the escape

the escape

The Escape

A man coming home from work saw a shadow like a figure
leaning against

an olive tree it was Death, polishing his hoof and
sharpening his scythe.

The man said no, not me I`m too young to be harvested he then
took a plane

to Madrid in Spain where got employment in lawyer`s office.

At the first day, he knocking 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 their

time has come, greatly disturbed the man took a plane home
and death stood

leaning against an olive tree a shadow on a sunny autumnal
day. In the house,

his parents said crying the had just buried their son, they
didn't see or heard him,

and the man knew that henceforward he was Death`s little
helper.

This story is based on a Syrian story of a man riding from
Damascus across

the desert in the night to Baghdad to avoid death but a
drone picked him up

thought the horse was a jeep and fired off a rocket, the man
had to walk, to

Baghdad, but without water and dates he died of thirst and
hunger 

the incomprehensible

the incomprehensible

The incomprehensible

The sun was just going behind the westerly ridge

it had been a hot day, and the sun appeared angry

for a cosmic reason, and we don`t even know our

Mind and what influences it. A young man rents

A truck drives down the boulevard on Bastille Day

for a reason, we can only guess at as it has little to

do with Islam a faith he didn`t  strictly follow like

Most Muslims, a simple principle observed because it

is customary the way it is among Christians too.

An overheated brain little of education, reading

books how badly France had behaved in his land

once upon a time, an easy catch for those who

sow discontent for its own good.

You can have gendarmes and soldiers on every

street corner, bombs and helicopters scanning

dark windows with intense beams of light but you

 the cannot read
people' mind or their feelings.

We can reduce this absurd killing of the innocent

by including the disfranchised into our life listens

to their grievances and respect views that are not

sprung from our culture.

It is deep in the night now dogs bark something

has desorbed their peace but soon they go back

to sleep till the sun rises in the east and a coup

is in the making.

a day of recogning

Blog

A Day of Reckoning

Forenoon, it had been raining during the night

the wizened winter landscape was now green

and amongst olive trees long-legged sheep grazed;

their pastor and, on occasions, executioner, sat on

a boulder casting dreams into the future; man and

beast, rustic peace, pity I hadn’t a camera.

On my way to the village to buy the papers, a sheep

had been run over by a truck, with its stomach burst

open and its content glinting in the sun, it was still

alive. Ah, you dumb animal abandoned by everyone  

it looked at me without any hope of deliverance,

so I reversed my car and ran over its head.

As the skull was crushed its eyes popped out, landed

at the middle of the road that now had eyes to see

with, the shock of this made it shudder a long rent in

the asphalt wench black tears trickled. Quickly 

I threw the eyes into the thicket which was instantly

transformed into a field of tinkling bluebells.

From nowhere a road gang of small, denim- clad men  

with big hats appeared, they were badly paid lived

on road kills. Expertly strewing soft sand on blood, filled

cracks with healing asphalt, and off they drove with

their dinner. Empty road it had no knowledge of what

had just occurred, it was up to me to remember.  

the new feminist as she exist in the guardian

the new feminist as she exists in the

The New Feminist

I was watching a TV play; Hercules Poirot was in it, uproar in India and some British officers,

 killed this caused a furore in the English press terrorists had struck again we know the British

are not racists many aristocratic Indians live in London of the type I would call traitors,

as great wealth tend to make the rich collaborators.

 I was writing about the glass ceiling broken by women working in high finance, they too

are turncoats to the cause of equality the press especially the Guardian think they are admirable

 but they only are nothing more than grabbing pirates in skirts.

I`m thinking of the suffering of Palestinian women their glass ceiling is protecting their children

when their job is to resist an occupying army and help their men who fight intruders to their death.

Anyway, Poirot solved that case it was about money and love

i t always is perhaps we have to ban then both and Poirot can look for stray dogs

affection

affection

The Business of affection

When you couple fall in love

and the love is broken and

not following its natural course

to fulfilment and a union of hearts

that sings from the same musical

sheets of harmony

The one left alone will feel a pain

that is physical in it intensity

no one night stand fuelled by alcohol

can assuage a hearts loneliness

In time the person will fall in love again

and again and leave behind

broken marriages should he be a man

we call him a Casanova and if it is

a woman she is feisty.

But they are lonely people trying to find

back to the feeling of the first love

the less important

the less important

The less important

 Every TV channel
carries

the same news it is as it is sent from a news

central Obama is good and is Putin bad

and no one asks about its verity it is just read

by some nice people who look sincere.

