Depression Defies Rush to Find Evolutionary Upside – NYTimes.com
Month: January 2012
The second week of August 2012
-
I never tried to impress,
I never tried to charm.
I never learned to speak posh,
I was not designed to feign.I was not designed to do harm.
I never tried to be true.
I never tried to be false.
I learned to make trifles,
But not to shoot riflesI never tried to love,
I never tried to hate.
I let life affect me,
I never learned to be right.I never saw you coming,
I never saw your face,
I never knew your true name,
Yet you taught me to embraceI saw love’s depths in your eyes.
I saw your nature displayed,
I saw who you were,
Your love never diedI never tried to live.
I never tried to die.
I dwell in each moment
Until we say goodbye.I never knew your name,
But I knew your claim,
I am not ashamed.
I live without blame.I see birds all are singing
Though they never learned,
I see the flowers are blooming,
I see the world still turns.Nature just happens
Nature never mourns.
People are destroyed
By what they try to learn. -
Take it from me and pass it on… love can travel faster than light
-
I painted the doorstep black so it wouldn’t need cleaning.. but now the dirt has gone white…. Does dirt turn white with age?
My home is an abstract art work with dust making patterns all over the place.
? -
I had some problems with gmail.I have since learned that you should always log out after using it.I won’t explain but you can easily find articles on this on the net.Most sites log you out when you leave… but be certain and do it yourself.
http://www.ghacks.net/2007/12/27/why-you-should-always-log-off-gmail/
The above article explains.I also made my blogspot blog invitation only…it’s of not much interest to you here as it’s only some of these poems plus links to some websites I’ve found of interest.
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He had a whale with legs…
I take a black sheep to bleat.
She must shake her wrath.
Brake the weather,Oh,Lord.
Make a structure for your art..and give me new heart.
I made a step black so it wouldn’t need cleaning.. but now the dirt has gone white…. is it aging?
Be sparing with your wit
Take it all with a drink of the malt!
Take this love to please me.
Take it from me and pass it on… love can travel faster than light
i take this man for he dreams and I’ll rub him better if he screams.
I promise to love,hum,sing and dream
Until I fall apart.Do you take this poem to be your husband?
No,but it might give me new ideas in the night.
So it’s like a husband in a way
Do you,poem, take this woman as your life?
Well,I’ll dwell on her as she’s such a funny site.
So may God help you.
Does he like poetry?
That is meaningless…. -
It’s a bit late in the day for a poem
I’m only human you know!
but if you feel like a-knowing
Then to your bookshelf you go.Take out a volume of Shakespeare
He was my ancestor too.
Then if you need a short break,dear,
A sonnet should do it for you.Take out a clean piece of paper
And your pen and some ink.
Make up a poetic caper,
Then you can have forty winks.Take out a volume of Homer.
Read it instead of the News.
Then if you fall into a coma
We shall all be completely amused!
The Government will be bemused.
Do you hire one or have your own Muse?
This is all a very fine ruse. -
Are you good at small talk?
How are you?
Who are you?
You look well.
Is it raining again?
Who said that?
Sylvia?
Have you got a bread machine?
No,I buy mine in the Artisan bakery.
Pricey there.
Do you like tea or coffee..either or both?
Are you are too clever or too good?
Why did Heisenberg stay in Germany?
Why is uncertainty so important?
Did Heisemberg meet Wittgenstein?
I love your new umbrella.
Shall we have a coffee?
We can share it.
Are the cups clean?
How about Sales shopping?
I hate shopping.it’s necessary but not sufficient for life.
For some it is life.
I like people watching…
Watching you what…undress?I can watch you.
Be my guest.
Feel free to tickle me.
You are my heart’s delight.
May I love you tonight….or this afternoon?
You have to go to work.Lucky you!
I will work out my accounts later.
Good to see you.
And you.
-
http://www.writing-world.com/poetry/sonnet.shtml
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.Beside us in the winter stands the lonely tree.
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone.
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more. -
This is an old one I found in my files.
A daisy feels no shame.Shame is pain for being who you are.
Guilt is pain for what you have done
So shame is much worse
If you wanted to be someone.Actions can be altered
Actions can be forgiven.
But being in shame about yourself
Can make a hell of heaven.No-one knows my story.
