How can you read road sign from a car Do stay for tea and our cats’ seminar I used to live in Bury but I moved However hard you try. this can’t be proved.
I saw a shapeless form come through the door O M G I’ve seen this form before If it’s black if foretells of a death If it’s white it is your frozen breath I felt such shame I blushed inside and out Please accept my feelings of grave doubt I read a book of Sayings of the Wise I may be old yet I can still surprise
The psalms are mostly works of love and hate Civil disobedience makes me late When we buried father we all cried So much so, we felt someone had died
Life is brief so buy a multi-pack Knickers are so useful in the Dock I’m a burglar,I steal people’s clothes Bur knickers second hand are far too gross What Art are you accused of, asked the Judge I dropped the brush and so my work was smudged The troubled waters used up all my oil A pity I forgot to make them boil I was angry so I killed a ghost Is that murder or a dream composed? The Jury are divided by a lack Love might come if it can find a crack
Cats make homes wherever they find ease I wish I were a cat and you were too Cats pay no rent are never mortgagees Cats make homes wherever they find ease Self sufficient, they don’t live to please And if they are disturbed they simply flee No sulking and no moods, they’re never blue Cats make homes wherever they find ease I wish I were a cat and lived with you
Doctor, where is my appendix? I think it’s on the table. I thought it was inside my body Yes, so is the table. Did you put it in? No, it was an error I hate those Errors coming here and getting free housing and cash They are native. That’s even worse.I hate natives So where do you come from? The Isle of Man Well, go back and take your prejudice with you Where can I find it? Look within
Doctor I have a bunion Don’t tell anyone else or they will want one I have two Sell one
Doctor are you Turkish? No, but Boris Johnson is So why is he here? That’s what we all wonder
Doctor, did you vote Leave? I am not a psychiatrist. I can’t even spell it. Well,can you spell Depart? it sounds French Escape? I am no criminal Flee? What, I’m not an asylum seeker We used to have a real Asylum in London But that was only for lunatics Well,anyone who wants to be here now seems like a lunatic Like Boris’s great grand dad? Where did they get their money? From a Laundry. I only use one to wash my clothes You must be more inventive I am 101, you know. I don’t know Well, you do now.
Good morning,Ms Brown Gosh,you are so utterly politically correct ,doctor In my view,it matters only for us to be medically correct,dear.And grammatically,of course. How true, noble sire. Now, what’s the problem today,madame? It’s my nerves,doctor.I hate them so much I feel almost derisory..which is totally crackers nowadays with so many street drugs to take one’s mind out of this world. What’s wrong with your nerves to make you feel like this all of a sudden? I think they are too big,mein herr.Can I have plastic surgery on them to replace then with plastic ones .I mean artificial like dentures are for teeth that drop out? My dentist tells me my nerves are double the average size. for humans But what is the standard deviation? Averages are no use alone.I wish people learned this in school How dare you say that! I have never deviated in any way.And I’ve never been average… and surely double the average size must mean something gross is going on? What a pity this is.You are a very charming and glamorous lady…I say that only to comfort you,not to seduce you which is illegal anyway,even if I wanted to do.Which I deny absolutely; Well,my nerves feel like long wild grasses waving in a cold westerly breeze in a great big meadow in Hartland,North Devon where many lips have cracked.And sailors drowned off shore too…why some even drowned on the shore and their ghosts still wander below the sheer and terrifying cliffs of alabaster and silver. Have you ever though of writing narrative or lyrical poetry or even romantic novels? What,write poetry with nerves like this?Do you think I’m a masochist or what? Well, you could try using a pen or a keyboard,you know. Now,God has given some of us larger nerves than others.It’s an evolutionary advantage to have some sensitive people about,like the canaries in the coal mines.They feel trouble coming before the rest of humankind That’s hardly any use to me as I am childless and can’t pass it on. God didn’t know that when he created you.Or if he did,he knew with nerves like this motherhood would be perilous and at least you can be a human canary Well,is there any surgery to help me or any other amelioration to my symptoms? Apart from removing your head there’s not much I can suggest at this moment in time,right now, if you want a verdict.Perhaps you can plant some wild flowers amid these long waving grasses and enjoy the beauty that you will perceive in summertime if you can be patient You’re an odd doctor compared to the usual one. Actually I’m really the computer repair man.The system has crashed and so has the doctor…temporarily I knew you looked different but I put it down to my giant nerves disturbing my vision… So will you come back to see the doctor later?He is just in the pub drinking blackcurrant liqueur for his nerves! What’s it got to do with you if I come back again or not? I love your mind,I love your body .I love your tentacles,receptacles and all your past and future particles.I love every bit of you especially your nerves.I always liked a woman with very big nerves. Really? Well,that’s cheered me up a great deal.I like the beast in man.How about my wild grasses? I love those too.Why,I’d like to lie down amongst them if you catch my drift. Can you read between the lines or write between them? Have you ever thought of taking up psychotherapy? I prefer to help computers.Hearing sad stories from disturbed folk all day must be draining as you can’t run out when you get overwhelmed like you can at parties Yes,but it would be horribly fascinating to hear all these stories.And now I am off to the garden centre to buy some flower seeds. I’d give you some seeds myself but it would be wrong to sow your field here in this office and the doctor might come in any time now which would be a trifle unseemly. Well,he could sow his wild oats as well! What a wicked woman you are;I love your mind.You seem quite out of the orddinary… please keep your big nerves. I am only offering this with the aim of calming those huge nerves .I am not thinking of enjoying lust or of how romantic you seem and how artistically brilliantlu you are dressed and your golden curls and blue clothes.And your cleverness. I quite understand.I shall keep it all under my hat. if you see what I mean It’s an amazing red hat.Are you a Cardinal? No,I stole it off one I’d love to hear the whole story….who,when and where? Well,I hope to publish it on Swindle soon. We can’t wait.
