next year

The almond tree bloomed and strewed pink and

White flowers on her path

And today I saw the magic of her smile.

Like the father the son

He is a lovable rough, the father of a famous son who keeps us guessing what the hell he is up to next, a father who is a buccaneer, sails the deep sea, and fears not the tempests on his way
Can a son ask for more?
The father never was a nine-to-five sort of bloke who operated at the edge of the law, like a pirate would, fingers in many lucrative pies, that is what daring men do those, who believe in themselves, live to tell the tale.
The son might lack the old man’s charm, still, he has otherwise emulated him but prefers to stay ashore, an influencer of magnitude selling his ideas to those on top of the political heap and like his father faces tempest with bravado.
As for me, a shy poet, thrown ashore with irregular works and lacking the go-get appetite for life, his father is the type I wish I were.

Longings

I wish I could see Teresa
met her in Trinidad
She came from St Luzia
Wore a flower in her hair
like women do in Hawaii
I had lost my glasses
We looked under the bed
Her body was a temple
We worshipped that god
At dawn we’re formal
She wore a fresh flower
In her hair

Me a Racist
 

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

We meat eaters

In the café on the first floor of our building
The food served is cooked on the day
Sometimes they serve fish which I'm not a fan of but when I have picked out the ******* bones
the fish tastes fine
They serve wonderful chicken that only a few days ago ran around not knowing they would
Be lunch, but that’s life, we humans eat human flesh too when given a chance, living deep in the jungle and fried female **** are seen as
A delicatessen only served to the chieftains who are the upper class in their world and no, if you
Ask, there is no beans on the toast

Melancholy

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

Mermaid
This afternoon a mermaid swam to the shore and took flight, so you didn’t, know that the beautiful creatures who live in our seas can fly, she lifted her delicate silky wings and flew seeing me staring forlornly by the kitchen window with a dishcloth in my left hand not seeing a fairytale being I used to believe in as a child
She knocked on the window I opened up, but not much because close up she lolled like a Karen of the type saying men are useless but call you to open a tin of sausages or fetch her slippers in the bedroom Suddenly she took fright and flew away but the
knocking persisted it was my neighbor who wanted me to scrub her back, I helped her out of the bathtub, and before stood a scrawny 84-year-old mermaid

Mice in the shed, she demanded
I do something.
I found three mice,
surprisingly easy to catch, like they
had been saved.
Living on old newspapers and
stillborn manuscripts
not much of a diet.
**** them, she demanded.
I put them in a shoebox
made a few holes and gave them
some bread crumbs.
In the tall grass, by the road verge
I let them out, and that  they would
rather stay in the box.
Finally, they got the message and
disappeared.
I looked up and said:
“What about it, God? Any chance to
Win on the lotto?

Misty Day
Glancing out of the window, I see the potted plant
on the sill and the house on the other side of
the road, the light is fading, and the plant looks as
sad as a whitewashed wall in the rain whiteness
is an illusion caused by the sun.
Mist of grief encircles olive trees, are blank
tears on my almond tree´s spindly twigs, yet inside
each droplet sees a tiny world reflecting my own,
only with greater incorruptibility of the untested.
And far away, as a whisper, a mother sings a lullaby.

« O

monday morning

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

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

My dislike of Poetry

I dislike poetry; it is a contrived form of expression, yet whenever
I published one of my collections, which is under the rubric
of poetry
when they are nothing but opinions and descriptions of thoughts, which
I try to share with readers who might like what I write
or think this is a waste of time. I dislike poetry because it keeps
life in shadows and tries not to tell but to show by writing
so abstract
you have to guess the intentions. When you do, the poet is great.
mainly because he described life as scholastic and has little to do with real life, but you can, if seeking brief fame, put your head in
The gas oven and everything you wrote will be holy as the poetic grail, a pity because the poet/writer was seduced by her father and was unable to come to terms with this because she liked the **** but didn’t dare to admit it.

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’.

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

Nature Fascists
Those who believe in the sanctity of nature, the survival of
the fittest, and so on, tend to be on the political spectrum
right-wing living off inherited money and believing
it is  right for an eagle to **** a rabbit
and they are
right, and of people on horseback pursuing a fox until it
can do no more running and is killed by man's best friend,
the dog that lacks empathy unless it is a learned behavior
It is a right to tame
nature, but not eradicate it because we
do we well not to harm our future, but farming is needed
despite what they learned, think cattle have to graze to give
milk and meat. The mule has gone, and the tractor has taken
its place, but without sheep and cows grazing in peace and
not knowing its purpose, the countryside would be a place of
fear and wildflowers enjoyed by botanists and goats.
It is the fascist agenda that is scaring the right to
exterminate
what nature lovers think is not worthy of their ideal.

**** time

Uniformed men with ice blue eyes, marched
Up and down the street, bomb fell, earth shock
And I was two years old
An officer with steel rimmed glasses and a cruel
Smile, said: this child is blond and has blue eyes
I clicked my heel, ****** my thumb
Mother, took to singing sentimental lieders
They gave her an iron cross, while dreamed
The kindergarten’s infant Fuhrer
To my regret, peace broke out and life was
Lull again, till I was circumcised and went
To live in Haifa, where I could *** over a new
Wall, which made me a natural leader of men.

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.

