the kiss

the kiss

The Kiss

I had not seen her for many years just

bumped into her on a Christmas busy street.

We kissed hungrily, after all, forty years had

passed and her allure was as before.

The kiss reminded me of Rodin`s sculpture.

She lived in the Canal road number fifty five

we’re going there to make love, but I could not

find my car and she evaporated like mist over

woodland. Next day I looked up the town`s map,

the canal street was a parking lot now and houses

that stood here before torn down when the elders

with a female mayor, was cleaning up the sin that

so disturb the new moral we must live by now,

 My car was parked there looking demure beside

a new Mercedes class A.

Forty years, a long time, but I remember the kiss

haiku | Write Out Loud

haiku | Write Out Loud

Haiku

Christmas again

Seventy -seven bloody times

Spring is far away

Haiku

I wish for April

Intoxicating apple flowers

And rain softening soil 

no longer silent | Write Out Loud

no longer silent | Write Out Loud

No Longer, Silent

Could it not be

that youth of Muslim origin

go and fight in Syria and elsewhere

Because they see western nation

bombing one country

but sparing their oil allies?

Do we think so little of them that we

think they have been groomed

to see the obvious?

And being young want to fight back

to defend their Arabic heritage

and cultural values.

We only have to look at Palestine and

their plight and not be angry.

The young men and women who fight

for ISIS do so because it gives them a structure

in life, the West has denied them.

the caliphate | Write Out Loud

the caliphate | Write Out Loud

The Caliphate

 Let us think the unthinkable

Let ISIS have their caliphate and be a state

The Zionists took Palestine and called it Israel

Europeans settlers killed of the Indians

And now it is called USA.

The brutalities and horror   from ISIS is terrible

But from an historic perspective

Worst things have happened and will again it is

The human burden to kill for its own sake and

Greed for land

In time it will be a state with institutions they

Practise their Sharia law and behave like the Saudis

We will buy their oil and they will leave us alone

To practice our odd democracy

the escape

The Escape

When Rudolph the red nosed reindeer wanted to

Be normal and join the flock on earth, Santa got depressed

Sat by many of Finland’s lakes contemplating his life

He too was tired of flying through the air and gets a cold

He wanted sunlight and a sandy beach.

He got hold of a tame water buffalo and an unemployed

Drunk from Helsinki and for a while they got away with it

Till an elf with a grudge told a newspaper about it and children too

Had long wondered why Rudolph had two horn, not antler and why

Santa was late, swore and kept falling off his sledge.

Santa had to come back from Thailand and sort out this corruption

He told twitter he was sorry, but fired blabber mouthed elf.

He had to look for sober man to act as Santa and train a new reindeer,

Because Rudolph and had got the taste of the high life.

epigram | Write Out Loud

epigram | Write Out LouEpigram

I don`t want to wait long patience is not my virtue

But when it does happens it will happen too fast

Just as I want time to slow down.

Christmas and ex. drinker | Write Out Loud

Christmas and ex. drinker | Write Out LoudChristmas and ex-drinker

Christmas day at a green rural hotel and

for the first time in my life I was the only

non-drinker and this made me feel superior

since no other feelings were not available

 such as envy I had
goat chops with salad

about the only thing on the menu not sugary

or fattening the sense of superiority grew

to odium I spoke aloud to show how happy

I was and when they had liqueur and went on

the terrace fora smoke I preferred to sit inside

feeling superior and crying into my napkin  

a question

a questionA Question

Is Santa Claus

A paedophile

Surrounded by elves

No women

Work in Santa`s

Factory

I find

His interests in children

Is suspect

Grooming them

To become gift giving

Adults

Keeping his business going

Yule tide

Yule tideYule Tide

The pig

In the pen

Is being slaughtered

To day

Christmas starts

With a killing

Some get

Pork roast

Others get trotters

 In the yard

My neighbour

Is hosing away

The blood

His sacrificial

Duty done

And I got a shoulder ham 

Geography and racism

Geography and Racism

I have only seen

Africa from the deck

Of a ship sailing by

What I know comes

From books

White men meeting

In darkest Africa

The merchants followed

Soldiers

And colonisation

Racism is contagious and

It settled in the mind

Of Europeans

The illness widened to

Include everyone not white

Now we live

With our trespasses

It truly is a burden 

mystery tour

mystery tourMystery Tour

I hired a car wanted to drive to the country side

where I spent part of my childhood.

By a farmhouse that looked familiar, I stopped

a dog came out of an up ended barrel greeted me,

Is Jason coming home?

