This is an old poem inspired by a couple of nations’ landscapes and life ways I encountered in the mid 1990s.

Daisies, Cats and Spacemen (R.Arab, L.Arab)

Hard rock of old,
Speedy people, tall cities
The ones with the powers
Live in old bits, green bits
Bits by the river, ones highest up
Far from fumes, thousands of cars
Rhythmic motion of light
Methodically in streets of simple lines
One eye behind
Consuming readily, their malady
Lashes on the floor
Daisies, cats, and spacemen on the wall

Treading engrossed paving stones below
Filthy footmarks reflecting tear filled skies

But, in a world frozen still, my love
To find you’re with me still this night

Perfect plentiful pastures
Metal monsters’ industries
Cities on stilts, mined hollow underground
Silver pay for healing tide
Tracks carry ashes
Carefully placed water-burial site nearby
Tales of all kind
Solitary confusion as blood runs its course to purify