escape from Finland

The Escape

When Rudolph the red nosed reindeer wanted to

Be normal and join the flock on earth, Santa got depressed

Sat by many of Finland’s lakes contemplating his life

He too was tired of flying through the air and gets a cold

He wanted sunlight and a sandy beach.

He got hold of a tame water buffalo and an unemployed

Drunk from Helsinki and for a while they got away with it

Till an elf with a grudge told a newspaper about it and children too

Had long wondered why Rudolph had two horn, not antler and why

Santa was late, swore and kept falling off his sledge.

Santa had to come back from Thailand and sort out this corruption

He told twitter he was sorry, but fired blabber mouthed elf.

He had to look for sober man to act as Santa and train a new reindeer,

Because Rudolph and had got the taste of the high life.

escape

The Escape

When Rudolph the red nosed reindeer wanted to

Be normal and join the flock on earth, Santa got depressed

Sat by many of Finland’s lakes contemplating his life

He too was tired of flying through the air and gets a cold

He wanted sunlight and a sandy beach.

He got hold of a tame water buffalo and an unemployed

Drunk from Helsinki and for a while they got away with it

Till an elf with a grudge told a newspaper about it and children too

Had long wondered why Rudolph had two horn, not antler and why

Santa was late, swore and kept falling off his sledge.

Santa had to come back from Thailand and sort out this corruption

He told twitter he was sorry, but fired blabber mouthed elf.

He had to look for a sober man to act as Santa and train a new reindeer,

Because Rudolph and had got the taste of the high life. 

Entry | Write Out Loud

Entry | Write Out Loud

Ratcatcher

 I feel repulsed when he is near I ought to have

 compassion for this cripple a twisted foot and

 an arm that does not function right a beggar with

scabby skin eyes as black as looking into the dark

side of a wishing star. This is not a man you

can be nice to the more you give him the more he

hates you and wishes you an early death.

 His diversion is to follow funeral processions but

not into the cemetery no one wants him there 

I have wondered why I hate this man so much

it must have had a background of my childhood

and I found it. After the war in Norway there was

 some hunger in the land but I had noticed at

the gymnasium where the children of the middle

classes went to become our future suits, a concrete

box for trash and unopened parcels of lunch food.

But I had to be quick rats knew it too had a parcel

 in my hand when a rat jumped up tried to grab it

 and its eyes shone of loathing it hated me for being

human just like the cripple who dislike humanity he

blames for his perpetual hardship. In the knowledge

he will hate me more I now give him a shilling or two,

this dirty little man who never takes a bath has a mother

denying she gave birth to this satanic being, but I fear

 him too, four black horses and he, the only mourner.

TV. Reflections

The news is deeply depressing, except for a Yemeni

woman activist trying to explain to a dense reporter

that Yemen do not need outside interference.

The reporter wanted to know about Iran, everyone

does, the Saudis and the Israelites.

Iran is a big regional power and has influences in

the regions... big deal.

I turn to the weather forecast, drizzle in Singapore    

and that is not so bad. I have never been there

Only seen pictures, a sort of place only businessmen

Would like to visit

Blustery in Oslo, that brings out a giggle, serves it

right, the people live in fear that the foreigners will come

change their hardy culture- beer and street fights-

little do they now that Norway is not on top of the list

where the unsheltered masses like to go. 

a secret reviled

a secret reviled

Secrets reviled

Eva Braun was a Greenland seal lived in an aquarium Herr
Hitler Liked animals

his dog loved him truly. Dog lovers are supposed to be kind.
Love on first sight.

So perhaps there was a call for a loving word that was
denied in his childhood;

by the fireside and on his lap the dog sat and he whispered
sweet words into

 the dog’s ear a
moment when his mind was not contaminated by Jewish blood. 

In the country I lived in there were many islands most of
them have

a bridge now and no longer feels like islands.  Nevertheless we were standing

by the gangway of a ferry you were going to see your sister,
I knew you were

getting away from me. My love for you were total, yours were
not, you just left

without telling me why. Distances I beginning to feel but my
unhappiness was

an annoyance, you gave me a phone number to but it didn’t
work, gurgling noises

a phone dropped into a fish tank, but I heard repressed
laughter

You were married to a sea master golden rings on is uniform
and that is ok;

you and the master of the sea never got children. Widow a
childless woman

 your dishonesty
bothers me, Eva Braun’s fish tale was as phony as

your loves for me were.    

Burundi

Burundi

Burundi

Burundi

Elusive it is the dream of peace

and the Burundi the president is seeking a third term,

but the people say NO, and fight for

a fair election, in dusty streets.