When I was young and almost here I had a problem with my fear. My mother’d not known what to do And I kept running to the loo At last the doctor’s mind was clear They sent me to a nuclear seer.
The man looked up, the man looked down I’d never seen him in the town He asked me if I had bad dreams Or ruined my sleep with howls and screams I never knew quite how to say: The nuclear bomb might go astray.
They told us what to take inside The nuclear shelter, where we’d hide Tampax weren’t allowed as they Might break our hymens on the way So we had our bags of pads As seeing our blood ‘d dismay the lads
We must lie down in the hedgerows But not day dream or take a doze. In our mill towns we had no hedge It was a metaphor I grudged. Later, with our bloody cloths, We would come out and see God’s wrath.
On the nuclear fires we’d burn The sanitary towels society spurned. I hope before the bomb comes back The Bishops will permit some slack For tampax are so small and neat Our bin would have an odour sweet
We might be turned into grey ash And our hymens all out-blast We’d never know our clitoris By a lover’s soft caress So get together while you can Before they drop that bloody bomb
“Defence secretary denies British army is scrapping tanks”
What a shock!But we can’t use horses in a nuclear war so cavalry is out.What can we use?
When I was at school we were told to take sanitary towels into the bunker.As Catholics we were forbidden to use tampons.They also told us to lie down in the hedgerows when we saw a bomb coming.We lived in an industrial mill town. Dandelions were a rare sight and buttercups did not flourish.A blade of grass sometimes grew in a crack in the pavement
After ayear or two the government realised that these talks were causing panic so we heard no more but now it would be ok to take in a tampon or even a vibrator.I have yet to see one but I can’t help wondering if they are good for backache.So we’ll enjoy out last moments of life trying to find a partner or even a philanderer.
After all an atom bomb is a climax, though of destruction not creation
They tell me I’ve got three years What did you do? Stopped chemotherapy, got all my money together and sailed round the world Sounds good But I have no money left.They said I’d die in one year I am so sorry you are still alive.Those doctors are idiots I’ll have to go on benefits Just applying might kill you Well. God knows I want somewhere to live Try a Stable!
I can’t afford to be ill.What’s the cheapest way to die? Either starvation or Beachy Head I long to visit Gaza first Why? I’ve never seen a person strip And if you go near the Border….. it could be the answer to your prayers. I’ve not prayed for years Just a metaphor.You could go to the USA and as you are black the police may kill you free if you can’t pay for your cigarettes.Just get a fake 20 dollar bill before shopping Where from? I can make one here You mean you are a crook? Not yet, but I am hoping Why? I’ve got schizophrenia and I need money for therapy You mean they charge the sick? They are just being politically correct It reminds me of the Light Brigade They say a foetus is sacred Yes, until birth! Well,I’ll have to think about this I prefer never to think How thoughtless!
You may not be able to play the piano but you can play on a piano or if it is grand,in a piano. or even with a piano if it is no too large or next to a piano even underneath a piano On top of a piano too! How many other objects are so versatile? But two pianos can’t play with each other though they could be played together by 2 pianists Rather expensive to arrange though As for three pianos,don’t you agree I have said enough?
