The bordello camp
Morning in Aruba, the cock has crowed three times
Men get out of beds that hundreds have slept in
of other men, they are silent, waiting for taxis
to take them back to their ship
Sad men, there is no jubilation here, cigarette smoke
A cold morning beer while waiting for the transport
A seaman, overcome by the tardiness, tries to run away
There is nowhere to run; the whore camp is in the desert
on a desert, sand, bushes, and snakes.
The madman, plied with alcohol, is sleeping.
The other carried him onboard.
In the courtyard, a woman swipes the dance
floor, doesn't bother to look up, when this day ends
They will be back again, or someone like them
will come, here, drink, dance, and pay for sex
Baku and the Swedish cook
It sounds impossible, but 72 years ago, I was
a galley-boy on an old tank ship loading
oil for Iceland, a country with watery beer
Baku, I remember the long avenue, empty
of people and poorly lit.
The cook and I had gone ashore, and we were
the only one who dared me, because I had
not been brainwashed, and the cook who
was Swedish, Stige Hellander, his name, and
a communist
There was a party somewhere near the men
Who wore a double-breasted suit to grow in
and padded shoulder, making them look odd
Oh, yes, they were party functionaries
Stige, the cook, enjoyed himself with free vodka.
They put it in a corner with a bottle of milk
and bars of chocolate, until it was time to go
back onboard, Stige, the cook, sang rude songs
Now, seventy-two years later, I learn that Baku
is not in Russia
God made my bed this morning
Of course, I made my bed, but God planned according
God ordains all things, (good or bad, all things)
Yes, even the Drill Sergeant’s inspection to see if my bed springs
(All y’all will know what that means, if you know what I mean)
Does that mean God is evil?
No, He predestines all things and figures in our free will
That’s right, God predestines our free choices
(even when the duvet is not quite poi-fect)
God made my breakfast this morning
Of course I made my own, He provided all things, conforming
He provides all things up to and while, and the continuing
(He sees the seeing and knows the knowing, the end, and the beginning)
So, whatever you do, do unto the Lord
Because He’s in control, so be onboard
As in Pacto Arco Iris, so it is in all God’s covenants
As our God is moving by thwarting Satan’s intents
So, as you go about your day
Have comfort knowing God has planned the way
Even your free choices fit into His plan
For every child and women and every man
Praise the King of saints
Let's make sweet music, I'm onboard
I'll play the strings and strum the chords
Easy does it, nice and slow
One has to take one's time you know
It takes a while to make good songs
Sometimes it may take all night long
To get in sync and lock the groove
The best songs are the ones that move
Love in the twilight age
Is a ripe love
No longer about perfect
But about giving a comfortable feeling
To go back home.
Love is never not a respecter of age
It's just that it doesn't fit in the early stage
Some says it has still acid taste when over ripe
Nevertheless able to onboard the last trip
Though early or last but love is never late.
Wrote a poem just four years ago
reminding myself how I must grow.
Entitled it then "Looking Ahead";
Each year, new verse I add to that thread.
“Looking inward in 2-O-2-2.
a more intentional me for You
Resolutions help me get onboard
and glorify the Almighty Lord."
Looking outward in 2-O-2-3
treasuring what Christ has meant to me,
wishing God's commonwealth to enlarge,
thanking my Savior who has full charge.
Looking forward in 2-O-2-4
fulfillment - what God put me here for -
to share my faith as I run this race
knowing that no one deserves His grace.
Looking upward in 2-O-2-5
God’s spirit alone will help me thrive.
Wishing does no justice to His cause;
but obedience wins His applause.
Onboard the P-lane
it was sh-Aking
a B-it scary.
Nice aeria-L
shows centra-L parts
home-Land of mines.
The hurt is pooling in my throat
and to avert the watershed,
you build the dams I tolerate,
make my demands the stagnant moat
where if the bridge is drawn, I'll drown
So I hold on to stay afloat
Then, once I'm safely back onboard,
your gaze, a hazel gray garrote,
will take my breath away, instead
I tolerate the dams you build
for fear I'll find no other boat
A sea-faring vessel on Galilean
Sea, fully dutied, dawn's a storm.