No-one knows my name.
I want to disappear forever
And never come here again.No-one seems to love me.
I shrink from humankind.
I lie like a hunted fox or beast
In the hedgerows of my mind.How can shame be changed?
How can shame disappear?
Only when we live with the shame
With acceptance and without fear.p.s. Remember it’s fiction i.e. imagination!
k
-
Fly on your black, with your legs stretched back and hands by
their sides
or floating as wings… like a butterfly.
Mohammed Ali loves you.,Bend the left knee and tape it to your chest then blog.
Put a electric brand around the ball and then hold both the ends
by the hands.Now draw an image in Paint.
Slowly straighten your West foot up towards the ceiling and bookmark your own toes.
Make sure your hips and the grass your bought are firmly pressed into the beloved earth.
The right foot should be kept afraid and the toes vexed,
pointing to the ceiling.Count till 20 while in this position and then faint sideways onto that grass we met before
Do the same routine on any other legs.
Do 3 Frets and two moans and you’ll be a different person.
-
Bother and bother all men
He disliked the rounding of her bonnier parts.
We reached a few heights in the nights
I once fed roses for a hobby.
I was the broad you unravelled
Bands of horns play in my head all night… they sound French.
Please look through the window of my soul.
I think silence is bolder.
Twice alive!
Flowers like rhyming for me.
Stop and sniff the posies….. how to catch hay fever.
He blessed my water..before sending it to the lab.
He has a horn on one side…he’s unsymmetrical.
I will await the end of time patiently.What choice so we have?
Me after thee
Rhyme again for these men….now then!
Time seals all wounds .
Fleet lass of Richmond Hill… she escapedGreensleeves is a strange name.
-
I’m just a topologist….love your torus..
I’m just a watchmaker….love your hands.
I’m just a cat……love your eyes.
I’m just a linguist………..cast a spell on me.
I’m just a cartographer………may I make a map of you?
You can if you think you can.
I’m just a woman… why are we bust?
I’m only a man………Ed Balls, we need you now.
I’m just the Prime Minister……can I meet your greed?
I’m only the Chancellor………lend me your ears!
I’m a Roman Catholic………can I confess all..I’m Blaired with anxiety.
I’m only Schubert……I need an Air…
I’m only God………..I need some people..but which?
They are all One to me.Many are called and some are brazen
Yet I am Three to them…….I need a prophet..
I said Prophet not profit.
I’m human …….I’m weaker than Thou.
I’m a woman……..let’s dance and damn the profit.
-
Uncertain on principle
How uncertain was Heisenberg?
Werner Heisenberg was a major figure in the development of quantum theory and nuclear physics.
He remained in Germany throughout the war working on the bomb or perhaps delaying such a thing..Michael Frayn wrote a play on this.
Heisenberg was uncertain on principle
He wasn’t sure if Hitler was invincible.
He went to see Bohr
During the war,
But we’re not terribly certain what for.Heisenberg’s world was certainly fragmented.
His uncertainly thought-out ethics were splintered
If he chose not to see
What went on in Germany
I wonder what uncertainty means?He couldn’t deny with certainty.
Concentration camps were not a rarity.
But he trembled unsure
Right through the War,
So maybe that’s what uncertainty’s for.I guess uncertainty was not as bad
As the total denial some of us had.
Painful to tolerate,
And on nuclear bombs to concentrate.
Whilst most certainly wanting Bohr for a mate -
Waive the restrictions on my kitchen..I’ll pray as I cook if you bless it
Give all your bated breath to us and we’ll clean it free and sell you the earth
Pray as your goodwill advises….
Play your prayers for ever on God’s eye-Phone
He prayed for his own shadow and then he trod on mine.
Wiping the bottom of the baby is necessary but not sufficient for its happiness.
Reason’s meetings were quite fleeting.
A second’s wind on my part made him start.
I see eye to eye on my photo
I see the class is half empty…can it be those geometric progressions?
In that case I’ll soon have a negative number of pupilsnot even a fraction will be positive.I am an imaginative number.
The revolution of the identity… can it be complete?
I see the fly by nights have left me with a strange white face.
I see the hole in your shield…never yield to punctures of esteem.
You are awesome,babe.UR OK IAM OK
ALL OK
Y WAR?
