the wests fortune

The west’s Fortune In the disappearing evening light the car outside looks like a ogre or a relic of a dead religion, dying headlight, a battery that will not start the car it must be pushed by men who understand that Christianity must be brought back to guard us from strange believes that is alien to our culture. Atheism makes a country weak and insipid, it is in its tolerance willing to accept demands from other faiths that, will if given the opportunity burn our books and ban the culture, that have made us westerners who know the value of justice, even when it fails us. In the name of equality let them burn our cherished book and ask us to believe in a god not belief in God that has lost all meaning, yet I believe we have to hold on to our culture and tradition Christian based as it is, to preserve our identity; for we are people who has suffered through time to reach equilibrium, yet we know we are still a long way from Nirvana

winter jacket

The Warm Jacket Ducks have two sets of feathers outer ones, which are watertight and inner feathers that is soft as a young man’s whispery beard. Ducks are never cold and can waddle a frozen pond with the greatest of ease if not with elegance. I wanted a jacket of duck feathers so I killed five hundred of them and asked my elderly porcelains’ duck to sew me one. In case you wonder I sold the plucked birds to hotels and restaurants. I’m never cold now can walk out in all weather and not feel the cold. Only I do feel like a mass murderer- send him to Hague- so much killing just so I could feel snug. When spring comes I will put the jacket near the lake so ducks can pick feathers that ones belonged to their fore-ducks and make cosy nests for their chicks. My porcelain’s duck tells me that if I had shot two polar bears, I would have had enough soft fur for two jackets and a pair of trousers. Now, why didn’t I think of that?

darkening sorrow

Darkening Sorrow It was a strange summer I wouldn’t say reluctant But rather old fashioned, rather like an old man Crossing the farm yard with a slice of bread in his Hand to give to the horse by the wooden fence. It was not a summer that will be remembered by Bathers by the beach, the sea was cold that year Often there were bands of cerulean silk scarves On the sky keeping the day from being too hot. We walked everyday although our walks became Shorter and we didn’t go to the river as usual. You had gone in September and I had got a buyer For the house, alone it was pointless living there. I will be moving into an idyllic home for the aged, And from the window see your resting place.

black ghettoes

Black Ghettoes So now they are burning down small shop they use daily use in rightful anger. The police are mostly white in a black neighbourhood which does not goes down well Bloody guns you may say, but everyone is armed. But my thought was of the poor black people which now have to go a long way to shop, since it appears they burnt down their own cars too. It seems to me Afro-Americans have sunk into a hole of delayed slavery depression, and struggle to get up and fight back, not with guns, but education. Black young man with pistol wants the good things in life, but only find early death or a prison cell. Pandering to this we must not, there is a limit even for grave historical injustices, it is time to break the chains of the past and be free men again.

not socially inclined

Not socially inclined We drove to Cascais for two days holiday at a posh hotel and I promptly fell ill a sort of fever I do not travel well. My wife and her extended family had a swell time, while I shivered under three blankets and claimed the air condition was sat to freezing. On the third day I arose, had solid breakfast no had seen anyone recover so quickly, it is I said because I’m a Norwegian After breakfast and packed suitcases time for goodbyes, lots of kissing and hugs and they all hoped I would be better next year.

tuesday

Tuesday afternoon in November. Well this is, the ending of another day I’m looking out of the window the road is clean and tidy after rain. The sun is coming out of hiding and strews golden dust on the window ledge, it is a sort of thank you since I’m taking care of a sunray I found huddled behind the gas bottle in the back yard. It was too cold for it to get back so I put it under my bed – I need only one blanket now- so there are times being kind can be helpful. The sunray, not talkative, hides behind the china I bought for my daughter’s wedding only I never had a child; it was a dream I mistook for the real thing; but never mind the cleaning lady likes to drink tea and pretend she is a grand dame. It is darker outside than inside so I lit the fire drink a cup of coffee, at this end of a beautiful day.

not socially inclined

Yule Christmas

Yule/Christmas Obscene capitalism Can best be observed At Christmas Midwinter festival Larder full we share our Luck with our nearest Christmas is the devil’s revenge He was never invited Now he gives us hell with glitter.

