Ilmi Umerov


Mikhail Bulgakov couldn’t have made it up

Ilmi Umerov the former vice premier of Crimea

The leader of the Crimean Tartars

Committed to a psychiatric institution

For expressing his concerns

He suffers diabetes

A heart condition and Parkinsons

So withdraw medication.

Seems sensible.

And so we await

the appearance of The Master

And of strange happenings that suggest

That evil may be taking charge of reality

The return of the magician,

Of Koroviev,

That black cat Behemoth,

Azazello and Abadonna,

Not to forget the witch Hella.

No that would stretch the imagination

A stretch too far

Russia is up to date

A modern society

There is no room for Satan

Superstition or evil

Such things could not happen

In Putin’s modern Russia.



Frankensteen matters to me.

Frankensteen matters to me.


Lowes 570 Second Avenue

A dollar cinema

All day in air conditioning

A cinch for elderly citizens

The bill of the day

Young Frankensteen

Outside the air was green

An electric storm was brewing

In the darkness

I lay back and watched

Old people holding meetings

While the screen roared

With a Hollywood storm

Black and white lightning flashing

And that rumble of thunder

Outside same thing was happening

The two merged a sheet of rain

Fell from the ceiling

Sending old people scuttling up the aisles

Meanwhile Gene Wilder’s eyes

Wide open

Reflected the scene inside.



A tribute to a  nice man.







Walls are like scars                                                                                               Some are easily seen

Some walls that are                                                                                              Invisible to you and me

Scars like walls almost                                                                                         Invisible even to the keen eyed

Some scars are like walls                                                                                     So easily seen

Then there are those walls                                                                                 Others like to build

To prevent themselves                                                                                        From seeing scars

From feeling


So we build high walls                                                                                        To protect ourselves

But protect us                                                                                                        From what exactly

Ourselves?                                                                                                              Everyone?






Walls are like scars                                                                                               Some don’t  want to see

Walls that block                                                                                                     Out all feeling

Walls that stop                                                                                                      Us becoming involved

Walls that need                                                                                                     To come down

So that scars can heal                                                                                          And stop more harm

To ourselves.                                                                                                         To everyone.





Some scars never heal                                                                                         While there are walls

That stops us                                                                                                         From healing.


Stop us from hearing                                                                             Ourselves!

Stop us from seeing                                                                               Ourselves!


Walls keep