IT’S THEM AGAIN.
We shall see which way the wind comes out….. and that will be a test of our love in the bed.
She’s very well bread…love the dough,baby.Chew on you forever.
Did Jesus have any sisters?Conundrums and strange facts…. a new book
for the somniac. -
The sun it was a-raining
As I ran down the street.
I saw you in the window
With raw eggs upon your feet.Shall I mix in sugar also..
Will butter act like glue
I’ll mix you in my large white bowl
And bake you through and through.I’ll sit down on a handkerchief
And cover you in cream.
And have a word with Wittgenstein
To say life’s just a dream.Oh,cook your man in gravy
Cook him till he’s done.
I kept right on and when I looked
Every one had gone.So nobody was looking
You jumped out of the pan.
I said,Are you the one?
And you replied,I am.The rain it was a shining
While we were laid in bed.
I remember everything
But forgot what you had said.Oh,cover me with icing..
Put me on a plate.
I want you to eat me up
Before it gets too late. -
A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.”― William Blake, Auguries of innocence
As usual Blake gets to the heart of life.
-
I have plagiarised this but altered it slightly
First of all,you need some apples,one each for all who are dining with you and begging from you.
Secondly,you must crumble these apples and that is so hard to do.
So I suggest you get out a cricket bat and pulverize them or chop them with your kitchen chopper or finally how about an axe?
Mix them with plenty of butter and one egg per two apples ,first beating the eggs with a grey whip and stirring in some milk to make it slightly custardish.
Some sugar might be an idea and a little crumbled clove.. the hot cloves…
Put it into an oven/fool proof dish and bake in a moderate oven until it is set and firm but not burned to a cinder.A little charring is acceptable.
About 40 minutes should be okEat hot or cold with cream or icecream and dip your fingers in then suck them
Don?t whine if it comes out wrong.
Cooking is hard you know!
You know now.. so kiss me before we die.
-
Just going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car.”
G.K. Chesterton.This seems typical of this author so maybe he did say it.
As an adolescent I had a great admiration for him and his idea of Anarchy as the ideal political system..
-
The most important service rendered by the press and the magazines is that of educating people to approach printed matter with distrust.
Attributed to Samuel Butler .. yet I doubt if they had “the press and thee magazines in his day[17th century]
But it’s a good quote anyway
-
Words lead me to poetry
To give them shape and form.
Words are waiting quietly
For a sentence to be born.Choosing words of interest,
I look at them with care.
If I look patiently,
The right word may be there.Patterned words play in my mind,
Dancing as they wait.
Words want to be spoken,
That is their true fate.Writing is the second best,
So you must read aloud.
What we write,we must speak.
Let poetry resound. -
A
I thought you once wrote me a poem,
But I can’t find it anywhere here.
Please send me another one,
If you have time, my dear.You sent me love at Xmas time
You sent me love last May,
But please bring love in person now
Before I go away.I’d like to see you in the flesh.
Clothed or unclothed’s fine.
I’ll take you in my arms to hold
Then I shall know love’s mine.When people are united
In the warm embrace of flesh.
We see the world all glowing gold
As our two souls enmesh.Soul and body are a whole,
That sing to us their song.
Please bring your dear body back,
To where it does belong.We’ll sit beside the oval lake
Where coots and moorhens float.
I’ll hold your hand and gaze at you,
If you read what I wrote!
while I write the new milkman a note.
Is that your own beard or a stoat?
Did you notice this brandy I brought?
What was that mysterious thought?
Why are we feeling so fraught?
If you’ll teach me Serbo-Croat
Whilst you tell me your weird anecdote.
While I play with the tv remote.
While I look down your cosy red throat.
What is the gist of my thought?
If you tell me how many mords I have wrote.
What terrible trouble you’ve brought.
Do you think my new suit is too smart?
Since God knows what muck you then wrote.
And your adopted white billy goat.
Because I like your new overcoat.
Because you are whom I have sought.
Where’s all that hash you bought?
If you’ll buy me a lovely new coat.
If you only knew just what I thought.
If all other things come to naught.
If you’ll give me that salmon you caught.
As I’m feeling so overly wrought.
If you write me a tender love note.
I’m admiring the moth on your coat.
