The Only and the Lonely
She’s old her eyes have the faded shade
of stone washed denim, dressed in black,
“since my husband died” she says, sits in
my café and drink a cup of hot chocolate
every afternoon.
Not married, she has been alone too long
has invented her children, sits and talk to
them on the mobile phone; awful children
her mobile never rings, tells me that one
daughter is a lawyer
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Filial affection
Filial Affection
I can hear her whimper in the night, I must get up
put my frogman suit on and go to her, she sits in
a cove dressed only in a sea weed jumper, there are
holes in her fishnet stocking; yes, you are right my
little daughter is a mermaid
It was July day long time ago when I met her mum,
the dolphin, a hopeless affair doomed to failure, but
did we try! The baby stayed in my swimming pool,
while her mother swam to the coast of Greenland
and feeding off the shrimps there
When my tiny girl became a teenager she went back
to her mother and they both swam to Greenland; and
I thought I should never see her again. Tired she sits
and waits for me. I must join her, in her world, now
that I sold my house with the swimming pool.
I can hear her whimper in the night, I must get up
put my frogman suit on and go to her, she sits in
a cove dressed only in a sea weed jumper, there are
holes in her fishnet stocking; yes, you are right my
little daughter is a mermaid
It was July day long time ago when I met her mum,
the dolphin, a hopeless affair doomed to failure, but
did we try! The baby stayed in my swimming pool,
while her mother swam to the coast of Greenland
and feeding off the shrimps there
When my tiny girl became a teenager she went back
to her mother and they both swam to Greenland; and
I thought I should never see her again. Tired she sits
and waits for me. I must join her, in her world, now
that I sold my house with the swimming pool.
the hostage
The Hostage.
A man, in a small town in Texas,
robbed a bank; then stuck a gun
into his mouth and took himself
hostage. Outside, when asked to
free the hostage he took the gun
out to answer and was shot dead
by the sheriff
A man, in a small town in Texas,
robbed a bank; then stuck a gun
into his mouth and took himself
hostage. Outside, when asked to
free the hostage he took the gun
out to answer and was shot dead
by the sheriff
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
A War Hero
The big gull stood on its realm, ocean cleaned rocks
of the outer sea, snowy white chest, blue/grey wings
that spanned big as an osprey’s, yellow beak and
clear green eyes, but when a hint of red anger in them
gleamed other gulls flew clear.
When the ocean is irate and breaks over rocks it
take abode in a coastal town where it is well know
and famous, for once it shat on Adolf Hitler’s hat as
he strode from his yacht and a band of Quislings,
played Austrian oompah music
Domestic Nazis went to the shoals, tried to blow
them up, but sea was white topped, their boat
sprung a leak and they had to be rescued by local
fishermen, who were told not to speak of this affair;
an impossible request… of course.
The seagull became a symbol of resistance and
also showed how banal dictatorship can be, when
it puts a prize on a gull’s head, and hunts it with
flying machines. Vanity is silly as pride and fools
silver, fishermen and war heroes know that.
The big gull stood on its realm, ocean cleaned rocks
of the outer sea, snowy white chest, blue/grey wings
that spanned big as an osprey’s, yellow beak and
clear green eyes, but when a hint of red anger in them
gleamed other gulls flew clear.
When the ocean is irate and breaks over rocks it
take abode in a coastal town where it is well know
and famous, for once it shat on Adolf Hitler’s hat as
he strode from his yacht and a band of Quislings,
played Austrian oompah music
Domestic Nazis went to the shoals, tried to blow
them up, but sea was white topped, their boat
sprung a leak and they had to be rescued by local
fishermen, who were told not to speak of this affair;
an impossible request… of course.
The seagull became a symbol of resistance and
also showed how banal dictatorship can be, when
it puts a prize on a gull’s head, and hunts it with
flying machines. Vanity is silly as pride and fools
silver, fishermen and war heroes know that.
lemon love
Lemon Love.