Africa has had enough of presidents who will  not

 give up power and lucrative ill-gotten gains.

People of Burundi, I salute you.

Kathmandu

Kathmandu

Useless Money

I often get petitioning letters so many people trying

to find a place to live and only receive bitter refusal

and see their children die of thirst and hunger.

I wish to help them all but no money in the world is

enough to stop this flood of humanity seeking a haven

flotsam, the wreck of the unfortunate and we can do

nothing but looks another way.

Overwhelmed by the misery I can do little about, but

the woman from Myanmar who won a medal for her

tenacity, choose not to speak. The friendly Buddhists

are killing Muslims in their midst, they have become

refugees; the woman from Myanmar is voiceless.

 She, the upper-class daughter of a Burmese general

Who aristocratic behaviour impressed us deeply,

But I ask why she is staying silent now.

singers

Singers

I wanted to be a singer of popular tunes, but I didn’t have

The voice for it, sounded like humpback a whale’s mating

call  it was said; how would they know I swam with whales

along the coast of Alaska in my younger days, only gave it up

when a flipper was damaged by a propeller

A school friend became a singer made money travelling

around fairs singing what was in the wind at the time.

He also sang in noisy restaurant with heavy Norwegian

accent and students laughed at him, they were learned

people and would in time become lawyers and doctors.

My school friend when visiting our common hometown

is interviewed and he talks about the old days, anecdotes

I think it is called. I can sing like whales their mysterious

sounds I master, but can’t use it night clubs are for dancing

the mating stuff comes later.

I once met an English pop star, who looked like a Peter Pan

slightly frayed at the edges, he even had a vine-yard, he was

much loved by the expats till there was a hint of a scandal of

the unsavoury kind. Nothing has been said, but time is more

morally unforgiving now, so he went to live in Jamaica. 

singers

singers

Singers

I wanted to be a singer of popular tunes, but I didn’t have

The voice for it, sounded like humpback a whale’s mating

Call,   it was said; how would they know I swam with whales

along the coast of Alaska in my younger days, only gave it up

when a flipper was damaged by a propeller

A school friend became a singer made money travelling

around fairs singing what was in the wind at the time.

He also sang in noisy restaurant with heavy Norwegian

accent and students laughed at him, they were learned

people and would in time become lawyers and doctors.

My school friend when visiting our common hometown

is interviewed and he talks about the old days, anecdotes

I think it is called. I can sing like whales their mysterious

sounds I master, but can’t use it night clubs are for dancing

the mating stuff comes later.

I once met an English pop star, who looked like a Peter Pan

slightly frayed at the edges, he even had a vine- yard, he was

much loved by the expats till there was a hint of a scandal of

the unsavoury kind. Nothing has been said, but time is more

morally unforgiving now, so he went to live in Jamaica. 

Nepal | Write Out Loud

Nepal | Write Out Loud~~~

Nepal

Kathmandu

a quaint, romantic name,

had wanted to go there now it is a dream.

Nepal, this small mountain country

often used a golf ball between big countries

for purely selfish reasons.

Thousands of people killed and classical

palaces are reduced dust covering

mountain tops

as a fog of sadness  

Cry my lovely I can only offer you friendship.

But for the tourists who evacuated on

Himalayas’ sacred top.

Filling valleys with empty cans of beef

 and used toilet paper
flapping in the wind,

I have little empathy

rich tourists that had to bestride and befoul

a holy mountain.

Self Repressing

 

As I write, words come into my mind which I think are apt.

Sometimes the thoughts are racial and sometimes overly

critical of women who will not admit their primary role in

life is to bring humanity forward and men’s role in this

Is as tiny as the penis of a mouse.

And we have Arabs who feel neglected since we do not

want to adopt a religion based on heresy and ignorance.

Not to forget the Jews who feel the world owes  them a living

for the holocaust which the Palestinians have to pay for,

and cleverly their politicians averted our eyes, we who are

guilty of neglect and have a free passes providing we sing theirs

songs of their suffering and endless reparations.

do not push it

Do not Push It

I’m like horses do not like the wind today it is northerly and

the sun despite shining free of clouds cannot warm my chilled bones.

Horses turn their considerable behinds against the wind and keep

their heads low. My behind is skinny and does not protect my neck,

but a scarf does. I used to have strong fingers now they are thin look

like a Bangladesh river delta .And to think there was a time I laughed

at the face of frost and if needed would run bare chest across

the unfriendly of plains of opposite Poles, me, the leader of the pack

the man who once met Fidel Castro, a man of great dignity, but my

god he was boring, only had one subject---himself.  