Beware of getting into hot water in your bikini A few weeks after Annie moved into the lovely house next door to Stan,he met her when he was seeing his wife off to work. Why does Mary not have a car? Annie enquired suspiciously. She is trying to keep slim,Stan told her. Well,she’s not been very successful,Annie said scientifically. She might be much fatter than she is now if she drove a car,he stated ponderously That’s true,muttered Annie loudly.I am your new next door neighbor. Yes,said Stan,I have seen you sunbathing in the garden in your bikinis. How come? she asked merrily yet sternly There’s a big hole in the fence.He said Is it legal to look at women through a hole in the fence?asked Annie.I know it’s illegal to look into their bedroom windows. Is it really,asked Stan nervously,I had no idea.How about women looking at men through a round hole in a fence or square one? Oh,they are not very keen to do that,she lied charmingly. Well,said Stan,clearing his throat,I think I owe it to myself to tell you that I love you. Wow,you’re quick off the mark,the lady said saucily.What do you mean,you owe it to yourself? she continued in a puzzled tone. Nothing,said Stan,I could not think how to word it.I mean I wish to unselfishly love you and admire your ripe body and your cute sense of color.I love your teal trouser suit.And you sing so well in the bath.I can hear you. You didn’t mean you owe it to yourself to take advantage of me? Not unless you want me to take advantage of you,the gallant old man informed her kindly And you can take advantage of me, he said I make cakes and biscuits,wholemeal bread and I am training my cat Emile to do statistics on an i pad. How extraordinary,Annie whispered.I didn’t know cats had an “I.” let alone pads. Well,they have pads on their paws,he informed her intelligently. True,she said,but where are their I’s? Where are our I’s ? he responded in a manner to rejoice the heart of Mary Midgley or Susanne Langer two of Stan’s favourite writers on philosophy,logic,symbols and ethics. Not that he practised the Ethics but he liked to know what he was doing wrong.It’s more fun that way.If you sin,sin big! A man who seduces women merrily one after the other may have no idea it might be wrong.Neither might the women.Why is it wrong? Surely it’s better than killing people,making war or leaving the lid off the jam all night so the wasps get into the jar? Still,not many men get the chances that Stan got.No-one suspected this kindly,handsome practising Catholic was a womaniser despite his blue beard,green eyes,white skin and red hair.And his slim yet strong figure clad in navy trousers and white shirts all the year round.Maybe his wife did but she preferred to read Aristotle in bed and dream about mercury… those little silver balls,so cute! Well,as we know,Stan is about to make Annie his mistress but in such a cold wet summer,where can he take her to do the deed?The shed?The public library? Cafe Nero? I owe it to you not to tell you yet.That will give you time to think of a solution for this sweet old man and his naughty but nice neighbor. Like,how about the confessional in the local Church? Whatever next?
I owe it to myself to keep it secret as you may come along and spoil the fun. Stan went indoors and washed up in the boiling hot water he kept by him constantly as he owed it to himself to be ready to make a hot drink at any moment he fancied and by gum,he did fancy like no man
I loved him so much, but he said I was the Gorgon personified.Would you say that to a woman? Why did he not notice it at first rather than asking me to send him a photo of myself wearing red underwear or even not wearing it Men don’t understand that red runs in the washing machine and I don’t want red shirts looling like tie dye whenI give a lecture on “The mean average and what it means to mankind ” and then get called politically incorrect when I am teaching something useful. I like grey underwear as it stops me worrying about my whites not being white enough.Do they think I am not a vestal virgin? I also have grey sheets on my bed as the cats like grey, in fact they are grey On the other strand I do like a bright winter coat to make others cheerful Yes, my thesis was published but I am no Martin Luther.Noone understood mine which was good as one Reformation was more than enough
What do you mean, the food is burned? I was caramelising the onions.You do it or cook me a meal in bed,sorry, instead Freud, it’s lucky he is dead.what would he call me? The hound woman The horse frightener? I gave my best and will give it a rest
Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars We even sell our weapons and the torture tools make gold Europe a disaster for more than several hundred years
We will not watch the News as this sort of stuff’s a bore My heart is beating faster and I’m feeling freezing cold Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars
We’re defenceless little creatures with wicked central core With our many nuclear weapons, maybe we are over-bold Europe courts disaster for more than several hundred years
Jesus hangs defenceless outside the liquor store I wonder how much longer those Roman nails will hold Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars
The pain of living here is that our swollen hearts will tear God picks up a paperclip, his lips are cold and closed Europe a disaster for more than several hundred years
Now the Day of Judgement comes, we stand arrayed in rows The Jews are singing Kaddish while the tortured children freeze Everyone is bleeding but we won’t stop fighting wars Civilised disaster for the last two thousand years
I have a wound From where the red blood flowed with clots that pained Babies dead and nothing else remained Yet I tried again and never knew My interior a man might love to view In childhood this place seemed so very small Now it feels so huge, the size appalls The envy of the plain, the vice of fools This sacred space, a woman’s school I have a wound
Is your glowing face a map? are your tender ways a map? what is not a map? Is your open smile a map? Is your deepest groan a map? what is not a map? Is my too sharp touch a map? Is my too quick glance a map? what is not a map?
Is this sea green leaf a map, Is this light red flower a map? What sort of map is that? Is the evening sky a map, Is the silver moon a map? Of what is that a map? Is this entire world a map? Is the sun-soaked sky a map? Is this tiny child a map?
think I am a map. Who can learn to read these maps? Without love we can’t perceive; Who can teach us how to see?
Can we look beyond the Map? Can we look into the gap? What can Love,now, read? What Love now can we receive?