On the hill where serious olive tree look
like an army of ancient generals, a lone
citrus tree stands and I, a yellow lemon,
longing for love.
The maiden, who milk the dawn, came
and picked and caressed me with her
strong hands and kissed me tenderly till
I almost blushed.
She tripped on an exposed olive root
I fell out of her hands and rolled down hill
came to rest between two rocks where
a snake swallowed me whole
She killed the snake freed and dried me
on her apron that had pretty bluebells on
forgave me for running away then she
cut me in half squishing me dry.
On the hill where serious olive tree look
like an army of ancient generals, a lone
citrus tree stands and I, a yellow lemon,
longing for love.
The maiden, who milk the dawn, came
and picked and caressed me with her
strong hands and kissed me tenderly till
I almost blushed.
She tripped on an exposed olive root
I fell out of her hands and rolled down hill
came to rest between two rocks where
a snake swallowed me whole
She killed the snake freed and dried me
on her apron that had pretty bluebells on
forgave me for running away then she
cut me in half squishing me dry.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The misfits
The Misfits.
Snow, powdered glass thawed became slush and
dejected rain fell, bored children sat in sheds hitting
the smaller ones over the head with wooden spoons.
No snowman with coal eyes and carrot nose was
made that year as dirty paws on clean kitchen floors
became a top issue; the ministry of health exiled dogs
and, mysteriously, also ducks, from suburban homes.
Then it was summer, a dry one, yellow lawns, dead
frogs, and dust on rubber plants.
Olga, the mother, took to drink kept her bottle of gin
under the sink, sobbed every day into her dry rubber
plant, it thrived and sprouted gum. Her neglected man
looked as a tramp till a mermaid took pity taught him
to swim, when they make love it takes time cause he
has to surface every so often. The mermaid doesn’t
mind at last she has found a man who’s not in a hurry
to watch sport on the TV. Of Olga’s two children one
became a diver and the other, an alcoholic petty thief.
Snow, powdered glass thawed became slush and
dejected rain fell, bored children sat in sheds hitting
the smaller ones over the head with wooden spoons.
No snowman with coal eyes and carrot nose was
made that year as dirty paws on clean kitchen floors
became a top issue; the ministry of health exiled dogs
and, mysteriously, also ducks, from suburban homes.
Then it was summer, a dry one, yellow lawns, dead
frogs, and dust on rubber plants.
Olga, the mother, took to drink kept her bottle of gin
under the sink, sobbed every day into her dry rubber
plant, it thrived and sprouted gum. Her neglected man
looked as a tramp till a mermaid took pity taught him
to swim, when they make love it takes time cause he
has to surface every so often. The mermaid doesn’t
mind at last she has found a man who’s not in a hurry
to watch sport on the TV. Of Olga’s two children one
became a diver and the other, an alcoholic petty thief.
Haiku and Tanka
Haiku
Languid winter came
Kissed my brow till I froze
Indoors now, I stay.
Haiku
Overcast, dull summer
Where are life, love and laughter?
Rain streaks my window.
Senryu
In an empty house
Silence is a sad prisoner
That sighs in the night.
Tanka
How lamentable it is
This broil to keep the belly
Inside the belt
Not swelling over as a dough
The baker forgot to knead.
Languid winter came
Kissed my brow till I froze
Indoors now, I stay.
Haiku
Overcast, dull summer
Where are life, love and laughter?
Rain streaks my window.
Senryu
In an empty house
Silence is a sad prisoner
That sighs in the night.
Tanka
How lamentable it is
This broil to keep the belly
Inside the belt
Not swelling over as a dough
The baker forgot to knead.
Monday, January 14, 2008
The Suit.
