The Great Democracy.
Surge removes the sand, underneath though,
bare, stubborn, knife sharp rocks no surge can
remove; it’s here a nation bleed to death.
Hapless, the commander his reputation torn to
shreds, history will not remember him well,
golden stars fade in morning light.
He followed orders, issued by a dunce who is,
the product of 200 years of democracy based
on money and gross misinformation
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Animal Imitator
Animal Imitator.
Finn, the Norwegian farm boy, was good at
Imitating the mooing of cows, did it so well
That the heavy uddered stopped grazing and
Mooed back.
Finn was a cleaver boy studied well became
A diploma engineer and moved into town.
At a party, years later, Finn, now a man with
Silver hair and Armani suit, mentioned his
Prowess as a cow mooing imitator and was
Asked to do it again; applause and laughter,
Yes he still had the gift, said those who had
Heard a cow moo, and those who hadn’t
Smiled and applauded too.
Towards dawn many taxis where called none
Came, the party walked outside to discover
Why, and found the street totally blocked by
Five hundred cows
Finn, the Norwegian farm boy, was good at
Imitating the mooing of cows, did it so well
That the heavy uddered stopped grazing and
Mooed back.
Finn was a cleaver boy studied well became
A diploma engineer and moved into town.
At a party, years later, Finn, now a man with
Silver hair and Armani suit, mentioned his
Prowess as a cow mooing imitator and was
Asked to do it again; applause and laughter,
Yes he still had the gift, said those who had
Heard a cow moo, and those who hadn’t
Smiled and applauded too.
Towards dawn many taxis where called none
Came, the party walked outside to discover
Why, and found the street totally blocked by
Five hundred cows
Allegorical
Allegorical
They were there, in the street, my wife and her best
friend, an ugly woman of thirty five, she had one
big, red eye and one eye, small and dull, the red
one was lit up as a lantern that absorbed all sifting
and cataloguing the seen for further use.
She wore shorts her body was dough like and she
had no breasts, I didn’t want to kiss her, but since
she was my wife’s best friend and I live in a country
where people kiss a lot, I had to; but her eye had
seen my reluctance and it glowed malevolently
Lunch, I suggested her friend ought to wear a blouse,
but no, her friend had spent twenty years in a damp
dungeon and needed sun. Phone rang I had to leave,
as the red eye drilled holes of dishonour in my mind
I fell down a manhole I was unable to crawl out of.
They were there, in the street, my wife and her best
friend, an ugly woman of thirty five, she had one
big, red eye and one eye, small and dull, the red
one was lit up as a lantern that absorbed all sifting
and cataloguing the seen for further use.
She wore shorts her body was dough like and she
had no breasts, I didn’t want to kiss her, but since
she was my wife’s best friend and I live in a country
where people kiss a lot, I had to; but her eye had
seen my reluctance and it glowed malevolently
Lunch, I suggested her friend ought to wear a blouse,
but no, her friend had spent twenty years in a damp
dungeon and needed sun. Phone rang I had to leave,
as the red eye drilled holes of dishonour in my mind
I fell down a manhole I was unable to crawl out of.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Tanka
Tanka.
Easy days in September
Rabbits have had their off springs
Will they survive man?
Rabbits are on the menu
Shot gun pellet broke my tooth
Easy days in September
Rabbits have had their off springs
Will they survive man?
Rabbits are on the menu
Shot gun pellet broke my tooth
the last kiss
The Last Kiss.
I sit here and do little, but I’m not a veterinary,
they have offered me a new body, but since
it is as old as my own, I said no; shuddering to
think were it has been with its hands.
They offered me a young brain, but I had to take
the whole head, to wake up in the morning with
with someone else’s memory and an unlived face
isn’t what an old man should suffer.
So I stumble about chew tobacco and spit brown
this so no one will notice that my phlegm is
bloody, no need to worry my wife and, anyway,
It’s over ten years since last we kissed.