The farmer and his wife came out, 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 loaf with

blueberry jam on, my favourite 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 passed throwing up dust and when it settled the
couple,

 and the farm had
disappeared into the mist of time.   

cleaner air

cleaner airCleaner Air

New thinking of

The old ways

Use horse and carriage

In the city

Faster than

A white van can

And for post delivery

Pony Express

Will do wonders

And the bonus

Horse manure

Is good for the roses

Observational Poems : the futrure of Europe : DU Poetry

Observational Poems : the futrure of Europe : DU PoetryFuture

Europe

Have many old people

We need

Young people

To replace the aged

If we are to, continue

As nation states

Europe is big and

Underpopulated

We deny entry

To the millions knocking

On our doors

We atrophies

Into senility

Fearful of changes

But Europe of yesteryears

Is not like it is today

And Europe of

Tomorrow

Will not be as it now.

misapprehension

Misapprehension

On my way to lunch

Drove the wrong way

Turned and followed the car`s

Silhouette

In front of me

Speeded up to join it

The car caught up with its

Illusion

And became whole again

Lunch at the café

As usual

the fest

the festThe Fest 

The Christmas Eve began with smiles and laughter,

where I come from Christmas day is a hanger over day

after excesses the night before.

Plenty of food and drink, aquavit and beer this was long

before wine came the in thing to drink and we sang and gave

presents and had a jolly good time for a while.

Someone made a sarcastic remark that was met with

a bad tempered answered, suddenly everyone remembered

a slight going back twenty years ago and more

A fight broke out the yule tree ended up in the snow

police were called to calm things down and mother

came out of the kitchen serving coffee.

Next morning my father went out and collected tree decorations,

 good for next year`s Christmas party he wearily said,

and for once no once no one was arrested.

the gone is a dream

the gone is a dreamThe gone is a Dream

I drove passed my Savannah this afternoon mist covered yet,

 the sun rays got
through and bathed my dream in

wondrous mystic. I haven`t been here since last summer

my piece of Africa with tall grass and lion pride.

Every summer for twenty years I rode my scooter here and

knew ever blade of grass, olive trees and vines and I was

never attacked by any animals, not even the crocodiles in

the ditches bothered to make a splash.

Only once when I had strayed too far where the mountain

range appears the gypsies had a camp hidden behind

cypresses, their dogs gave chase, and I had to drive for my
life.

Perhaps, it was not quite like that but the Savannah was
there  

a place to dream and be a boy again when summers lasted

forever and trees where for climbing to the top and laugh

at the funny looking adults.

in defence of the lesser

in defence of the lesserIn Defence of the Lesser

Then it was Sunday and the easterly wind

curled around the house rattling windows

the hooligan is in an intimidating mood

the rain came, big scary drops that held stones

and sand of hatred in its interior.

Towns drowned as rivers overflowed and

the old and babies died hyperthermia.

We have tampered with nature axed trees

and our intelligence of pure logic will soon

destroy us as expendable humans and then

when humanity is so stupid, they can`t even

make a proper sling; there will be lush forests

palm dates and peace, but only if we stay

dumb, and favour love above anything else.

fig tree very lovely

fig tree very lovelyFig Tree very lovely

The fig tree in winters Is an eight armed skeleton

beyond help and no doctor nice will help this

because the tree is ugly and shudders when touched.

In the spring, the fig tree has none eloquent leaves never
quite green and

never quite sepia. In the fall, it is the sweetest of all
fought over by man and birds.

When its fruit has is picked it is an unloved tree again

I know of an honourable man they said he had erred

and he lost his wife, villa and swimming pool where his

beloved seals swam and at social gathering he was meanly

ignored and there were sniggers about seals.

His poverty was caused by bad investments that made him poor

and the poverty struck deserves no sympathy.

He felt like a fig tree in the depth of winter, when fall
came he won his money back

and was loved by his friends again

but he kept the fruit of his labour by himself.

the walk

the walkThe Walk

Long hot desert

Empty of people

Not even a camel in sight

He clutched a euro coin

In his sweaty palm

He was left handed

 Wanted to buy

A glass of beer

Hatless he fainted

Belly up

 Awoke at sun-down

 A date palm

Clutching a coin 

it is warmer | Write Out Loud

it is warmer | Write Out Loud

It is warmer

In Paris

They talk about

The weather

Eat frugally

Hamburgers made of

Indian cows

Turnips from Sweden

Potatoes

From Holland

Gobbledegook

And sign on

The dotted line.

confusion

confusionHer old head

Upon a pillow lie

I held her hand

She withdrew her

Hand

Looked

Into a distant

Past

And said

I wish you were

Your brother

Dipterous

DipterousA Dipterous

Walks across

The screen

Older than

Methuselah

For an insect

I blow

A lungful of air

To hasten it

I pick it up

Carry the fly

Outside

Put it in a flower pot

Dandelion

And leave it

To die in peace 

Zen and more

Zen and moreZen

Melting snow

 After rain

Hope begins

Haiku

Yule time a worry

Time short and little money 

Poinsettia 

Haiku

Chrysanthemum

A flower for the restless

And the river flows 

the clinic

the clinic

The Clinic 

 A faint echo

Of a scream

He had been

Absorbed by

The routine

Of the hospital

White coated

Doctors

 Nurses in white

Uniforms

And cleaners in blue

Oceans sailed | Write Out Loud

Oceans sailed | Write Out LoudThe Oceans sailed

 I drove down to the coast today, could feel it pull

after all I was in the navy for 30 years and the oceans

treated me well not letting my ship sink, drowning me.

