Gratuitous Violence

Gratuitous Violence

A vast plateau somewhere in the middle a lone oak,
perhaps a lone survivor of a time when this highland
was a gigantic forest. It wasn’t a nice, tall tree, no not
at all, it was nobly, stubby and bent by age, yet it was
there and today it was giving shade to a man who was
crossing the plateau on foot, this for the simple reason
that he couldn’t afford to buy a horse nor a mule. From
the horizon, shimmering at first, riders, cow hands who
spent weeks in the saddle looking for lost cattle, which
must be one of the most boring jobs man has to endure,
and seeing the lone man they decided he was a thief and
hung him on the old tree. And as life seeped out of his
struggling body, the dance of death relieved their ennui;
then they rode on, they were not men of deep thoughts.
When night fell they made a fire, ate beans, drank coffee,
farted loudly, laughed and went soundly to sleep

the cork tree

The Cork Tree

The phellem oak, that stands alone where the road
bends north, has been debarked- or denuded- from
waist down; had it been bare-chested with cork pants
on it wouldn’t have been so bad, in Julies everyone
around here dresses like that, some wear even less.

Its flesh of is pale and slightly blue, but what can one
expect a January day, with hint of snow in the air and
a cold wind that brazenly prods its trunk. In five years
time the bark will grow back; since the plant lives to be
800 hundred years, a few naked years ain’t that bad.

unpleasnat Senryu

Unpleasant Senryu

On tip of a nose
Hung a hefty drop of snot
Feeling very cold


A blob of mucus
Throaty and very chunky
Was licked by dogs


Outside the Chinese’s
Cats, dog and rats waited
For someone to puke

senryu, tanak and zen

Senryu

Dog hair on sofa
A sentimental memory
Hard to brush off



Tanka

The face I saw
Behind me in the mirror
Wasn’t my dad’s
Yet, eerily familiar
Is there a story untold?


Zen

Rainwater
In cupped hands
Seeps away


Zen

A rain drop
On an almond leaf
Reflects silence

Ase

Áse.

“So there you are I sensed you would be here today,
come sit here by the west wall and warm your old
body and see the sun gently fall into the sea. Don’t
try to speak I can see your eyes are full of regret and
sorrow, so let me tell you about myself. When you
left, years ago, I thought my life had come to an end,
my body ached for your caress, I thought my heart
would never mend. I have had a husband and have
children who have flown away, I don’t know where,
all I have is this cabin, a goat a cow and a cabbage
patch; and now you are here. Stay till your feet get
restless and you are off again chasing the same old
dream of riches and success, and I will sit here and
remember you well.”

invisible friend

Invisible Friend

We sat on the pier spat into the sea, sharing a bottle of plonk
and a packet of crisp, when I heard a splash, thought someone
was swimming didn’t see a bather though, then realized you
had fallen into the water and were sinking into the mud.

Courageously I jumped into the water and dragged you ashore;
wet, we walked through town looking nonchalant, yet feeling
daft. At home I changed my clothes, blue blazer, grey slacks,
green socks and brown shoes, lovingly polished by my mother.

Looked in the mirror, saw a sophisticated man, but you had
gone, if you’re not real I hope you’re a wolf they have got
wise eyes and are not dumb like rabbits, canary birds, battery
chickens and dogs infantilized by lonely women

I saw an enormous rabbit once, or was it a hare? A winter day
when it is dark till noon. I was cycling through the forest, on
my way to school, it tried to grab me, but I got away, told my
teacher, she laughed and called me a little fool.

tanka & sunryu

Tanka

If a cowboy
Had a awfully big ranch
And hundred horses
You wouldn’t hear him holler:
“A horse, a kingdom for a horse.”






Senryu

The light is off
In the hospital’s morgue
At night



Senryu

The rabbit spoors
On new fallen snow
Were bloody

Life's Avenue

Life’s Avenue


By the left hand corner, where the avenue begins,
a group of old men stand - in the afternoon shade-
talk about the gone days, life was so much better
then. They nod friendly when they see me, like I
should be one of them; but I do resist, smile back,
stop not for a chat

The German pope has nice silvery hair, if he dyes
it black he will look years younger, should he do
so people will snigger, and he’ll go down in
history as “Pope, the conceited.” I dislike talking
about the past, it fills me with sorrow, so I won’t
loiter at the old men’s corner

The sentiment

The Sentiment

Saw her in a garden, in a street where nice people
live, playing with other dogs and rolling on soft,
grass. I called her name she came to the gate
wagging her little tail; thought she remembered
me, but I was only stranger who knew her name;

she ran back to frolic with the other dogs. I have
seen her since, in other peoples lush estates and
on beaches afar, when the sea is calm and ripples
gently rinse grey pebbles till they shine as pearls,
but I don’t call her name anymore

spring haiku

Haiku (spring)

Sun and rain
Drops of light descend
Purify the soil





Conceit

She had mirrors in every room in her house, on
the bedroom ceiling also, so she could see herself
Even when there was a thunderstorm and the light
Failed, (she had a torch) and gloom tumbled down.

Then she got a wart on her nose, on the day she
Was forty, irately smashed every mirror, the one
On the ceiling too; only sees herself, when night
Descends; in brightly lit dress shops windows.

justice

Justice

Justice, I read that word on walls in books and
Newspapers, no political speech can be spoken
Without that word being mention trice.

There are exceptions of course some people
Cannot have justice less they, adjust and become
Like us and show some genuine humility.

Take the huddled lot in the middle-east; we said:
“Hold a fair election,” they did and voted for rebels.
If they want justice they must play the game.