Jesuitta

Jesuitta, God’s only daughter. God only had a daughter Jesuitta, which he gave to mankind 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 came a shapely young woman she was coveted by men, who could not grasp her preaching of unconditional love was not about sex, they began talking behind her back. Rumours had it she had twelve lovers, there was talk of orgies with wine a fried fish and fresh bread. She went to the church demanded to be heard, asked why there were no women priests, and why the let sleazy merchant selling overpriced artefacts? The clerics who had enough of this noisy woman told Pilatus, he first raped her and to his shock realised that Jesuitta was a virgin; this knowledge haunted him the rest of his life. Nevertheless his throw her to his Roman Legionnaires as a usual tart. 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 and as semen of a thousand soldiers ran down her legs, she died with forgiveness in her heart.

underage

Underage A moonbeam sat on a bough just outside my bedroom window, it as of the shy sort and it didn’t frolic about in the forest during the happy hour. I invited it in, the moonbeam was cold I tucked it in a blanket, careful that there was no physical contact between us, the beam was of a tender age one ought to be careful lest the “Guardian Harridans” find it nasty and demand a hanging party; no more playing of football and forever be and outcast less I repented. Children and moonbeams like stories and I told a few before the moon paled and I sent the little moonbeam on its way...untouched by human hands.

Jesus and other Levantine

Jesus and Other Levantine Yes, it was this thing with Jesus he didn’t like the way Judaism was preached so he set about changing it. As one can imagine the priests of the day set in their way and receiving bribes from the Romans to keep the peace were no too taken with this rather talkative man who claimed he also could do miracles. As long as he walked the countryside and spoke to the uneducated peasants they sort of let it pass, but he went a bit far when claiming he was God’s son it all started; it was said he kept company with whores and thieves, mocked the priesthood said they were only in it for money; and when he saw how they sold things like overprized relics he became angry as only a son of god can be and cast out the sellers. The clerics called in their marker. Pontius Pilatus duly had Jesus put on the cross. He did so with a heavy heart as rumours would have it Pontius was gay but didn’t want anyone to know. Ever since that time the Jews have been confusion for those who cannot see the difference between a kind Jewish carpenter and a Zionist wanting total control over us.

history lesson

History Lessons History cannot be understood During a weekend It takes about hundred years Before we appreciate What fools we have been But since history cannot be undone We are doomed to repeat Our mistake because we are fools Easily deceived By money, power and false promises Given by those Whose only name history remember, Murderers and false prophets

a short note for you

A short Note for You This is a little missive written in some haste as we have to go back to hospital for more tests. Only you could get me there and wait 4 hours in a packed waiting room. Time is tough for those who have no private health insurance and most of us have not. I tell you about the inequity of this, but you are not listening just look through magazines like “HALLO” touched by a million sick people. When we finally get to see the specialist, a woman of around 45, I tell her lies about my splendid health, but you are there and tell her the truth. I insist I’m ok and want to go home. Ignored by two women I agree to go back to hospital one more time about a bloody pacemaker, I gruffly leave for a coffee. But I’m glad you are there looking after me, I always knew how much I loved you, as long as you don’t tell me how to drive my car.

Philossomite

Philosomite And I will tell them if time I want a simple coffin The type the cousins the Palestinians and Jews prefer The preserving of corpses always shocks me, it is So futile sooner or later they have to replace the corpse on Display- like in Russia- with a plastic moulded one. And what is the point of having someone dead for seventy Years and will never open rotted eyes and say something Remotely rational. Writing late one night I looked up and saw Hitler standing there with a half smile across his narrow lips: saying democracy was dead, we made a mistake hating the Jews – they were too smart- but since we need an enemy to fight wars with and sell weaponry to anyone we wants to-the enemy too- so any Muslim will do.

tanka

Tanka It is the nameless voices The souls of those we never knew That shapes our world As it is today We are the ghosts of the past and future.

love affair

The Love Affair The road that leads to a smallish agricultural flatland has two walls. One wall was built by a slob, just throwing one stone on top of another. The other wall was built by a craftsman where stones fitted and he had used decorative and white painted cement between them. Every Sunday the meticulous man walks to his wall and find great satisfaction to see his work again and wishes the slob would rebuild his wall. Every Sunday the layabout goes for a walk to, first to the bar for a few beers with his mates; he walks to the good man’s house and have sex with his wife.

the man who sold his soul

The man who sold his soul I can’t let go of Christopher Higgins yet, not that I knew him, but I have read a couple of his books – not impressed- he is not an author. A very erudite man with a photographic mind He could remember everything he had read at University, and that is impressive and on occasion he used his scholarship prowess to dazzle an opponent to stammering silence. But I have been watching man you tube programs of his act or performance and it struck me one day he has no depths and he is also an intellectual opportunist who realized which side of the slice of bread to but the butter on. He was a man who defected from his own youthful promises Who sang like a joker and received accolade, because he only 0Raged against the has been – like Kissinger- no one likes him A mild criticism of the foreskin cutting Jewish practice, but he reserved his venom to the Arab world which it became clear he had only bookish knowledge. He had a good life in America and seduced by its naivety he continued unsteady journey