I have been overcome by angst it starts from

the inside going out

my skin is grey and pale and sweat drips on

my T. shirt.  

I should know but I can`t find the source of

its conception, but I try something about

eyes and in them I read surprise of the oncoming

I saw him fall

heard the crack of a broken neck

Walking away nothing I could do but

stepping over an inert body and into boisterous life

the less important

the less important

The less important

 Every TV channel
carries

the same news it is as it is sent from a news

central Obama is good and is Putin bad

and no one asks about its verity it is just read

by some nice people who look sincere.

I have been overcome by angst it starts from

the inside going out

my skin is grey and pale and sweat drips on

my T. shirt.  

I should know but I can`t find the source of

its conception, but I try something about

eyes and in them I read surprise of the oncoming

I saw him fall

heard the crack of a broken neck

Walking away nothing I could do but

stepping over an inert body and into boisterous life

Cracks in the Mirror Poetry & photography - Home

Cracks in the Mirror Poetry & photography - Home

When the aged go wild 

Our hotel in Porto was at the highest point

although we had been promised a room downtown so we

didn’t have to walk so far, fucks then I had paid in advance

across the street from the hotel a big disused water tower

from the time people didn`t bother with showers

every day making us smell like whores a Saturday night.

We decided to walk into town, not a wise choice

she with her hips and my feet we were overtaken by a snail

and it was time for late lunch.

Later we took a taxi, and I noticed a big, but dead rat
outside

the hotel great commotion but as they were getting rid

of the rodent, a car stopped over it.

After resting well, they arranged a trip for us to see
famous

houses and an art museum and a ride along the Douro

we had our evening meal safe place away from

the water tower which suspected was crawling with rats.

The tour bus didn`t stop anywhere just showed us

The places and statues if famous men pointing towards

the east the bus trundled downed to the bloody Douro

and narrows was full of tourist and cars, it represented

all that I dislike me life, my wife fell asleep, but I
managed

take a few interesting photos of a house that had been
pulled down

but you could still see the painting people used  where

the lived loved and it was the nearest I come to art that
day.

when bordello was fun

when bordello was fun

When a Bordello was fun

I sit down with the best intention to write about flowers

and love which made me think the whore houses tend to have

plastic flowers and that is apt as it is

not a place for romance red roses and chrysanthemums

I have had much fun at house of ill repute not only the sex

but also dancing the laughter and the girls liked a young

sailors and the possibility of warmer feelings.

I  know of seamen who
married former prostitutes and their

marriages have normally been a happy one.

Time has changed women victims now of men’s sexual demands

And it has been outlawed in many countries.

Just as well now girls are called sex workers like hire home
help

cold cash on the table the price depending on the position
like

asking the home help to weed the garden, well you have to
pay

extra or that

blessing

blessing

The Blessing  

The is no war

In Syria

The Brexit

Was a dream

By the discontent

ISIS doesn`t

Exists it is

Propaganda

There is

Football though,

Between

Franc

And

Portugal

That is

The only

News today

high finance

high finance

high finance

High Finance

I was staring at a blank screen when the cleaner came

She was late and told me why

I didn`t want to know about her grandchildren and who

Have no work yet have good education

I have many news channels they talk about trade it is as

They live in a bubble that has no sharp corners they wear

Suits and hug each other while talking about trade

I saw a movie where the protagonist said “politicians use

Women as props but they prefer to fuck each other.”

Beautiful rust coloured earth in your hands, flowers and

The bee that keeps nature humming is not trade or high

Finance, I wish the men in suits will look up go outside inhale,

The day even in the rain, does not sit in a restaurant dining

Food paid for by us who think life is more than trade.

the canditates

the candidates

The candidates for world dominance

The contenders who want to sit on the highest branch on the
tree of power should

not be elected because they want it too badly

Theirs are a grab for dominance for its own sake and if
lucky the book of history,

the part where leaders are remembered, we know Saddam
Hussein, Stalin and Hitler

they too are remembered by history and given enough time
will be Admired and

books will be written in their defence

The contenders talk about trade meaning high finance, not a
factory that produces

products and employ people, they mean the banks, money
lenders.

They fear ordinary people but keep us enslaved by debt we should
take a stand

as they do in Palestine, who are spied upon day and night,
yet the truth slips through

 the occupier can
arrest you for a joke.