The sea was grey/blue a monster asleep, yet not to

be trusted the marina was full of motor boats

 or shall we call them yachts?  They all looked alike made

of plastic shit used for summer weather only.

I was not a good seafarer didn`t like to sit in a mess hall playing cards,

 but I could sit for hours watching how the beast breathed in and out

and on stormy weather found a place on the deck just to see it rage.

Farewell my oceans I will not see you again nor shall I miss you a lover

 that holds no secrets in her embrace but death.

2015

20152015

The year of two thousand and fifteen,

has not been a good year for world peace.

and brotherhood of man. I despair of our

lack of empathy with children killed by

well- meaning bombs dropped by nations

 who look for peace through violence.

I recall from history books a king named

Croesus everything he touched turned into

gold and he died amidst plenty.

State sponsored violence spawn terror and

and newer versions of ISIS will not go away,

and we cannot understand that there will be

no peace before the whole world is a ruin if

do not come to our senses and stop feeding

terror`s voracious appetite.

our aggreesion

our aggreesion Our Aggression

We`re going out today for a drive, but it was cold and I was

thinking what had happened to a small town somewhere afar

and the nature around the town was flat sullen yet silky, but

 it was home for people of peace and young laughter.

Few people ventured out but sat in their yard in the evening

now that the town was in the grip of fanatical criminals.

A few places were open, though, two cafes where men could

drink coffee but not smoke, cigarettes and waterpipes had

 been outlawed, a sandy field where the young dreamed

 how to get away from this dangerous town drowning in fear

and paralyzing inertia

 No had heard a thing before bombs started falling killing everyone

 inside the cinema, low flying helicopters came and shot at

everything that moved, suddenly they left like shadows as

moonless night across a landscape not unlike the Dead Sea.

 Over 500 hundred people were killed mostly civilian and no

Paris sympathy for them. 

The western world had again conducted a mass murder in the name

of stopping terrorists. I sit by the fire and wonder why it that we in

the West thinks it has the right to start wars as we please and why

is it we so willingly follow demagogues and aggressors where they

go down the road of ruins, death and suffering, proudly we wear

 their medals, ribbons and we are oblivious to its ghastly irony.

We wrap us up in patriotic flags; dissent will not be tolerated we are

so perverted we do not see we are wrapped in a shroud.

population swing

population swingShifting population 

The foyer at the new hospital was full of women

It was a cold day, and they wore coats, brown /grey 

short and squat they looked like toys sprung live

 and had to see a doctor promptly.

Algarvian women tend to be short and after marriage 

grow sideways till they look as squares of flesh, but they

are beautiful   when young what they have in common

though is a tongue they never stop talking and that is why

men spend a lot of time in cafes drink wine and play cards.

Once upon a time this was an Arab province but the beauty

of the Semitic race didn`t stick, the Moslems brought their

 own women. The nearest I can compare them to are

 the Norwegian people of the north, who one day got, fed up

of cold winds and no oranges, populated this place we now

called the Algarve, and her people are fond of bacalao.

Indian elephant

Indian elephantIndian Elephant

I know of an Indian elephant that is small for it type, but very sharp.

 It worked in a circus one day it sat down and lectured the public

those who came here to laugh at animals and sad clowns.

It spoke of the injustice, why the rich pay no tax to help the poor.

The authorities didn't like this, and it was asked if it had a working permit,

the circus owner not wanting problems fired the little elephant that was

chased out of town by an angry mob that had read bad things about him in

the gutter press that in the name of democracy were allowed to print lies.

It took up living between two carob trees,

and since no one expects to see an elephant here, they didn`t see it.

I`m an exile cannot go home to my country up North because  there

I would live in penury.

My best friend was a communist leader has a small pension like mine,

we often sit on top of the elephant play cards and he always wins.

This I think it is because I`m a drawing room socialist and can easily be

swayed to lean right if they give me a bigger pension.

the climate summit

the climate summitThe Climate Summit

It was the tail end of a dream, two white feathers in my bed,

 which can mean two things either I`m coward, or an angel slept

by my side giving me the strength concerning the climate session

in Paris not to be cynical about it and all will be well in the end

there will only be red Indians left.

 Wonder what they get for dinner, top notch food the French like

to show off their culinary skills venison with truffles and the best

of wines and – but they do smoke some awful cigarettes and later

a Moulin Rouge nightclub the best of taste titillating red feathers

 and the street outside not lined by trees, but by ladies of the night

usually, ex-dancers now too old for the stage, and before the delegate

go home some with syphilis or HIV, they will agree that the meeting

was a jolly success and promises given in the climatic movement

 not kept by China and USA or for that matter India.