I had bought a suit at the sale it was striped and according to
the mirror in the hall I looked smart, as a successful business
man. At the newsagent’s the girl smiled and said my suit was
lovely, but as I turned to go out I sensed mockery in her grin,
and her suppressed laughter followed me down the street till
I turned a corner. Stopped at a big shop window looked hard
and honestly at myself and was shocked. I saw an elephant
trying to look as a zebra, worse, a doorman, at a seedy hotel;
a failed mobster who now procures girls for the guests.
Passersby were staring at me, some with a smile,
others with contempt, it was now I noticed the window displayed sexy
lingerie. Horrified, so they sought I was a pervert, pained I
took off my glasses and since faces were now indistinct it
didn’t matter so much what they thought, but I sensed their
hissing giggle. Found solitude in a park on a bench amongst
green bushes, falling leaves and birdsong I read my paper in
peace. Coming home my wife asked me where I had been,
since my suit was covered in bird droppings
I had bought a suit at the sale it was striped and according to
the mirror in the hall I looked smart, as a successful business
man. At the newsagent’s the girl smiled and said my suit was
lovely, but as I turned to go out I sensed mockery in her grin,
and her suppressed laughter followed me down the street till
I turned a corner. Stopped at a big shop window looked hard
and honestly at myself and was shocked. I saw an elephant
trying to look as a zebra, worse, a doorman, at a seedy hotel;
a failed mobster who now procures girls for the guests.
Passersby were staring at me, some with a smile,
others with contempt, it was now I noticed the window displayed sexy
lingerie. Horrified, so they sought I was a pervert, pained I
took off my glasses and since faces were now indistinct it
didn’t matter so much what they thought, but I sensed their
hissing giggle. Found solitude in a park on a bench amongst
green bushes, falling leaves and birdsong I read my paper in
peace. Coming home my wife asked me where I had been,
since my suit was covered in bird droppings
alms
Alms
Sunday evening sermon and as the parishioners
leave this up-market church, some are in a good
mood and feel generous towards the beggars at
the door and give coins, others, of moral frugal
hearts are busy reading a leaflet- handed out in
the church- and thus didn’t see the supplicants.
Had a fifty centimes coin in my pocket, which
I intended to the man with the Labrador hound,
as I did so the dog followed the transaction with
serious eyes, as far as the dog understood it, its
master was higher up on the human hierarchy
then me, after all I was the one doing the giving.
Sunday evening sermon and as the parishioners
leave this up-market church, some are in a good
mood and feel generous towards the beggars at
the door and give coins, others, of moral frugal
hearts are busy reading a leaflet- handed out in
the church- and thus didn’t see the supplicants.
Had a fifty centimes coin in my pocket, which
I intended to the man with the Labrador hound,
as I did so the dog followed the transaction with
serious eyes, as far as the dog understood it, its
master was higher up on the human hierarchy
then me, after all I was the one doing the giving.
the last farewell
The Last Farewell.
When I worked as an orderly at a clinic in New York,
(now shut) that used to look after celebs of the music
and theatre world, I met Marilyn for the very last time.
Dressed in a fur coat – and nothing else, hair untidy on
her breath the lingering smell of alcohol; behind her
a gelatinous, howling mob of reporters that wouldn’t
let go of their wounded prey they wanted to absorb
every little detail of her immense suffering, I showed
Marilyn to the lift, held my arm around her to shield
her from the cameras; pressed the button, it seemed to
take forever before its door opened, when it did and
she entered, I whispered: “I will always love you.”
She turned, and as the door closed, smiled and she was
beautiful again, just for me.
When I worked as an orderly at a clinic in New York,
(now shut) that used to look after celebs of the music
and theatre world, I met Marilyn for the very last time.
Dressed in a fur coat – and nothing else, hair untidy on
her breath the lingering smell of alcohol; behind her
a gelatinous, howling mob of reporters that wouldn’t
let go of their wounded prey they wanted to absorb
every little detail of her immense suffering, I showed
Marilyn to the lift, held my arm around her to shield
her from the cameras; pressed the button, it seemed to
take forever before its door opened, when it did and
she entered, I whispered: “I will always love you.”