No one lived here before we came it all belong to us as they
proudly lie to themselves

as they slowly sink into the apathy of a frozen culture and
self-loathing.

Tomorrow it will be your turn to be arrested for speaking
your mind.

a moral sonnet

a moral sonnet

A Moral Sonnet

 A big crow and a
sparrow which had painted itself

In the colour of the big bird to appear masterful became

Good friends as the both suffered from bombastic

Self-believe and they make a pact to kill the ageing eagle

And his brood the did and by doing so killed millions of
lesser

Birds which in despair turned and pecked each other

The sand became rubicund and from a distance looked like

A carpet for kings and potentates

From the eastern states, vultures came to feed and defend

To get the big crow and the pretend one, off their land

The crow flew home the false one had a mud bath to look

Like common sparrows but is of no avail the sparrows that

Had danced with the crow was shunned and travel from

Country to country and is sleepless in expensive houses-.

the scent of sonnet

the scen

The scent of sonnet

I was watching a TV program of Hercules Poirot the heroine in

the plot had no tits and wore an evening dress with aplomb….

Clearly, she had not sat on a carpet

in the forest of spring where the animal of love roams it is

green as spring grass has a pink underbelly looks like a purring

cat or a puppy that softly barks. It droplets of scents

that make lovers enamoured for a day or so sadly there is

always a tomorrow of regrets for some.

If the woman with small tits happens to sit on a carpet in

the glade she will fall in love and pad her bra

and that is ok, why should she not enhance her lack this

bagatelle when there are tringles of love in the air

and if this does not help there is always divorce much a lonely

the man is satisfied with a triangle

goalkeeper

Blog

 Goalkeeper

When there is a football match on the TV I switch it

On the last ten minutes of the match my boredom threshold

Is low and to sit there watching the game for ninety minutes, really!

I used to play football as a boy, goalkeeper of all things then

I grew up and chased girls instead which often was painful

Like accidently falling in love, that happened frequently

Falling in love is painful walking into walls and being nice

To children related to the object of my adoration

Then the pain of being rejected long walks and dark thoughts

Under a night sky, bittersweet flagellation why did she leave me.

This too ended now I`m a goalkeeper again defend the goal and try

To save the ball death is kicking my way

brexit and other breaks

brexit and other breaks

Brexit and other Breaks

This has been a great day for reporters they

have been feasting on Brexit squeezing the last drop

 of misery like a dish
cloth, and the channels have

been repeating themselves and stealing each

others clichés and one wonders is there still a war

in the Middle East.

Tomorrow is the day of the analysts and academics

they will explain for us the reason why Britain left EU

like we didn`t know

 if you ignore the
wishes

of the common man if you think everything is about

money and not the dignity and culture, this breakup

will happen in many countries.

Bureaucrats have charts showing voting pattering how

interesting an exercise in futility.

You let down the working man and forgot democracy is

a double-edged sword, and I say: damn you all because

your negligence has left a hole for demagogues to fill.  

the ex. drinker

the ex. drinker

The ex-drinker

He had stopped drinking looked remarkably well

his wife was proud of him less so his friend who

never saw him in the bar they sometimes met him

in the street but his manners was formal.

Promoted at work, bought a new car indeed his

wife was proud of him as were everyone in his family

They found him hanged in the shed his calm had

been a deep depression, he had everything to live so

why did he top himself? Not easy to say I think it was

because no one had asked him if he was happy how

he felt in this new life of sobriety which they all took

for granted and ignored his silence.

This role he had to play as a middle-class man in suit

was painful, he liked drinking it made him dream and

he wrote them down, but when he began the sober life

his wife threw his dreams into the fire.

The Blue line

The Blue line

The Blue Line

What a week for the international press

Brexit and its endless drips of small minded politics   

The French winning against Germany at last

A vindication of unsolved hatred

To top it up the murder of five police officers In Texas

No doubt there will be a liberal understanding

 Black people have
been killed by the police

So it is ok then.

Not so, there is no excuse for murder

There is nothing here to understand.

The cities of America are awash with arms

It is the citizens right to bear arms

They fear the government may turn against them

The eagle of war has come home

US troops have killed many civilians in Afghanistan

When people are disrespected

When people are seen as inferior,

The soul is poisoned

And uniformed men are killed in Texas

 Is it poetic justice?

to love the self

to love the self

To love the self

My neighbour has four small dogs in the night if they hear

a cat they bark to protect their owner warning the unseen

enemy to stay away. The dim dogs know what they are,

for me, it is a struggle to know myself my likes and
dislikes

are shifting sand the landscape is never the same I wake up

In the night ask what the hell I am doing here.

