Sex and coffee

both in turn
allowing me
to stay awake

while others

If the one fails
I still have the other
to comfort me with,

while it is

that one is better
to keep my eyes open
as the night grows old

than the other one

though that choice
is not always of my




Having two


would others
consider them,

Defining character traits,
might I offer
in their defense

Having two passions,
not to be denied
nor, dismissed

defining who and what

we are


She said, “I want it here
and now! Then again, and again!
What about you?”

I reached over
and tasted the coffee

“My God Woman,
I said Dark Roast”
“Dark Roast!”

Sex and Coffee

As I’ve grown older
I’ve learned to appreciate
the better things in life

Until I find them both
I’ll still have the coffee to enjoy


I have seen
wondrous things
but not all of them
being accepted
by the minority
who in their good right
demand a place,
where they are heard
respected, loved

Everyone wants
the same treatment
united in the cause
of righteousness
giving their all
not standing on
that we all are

The minority, though
must also accept
that people like me,
who drink coffee,

Might just be
better than everyone else
who doesn’t,

Just an opinion
that’s all….


What avoided me
was good at it,
I was amiss, this day
not like any other, not affording
a chance for a cup of coffee
just like any other,

At work, I yearned
I had dreamed the whole way
coffee to be drinking,
a woman, brown-skinned
sporting emerald eyes,
with the darkest thoughts,
espresso in nature, tempting me
luring me to her lair where we sipped
Jamaican, Ethiopian and Italian Roast
until our senses, high on caffeine
let our passions loose,

The coffee machine
a beast of sorts, providing nourishment
to the weary of body and soul,
the aromas wafting, grabbing me
almost like my grip on her hips
drawing me closer, tasting her
dark pleasures, while she whispered
in a language unknown to me,

Broken it was
not just quiet, but deathly quiet
I felt us parting, her and I
If she attained ecstasy, would she be alone
for I waited anew, a chance to taste of
her pleasures, rich enough
for a poor sod like me,
with turned-out pockets, not owning
a pence, a coin of sovereign to call my own,

The day dragged onward
my limbs hung like branches laden
with coffee beans, ripened and ready
to be picked,
the fruit of my loins, tensing, sensing
as I shook the day off me, as best I could
waiting for her black redemption
the tunnel at the end of my lightened road
averting all of her former suitors, wanting her
lusting only for her, only for her,

Upon arrival at my own domicile
I expected her to be there, waiting
open arms, wearing my favorite
the piece of clothing, that first drew my attention
to her, her lips painted, black
inviting, a chance to rest, to invigorate,
entering into what had escaped me before now
but wait,

Waiting was no stranger to me,
the best of the worst day, I ever had remembered
the coffee, black enough
to drive the uninitiated away, running screaming
not knowing of the pleasures, she could inflict,
if only, I knew, that once would not be enough for me
I drank of her beauty, again and again

This modest retelling
my story, now laid out for the world to read
the final act, when locked in a final kiss, we were
drinking of her pleasures, again and again

As I sit her, being awake for time immemorial,
eyes open, as if never again to close
her darkness, the strength of her caffeine
allowing me the pleasure of remembering her
remembering our last meeting
the last kiss

With sleep being just another path
in her world
of black

The Hum

The hum of my PC
like too many bees
or, too many fleas
or so says my dog,

The tap of the keyboard
my coffee gone cold
the bitterness leaves
an acrid taste in my mouth,

I thought of traveling
down a crooked road,
along a meadow street
where boulders rolled my toes,

Or, should you just put
a rose between your teeth
and dance the tango with me
while the fireflies, sit and clap,

The hum of my PC
no particular tune I know
just the rhythm of my thoughts
moving along known pathways

of random thoughts…

While the Coffee

While the coffee
grows cold in the cup
the last strains
the last music
someone like Pink Floyd
singing a familiar tune,
echoing in the background
not making the coffee
be any warmer,
but as you might know
cold coffee won’t be
resurrected again,
not on this side of the flavor
still residing near my taste buds
telling me that more coffee
won’t bring back that taste
the one that starts the new brew
the memory being renewed,
with the taste radiating,
re-awakening my senses
and sharpening my wit,

While the coffee
was still warm in the cup
and my fingers were sliding
along the keyboard,
it might have been with me
thinking about someone like
Neil Young instead,
while the processes that cause
my warm delight to fade to cold

Increase as the music fades to black..