I sit here and do little, but I’m not a veterinary,
they have offered me a new body, but since
it is as old as my own, I said no; shuddering to
think were it has been with its hands.
They offered me a young brain, but I had to take
the whole head, to wake up in the morning with
with someone else’s memory and an unlived face
isn’t what an old man should suffer.
So I stumble about chew tobacco and spit brown
this so no one will notice that my phlegm is
bloody, no need to worry my wife and, anyway,
It’s over ten years since last we kissed.
familçiarity breeds contempt
Familiarity breeds contempt
They have lamplight here in this street were few people
walk after five, safe for the man who has to take his dog
for a walk, the dog knows the man has too and enjoys
this brief sense power, pull on its lead forcing the man
to walk faster then his heart likes.
A plastic seat under a lamp, I’m so very tired, have been
walking for forty years. I when my wife died, she didn’t
live long- no children- there weren’t anything to keep me
at home. After some time some I noticed a man following
me he had nothing else to do and latched on to me.
A plastic chair, you could think that after all this years I
deserve something better than a sweaty backside on
a chair made of oil shit. “I’ve nowhere to sit,” said the man
who made it his life worth to follow me around. I didn’t
answer for the simple reason, I couldn’t care less.
“For forty years I have been coming here and hoped
that something dramatic would happen like you would fall
under a bus.” “No such luck I’m your annoying brother
and I always do the right thing only crossing the road at
Zebra crossings.
There was a speeding truck noisy brakes, I didn’t look back.
I sit on a plastic chair under a street light and read lines from
a play I wrote forty years ago, my bum aches, have called
my brother cell phone there is no answer
They have lamplight here in this street were few people
walk after five, safe for the man who has to take his dog
for a walk, the dog knows the man has too and enjoys
this brief sense power, pull on its lead forcing the man
to walk faster then his heart likes.
A plastic seat under a lamp, I’m so very tired, have been
walking for forty years. I when my wife died, she didn’t
live long- no children- there weren’t anything to keep me
at home. After some time some I noticed a man following
me he had nothing else to do and latched on to me.
A plastic chair, you could think that after all this years I
deserve something better than a sweaty backside on
a chair made of oil shit. “I’ve nowhere to sit,” said the man
who made it his life worth to follow me around. I didn’t
answer for the simple reason, I couldn’t care less.
“For forty years I have been coming here and hoped
that something dramatic would happen like you would fall
under a bus.” “No such luck I’m your annoying brother
and I always do the right thing only crossing the road at
Zebra crossings.
There was a speeding truck noisy brakes, I didn’t look back.
I sit on a plastic chair under a street light and read lines from
a play I wrote forty years ago, my bum aches, have called
my brother cell phone there is no answer
Luciano pavarotti
Luciano Pavarotti
The twilight sun is white looks as torch with a faulty
battery; the late summer heat is passionless and tired,
the sun scares the old people a bad sign, they will say.
Pavarotti died at dawn, cancer. his heart too gregarious
for a coronary. To day my brother has been dead for
forty years, he liked to go fishing in his boat, took me
along when not out with his many mates. It is good to
wake up at dawn and be handed a clean sheet of white
paper to write on and with a pen dipped in the ink of
memories. Alzheimer is a terrible illness it erases all
what makes us human. I will write no more, but go into
the next room and listen to Pavarotti, I will have to go
to his birthplace Medina, Italy, one day.
The twilight sun is white looks as torch with a faulty
battery; the late summer heat is passionless and tired,
the sun scares the old people a bad sign, they will say.
Pavarotti died at dawn, cancer. his heart too gregarious
for a coronary. To day my brother has been dead for
forty years, he liked to go fishing in his boat, took me
along when not out with his many mates. It is good to
wake up at dawn and be handed a clean sheet of white
paper to write on and with a pen dipped in the ink of
memories. Alzheimer is a terrible illness it erases all
what makes us human. I will write no more, but go into
the next room and listen to Pavarotti, I will have to go
to his birthplace Medina, Italy, one day.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Mother Teresa
Mother Teresa
When the nun prayed to god she got silence she wanted
a sign that her faith was not in vain; the stillness was
intolerable, she cast herself into work amongst the poor
and tired only slept four hours a night, and yet there was
a rumbling hush, and she knew there was no god, yet
continued her work as she could not leave the order and
denounce god, so she died waiting for his sign.