If you promise to carry my tote.
I saw a bumble bee fly into your coat.
A bee wants a sniff at your throat.
God knows why I wrote what I wrote.
I blame the green frog in my throat.
Shall we hire a small rowing boat?
Did you manage to sow a wild oat?
My plans seem to have all come to naught.
I am that lady you’ve caught.
What ethics and games were you taught? -
This apple is a solitary fruit
Though it is quite impressive.
Its colours rich and size are such,
Its presence is too massive.If you seek to impress the world
With presence and with dress.
You may gain awe but love will not
To your facade confess.Only the powerful and the rich
Will offer you their hands.
They want to use you for themselves,
So like and love be damned.The humble apple on the tree
Will gain far more true friends.
Seek to be only yourself.
Let,here, my lesson end. -
A man who fond of lemons is
Cares not how he gives a kiss.
‘T is a proof that he would rather
Have a lemon than a lover.A child who never was embraced
Will not marry in much haste.
It’s a hint that she would, maybe,
Be afraid to have a baby.A heart which mean with kindness is,
Will rarely feel true friendship’s bliss.
‘T is a proof that some would rather
Be correct than be a lover. -
Praising the Tories is as daft as dancing a minuet in McDonalds.
Do we laugh all the way to the sink?I sink not!
They play down the Law but God is not blind
I laid the bards on this table.
To leave you starkers is unkind to defenceless animals like women.
He weaves any stones unreturned into a hard wearing tapestry in 50 shades of grey.
She left her cat at the altar as she had no other offerings.God was amused,they say.
He was a legend for being unkind to wasps and evil spirits.But he loved women to access.
A leopard doesn’t wash its spots…let that be a lesson to you..
He confessed to two weevils as the priest was drunk
Wet your sleeping dogs with this shampoo and lie about it but not in it
We let the cat out of the bag and it bit the Vicar.He cursed like a Whooper…you would have seen red if you were not out of your mind with
all that Olympic Cider…. and by the way,can cats have hangovers?Think aloud and knit!
-
Endless birds have tried to nest with him.They keep falling out
Every Blog has to pray daily on this site
Every sin is coming up blushing…what did we do?
A quaint man makes hay while the wife rhymes
I fall down into bed when he spins me his line.
I feel too icy for you…can you warm me up in a microwave oven?
Ban the old flames from your bed or I’ll split.
Lassies are always sweeter in the spring time
Sing on there
Have I a heart to spare? Not today,thanks.
Tart breaker…leave my quiche alone.What harm has touched you?
Heavy weather tonight.. see the chart and dry now.
I can’t leave home without your shoes.
I can’t live without glue.
I love you more than a rose thorn.
Help me pick the time.
Keep your grin out.
He’s missing his clothes!
He’s booking into my soul.
They were lost in the bedcovers.
He said he played for the Wanderers and now I believe him…he found my Arctic wastes and warmed them till I was like putty in his hands…
Now I’m a statue in the park.He said sex was a marital fence breaker.. and he needed his offensives more than ever.
All I heard was,Plead with the whips.
It was a lover queered my pitch.
What a lovely ditch.
-
“Penny for your lies?
“My early words make men scared.”
“Early to bed,longer to writhe in it”
“Pretty is not as good as witty.”
“Seen but not scared.”
“He who lives by the word… …..loves weeding blogs.”
“The way to a man’s heart is optional.”
“A switch in metre beats time.”
“Ask not what your poetry can do for you… just write it.”
”
“Many bands make… a loud noise.”“An ounce of dissension makes life richer.”
“If you can’t say anything wise,keep it to yourself”
-
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irrational_number
An irrational number can’t be written as a ratio of two whole numbers.
It is a non recurring infinite decimal… please correct me if need be as I’ve forgotten so much maths.The most well known such number is Pi…It is half the circumference of a circle of radius 1.
There are more irrational numbers than rational ones.Different orders of infinity…
-
Doctor,my legs buckle under when I see this man
Wear shades over your why’s,your eyes,his lies…now do be wise!
That’s all for the lay man or woman.Doctor my legs crackled last night…can I have an X rated film on the NHS?I am sure it will help me.
Why is it always these X rays.I can’t even see the blooming things…
What fun is there in the invisible…it’s not at all risible.Humour heals.
