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