She turned, and as the door closed, smiled and she was
beautiful again, just for me.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Tanka
Tanka
Hazy Sunday dawn
A man on a rimfrost field
Has shot five hares
He has tied them to his belt
Blood drips on his trousers’ legs
Hazy Sunday dawn
A man on a rimfrost field
Has shot five hares
He has tied them to his belt
Blood drips on his trousers’ legs
The old tree
The Old Tree
The olive tree I used to sit under when the sun
got too bothersome, was young when Jesus
walked on the earth, politically radical upsetting
the delicate balance between Jewish traders
and Roman administrators – for which he was
duly crucified- has been moved, only a hole in
the ground; sold to a rich Chinese trader in Peking.
A bit sadder now than last year, but not bitter,
but I do hope the trader will lose all his money,
and in despair hang himself in my olive tree.
The olive tree I used to sit under when the sun
got too bothersome, was young when Jesus
walked on the earth, politically radical upsetting
the delicate balance between Jewish traders
and Roman administrators – for which he was
duly crucified- has been moved, only a hole in
the ground; sold to a rich Chinese trader in Peking.
A bit sadder now than last year, but not bitter,
but I do hope the trader will lose all his money,
and in despair hang himself in my olive tree.
Betrayal
Betrayal
The red roses over there, yes those in the blue
ceramic vase on the mahogany table, are eying
me hungrily, they could so easily grow roots in
my belly and produce black and green roses.
Till I had no more nourishment left and was
a skeletal being drained of useful mineral, and
petals would fall off seed blow in the wind to
other hosts… and the last indignity is done.
The red roses over there, yes those in the blue
ceramic vase on the mahogany table, are eying
me hungrily, they could so easily grow roots in
my belly and produce black and green roses.
Till I had no more nourishment left and was
a skeletal being drained of useful mineral, and
petals would fall off seed blow in the wind to
other hosts… and the last indignity is done.
end of day
End of a Day
Ominous shadows knock on my window,
a dog barks fears the encroaching night;
car lights try to penetrate and abstraction,
tiny holes that disappear in seconds
I draw the curtain the night has a myriad
of tiny eyes that look into my soul, show
no emotion, as I should be a mere insect,
it makes feel vulnerable and mortal
Ominous shadows knock on my window,
a dog barks fears the encroaching night;
car lights try to penetrate and abstraction,
tiny holes that disappear in seconds
I draw the curtain the night has a myriad
of tiny eyes that look into my soul, show
no emotion, as I should be a mere insect,
it makes feel vulnerable and mortal
Thursday, January 10, 2008
The Story tellers
The Story Tellers.
They found old Peter burnt by the sun
on the strand between sea and land;
sea stars covered his eyes and tiny crabs
had sought refuge in his open mouth.
There was a wake, no one asked why he
had drowned, but his friends took turn
in telling of his many exploit when he
sailed the seven seas. In death he was
Promoted from a sea cook to a master
mariner, but telling lies like that is what
friends are for; beside it pleased his
grandchildren to know that the drunken
old man the occasionally saw had been
a hero of the great oceans.
.......
Ode to Hillary
If plan A fails
Try plan B
And cry.
They found old Peter burnt by the sun
on the strand between sea and land;
sea stars covered his eyes and tiny crabs
had sought refuge in his open mouth.
There was a wake, no one asked why he
had drowned, but his friends took turn
in telling of his many exploit when he
sailed the seven seas. In death he was
Promoted from a sea cook to a master
mariner, but telling lies like that is what
friends are for; beside it pleased his
grandchildren to know that the drunken
old man the occasionally saw had been
a hero of the great oceans.
.......
Ode to Hillary
If plan A fails
Try plan B
And cry.
Verdant
Verdant
It really is cold; sea spray has painted the ship
ghostly white, light green is the Nordic water
a mighty cocktail of clanking ice cubes.
