Native Americans call me 'Paleface'
'Roundeye' say the Chinese race
to a Scot I'm a 'Sassenach' 'Boyo' to those in Wales
altho' a 'Limey' in New York
I answer to none such hails
once a 'Gweilo' in Hong Kong Down Under was a 'Pom'
you may give a dog a bad name (and/or a bone)
he may even be your (best) 'Pal' don't think me fuddy-duddy
for what's more I have my limits and I'm not your (good) 'Buddy'
then a 'Rooinek' 'round Cape Town
'Farangi' was I in Dubai
and tho' no English rose was a 'Bloke' when there
as originally from Kenya when owned by Blighty
in some parts of the U.S.A. I'm now called 'Whitey'
'Haole' in Hawaii that's me and 'Gringo'
down south in Mexico
seems I'm all things to all men a man of many hats
altho' no they know me not
whether saint or sinner
you may call me what you will
but just not late for dinner
Dubai, a marvel nestled between nature's grandeur and technological prowess, enchants with its mesmerizing beauty. Skyscrapers reach for the heavens, their sleek forms kissing the azure sky.
Once tranquil fishing villages along the Arabian Gulf, now bustling hubs of life, Dubai boasts floating and soaring structures, embodying modernity's spirit.
From the curved grace of the Cayan Tower pulsating in the city's heart to the majestic embrace of the Emirates Towers, and the opulent silhouette of the Burj Al Arab, Dubai is a captivating sight.
Its beauty, a seamless fusion of human endeavor and natural splendor, transcends cosmetics, radiating from its gleaming visage, a testament to innovation and harmony.
Dubai is not for the faint-hearted, home of the richest rich.
They have outdone themselves in their hotels and buildings
Fabulous home of the rich and famous, opulence rules here
Of course it would be the notorious Fourth of July
Here I am, a tourist, wandering around completely lost in Dubai
Waiting for Greek salad which I have always wanted to try
Wishing my friend Duno Brown would come past, by and by.
The prices of the food here are for the exclusively rich.
I fit in more with the workers outside who are digging a ditch.
I stare at the menu, conjuring up better prices, like a witch.
Being here on Independence Day is kind of a b.......
It's one of those bad days, don't know why
Parts need replacing on the furnace, from Dubai
Joking of course
What could be worse
Shipment's on its way arriving sometime next July
Dubai nights - 4.11.18
The lights glow over the horizon
in a technicolour display of sparkles; a fairyland.
An invitation to enter the city, reminds me home,
The Arts Centre and the Westgate Bridge at night time
with its twinkling Melbourne City below.
Its dark, yet the lights play their part across the roof tops.
The pool an iridescent blue - lit up as the children play.
Bright blue against the stark white walls, reminds of a Greek landscape
reflecting and shimmering, dancing like a cascading water feature
refracting the light across the background
Umbrellas poised and folded,
sentries to the night as the nights moon bathers recline
lovers come to swoon in balcony corners,
shadowy and camouflaged by the shifting lights,
an intimacy shaded - a space for all.
I
Just
Stand
Here
alone.
Factually,
A feat,
A pinnacle of
Engineering at almost
A thousand meters high,
A colossus, an omnipresence
Comparable to God-
a man made concept
advertised to exhaustion.
Amongst concrete caricature
cliche’d into postcards and keychains, I am
The subject, the focus and distinguished character;
an over- exaggerated needle in a haystack.
In status of Symbol of City, I am the entirety of the City-
Iron soaked cement stands for a point proven.
Isn’t that why you’re here?
Why exactly I was made in such manner perhaps
Remains more of a mystery to you than to me, I think.
I suppose its only a difference of our perspectives.
I cannot claim to understand it fully myself;
you’re only here to gaze into glare of glass panes,
To burn white spots into your vision;
a mirage dancing on a surface too hot to touch.
I don’t have much choice on the other hand- you put me here and made this mine.
The sun’s reflection on windows sink with the dusk,
harsh light dulling to transparency.
Its like only I can see the red lights shine through this golden city.
I fear the city disappeared
it shaped me till today.
It helped me fight what I have feared
and made me find my way.
The music played, I still can hear,
it rises and it falls.
I sometimes hear the voices near
lost in cities malls.
You and I with youth and joy,
attached to streets as such.
You were just a teenage boy
and you've gone through so much.
I kept your number and your name
your face still cycles in my eyes.
I still can feel the distant shame
from hello to goodbye.
My eyes still tear to your reply,
message posted years ago.
Maybe once in small Dubai
your shadowed face will show.
My town nicknamed, ‘Mini Dubai’, burgeoned and branched
on the bank of Kanoli canal like a tamarind seed.
Now the silvered canal sprawls on its death bed.
Busy pedestrians walk down
an ancient bridge built by the British.
As the traffic light has lost its eye balls,
a potbellied policeman dances and controls.
Jalopies groan, and modern cars whiz.
A long whistle: an ambulance with the wounded
and a van with the wedding party halt side by side
as the southern and northern hemispheres
of emotions meet at a single point.
Nostalgic smell of the canal sops in the sizzling tang from a cafeteria.
The splurging women whirl in the hurry wind among the concrete
buildings seething under the tanning rays. The stink of sweat and
the aroma of the Arabian perfumes choke the air in shops, where,
sometimes, the chicanery peeks through the glassed. The
applications drafted in blood and salt scurry to the offices nearby –
only to get the obsequies in the waste baskets. The sots creep like
snakes in the yard of Snadra Bar.
A crow sits on an electric post and watches all beneath
with a smile of wisdom