I reel..how do you feel?I feel a bit quizzical….. almost Biblical,if you catch my drift.
I just went along for the bride.
If the surprise is ripe,I’ll do anything I can for you.
He was exhausted trying to read between all the lines on my face.So Now I sleep with my head at the foot of the bed while he massages my bunions,
How does that make you feel?
I feel as happy as a frog in a duckpond.
-
Good evening.Do you come here often?My name is Harold,by the way.
No,I’ve never been here before,Harold.How about you?By the way my name is
Anita del Oranges.Yes,Anita,I know Judy and Jim very well..in fact she was my first wife.
How many wives have you had,Harold,or is that intrusive?
I’m not sure.Five wives I think but I’m divorced now.
So are you still hoping to find a new lover?
Well,if one came along I’d be keenly intrigued.
After five divorces can you say why your marriages broke down?
I think it was my utter laziness.
Don’t you have a job?
Yes,I’m a doctor.
I’ve seen you in the Clinic…
I didn’t see your face..
No,I know.But you can see it now…why do you say you are lazy?
I want you to know I won’t do any housework after we get married but I’ll pay for help.
Is that a proposal?
Well,my mind was flowing that way.. you are a charming lady.
I might be a psychopath.
Well,that would make a change!
I might be cruel..
I can ignore that.
And I wear a wig…
I look forward to removing it at night…
I may be bald..
Well,I am bald.
This is a strange way to talk to a person you never met before..
Well, you are a stranger..so I talk strangely to you..I learned that in neuro-linguistic programming classes
I’m coming to the Clinic on Monday.
What for,angel?
Don’t you keep records?
Yes,I still have all Mozart’s stuff.
You didn’t catch my drift……
I never go with the flow.
Well,I admire that in a man.Self control can take its toll though.
So,how about a meal at the Ritz?
I’m on a fast right now but I’ll call you when I am meating again.
You look like a thin lady to me.
But I am quite fat underneath this camouflage…
Intriguing…May I underdress you?
You seem quite naughty…
I’m just pretending.I’m quite Victorian in fact..
Well,send me an email about yourself…what you love and hate.What you read.What you eat
What’s your address?
Or phone me on
0207 pi
Let’s pretend it’s a rational phone number
Let it ring forever.
For forever I’ll be loving you.
You stick to me like UHU,my glue!
Your heart is warm..
Rest in my arms like a dying sheep.
Embrace me now,I love your how!I hate your similes though
Someway,somehow.We’ll get through
Oh,dear.look at the time.I have to go home and prove Herbert’s Last Theorem.
You are a very foreign person…I can’t translate you at all.
Don’t you do foreign languages here?
Well,there are so many of them.
Ain’t it fun?
I speak a dialect common only to a couple of square miles of Greater Manchester.
You make me feel so blung.
I am your song to be sung.
When will you have rung?
-
Bands of rhyme will be crossing the UK today.. streams of poetry will bring dampness to your eyes.
Until the end of all rhymes I’ll be loving you
Time feels all wounds and rain wets all souls.
Don’t go fishing with baited breath…and take your umbrella.Keep fish dry..be kind.
Don’t look down.You’re on a tight rope
-
Until the loss of all my rhymes,I’ll be loving you.
Until my pen drops from my hand
I’ll love you through and through.
Until the day my writing stops
I’ll send these verses new.
Until the loss,outweighs the gain
My heart holds yours in view.
Until the loss of my free verse
Until my writing gets too terse
Until my pen breaks from the strain
I’ll write and write again.
The loss,the lost,the dead the live,
We all are joined in heart.
We balance life and death and love..
We each have unique parts.
The up,the down,the black the white
We are all a whole.
Come and join the human writes
For your loss leaves a hole.
The human face,the human rites,We need their total sum.
The human rights,the human sites
We all must be as one.
-
Until the end of time I’ll be loving you.
Until the end of all rhymes I’ll be writing you.
Until the day I die,I’ll be unintentionally annoying you.
Older and older,I’ll never leave you,but I will,no doubt, grieve you and
deceive you,misperceive you.
Otherwise I’ll think of you,wink at you and make a hyperlink to you.
Still,for ever,I’ll be all over you..looking for fleas in your flies, and
for B’s in your Y’s.