But I do deviate, I’m only an Argentinean horse adopted illegitimately by

a general-major, his wife wanted a foal. The landscape now has hundred

colours of green but it worries me that if ISIS takes world power vines will

rot on my land and when they pass on their pick-up trucks I must wave

a black ,inartistic flag with intelligible writing on. My wife the practical one

will say: after the Islamists took power in Portugal my husband finally got

sober enough to be offered a job as an Imam. 

common soldier

The common soldier

Once motherland I remember well often with a patina

of unbecoming sentimentality. I was born there, once

birthplace is a magnet it never loses its charismatic power

even though what I remember is poverty, the endless

struggle of the working class. I have a few good memory

and they too are in a way unbecoming.

There was a war the occupier’s soldiers gave me chocolate

and snacks, they had horses and let me sit on them playing

 cowboy; yes the cowboys are universal liked.

My experience has coloured my adult life I’m not so quick in

my condemnation the world is not black and white but has

many nuances; war is not what a soldier wants but at times

he has to fight a war that is not of his choosing but he

has to shoulder the aftermath.  

Happy years or perhaps not

Happy years or perhaps not

Happy Years, or perhaps not

When I was a child mother worked at a fish factory

she had to leave early in the morning so i had to

brush my teeth and wash my face in icy cold water.

In a house of five families there was no bathroom and

only one toilet in the basement and it was my job to

empty the chamber pot before going to school.

 From the socialists in power then it was seen to that

every child got breakfast at school.

 When you are a child, poverty is abstract if you get

enough food like boiled potatoes, fried turnips and

mother’s home made fish cakes. On Sundays we had

– dare I say it- meat cakes with mushy peas and

of course boiled potatoes. The rest of that feast were

mixed together and fried as an evening meal.

Our poverty was lack of hygiene wearing our jumpers

too long and underwear had to be worn until April as we

only had one set each. But as a child I never concerned

myself with bagatelles, it was only in my teens I became

aware of our poverty and felt shame; a profound rooted

sense of inferiority, which made my prickly and on guard.

You are happy yes you know you are, then an avalanche

A mountain of shit hit you  and it will never wash off.

the dream of freedom

The Dream of Freedom

This little town was run by important women who had leadership roles

within state and finance sector and no children played in the streets,

they were playing in a park made of foam and rubber.

Women in this town due to important work and long education,

tended to marry in their late thirties and usually with young shadowy

men who had no domestic role other than sleeping with them and

looking handsome in a suit.  

In the park created by anxious mothers, a boy found a hole in the fence

squeezed through it and came into a world  that had sharp corners and

hard ground, a place where animals are not toys and dogs bite when annoyed.

Curious the boy kept walking till he came to where the town ended and

the poor lived in pre-fabricated cabins and roads were only swept by women

outside their doors. Children played in the street, they were a noisy lot he soon

 joined in games and had great fun and when he fell and scraped his knee cried

a little, the other children laughed, this is nothing, and he soon forgot his pain.     

The boy had an epiphany, he and the other children in the foamy park were

prisoners of their over fretful mothers. He walked back to the bogus park

opened the gate wide and freed the other inmates from mothers crushing love

and guilt over not having time to nurture them.

worth a fight

Worth a Fight. It is no longer about right or wrongs it is about taking a stand..... Against those whose forefathers came to this country to escape poverty and tyranny, and now want to end democracy the unwritten consensus by people of different classes. We have become soft liberal, Christianity you said? Don’t make me laugh we are far too self assured to believe in god. And we are giving way while their imams eggs the people on and not for a moment do they stop No, not for a sneeze of hesitation do they think that if they went back to their forefathers’ country, whip would await them in dank cells. Their faith has good points.... no it has not. But they have the right to return back to their cherished land and practice a faith that is still stuck in the middle aged. Soft liberal, giving way for the sake of peace, a peace I will not accept and I will fill bullets in chambers of my revolver to defend what my people fought for it is called democracy, shaky yes, with many flaws, but so far a system worth fighting for

freedom of the press

Freedom of the Press The hallowed freedom of the press In the west Doesn’t sit well in the east when Islam is made fun of. So leave them alone to worship Allah their way, Millions of backsides exposed to an ignorant world. We can make fun of the Germans, the frog and sex mad Swedes We laugh and giggle until someone gets up and hit the offender for going too far. when saying someone’s mother is a slut Great democracy the elite tells us, but do not go too far and never make fun of a Jew.

Refusal Stood on top my desk rope over a beam postman knocked three times there is hope a letter a publisher has sent me a letter I open it and laughed it is another rejection something about my spelling lack of punctuation and commas the publisher used to be a teacher