Pictures what I saw a Paris

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FRONTPAGE

“After I got my coffee machine working, I was eager

to renew my focus” said Mahmoud on Thursday.

A Donkey waits for his visa at the Lamu immigration office, Kenya. After beaching his boat in a storm, Donkey had no way back to Europe. “If I don’t fix the engine first, I’ll be too slow to avoid the pirates on the Red Sea route. I’ll have to go around the Cape. “

The Old Men (and my Love Across) The Sea

On a savage sea,
Stories took flight.
Tellers, cast men.
Their stories, my birthright.

That same sea blows a wind here.
And life it gives all the same.
Mackerel lie out on stalls with no ice
A stink!
And only salt to cure them.

That same salt is on the wind
And it’s in the walls
And it runs through them,
The way any good war metaphor would illustrate.

But no war metaphors here for a sea we dont fight.
On his boat, Grandad wouldn’t even curse it.
For all the wind and rain and waves,
He’d give not so much as a spit.
Or so say the teachings of the prophets.

But safe on land
And estranged from it, and the sea
And the prophecies born of both,
I’m free to curse and point my finger.

Like a desert, it lies between us,
Cruel and unrelenting.

But seas and deserts both are crossed.
Estranged men sit around here selling trinkets.
Blue desert rags cover their heads -
A reminder that their fathers crossed seas too.

And the blue casts a hope all over.
I see it now on bottles, barrels, flannels, cans
An alienated symbol.
Like a window candle on a Christmas eve.
But like that light, a hope all the same

New life

Soundtrack for a slow few weeks

Productivity

***Soundtrack***

I brush my teeth with coffee
when my mouth needs to work a bit late.
My teeth are gone a bit yellow
But my smile is always great.

To a concerned passer by

How can you live like this?

Whole thing’s got nothing to do with me buddy. I mighta walked into it drunk but I didn’t choose birth. Alcohol negates informed consent. Maybe it’s implicit just sitting here but I signed nothing. Raw deal anyway. It’s like a traffic cone helmet just sitting on my head. No reason really, no purpose but to breed and make war. I can imagine the war worth sticking around for. Rest of it not so much – Ever lived a war? You look a bit Arab.

No? I’ll have to get working on my own one soon if nothing moral comes along. Maybe transcend morals and just live a war for what it is. The breeding would be fun too, but that’s the opposite. Shame about this peace wound I’m sporting. Isn’t there solace in it – the gargle, but it’s dimmed me balls. Not an end to pull on now do I have – fingers not arsed to scratch an itch, eyes not even sleep’d convince to close.

Smoked twenty cigarettes yesterday. Don’t even like them, but I bought a few on the cheap. Stolen probably. Thought hit me brain with the limpest reminder of fun.

You don’t have a cigarette do you?

No?

I’m half hoping I’ll live long enough to see old man human kick the bucket. Can’t come soon enough though. I think it’ll be the earth do away with us all in the end. We won’t even see it coming. Global warming me bollix. She’ll wipe us away like a barber’s leech after cutting a hole for the sun and keep our cities then the way barbershops keep those red poles yet.

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