I do understand prayed once and silence dripped as tears
from the beams, was that a sign my baffled brain asked?
No reply. To believe in nothing is a creed, as nothing
rooms a world of denial and new possibilities, but to have
no faith is to invite melancholy into your home, you know,
as knife’s sharp slash in your heart, death is forever, there
is no memory of beauty and you will not hear the silence.
When the nun prayed to god she got silence she wanted
a sign that her faith was not in vain; the stillness was
intolerable, she cast herself into work amongst the poor
and tired only slept four hours a night, and yet there was
a rumbling hush, and she knew there was no god, yet
continued her work as she could not leave the order and
denounce god, so she died waiting for his sign.
I do understand prayed once and silence dripped as tears
from the beams, was that a sign my baffled brain asked?
No reply. To believe in nothing is a creed, as nothing
rooms a world of denial and new possibilities, but to have
no faith is to invite melancholy into your home, you know,
as knife’s sharp slash in your heart, death is forever, there
is no memory of beauty and you will not hear the silence.
Baghdad isn't here
Baghdad, Isn’t Here.
The rhododendron loses its petal, it is September
the twilight is sepia soon it will be dark, sparrows
that live in the bush are flying in, and argue before
settling down. Dogs that have been sleeping all day
are alert now waiting to be fed, the night before they
worked as a team and chased a starving dog out of
the village, nothing a mere human can do about that
unless he wants another dog, but beware, before you
know it there are five hungry dogs fighting their way
to your door. Dogs that live amongst us may not love
us as much as we think, they will, however, defend
their food source to the end. It is dark now, the waning
moon casts a pale light, a mild breeze exhales easily
and it is a good time to be alive.
The rhododendron loses its petal, it is September
the twilight is sepia soon it will be dark, sparrows
that live in the bush are flying in, and argue before
settling down. Dogs that have been sleeping all day
are alert now waiting to be fed, the night before they
worked as a team and chased a starving dog out of
the village, nothing a mere human can do about that
unless he wants another dog, but beware, before you
know it there are five hungry dogs fighting their way
to your door. Dogs that live amongst us may not love
us as much as we think, they will, however, defend
their food source to the end. It is dark now, the waning
moon casts a pale light, a mild breeze exhales easily
and it is a good time to be alive.
the sloop
The Sloop
In the bay a single-mast sailing vessel, a sloop, rigged
fore and aft, was anchored near the shore, I swam over
and was met by a couple in their forties who had spent
time and money doing the old ship up. The idea was to
sail along the coast delivering cargo, cheaper than by
trucks and her hold was quite roomy. I didn’t tell them
that most cargo now was in containers and that a sloop
needed her deck clear of clutter. They wanted one more
crew member, kindly offered me a job, knew they didn’t
mean it; I had gladdened them by admiring their ship.
“Too old to climb the rigs,” I said, but offered to cook,
they smiled at that. Restless night I was the captain of
a sloop bound for Buenos Aires, the great city looked
just as I remembered last time I was there… in 1964.
In the bay a single-mast sailing vessel, a sloop, rigged
fore and aft, was anchored near the shore, I swam over
and was met by a couple in their forties who had spent
time and money doing the old ship up. The idea was to
sail along the coast delivering cargo, cheaper than by
trucks and her hold was quite roomy. I didn’t tell them
that most cargo now was in containers and that a sloop
needed her deck clear of clutter. They wanted one more
crew member, kindly offered me a job, knew they didn’t
mean it; I had gladdened them by admiring their ship.
