The ninth day Israel waging war Bombing Beirut Levelling Lebanon Hezbollah captured Two Israeli soldiers Israel recaptures the South of Lebanon And flattens what was erected So labouriously after Twenty years of war Opinion polls in Israel And the US'point of view By word of Condoleeza Rice Overwhelmingly support IDF Nine out of ten Innocents die Inocence died Long ago Close to 500 killed To compensate For 2 soldiers captured What I did not see Answered yet Is my question as to Where the 2 soldiers Were captured? North of Israel? South of Lebanon? Where's the outrage of the Western world? Where's the shame The inhumanity Today more than 50 people killed in Lebanon While a Hezbollah rocket killed 2 children in Israel BBC World Service just Reported Did the 50 people also include Children, mothers, grannies? T.B.C. No doubt!
I look at breasts I must confess Covered by Tight shirts I like them Best Summer is y-cumen Yes I will & not fight Biology Breasts not function As baby milk Reservoirs Warm feeding bottles Only They attract, like Magnets Not quite revealing all Still baring the promise of… I am not a sexist Male chauvinist pig I am all for women’s lib Equality and equal Opportunity. Yet where men’s nipples Rest upon their chests A woman’s nipples, if She’s not too young Are lifted up by Two soft domes Two semi-spheres Two temples Where I pray & Wonder Revelling in what I lack I look at breasts I must confess
(This is one my older poems, written when I myself was still young, 15 long years ago.)
I never talked with my father About the pain that he did feel I did see the method he chose To ease that feeling Albeit only temporarily I remember the tv nights That we did share When he, inebriated, Sat in his fixed place on the Couch A place in which we were not allowed To sit For it was his seat his space his Domain The far right of the 3 seater with The table and ashtray Next to it Where all the stuff he needed to Make it through the day was laid out In an orderly fashion And on our tv nights I not only watched The little screen that Showed another episode of Our favourite cop show Hill Street Blues I also watched my dad My father And I intuitively understood Why Although I could not put it into words And now When he’s no longer here Deceased a long long thirteen years ago I notice That I am more and more Becoming just like him Choosing the same medicine To ease the pain The child becomes The father And my love for him And my respect is Neverending My next glass of Wine is waiting to Be drunk I must be brave And finish What I’ve started Here’s to you old man May you have peace and Rest Still I’d wish we’d Talked about the Untalkable Maybe next time Cheers
(As you can see from the title I wrote this about my relationship with my father on the fifth of April 2006. Feel free to comment.)
