Alicante

Alicante

The Friend

I dislike morbidity the end of the world prophets,

yet there was a knock on my door, they were clearing

boulders from the field where I had buried my dog

between to big rocks, opened the bag a black bin liner

she was there ok, white bones and

This was a perfect Hamlet moment, but I’m not Yurok

and to use her head as a letter press was not on. 

There are no secrets in a hamlet, they knew the dog

remains belonged to me
and I left the bag in the shed

till my wife discovered
it. For the time being the dog’s bones

are in the back of my car, when driving I often see her face

in the back mirror,
she wants closure. What we had is

memories something of no consequence the love

we shared, the flash when dog and man are in harmony

Alicante

Alicante

 I do not like the Spanish language and is sceptical to its people when

they talk very fast they cover you with spittle a breath  of wet,

well, chewed garlic. If you to a bar in the evening they serve you with

small platters of food that all are drowning in mustard mayones

In Alicante where thousands of Norwegians live, they now nothing 

of the life of the Spanish, only socialize amongst themselves and

from some houses you see the Norwegian flag snapping in the wind.

The Spanish take in this with a spitting humour, the people who have

bought houses here can so easily lose them again, and they have little

impact on Spanish culture as they have nothing to offer. When, snow

falls in Norway, the sun shines in Alicante, only  the evening is cold and

damp caused by cheaply built housing and those with bad lungs should

go somewhere else, but the Norwegians can live on as long as they

Can see the sun and think they are middle class. But should I talk living

in Portugal that is really a feeble province of Spain with  a population

too meek to take on big business and corrupt politicians.

Alicante

 I do not like the Spanish language and is sceptical to its people when

they talk very fast they cover you with spittle a breath  of wet,

well, chewed garlic. If you to a bar in the evening they serve you with

small platters of food that all are drowning in mustard mayones

In Alicante where thousands of Norwegians live, they now nothing 

of the life of the Spanish, only socialize amongst themselves and

from some houses you see the Norwegian flag snapping in the wind.

The Spanish take in this with a spitting humour, the people who have

bought houses here can so easily lose them again, and they have little

impact on Spanish culture as they have nothing to offer. When, snow

falls in Norway, the sun shines in Alicante, only  the evening is cold and

damp caused by cheaply built housing and those with bad lungs should

go somewhere else, but the Norwegians can live on as long as they

Can see the sun and think they are middle class. But should I talk living

in Portugal that is really a feeble province of Spain with  a population

too meek to take on big business and corrupt politicians.

Parisians

Parisians

Parisians 

Paris is often on my mind, she was a pianist in an unfashionable

night-club had a smoky voice- at least 40 a day- she looked like

a night without sex was a paltry end of her struggle to keep her

skin, the glowing youth of remembrance. Our eye blinks collided

trolldom? She was a hex and I was drawn to her charm.

In the morning I heard her in the kitchen she was pouring a drink

that if water is added looks like milk- She went into the loo and

had a pee and I was quietly grateful it was not a dump. 

I drifted off to sleep and only woke up when she awoke me having

made toast and coffee- She wanted me to stay, but I had a date at

twelve reading English written poetry for a group of Parisians

middle class twits, who would lamely applaud while thinking they

could have done it better in their legionary accent they thought was

an elevated a form of expression and we dumb people meekly have

accepted as a truth, the accolade of refinement. My French, elderly

seductress was from  Morocco and her father had been an officer in

the army who when he came to France was offered a job as a doorman,

a job he refused he went home and shot himself.

Yet I love the underbelly of Paris, it is where the poor and loses live

and if one of the succeed Paris middle-class will claim them and say

they were typical Parisians. 

Accountancy

Accountancy

Accountancy

Sunday I was driving around and had my camera handy

but I was not in the mood, the plain, my little savannah

was and has always been a flat piece of land between

two hills that looks as belonging to a desirable queen’s

bejewelled bosom.  So I didn’t take any photos instead

I counted trees. When fifteen I worked in an accountant

office, this mainly because my mother wanted me to go

to work in a suit. It was boring work and to relive it

I made individual numbers into people; I was fired and

the suit I had bought on credit was handed back to

the second- hand shop. I went back to school and became

a cook, which after two years bored me too. Back to school

and I became the officers who do the books.

200 bushes and trees before the bridge

My job is superfluous now ships has a few crews and they

are normally  badly paid, Technology it is called.

From the bridge to the village of Benafim I counted 400

olive trees, 245 almond trees and sixteen Carob trees.

Accountancy

Accountancy

Accountancy

Sunday I was driving around and had my camera handy

but I was not in the mood, the plain, my little savannah

was and has always been a flat piece of land between

two hills that looks as belonging to a desirable queen’s

bejewelled bosom.  So I didn’t take any photos instead

I counted trees. When fifteen I worked in an accountant

office, this mainly because my mother wanted me to go

to work in a suit. It was boring work and to relive it

I made individual numbers into people; I was fired and

the suit I had bought on credit was handed back to

the second- hand shop. I went back to school and became

a cook, which after two years bored me too. Back to school

and I became the officers who do the books.

200 bushes and trees before the bridge

My job is superfluous now ships has a few crews and they

are normally  badly paid, Technology it is called.

From the bridge to the village of Benafim I counted 400

olive trees, 245 almond trees and sixteen Carob trees.

beauty the sight

beauty the sight

Beauty, the Sight

My heart is a block of cement pavement, sadness

my poetry is prose and little more.

I have written collections of poetry but in the end

they are mostly political musings.

Yet, concrete cannot stop nature, through cracks

tiny green grass grows, or you may call it a weed.

Perhaps I have got something written that in the mass

of words there are pearls of poetry.

Once I saw a motorway not yet open for cars,

a caravan of gypsies, with their carts full of children

small horses and dogs, traversing in peace.

I know they will be there when cars are a curiosity

living a life of quiet contentment and they will

take little interest in the disappearance of the white

A race who thought
they could have it all,

and that was exquisite poetry, beauty and the random

A kismet of faith, a man trying to be God.