“Too old to climb the rigs,” I said, but offered to cook,
they smiled at that. Restless night I was the captain of
a sloop bound for Buenos Aires, the great city looked
just as I remembered last time I was there… in 1964.
epigram
Epigram.
If we had a true, informative democracy and
Yet only the pretty faced and incompetent
Were elected; wouldn’t we think twice about
The soundness of plebian voters, capability?
If we had a true, informative democracy and
Yet only the pretty faced and incompetent
Were elected; wouldn’t we think twice about
The soundness of plebian voters, capability?
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
the Losers
The Losers.
they have been silenced,
you no longer hear
the voices of Iraq’s women;
before the liberators came they were
free to get a good education and
wear modern dresses;
now, after freedom from
tyranny, it’s back to the burka,
headscarf and the veil.
they have been silenced,
you no longer hear
the voices of Iraq’s women;
before the liberators came they were
free to get a good education and
wear modern dresses;
now, after freedom from
tyranny, it’s back to the burka,
headscarf and the veil.
Do not mention the war
Do Not Mention the War
I had promised myself not to write about the war
in Iraq, my voice is weak and goes unheard, but it
pleases me to read that 500 British troops have
left Basra and gone to the air station out of town;
soon they will have gone for good…Bon voyage.
Not the American troops though, they will have to
stay a little longer and bleed more. Let the parents
of dead soldiers believe their sons died defending
their country, they are poor and need this illusion.
Why should we insist on telling the truth that their
loved ones died for vainglorious men who thought
they could rule the world unopposed
I had promised myself not to write about the war
in Iraq, my voice is weak and goes unheard, but it
pleases me to read that 500 British troops have
left Basra and gone to the air station out of town;
soon they will have gone for good…Bon voyage.
Not the American troops though, they will have to
stay a little longer and bleed more. Let the parents
of dead soldiers believe their sons died defending
their country, they are poor and need this illusion.
Why should we insist on telling the truth that their
loved ones died for vainglorious men who thought
they could rule the world unopposed
the consequence
The consequance
A legionnaire,
in Chad,
is angry at
the sun
it has
followed
him
for weeks,
cocks his
rifle,
shoots
the burning
rock,
bits fall off
there are
forest
fires
in France...
A legionnaire,
in Chad,
is angry at
the sun
it has
followed
him
for weeks,
cocks his
rifle,
shoots
the burning
rock,
bits fall off
there are
forest
fires
in France...
amsterdam spring
Amsterdam Spring.
Morning in a bar, cleaned windows
New sets of curtains, shiny mirrors,
Cigarette smoke has dissipated.
Perfumed air, gleaming toilet, smells
Of bleach; jukebox is blissfully off
And the baseball bat is unemployed
Morning in a bar, cleaned windows
New sets of curtains, shiny mirrors,
Cigarette smoke has dissipated.
Perfumed air, gleaming toilet, smells
Of bleach; jukebox is blissfully off
And the baseball bat is unemployed
sunryu
Senryu
Explosive silence
After the bomb has gone off
Before people scream
Senryu
Watery stillness
A lake mirror the dawn sky
As a lone man drowns
Senryu
Soundless dust settles
On a man who fell from sky
Broken wings of wax
Explosive silence
After the bomb has gone off
Before people scream
Senryu
Watery stillness
A lake mirror the dawn sky
As a lone man drowns
Senryu
Soundless dust settles
On a man who fell from sky
Broken wings of wax
Monday, September 03, 2007
The Tall Tree
It had been raining for weeks the track to my cabin muddy,
one day I sank down in it to the armpit, couldn’t get up too
slippery. Must have fallen asleep when I awoke my arms
were boughs, fingers twigs with leaves and I was covered in
a protective bark; in my crown birds sat and sang. I grew tall
and slender, people came from afar to look at me for once
I was noticed. One day to my alarm I saw they were building
a four lane motorway in the next valley, it was aiming straight
at me, unstoppable thousands of trees were brutally cut down
to give way to a river of concrete. Unbeknown to me,
I had been made into a national treasure so the road had to make a detour
Hundred yards from me it runs, very fast full of metallic junk,
bloody noise if you ask me, but in time the road will fall into
disuse and sink into the soil and I’ll get my peace.