The Bitterness

The bitterness of the morning coffee

drew me to the darkness of the brew

The blackness of her intentions

made me want to dive into her waters

and drown in the emptiness

of her eyes….

When I Saw Her Last

It was a sunny day

when I saw her, last

The most gentlest of breezes

along with her smile, sweet

and the longing in her eyes,

and the soothing way, she said

we’ve run out of filter number 4

and the coffee is burning a hole in my memory…


And my memory

of her as well…..

Surviving a visit to Copenhagen, Denmark

This blog is more than 3 photos of Copenhagen, Denmark. It is a lesson in being a tourist in a foreign country. Probably the most important thing to learn while in Denmark is ordering Coffee. If you are the type who is unsure about buying coffee in a foreign country, then this is the perfect opportunity to learn how.DSC05668


Coffee on the go. In downtown Copenhagen near the Residence of the Queen. This is a way to avoid contact with the local population, until you have learned the rhythms and customs of this typically Danish city. If unsure if asking in English is accepted, then try the Danish word for Coffee,  Kaffe instead. At this point in time I would warn you not to use the incorrect term Danish. A Danish might not mean the same in Denmark, as it does in your Country, and you might just end up getting slapped silly in true Copenhagen Style, if you ask for one.


With your kaffe in hand, and hopefully not a stinging cheek, you now will be observing  a member of the Royal Life Guards (Den Kongelige Livgarde) in front of the Residence of the Queen in Copenhagen.

Do not try to do a Mr Bean imitation at this point in time, as the Danes are not as tolerant as the British in this situation.


This fellow is just doing his job, which means that the use of deadly force is as common to him, as selling kaffe, without Danish is to the kaffe vendor in the first photo.



Typical Tourists near the Residence of the Queen.

Note the style of dress. Note also the feeling of helplessness, and boredom at being a tourist. If you want to be a successful tourist in Denmark, be sure to imitate these typical tourists in every way, shape and form. Remember to warn them, if a photo is on the way in order to avoid any unpleasant incidents. Notice the fluidity of the photo. Try moving your monitor (or telephone screen) from left to right, or right to left in order to feel the movement in the photo.

The dark grey line in the middle foreground is leading you toward the the left. The 3 people balancing on the line, give the impression of order, continuity and determination.

The hapless tourist sitting all the way to the right is obviously a foreigner of the troublesome type. Note his anarchistic stare. What is he thinking? He is the focal point of this photo. Do not take your eyes off of him, lest he suddenly attacks you without a moment’s notice.

The man with the cane and the woman at his side are most assuredly Americans. They are actually rather confused, being in Copenhagen, as they thought the trip was taking them to Saint Petersburg in Russia. They have asked for directions to the nearest bus stop, and are waiting for a bus, even though there are no buses in this area.

The group of 4 tourists to the left of the confused Americans are most noticeably Danes from the Jutland Peninsula. Danes outside of Copenhagen feel uncomfortable being in Copenhagen, as they feel it is too noisy, too big, and that the residents speak in a dialect not belonging to the rest of the country.

The last 3 tourists are only props, digitally placed in the background of the photo to give the impression of movement.

I hope my tips about being a tourist in Copenhagen have been helpful to all those, who have happened upon this blog?

It is never easy, being away from home, expecting things to be at least somewhat like your home country, and not just a confusing place with signs that cannot be read, people that do not sell simple pastries , and tourist guides that were better left at home on the hard drive of your PC.

Hola, Aloha. Dang what was it they said in this country…..

Au revoir, nope…Auf Wiedersehen, uh,

På Gensyn! It still doesn’t sound right to me, but then I’m not a Dane……