So now they can sit behind a big wall and fret,
Till they understand they have to elect a leader
We accept, one who believes in our democracy

The legionnaires

The Legionnaires

From Oslo to Lyon, on a train, is a long way, it was
1961, but Tom and I talked a lot had planes we’re
going to join the foreign legion, a life fit for heroes.
We found the relevant office, medical examination,
they didn’t like my heart and they were not chuffed
about my lungs. Alone I was at the Lyon’s railway
going home; and alone it was an endless journey.
For once mother was silent, I ate a whole loaf with
marge and blueberry jam, felt sorry for myself, not
good enough for the bloody French; and Tom didn’t
even bother to say farewell, but over the years I often
wondered what had happened to him, till I saw, in
the park, a man older than his years- scruffy and
reeking of booze- I knew it was him, Tom; cowardly
I walked another way. You see, I had landed a good
job was now middle class and respectable and the old
days had gone; yet, Tom had come home I really have
to go talk to him some day.

passport

Passport


Schiphol, Amsterdam 1964, the old seaman must
have carried his passport in his pocket for years, it
was a disgrace loose leaved I barely hung together,
immigration wouldn’t, at first let him through;

A higher up was called, he looked at the offending
passport, shook his head pursed his lips, but let him
pass through since he was joining a ship, but with
a warning to get a new one soon

The sailor was absent, his voyage began with a dram,
his mind was already onboard away from the cold
north, sailing passed the Azores, calm sea, he stood
on deck and saw the last seagull fly back to the coast

duvet

Duvet.


Continental quilt, the hills of Wales, decked by
grazing sheep, ancient coal dust on wool; sheep
live forever around here, if not, at least for fifty
five years, some say sixty eight.

The moon is a pale sliver the rind of a cheese
thrown away by a spoilt baby troll that would
rather eat a lamb with mint sauce and boiled
potatoes. Yes, and cabbage too

Deep in the vale, amongst slag heap made by
the toil of yesterdays’ miners, a house burns
a holiday home, the firemen drink tea, take
their time and wait for morning light.

to anticipate

To Anticipate

Do not expect anything and you will not
Be disappointed. What a dreadful advice
To give anyone who likes a party.

No listen up, expect a lot and work hard
To let it happens and if it doesn’t, don’t
You come crying on my shoulders;

It is life you see and we are leaves on
Mother tree, we can dream but in the end
We fall and get trampled in the mud;

And since you are a leaf amongst millions
Of other you can still expect to be a golden
One destined to be oak leaf on a uniform.

the less enchanted forest

The Less Enchanted Forest

In an orange grove I walked, it was so vast and
Every tree looked the same, that I got lost and
Spent days in the wilderness

Somewhere in the middle of this fruit forest
Where oranges fall useless and silent to ground,
Uneaten by man, I came a cross a village

Peopled by an eccentric German sect who had
Turned their back to modernity, they lived on
Carrots and beans, fed oranges to their pigs

But the menfolk, all former storm troopers,
Had succumbed to orange wine and saluting
To a leader long since dead

The women with rusty iron crosses around
Elderly necks, where teaching their offspring
The value of Germanic culture

Since I’m blond and they thought I was a vegan
And their Fhurer, they made me a cabbage stew
While they ate succulent, pink pork chops.

A Lesson Learned

A Lesson Learned


I was selling my café to buy a small bed & breakfast
hotel, a nice couple came, very friendly, they looked
Levantine I thought. My wife didn’t like them, but
warmed to their flattery. Yes, they agreed to buy my
café and would like to take over in a fortnights time.
They asked me what sort of business I was going into,
I naively told them about my little hotel, its name and
from whom I was buying it. No one came on the day
agreed upon so I rang the owner of the hotel said
sorry but the sale of my business had fallen through.
“That’s ok I have sold the hotel to a Levanter couple,
who said you were no longer interested; never thought
I should get rid of that cockroach infested place, so
You’re the lucky one,” he said

The Fame Game

The Fame Game


The princess sat on a bench looking pretty,
behind her Taj Mahal, and a big rat that sat,
on the perfect lawn, quietly observing her
with what looks like deep concern;

there were many rats in her life hungry for
crumbs of her fame, but they were satisfied,
cornered her for more and in a dark tunnel,
without an exit

Mangled bodies and steel and the smell of
petrol, the rats scuttled off, down sewers they
came from, waiting for the next prey to come
and play the game of fame.

A holiday photo

A Holiday Photo


Remember Pula, in former Yugoslavia, thirty years ago,
I have picture of you in my blue shoebox, you smile look
Pretty, the people around you are incidental just locals
And other holidaymakers who don’t know they are forever
Caught by my camera, getting nowhere in my box.
The plane ride back to Liverpool on that old aircraft that
Shuddered and had wings that moved as a seagull’s,
We where so glad we landed that, strangers spoke to each
Other till they came back to their senses and shut up.
I know you must look different now, but what I recall is
Your smile since it, for a moment hid the problems that
Made us part. Looking into the mirror I don’t think I have
Aged much, a grand illusion, of course, that make old age
Tolerable; I wonder if you when looking into the mirror
Think the same as I, or are you delusion free, if so I do
Feel sorry for your bitter reality.

A Friend

A Friend.

Dear weak heart, do not stay indoors, sit abject
in a chair feeling sorry for yourself; never mind
what the cardiologist said, he’s a bad tempered
cigar smoker in the grip of his vice. Let’s take
a walk on the meadowland see rabbits frolic in
the grass and watch the fox’s hunting skill, there
is no room for sappiness in the world of animals,
nor should there be one between you and me.
Inhale spring air, see leaves fly without leaving
mother tree, enjoy when sunlight warms my cheeks,
for I know well that you often are awake at night
staring into the darkness and listening out for
unworldly steps. So come with me, even if it rains,
let’s walk barefoot across the grassland once more. .