cries out like a bugle

playing “The last post.”

The eyes of the lost   ask me to tell

what is unspeakable,

but I have nothing

except to ask why bugles are not played for you

at Remembrance Ceremonies.

Were you not soldiers too

fighting for the right to breathe?

The “right to life,”

As you dragged yourself off the  truck

Not quite believing but

Yet ,yes,believing,.paradoxically that

Soon  you would be silent amd still.

Your teeth carefully taken for gold”

Yes,they were green alright

Recycling was very important to the Nazi..

One might almost say they were the pioneers here..

So was hygiene. They practised so well

How to wash theiir hands clean from guilt,

So much soap they needed

So they could play Mozart

and tenderly touch their children

Then sleep on clean linen enjoying such dreams.

Soon the world would be perfect.

all in order,all tidied away,

Unique ,complete, orderly ,dead..

Yes, death of everything w as the real final solution.

All packed away in boxes,

Waiting for the Resurrrection.

How far is it to heaven from where we started?

Wiould Jesus like to meet you now,,to greet you,

So pure,clean and perfect?

You have cut out your own heart with the breadknife

Because it troubled you so,beating like that.

When you were only doing your duty.

Doing what men have to do.

A dove flew up as the agnostic man comforted the  frightened boy

And hand in hand they died right there

At the foot of the Cross.

Which you revered,I believe.

But it was your son there hanging

 So,who are you?

• Stan was cooking the Sunday dinner.As usual up North it was roast beef and Yorkshire puddings.Stan was very good with  Yorkshire puddings.
  They ate them with gravy before the main course just to maintain tradition.Even Emile,their talking cat, loved a pudding soaked in thick meaty gravy..Suddenly the kitchen door burst open and in rushed their neighbour Annie… covered in blue paint.
  What’s happened to you,hinny,Stan enquired naughtily.Surely you are not house painting on  a Sunday?
  No,I never paint  thee housemyself,she responded.I was in the shed and a stray cat was up on the top shelf.It leaped off  and knocked over over this  old tin of paint.I’m wondering how to get it out of my hair?The paint,not the cat!
  What type of paint is it?
  It’s emulsion paint.
  Well,I’m afraid you can’t get it out!
  I can’t go around town with blue hair,she cried hysterically..
  Well,all I can think is,I could cut off a little of your hair.
  OK, if that’s the only way.she said,being keen on Stan’s touching her even if only on the head.
  Can I stay and eat with you?
  Of course,sweetheart.Now here are some pinking shears.
  Have you no ordinary scissors?she screeched fractiously.
  No,we lost them.But pinking shears will give a layered effect.
  Stan began cuttting the left side of Annie’s hair.Then he went around to the right.
  She looked in the mirror,The left side  is a bit longer than the right.
  OK I’ll cut off a bit more on the left.
  Oh,my God.The shears slipped,it’s gone really short!
  All Stan could do was cut the remainder of Annie’s lovely hair so it was only 2.54 cm long all over.
  Suddenly Mary came in,I didn’t know you were a hair dresser she said sardonically to her husband.
  Well,Annie got paint in her hair so I’ve trimmed her hair.
  Trimmed it..it looks like she won’t need a cut for about two years.
  Annie began to sob noisily ,terrifying Emile who was hiding behind the flour bin.
  Well,Stan answered, it will be easier to wash and dry and no need for rollers etc
  I think it looks charming.
  Why pinking shears?Mary whispered.You could have used my dressmaking ones.
  Well,.too late now mioawed Emile sarcastically.
  Well,I think it looks sweet,said Stan bravely.
  Meantime,you have burned the puddings again
  Just like King Alfred and the cakes.Men are only good at savoury and meat dishes.
  It takes a woman to cook puddings and cakes.But Yorkshire puddings are savouries.
  I wonder how Wittgenstein would have classified them ?   cried Mary enthusiastically.
  Not Wittgenstein again,moaned Stan,can’t you move onto someone else?
  Whom do you suggest?
  Try Carnap for a while.
  Oh,he’s more of a logician,Mary said defiantly,You see I love Wittgenstein as a human being..
  Are you committing adultery ?Stan demanded  dominatingly That’s an exaggeration,He’s dead i believe.
  That’s what they all say,shouted Stan angrily.
  But what about you and Annie?
  Well,I get lonely with you lecturing and researching all day long.
  Surely you could wait till I come home?
  I suppose so,though a harem has always been my dream!
  I think you are past it,said Mary rudely.
  That’s not what I see, said Emile quietly.
  Meanwhile Annie had washed her hair an it dried in tiny uneven curls all over her head.
  It looks quite fetching,they decided as they sat down to eat the charred yorkshire puddings.
  What an exciting Sunday especially for Stan who enjoyed touching and playing with women’s hair.
  I wonder if it’s a mental illnes?
  I’ll have to look on the internet.Still, better than panic attacks, he thought consolingly as he carried the roast beef into the dining room where the women were discussing religious topics including a curiousity about why Christians were so anti Semitic despite Jesus’s wish for people to love each other.and besides Jesus being God,he was also a Jewish person too on his mother’s side.
  That’s interesting,Stan thought,Here people think he’s English!What a weird world it is,to be sure.
  Little children,love one another,as someone once said many years ago but humankind is still in the toddler stage of development I fear…. and going backwards too.

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