the erudite and the bible

The erudite and the Bible And then it was Friday and I had tried to keep my promise of writing no more, as it is a waste of time, there are so many other interesting things to do, to be member of a literary group, have interesting talk about this and that drink cheap red wine and walk home hammered. It was sad to see how much Christopher Hitchens deteriorated when whisky took hold And he and he preferred to talk about religion which is and easy subject since everyone like to mock religion these days. But we should respect those ones fearful who need a stern God . From early childhood I thought the bible as a fairytale book with Bad kings, brutal soldiers a few good guys who tried to do good. I liked to read about Jesus but didn’t believe in his resurrection, I think him and Maria Magdalene, with help of friends, sailed to Cote Azure where she became a seamstress and he a carpenter Who delighted the children with his tale? But he never said he was Son of God, he had promised Maria to stay clear of that subject. The Jews use the Old Testament and the Muslims the Koran, that is ok, I only wish they would tone down the language a bit, make their bible more like the Brother Grimm’s fairytales

batteri

How long does a battery last A square flat thing Just under his skin It will give him more years If he takes his lukewarm milk Every morning Eats tasteless food all savoury Extracted Leaving behind bland vitamins Or he can join a club where people Find their illnesses Endlessly fascinating as a subject. Be optimistic everyday and Do not show bad form by Mentioning death

tamco

Tamco Before space arrived Time was not in attendance Zero was nature Stillness carried no echo Until a soft breeze blew Brought space, time and colour Strange life forms appeared And so did mortality

Letdown So many chances so many near misses, like a promising spring suddenly turning wintery and killing budding plant life. Or a storm came and blew away all senses Turned it into a loathing where success dare not Intrude like spoiling a dream. Falling down an ice cavern unable to get up in time Not trying hard enough, so the dream can live on Failure is the ultimate goal it does not need to be Repeated

Letdown So many chances so many near misses, like a promising spring suddenly turning wintery and killing budding plant life. Or a storm came and blew away all senses Turned it into a loathing where success dare not Intrude like spoiling a dream. Falling down an ice cavern unable to get up in time Not trying hard enough, so the dream can live on Failure is the ultimate goal it does not need to be Repeated

poetry by numbers

Poetry by Numbers I got an email naming the best poets from poetry site ...As expected they were love stories, About loneliness and the mixed bags of The poet’s monotonous candyfloss of anguish. All poems looked worked- shopped, the same Phrases sometimes returned And they were all meticulous in show not tell Which is a mind-numbing mantra. For some, especially The academically inclined, making poetry Into a cross word puzzle I think all 100 poets had the same teacher who, As many poetry teachers do, lives in New Mexico

tanko

Tanka I had so many dreams They laughed the ones who had lost theirs Told me I was a fool But in their laughter I sensed their tears. Tanka There am two of me One goes to hospital a lot The other drives a bike Thinks he is going to live forever The sick knows better

big breakers

Big Breakers. Frothing, the colour of spring leaf, a mountain top of ocean intent on drowning you it is not like crossing a road and just have the time to jump clear of a car. No, you are totally helpless and your salvation is down to luck not maritime ability. The beast has gone mad something we said down in the mess-hall when playing card? Not to forget the good moment when the sea is flattening out flecked by light blue. Our promises of not drink and smoke and to be kind to our mothers vanes. There is something mesmerizing about it, will the ship be able to shudder and get up from the tons of water? Are we ghosts from a past that never was? I Kingston we drank rum & coke and never spoke about our inner thoughts, we had survived and lived in the moment. But what can you expect of a simple seaman when landlubbers can’t even remember last year’s war.

mountains

Mountains and Generals What scared me most as a child were tall mountains dark silent sometimes white topped and often wearing a crown of a murderous miasma of gloom. Once my ship docked in a constricted fjord, a smelting plant, a few houses and a restaurant surrounded by Somme like nakedness. I tried to close the curtains but they wouldn’t let me insisted on keeping what they called summer evening light as long as possible. I had reindeer steak down in the cellar served with moss and boiled potatoes and brown gravy – in Norway you get thick dark gravy with everything- Going back onboard I felt the mountains naked, life hating presence like crazy generals ordering men to attack over open terrain killing a million young men in the process. Fortified with aquavit I just made it back onboard, the sea was flat and calm. And I heard General Haig’s raised, voice “let us do this once more this time it may just work “Should I ever come across his statue, I’m sure there is one in a town, the great man sitting on a horse looking heroic, I will without delay piss on his statue. and get free from my fear of tall mountains.