The occupation


There is a small house in the sticks of the Algarve

It has been alone for a month and has taken the looks

Of an ignored older man who needs to change his shirt

Moreover, a hot shower.

I take it mice have moved in feeding on my duvet,

Moreover, I have to get rid of them don’t know-how

I could gas them, but I’m no sadist, I could catch them

One by one, release them in the woods but they will

Remember the good life and return.

I have to become concerning only mice can prove

They have lived here the last ten generation are allowed

In the rest, it will be expelled.

I could see the Us air force, but they bomb everything

In and ask question later.

So, I have to be a Swedish liberal and embrace the mice.

I digress as it is as I live on a traffic island and like to go

Return home. 


◄ social housing

a rose poem ►


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