I scratch a happy face on thick glass of a frozen
porthole, in three hours we will dock at a place
where warm people sits around a fire drink wine,
and give a damn about sailor’s miserable life.
Seascape paintings hang on gilded walls; look at
that sea, so deftly verdant, delicate brush stokes
too, the artist is famous and, they say, very rich.
It really is cold; sea spray has painted the ship
ghostly white, light green is the Nordic water
a mighty cocktail of clanking ice cubes.
I scratch a happy face on thick glass of a frozen
porthole, in three hours we will dock at a place
where warm people sits around a fire drink wine,
and give a damn about sailor’s miserable life.
Seascape paintings hang on gilded walls; look at
that sea, so deftly verdant, delicate brush stokes
too, the artist is famous and, they say, very rich.
Economy
Economy
I may go to Armenia and look for gold or scrap iron
the country is full of hammer and sickle monuments
and Lenin on a pedestal; if I collected that stuff and
built a ship and ply the China trade, unemployed
they will be workers of Europe, but what’s the hell
as long as they can get cheap shoes who cares.
In the mountain region of Chile and Argentina there
is a fence made of barbed wire, why it’s there no one
cares to know, but these days lost plastic bags from
all over the world, come here to rest and most of them
are made in China, advertising supermarkets in Spain,
and Finland too that used to make mobile phones.
The global economy brings peace and brotherhood
if not democracy, exchange of goods between lands
what could be more peaceful? If you are a worker
and unemployed…tough luck, if you can’t even buy
cheap pair of Asian shoes, you’ll just have to wait
till wages in Europe are lower than those in China
I may go to Armenia and look for gold or scrap iron
the country is full of hammer and sickle monuments
and Lenin on a pedestal; if I collected that stuff and
built a ship and ply the China trade, unemployed
they will be workers of Europe, but what’s the hell
as long as they can get cheap shoes who cares.
In the mountain region of Chile and Argentina there
is a fence made of barbed wire, why it’s there no one
cares to know, but these days lost plastic bags from
all over the world, come here to rest and most of them
are made in China, advertising supermarkets in Spain,
and Finland too that used to make mobile phones.
The global economy brings peace and brotherhood
if not democracy, exchange of goods between lands
what could be more peaceful? If you are a worker
and unemployed…tough luck, if you can’t even buy
cheap pair of Asian shoes, you’ll just have to wait
till wages in Europe are lower than those in China
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
mathematic
Mathematic
Young Luis had something in his nose, stuck
his little finger up his nostril to remove the itch,
when withdrawing the left hand from his face
he was alarmed to notice it only had four digits;
went to hospital, doctors looked up the external
openings of his snout, even gave him a scan,
nothing, suggested he was born with only four
fingers, including the thumb, on that hand;
called his mother, she wasn’t of help, as a writer
she treated her children with gentle neglect; but
if it was true that her son only had nine fingers she
could understand why he was so terrible at math.
Young Luis had something in his nose, stuck
his little finger up his nostril to remove the itch,
when withdrawing the left hand from his face
he was alarmed to notice it only had four digits;
went to hospital, doctors looked up the external
openings of his snout, even gave him a scan,
nothing, suggested he was born with only four
fingers, including the thumb, on that hand;
called his mother, she wasn’t of help, as a writer
she treated her children with gentle neglect; but
if it was true that her son only had nine fingers she
could understand why he was so terrible at math.
drizzle for peace
Drizzle For Peace
Good rain falls today it’s not splashing violently
down filling gutters and causing flooding, it falls
softly and is welcomed by the soil, grass and leaves.
Peaceful and lazy I stand in the doorway looking out
and I hear guns rusting quietly in the rain, as damp
ammunition fizzes white smoke, but does no harm.
If I could bottle peace of this un-heroic landscape of
Algarve and send it to Palestine; will it be drunk? Or
will they claim it’s against their religion to do so?
