Public Corruption
During, prior and passed the handling of homeless surplus, and perhaps it requires the specifics of stating, only homeless surplus, there was no evaporation nor limitation to the law ordering the handling of the homeless installation of surplus housing money, earmarked only for the ability to acquire buildings for the homeless who are landlords in California worth 100's of millions of dollars in every city of California.
No penny may be touched by another in language or otherwise. There will be no lawful adjust of the penny in homeless surplus.
Fifty one m1 Abrams tanks.' Australian donated it would
Break a small bank' to cause more misery..While many
Live in tents.' War and destruction, and madcap bents.?
Young Australians denied an army job.' Why were they
First obtslained.? Must have cost some bobs." Why not
Employ them as temporaty accomodations.' Thats how
Dire things are in our nation.' I never thought this could
Be the case.' I hear of war on want.' We need breathing
Space.' A time to consider? And that is now! Start fixing
Up each country, they should not be ( cash cows ) help
Your own..' Just stop bending over' to the god of destruction 'who at the moment' has a camoflauge of
Of green clover."
Discreetly sent to landfill site
then buried out of public sight
where it will slowly rot away
with other waste sent to decay
surely this is morally wrong
in times when people are starving
sell-by dates are partly to blame
as they maintain the profit game
but is this practice really right
dumping good food in landfill site.
It’s so bright on these islands
it feels like they must be nightless,
that with just 24 hours to a day,
there’s more than enough light
to go around.
The light floods water,
making it disappear,
so boats levitate,
their anchor lines making them
look like realistic
boat-shaped balloons.
There is so much light,
it spills over into your body
and floods its innermost recesses,
so that the dark inside
is pushed out,
made homeless,
and has to take up
temporary residence
on your skin.
And the more time you spend there,
the more light your body drinks,
and the more darkness
is evicted from within it.
You spend a week, two, on these islands,
looking more like the locals by the day,
until you reluctantly go home,
where the air
isn’t overcrowded with light
and there’s space for the light in you
to drain back out gradually,
so the dark that’s been camping
on your skin can
finally seep back inside your body.
No place like home,
the shadows sigh happily.
Not necessarily how you feel,
your mind still in a place
where there is a surplus of light.
Surplus to requirement
My wife was her aunt a lovely woman of forty-four,
then she divorced her husband a man with a title,
a baron, because she felt bored by him – he was
tedious all style and a small brain- she took a
course and got a medical job that brought her far and
wide, in the world and she also got a new man and
we were happy for her, she was approaching middle
age entitled to some happiness
She stopped ringing us and when my wife rang her
she was always busy, she disappeared from view
and the silence became a chasm on unsaid words
But we know she is doing well has friends her age.
I said to my wife last time we saw her she looked
so remote we had become too old for her
Surplus of Requirement
m/s “Kari” rode the seas like a swan, only when the most evil waves of
the Atlantic ocean hit, did she flap her wings. Why was it she was crewed
by harbour dregs? Men who callously walked on her deck and were ready
to leave her at the next port of call, for booze, cigarette and whores?
Often she had to sail understaffed because her crew had succumbed to
the bleak pleasure of a harbour bar. We officers loved her, even though
for most of us she was the last chance before being barred and losing our
tickets, walk the shores and beg a shipping clerk for a opening.
She carried everything in her hull, trucks, tanks, jeeps and even hats for
some South American dictator’s wife. Then she was sold to Bangladesh
too old and cumbersome the owner said, it was all about container ship,
in and out of harbours, quickly. In Hatiya the captain cried his home was
being dismantled in front of his eyes. For us too it was the bitter end, old
and grizzled, no one needs a sailor who thinks of his ship as home.
counting deaths servants, circling these wayward surplus thoughts. Plucking one by one just
as you pluck guitar strings. Surprisingly beautiful, as they flee from deaths servants. Pulling
out his sickle to slice, slash anything in its path. Raping them of any existanced of mind. How
lovely. I guess I'll take a number.
28.05.2008
"A surplus of memory"*
Darker than November nights
Falling softly on the snow -
Memories I cannot fight,
Memories that wouldn't go.
When I looked into your eyes
Happiness was all I saw -
Now the past - I cannot fight,
Now the past just wouldn't go.
As I very shyly reach
For a hand that's never there -
Memories - they stop my heart,
Memories - they wouldn't care...
* title taken from Yitzhak Zuckerman's book
I take so little from this world,
a bread,
some spread,
little water,
some air,
that lifes me,
and dry my wares,
a little space,
to fall flat,
when I had enough of pace,
some shards to cover me,
and some books to read,
that is all I need,
why are you jealous,
of me,
dont you get even this much,
or are you worried about my billions,
which are anyway surplus.
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