Newness
she walks slow
I sit on a bench
waiting for her
in cracks I see
the beginning
of newness
among *** butts
office worker
sits here when
there is a break
today is sunny
I face the new sun
she catches up
sits slowly down
and speaks
we need a new kitchen

No Mystery here

when I shut my eyes, I see millions of stars not bright stars they only bring light onto themselves static and unblinkingly.
On the bottom half of what I see, is a mist called ennui, of stars have been consumed by the nothingness that is self-consuming.
The enormous expanse called the Universe is life forms, but not alive, lack awareness, and exist only to fill the emptiness the clerics call heaven.
The stillness is absolute, human drama does not echo in the vastness of non-life, called peace mankind refers to as death.

Not a Democrat

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

Not tonight my lovely

I must stop writing about
The women I met in
my tumultuous youth
that lasted into middle age
touching the years
of elderliness
I do remember a woman
In Taiwan
She had beautiful hair
That turned out to be a wig
She was scaringly bald
Perhaps she had had cancer
She was flat chested too
Wore boxer shorts and
Had an *******
No, not tonight, misses Wong
She routinely dressed
Adjusted her wig
Down in the bar, I drank whisky
To think I had kissed her
With passion

No out

A man coming home from work saw a shadow
a figure leaning against a dead olive polishing
his hoofs and sharpening his scythe.
The man said no, you are too young to harvest
he then took a plane to Madrid
where he got employment at a legal office.
the first day, he knocked on the door
death sat in the chair and said
from now on, you are my helper
Go back home and dispose of your parents and their
time has come, greatly disturbed
the man took a plane home
and the death was leaning against an olive tree
a shadow on a sunny autumnal
day. In the house, his parents said they had  buried
their son, but they did not see or hear him,
and the man knew that henceforward he was
Death's little helper.

NUUK

Greenland is the largest island in the world
but it is not a continent
I looked up Nuuk, the capital,  on YouTube
it is now a modern town with supermarkets
even cafes.
I was there fifty years ago.
Back then, it was a rather primitive place
with a million barking dogs
and drunk people on the dirt roads
they hang dogs slowly so the hairs stand out
it was exported as a pelt
one hopes this practice has been outlawed.
I remember the coastline, bottle green for once, still,
we went fishing in a clear stream, transparent
when we waded over to the other side
it was so deep we could have drowned.
It was the coldest bath of my life.
Greenland was beautiful, but it was then
not a place to remember with fondness,
except for the trout we caught.

Oddballs in New York

The strange people who want to live
until they are 200 years old and, if possible, forever. 
Needless to say, these people are also rich
I saw the leader of the odd people, who tells us
He goes to bed at eight and rises at five
shift workers to have a similar routine, not they
wish to be a shift worker forever
The leader and his follower do not laugh as
Laughter might upset the blood and stomach
That has to be at ease at all times
Of course, they have no religion as they try to
outlive good and miracles
It is a pity that people should love and live now
Do not wait for an uncertain future

overcast

I like rain, not angry rain with an attitude
neglected by the mother cloud and take revenge
for its misbegotten infancy 
lashing those who sought peace and the promise
of forever, with ice blasts  
soft rain that feels like a caress, a day in June 
Drips from my blue umbrella feel like kisses from
a long-time lover

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

Painting with words

The ash in the wood burner is still warm white and esoteric
an unborn dream a sin to shovel into a sink bucket when
it looks holy and ought to be strewn upon the tranquil sea
with the first drop of rain the ash in the bucket a dust cloud
disperse like souls in the forest but, as the shower increases
the ash drowns becomes silt when the rain stops, and the sun
warms crops the grieving has passed

Passing years and Google


I wonder how old one has to be to have a dignified life, Google wants to re-identify myself
It appears there are many of me
They sent me a form where I have to place figures where they sit and move around
the problem is my eyesight is not good after
all at 86 six I’m not a Falk-eyed Indian
How this test can prove whether I’m me and not a company I don’t know
As it is I can’t log into X where I have 200 followers, which at my age is encouraging that there are people who like my view about politics and life in general
Old age is not for the insipid, we who are classified as old suffer joint pains and have legs unwilling to carry us around
Our minds are not as old as our bodies we have tons of experience to divulge, the politics of today have happened before, we know
Is there or should, there be a cutoff point to life
Say at 75 but we old think 75 is young, I even had girlfriends back then, who thought I was handsome; they should see me now!
I feel resentful, that Google in its hunt for
Fake accounts have singled me out after twenty years of loyal service

Peace

A glorious morning in the bay of Cascais
seven coastal ships on a mirror.
Stilleben
Sunday, the crew are asleep
except for a cook who is up preparing
breakfast

This could be a picture of eternity
but a small motorboat breaks the mirror
leaves a white scar that heals itself

The sky is softly blue, and white clouds are
sun-flecked  and in no haste going anywhere
on this day of bliss

Peace in our time
What can we say our hope for peace in Ukraine was declared, we are no longer sure if this is possible, the right words were spoken until someone mentioned the value of rich soil that had costly minerals within, and the talk of suffering humanity talk a pause, greed had entered the frame
Sure, we need troops to guard our ill-gotten treasures, friendly troops do you mind if there is a thing like friendly weaponized troops guarding
Earth treasure
While our leaders try to change the narrative to
tell us it is not about right or wrong but it is about saving the world for our benefit

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

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

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

Reflection

It is autumnal, and the wind blows
Light from lampposts sways
The day smells of oncoming winter
Sadness and a longing for the past
It will always be like this
The hankering for years gone by
Like the wake from a ship
The birds in the sky will leave to
The curtain billows, ready to set sail
Across the seas, towards infinity
And beyond

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.