I meet people who no longer know me I put it down to

their elderliness as I find my old age impossible to
grasp 

I like triangles better than squares and are drawn to see

beauty in the odd ugly shapes fascinates me.

I don`t think the world has changed in my life time, well

perhaps the computers anything else is only redefined

and made easier to access for me this is easy but of course

Looking at myself in pictures going back forty years, I
still fit

 the same suit and has
been modern and old-fashioned

several times and is still in good condition wish I could
say

the same about me my I never really liked what I looked like

and what I think as dreamlike as the Saragossa Sea.

Nepal

Nepal

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 get 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 altitude 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 syphoned off and
little

Reach the people of Nepal.

To whom who cares Nepal is also the birthplace of Buddhism.

Blo LIZARD SONNET

Blog

A Lizard Sonnet

If you travel to escape the small lizard on your back

You will eventually be outside your parents’ house

Only they have long since go

Someone else lives there perhaps a child sleep in your bed

Dreaming your dreams

You walk down a street where you used to play

But no one knows, and the sense of loss overwhelms you

Swallow hard not to cry because your memory is untrue.

You left to get a small-minded town, poverty and screams

 In the night, but it was worth going back to remain you what

An awful place you left.

I have a small lizard in the kitchen have tried

To kill it because it is grey and without redeeming colours that

Could make it into a pet but it is too quick and hide in corners

I can`t reach so it can live for now. 

Oslo sonnet

Oslo sonnet

Oslo Sonnet

Today I made a vegetarian meal it was not any good, but we
ate it, after all, it was healthy and I remembered the time when I had the idea
of becoming a vegetarian cook or chef as it is called now got an interview in
Oslo and took the night train. Third class and the open carriage was full;
luckily I had a blanket with me I used it as the tent so I didn`t have to talk
to anyone. 

It was a seven-hour journey it was so boring I was ready to
get up a scream but somehow fell into a trance. We arrived at eight the station
café was open I had a coffee and fell asleep. A man in uniform woke me and told
me to leave this was not rest- room for vagabonds.    Oslo was entirely grey, building, people,
the road it was as colours had fled to a tropical paradise and cold coconut
milk first thing in the morning

By now I had lost all interest in the vegetarian thing and
ate eggs and plenty of bacon took the train home but in a first class
compartment. At home, there was a cable for me a job on a ship a week later I was
in Jamaica where the colours in Oslo also had gone. I met a girl we danced to
the music from jukebox something about a blanket on the ground and the night in
Jamaica was blue silk, the moon was full and golden.

a fairy tale

a fairy tale

A Fairy Tale

This skinny lonely wolf reduced to eating worms

Expulsed from his arguing with the leader wolf how best

To catch caribous

Nose to the ground it found an open chest of fifty

Gold ducats and since they shone so bright he ate them all

And heavy was its belly

When other wolf saw his stomach they thought he was

A successful hunter and he taught them how to kill

Caribous and deer too. 

As a leader dog, he was the first to eat from a kill and

Left behind a coin or as they a ducat and a hunter stalked him

To find in his excrete another coin

Fifty times the hunter dug into wolf shift and came up rich

And trekked home but a blizzard came, his was ill prepared

This heavyweight he dragged about

Put the ducats under a tree and tire he came home

When the weather cleared, he found the tree the coins were gone

And a boney wolf was walking away it had a huge stomach.

a landscape painting

a landscape painting

The painting

I remember it well

The dirt road

The neglected

Domestic landscape

Abandoned

Growing wild

Tall

Ongoing battle

Freedom

For the strongest

Tree

I walked

Into the painting

Wore clogs

Yellow dust

Behind me

Going North 

paris sonnet

paris sonnet

Paris Sonnet

 I visited Paris a few
days ago went into a café

And ordered a cream cake, the slice was huge

And had a yellow liquid on top, I was assured

It was sweaty sugar.

Tiny footsteps

No, it was decoration

Made by an artistic baker and a fork

I have diabetes should not eat sugary things

Put a serviette over the cake, drank my coffee and left.

The river Seine was still high

I just this morning read that Paris has a plaque of rats

Discerning taste prefers cake shops and why not

Who wants to live in that dirty river blind lovers

Think are romantic.