I don’t know, and you don’t come calling me a seer,
it’s just that all the peace around here is a waste and
it ought to be exported to those who need it
Good rain falls today it’s not splashing violently
down filling gutters and causing flooding, it falls
softly and is welcomed by the soil, grass and leaves.
Peaceful and lazy I stand in the doorway looking out
and I hear guns rusting quietly in the rain, as damp
ammunition fizzes white smoke, but does no harm.
If I could bottle peace of this un-heroic landscape of
Algarve and send it to Palestine; will it be drunk? Or
will they claim it’s against their religion to do so?
I don’t know, and you don’t come calling me a seer,
it’s just that all the peace around here is a waste and
it ought to be exported to those who need it
Tuesday Rain
Tuesday Rain.
The café facing the busy street has big windows
and I see umbrellas walking by, some of them
stop, fold wings, shake water off backs and enter.
I remember my childhood in black and grey when
umbrellas were stygian; a lady umbrella was a bit
smaller, had frilly silk borders, but was sable too.
Now they are of all colours but black, cheap and
cheerful a sharp breeze and they turn inside out
and that’s ok; it’s the cheery bit I like.
During world war two, the German air force
dropped a few grey bombs down into our town,
no big deal, pale flames warmed winter nights.
In colours everything tend to look good, poverty
too; the hungry wear colourful robes and falling
rockets look like fireworks a festive night.
The café facing the busy street has big windows
and I see umbrellas walking by, some of them
stop, fold wings, shake water off backs and enter.
I remember my childhood in black and grey when
umbrellas were stygian; a lady umbrella was a bit
smaller, had frilly silk borders, but was sable too.
Now they are of all colours but black, cheap and
cheerful a sharp breeze and they turn inside out
and that’s ok; it’s the cheery bit I like.
During world war two, the German air force
dropped a few grey bombs down into our town,
no big deal, pale flames warmed winter nights.
In colours everything tend to look good, poverty
too; the hungry wear colourful robes and falling
rockets look like fireworks a festive night.
The Long walk
The Long Walk
I was walking along a long road in a 1950ish industrial
landscape, high walls and closed down factories; dark
brown, and no green weeds in pavement cracks.
Down at the docks all ships had left, cranes stood in
silence each one ensconced in the terrifying loneliness
of the soulless that knows of no existence.
I found the office I was looking for, needed someone to
stamp a document, it was empty I waited till light faded
from pictures of stern faced men on photos on walls.
This place had no real sunshine, a haze hung over here
making summers a pale affair, only in August did sun
penetrate drowning shadows in a white unpleasant light.
Outside, in the street going south, there were many me,
young ones, middle aged and some were even older than
I, which I thought was a good sign and secretly smiled.
For a moment I felt nostalgic wanted to look back, but
desisted we had, all of us, agreed that we must walk on
never look back as the past holds a fatal attraction.
Sooner or later the road must end and open up to a vista
of olive and almond trees, lemon coloured straw, faraway
blue mountains and pastel painted summers.
I was walking along a long road in a 1950ish industrial
landscape, high walls and closed down factories; dark
brown, and no green weeds in pavement cracks.
Down at the docks all ships had left, cranes stood in
silence each one ensconced in the terrifying loneliness
of the soulless that knows of no existence.
I found the office I was looking for, needed someone to
stamp a document, it was empty I waited till light faded
from pictures of stern faced men on photos on walls.
This place had no real sunshine, a haze hung over here
making summers a pale affair, only in August did sun
penetrate drowning shadows in a white unpleasant light.
Outside, in the street going south, there were many me,
young ones, middle aged and some were even older than
I, which I thought was a good sign and secretly smiled.
For a moment I felt nostalgic wanted to look back, but
desisted we had, all of us, agreed that we must walk on
never look back as the past holds a fatal attraction.