The ship's crew saw Christ walk
on water -- disciples inclusive.
Peter bid to partake, Christ said,
"Come." He beheld watery life
'neath the becalm Sea Glass, and
his whole being walks over it, raises
his inner glory to Christ's glory
divine, voice of assurance.
The storm woke Peter and fear
joined the climb. The Sea Glass robs
Peter's leap of faith to a sunken fate.
" ... little faith ... room for doubt."
The storm ends, and Peter is safe
onboard.
A vessel stern bids farewell, and its
crew praising the Son of God, as a
parting wanes a shimmering glass
sea mid a new calm proverbial day.
Voyagers
The old ship
rust stripped like a Sudanese mule
doomed to carry fleeing people across
a landscape of despair
Why, she floats is a lasting mystery
From one obscure port to another
she finds her way
The captain and the chief are never sober
plays ten-cent poker
The captain signs the manifesto but takes
no interest, what's in the ship's hold
other than massive rats
when did the pair come onboard, was it
when they were young and wore uniforms
and had shiny black shoes inspected
the crew's fingernail on Saturdays?
Morning in La Plata
tomorrow I will go ashore in Buenos Aires
eat fresh meat and dance the tango.
Voyagers
The old ship
rust stripped like a Sudanese mule
doomed to carry fleeing people across
a landscape of despair
Why, she floats is a lasting mystery
From one obscure port to another
she finds her way
The captain and the chief are never sober
plays ten-cent poker
The captain signs the manifesto but takes
no interest, what's in the ship's hold
other than massive rats
when did the pair come onboard, was it
when they were young and wore uniforms
and had shiny black shoes inspected
the crew's fingernail on Saturdays?
Morning in La Plata
tomorrow I will go ashore in Buenos Aires
eat fresh meat and dance the tango.
National day
25 of April Portugal's
national day
It so happened my ship, birthed that day
a night Lisbon didn't sleep
Great Jubilation
whores gave their wares for free
thieves didn't steal
and the bar owner splashed brandy.....
generously into your glass
I came back onboard five in the morn
waving a Portuguese banner
It was near a river named Yuba
and a little town named Rough and Ready.
No. It was not dark.
It was the heart of the day.
There were no streets, dead ends, or otherwise.
There was simply a dirt road that led somewhere,
But 'dead-end to me', as per my onboard brain-computer.
The street lights were not broken.
It was rural, and there were no lights.
No. I was not afraid; just concerned and frustrated.
I was looking for 'shortcuts and time savers' but found neither.
In the middle of 'nowhere', I soon turned around and got back
on the main road. Short-cut hunt? Quickly abandoned.
Back roads and back fields? Beware and be weary.
Lesson learned? Not all shortcuts are created equally.
Larry was rowing his novel as fast as he could
Trying to escape the emojis from Donner and Good
The evil faces were trying to climb onboard his boat
The islands in the distance remained fairly remote.
How much more can I take? Larry asked the wind.
The wind could see what kind of trouble he was in.
Just keep rowing, but do it double time, she said.
One horse emoji jumped onboard and stood on his head.
If you are going to be crazy, you will have to go said Larry.
But I don’t want to said the horse, whose name was Harry.
Then be good as sliced bread and do what I say, okay?
They had a safe trip downstream that very same day.
The Adventurer
I don't know any famous people maybe I have met famous people who keep their fame hidden like Madonna who lives in Lisbon, near enough for me to say if someone who doesn't know the place, Madonna is my neighbor.
I know of a man who has been living in Laos and Vietnam for some time, he paints a wonderful picture of the people, wort's and all and he drinks beeraloo cold from the freezer
When I was young and a seaman, the problem was when
The ship birthed was to get time off from work to explore the hinterland and not sit in a down-at-heel bar
drinking with whores, waking up in a pink-painted room
worrying about venereal illness and if the dick is falling off. Going back onboard in the morning light feeling
absolutely pissed off facing another day of long hours and in the evening settling for a book, reading pages upon pages not concentrating, sighing, putting shoes on, and walk
back to the bar with garish colors and cheap perfume.
I swear, I will pack a bag with all my medicines, go to Laos and drink beerallo and eat real food, and be charmed by naturally gracious women
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