the gays of India

The Gays of India

In India gay people can´t get married and that is sad for those who think

a ring on a finger is enough to utter love and loyalty. Liberal as I´m I ought

to sign letters an express my outrage against the Indian government,

but my heart is not in this battle of hysterical expression of democracy.

There many inequalities, say, the plight of the Palestinians and now

the dilemma of Negev Bedouins who soon will find themselves flattened

by this juggernaut of harsh, unthinking quest for security and land; it

will not stop, pause or think of a peaceful alternative. How to stop this blitz,

this amoral action before it destroys both perpetrators and victims

in an orgy of bloodletting. Then there is Syria, this intractable problem

this can cast us into a catastrophic null point when someone will use

nuclear weapon they profess not to have, in the name of feverish existential

survival.  So the gays of India can´t for now get married, what can I say?

 Carry on fighting for your right, but do not fall into the trap to think the rest

 of the world thinks your problem is of outmost importance. 

the mare and I

The Mare and I

Georgia on my mind, I remember a song the sweetness of America,

I have never been there but once I was in Huston, Texas, my ship

was there for repairs. I rented a car and drove deep into

the countryside which was hot and dry Just like in a western movie, 

I stopped at a dud farm and they gave an old mare to ride.

When tired of riding the mare and I walked side by side along dusty

tracks and tumbleweeds and I thought of Indians who lived here

and left no history behind other than baddies in western movies.

Both the mare and I knew while there might be historic changes and

upheaval, human nature remains the same; it is about war and peace,

love, hate and jealousy...and finally death. But not quite that, above

all there is dignity and respect for life.  Texas has a big sun and it was

setting. “Home on the ranch” a song remembered. Time to get back

to the ocean and admire the dolphins and listen to their song.

common ailment

A Common Ailment

Eleven o´clock in the forenoon I had been to my

doctor and was going into the nearest cafe for

a coffee, but soon the city dwellers filled the place

with the smell of unmade beds, uncombed hair

and the despair of lonely nights. The fresh bun I was

 eating absorbed it all and I could not eat it.

Many people live in cold rooms, have no gas and

kitchens are full dirty pots and pans.

Apathy sets in personal hygiene suffers, why bother?

Sleeping in the same beddings for weeks, socks and

underwear grimy and soiled, which results in fatigue

of the mind . Self-esteem is replaced by self-loathing,

unless someone speaks up or bangs pot lids together

their life will be short, empty of pleasure and light. 

deception

The Deception

Temporarily we drove through the night

cocooned in its interior nothing could

touch  us here where asphalt and tyres made

ductile, harmonious music. We drove past

many villages half submerged by the night,

yet spoke of peace, work is done, time to

rest and let nature take care, and let dogs too

given the right to bark at the pale moon.

A car overtakes blaring horn and laud music,

Peace is shattered as shards of glass falling off

a towering building shaken in the fatal clutches

of an earthquake. Illusory life is, our hold is as

puny as a baby´s grip on his mother´s thumb or

frail as an old man´s grasp on his walking stick.

seclusion

The Curse of Seclusion

The emaciated dog so lonely it sought company

by looking into a puddle. Afar glittering street light

 It had been there seeking food and shelter, but had

been chased away even, by those who had lapdogs.

 It heard step, an old man walking slowly bent down

opened a paper bag and fed the cure bread crumbs.

The dog thought “apparently he thinks I´m a duck,

that´s ok, I´m so hungry and lonely it will have to do.”

fluctuating fortunes

Fluctuating Fortunes

There was a brutal dictator, a strong man, who ruled a unruly

country with a steel sword that dripped of menaces and blood.

For a while he was our ally when he fought a war with a country

 we didn´t like; and we helped him with weapon and intelligence.

Yet there was another side to him, women were not oppressed

under his rule, they could dress as they liked and seek the highest

education. The Christian community too was accepted, and people

 could walk out at night in peace; but he went too far, invaded

a country that was our friend. Well, we invaded and he was duly

hanged and few tears were shed. For the women the revolution

was a disaster, no longer can they go out without risk being shot for

not wearing a chador and the Christians were falling over themselves

 to flee or risk being killed.  That is the way of the world when there

is a upheaval the minorities and women have to pay the price. 

 

who is a prisoner now

Who is a Prisoner Now

My back yard has high walls and is like sun trap, I sit here and

get a tan in winters... the walls, cracked, need a lick of paint.

I can see a map of Europe, lakes, rivers and open plains

where wolves roam and hunt elk, and man shot wolves.

The map changes I now see the Caribbean and the Islands

dotted about. When I was on a small tank ship years ago I had

a chance to go ashore, visit and explore most of the Islands

.... mainly I fear, my interest was to meet lovely girls, of what

 these Islands have many, and with a few of them swam in

crystal clear waters of innocence.  I also had the sense to see

 those pearls of Islands in early morning haze. 

So many years ago, yet I remember Teresa, in Curacao, and that

is a great recall, as the Island itself is rather flat and has little

 to offer of beauty, its only claim to fame is a big oil refinery and

the largest camp of prostitutes I have ever seen. Anyway the sun is

setting and shadows erase my map, time to go in and lit the fire,

 but reminiscence of a time gone by lingers.