It had been raining for weeks the track to my cabin muddy,
one day I sank down in it to the armpit, couldn’t get up too
slippery. Must have fallen asleep when I awoke my arms
were boughs, fingers twigs with leaves and I was covered in
a protective bark; in my crown birds sat and sang. I grew tall
and slender, people came from afar to look at me for once
I was noticed. One day to my alarm I saw they were building
a four lane motorway in the next valley, it was aiming straight
at me, unstoppable thousands of trees were brutally cut down
to give way to a river of concrete. Unbeknown to me,
I had been made into a national treasure so the road had to make a detour
Hundred yards from me it runs, very fast full of metallic junk,
bloody noise if you ask me, but in time the road will fall into
disuse and sink into the soil and I’ll get my peace.
sonnet to moonrays
Sonnet to Moon Rays
Dug a hole in unwilling soil to bury my
dog when I hit upon a round ten kilo stone.
It rolled around on the grass like a cow let
out of the shed in spring, then came to rest
in the sun. Free at last after a thousand year
in darkness. Too light for it size I thought,
and was right, when moon came, the stone
loosened into individual strands of silvery
rays that jubilantly flew up and joined their
mother… La Luna. Lost in a sudden storm
when time was new, before seasons became
a norm. Glad to have been of help I thought
of my dog she hadn’t died in vain, yet I had
a sleepless night fearing my own demise.
Dug a hole in unwilling soil to bury my
dog when I hit upon a round ten kilo stone.
It rolled around on the grass like a cow let
out of the shed in spring, then came to rest
in the sun. Free at last after a thousand year
in darkness. Too light for it size I thought,
and was right, when moon came, the stone
loosened into individual strands of silvery
rays that jubilantly flew up and joined their
mother… La Luna. Lost in a sudden storm
when time was new, before seasons became
a norm. Glad to have been of help I thought
of my dog she hadn’t died in vain, yet I had
a sleepless night fearing my own demise.
the happy ending
The Happy Ending
At the funereal, open casket, he noticed the dead man
had an expensive diamond ring on his middle finger;
the same night, before the earth had settled into hard
labour he, lets call him Harry, dug open the grave,
stole the ring, as he didn’t bother to fill in the grave
again the story was in the papers next day, apparently
the ring was fake. An unlucky man walked to the end
of the pier, where the sea is dark and shadows of fear
dance; flung the ring into its depth; plop, as a fleeting
hush cast a shroud of silver on the water. Harry, being
tall and bad on his feet, lost his balance fell in the sea
as well, since he couldn’t swim; screamed for help, as
drowning people do, and as always the echo of despair
made the sea cringe. The ring was swallowed by a cod
that was angled by an elderly fisherman, at dawn he sold
it at the fish-market? It was bought by a widow, who,
when gutting the cod, found a diamond ring, it wasn’t
a fake and happy, at last, retired to the Antibes
At the funereal, open casket, he noticed the dead man
had an expensive diamond ring on his middle finger;
the same night, before the earth had settled into hard
labour he, lets call him Harry, dug open the grave,
stole the ring, as he didn’t bother to fill in the grave
again the story was in the papers next day, apparently
the ring was fake. An unlucky man walked to the end
of the pier, where the sea is dark and shadows of fear
dance; flung the ring into its depth; plop, as a fleeting
hush cast a shroud of silver on the water. Harry, being
tall and bad on his feet, lost his balance fell in the sea
as well, since he couldn’t swim; screamed for help, as
drowning people do, and as always the echo of despair
made the sea cringe. The ring was swallowed by a cod
that was angled by an elderly fisherman, at dawn he sold
it at the fish-market? It was bought by a widow, who,
when gutting the cod, found a diamond ring, it wasn’t
a fake and happy, at last, retired to the Antibes
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