Sooner or later the road must end and open up to a vista
of olive and almond trees, lemon coloured straw, faraway
blue mountains and pastel painted summers.
Friday, January 04, 2008
vengeance
Vengeance
The third mate went ashore an early afternoon,
with the sole purpose to go to the bar and steal
the cook’s girlfriend; the cook had to work till
eight, and when he finally came to the bar his
girlfriend had gone with the mate to a hotel.
How they mocked him next day, but the cook
smiled showing even, wolfish teeth, not his
natural once mind, but nevertheless very white.
It should have worried the crew, it’s no good to
tease a man who can spit into their soup.
The third mate went ashore an early afternoon,
with the sole purpose to go to the bar and steal
the cook’s girlfriend; the cook had to work till
eight, and when he finally came to the bar his
girlfriend had gone with the mate to a hotel.
How they mocked him next day, but the cook
smiled showing even, wolfish teeth, not his
natural once mind, but nevertheless very white.
It should have worried the crew, it’s no good to
tease a man who can spit into their soup.
A Day of Reckoning
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
and 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
on the middle of the road that now had eyes to see
with, the shook of this made it shudder long rents in
the asphalt wench black tears trickled. Quickly
I threw the eyes into the thicket which was instantly
transformed into a field of tinkling blue bells.
From nowhere a road gang of small, denim clad men
with big hats appeared, they where badly paid lived
on road kills. Expertly strew 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.
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
and 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
on the middle of the road that now had eyes to see
with, the shook of this made it shudder long rents in
the asphalt wench black tears trickled. Quickly
I threw the eyes into the thicket which was instantly
transformed into a field of tinkling blue bells.
From nowhere a road gang of small, denim clad men
with big hats appeared, they where badly paid lived
on road kills. Expertly strew 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 eraser
The Eraser
As I came to a low stonewall
on my daily walk
I saw before me a landscape painting,
Eighteen sheep and twelve lambs I counted;
as I thought who the painter might be,
there was a sudden blur in the air,
and when the picture cleared there
was a Jenny and its foal;
five wooly backs had disappeared;
and yes the painting looked better,
but I didn’t linger, I wouldn’t like the artist to
think I was a part of his picture
As I came to a low stonewall
on my daily walk
I saw before me a landscape painting,
Eighteen sheep and twelve lambs I counted;
as I thought who the painter might be,
there was a sudden blur in the air,
and when the picture cleared there
was a Jenny and its foal;
five wooly backs had disappeared;
and yes the painting looked better,
but I didn’t linger, I wouldn’t like the artist to
think I was a part of his picture
negligence
Negligence
My neighbour doesn’t till the land anymore he has sold
it to developers, thought he had got rid of his animals,
I was shocked and dismayed when he led a mule out of
the stable where it had stood, in the dark, for two years
Standing there in the courtyard it was clear that it had
lost interest in life, the winter sun that shone into its
eyes met no reflection, blind and dumb it could hardly
stand on unshorn hooves.
There was a long silence no one looked at the beast till
the truck came to take it away, up the plank it walked
offered no resistance, a will so utterly broken that it
could never be repaired
I looked at my neighbour in the hope of seeing regrets
or shame in his face, there were none, and it struck me
that if humanity has no compassion for all life what
change have we got to find deliverance?
My neighbour doesn’t till the land anymore he has sold
it to developers, thought he had got rid of his animals,
I was shocked and dismayed when he led a mule out of
the stable where it had stood, in the dark, for two years
Standing there in the courtyard it was clear that it had
lost interest in life, the winter sun that shone into its
eyes met no reflection, blind and dumb it could hardly
stand on unshorn hooves.
There was a long silence no one looked at the beast till
the truck came to take it away, up the plank it walked
offered no resistance, a will so utterly broken that it
could never be repaired
I looked at my neighbour in the hope of seeing regrets
or shame in his face, there were none, and it struck me
that if humanity has no compassion for all life what
change have we got to find deliverance?
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