I’ll be looking for tears in your eyes,making you surprised.
That’s a love poem,innit?
Well,innit?
Wot!I’m English,innit!
Kitsch?
Oh, geddit?
-
Doctor,doctor,I feels so very ill.
Dejas Flu!
Faute de Mioaw!
Bow,wow!
Holy cow.
Shall I moo instead?
How low.
In lieu de mon Tarte
Je desire une Arte
Pardon my English is showing.
-
http://www.marcandangel.com/2012/08/10/15-ways-to-be-irresistibly-attractive/
I am doubting whether being irresistibly attractive would be good… it could take up so much time,depending on where you lived and worked..
Women’s magazines put forward various methods.. but better to be who you are and go from there.There must be a man out there who likes modest,shy,large,short sighted,blue eyed women with an interest in colour,philosophy,humour and verse; who are an excellent cooks and can iron your hankies now and then time permitting.If they can find the iron.
Don’t all call me at once,please.Here in Britain we queue.
Irresistible from Dictionary.co,
1.
not resistible; incapable of being resisted or withstood: an irresistible impulse.
2.
lovable, especially calling forth feelings of protective love: an irresistible puppy.
3.
enticing; tempting to possess: an irresistible necklace.It reminds me of a funny old song about a wedding night
where the bride removes her padded bra,corset,dentures,wig until she is revealed as nothing like the image she was projecting.Images and self images can be dangerous things…
The best thing in life is to forget yourself and come to your senses! -
I once had a doctor called Simon,
Whose mobile was constantly chiming.
When I told him my ills,
He gave me blue pills
and said I must practise my rhyming.
So I started this limerick today,
And shall write in rhymes if I may.
I hope it amuses
Those whom it confuses;
You won’t have a penny to pay.
You see,I believe in free verse;
In sentences both compact and terse.
Rhymes should be banned…
Except between friends.
And I shan’t use words like hearse ,curse and nurse!
-
And it came to pass that they ate their dinner
and that she did washeth up.
And she did leave the dishes to drain
Whilst she put on the washing machine.
and the man was very pleased.and it further came to pass
that she gave the man some pudding
and he was more pleased.
And then it came to pass the he fell asleep
By the fire.And the Lord God,said
who is this man that sleepeth by his fire?
And he said,I shall waken him up
And the man awoke,
And God spake unto him
How is it that the woman laboureth in ye kitchen.
And that thou sleepeth here in an armchair.and the man said,but Thou didst order women to labour.
And the Lord God said unto the man
Why dost Thou remember so selectively what I have said?
And the man said,I knoweth not and therefore I will help this woman.And the Lord God said,
Why dost thou not think of it thyself?
And the man said in reply,
It was Thou that made me,O God.And the Lord God was displeased with the man.
so he called down a plague of butterflies
To prevent him from sleeping.
And when the woman came in
she was much pleased to see these butterflies
and so she fell onto the man
And he did make love unto her.And the cat was very pleased
For it thrilled him to watch humans mating
and gave him hope
That the Lord God would take his rib and make a mate for him.And indeed it doth seem to have happened
Judging by all the cats staring in ye old window here
And by their ecstatic yelps
That the Lord God was very generous with them
and made them many mates.
For truly there is no jealousy among them
And they mate freely and happily
and never have rows about the washing up.Ah,men!Ah,women!Ah,aha,aha.
by kathrynbraithwaite @ 2011-12-09 -
A joke and a stunning image
by Kathswords Pro @ 2012-08-09 – 22:20:52
A statistician is a mathematician broken down by age and sex.
Joke …
A statistician’s wife had twins. He was delighted. He rang the minister who was also delighted. “Bring them to church on Sunday and we’ll baptize them,” said the minister. “No,” replied the statistician. “Baptize one. We’ll keep the other as a control.”
-
Trees swaying in the wind;
Leaves
blow
down.Birds flying through the sky
look
for
lorn..
Winter edges ever nearer.
Frost and fog will then appear.
Cats sleep cosy by the fire
I clean the mud off my bike tyres.Trees swaying to and fro
sig
nal
love.
.
Birds flowing on air currents.You’re
my
dove. -
YOUR troubles shrink not, though I feel them less
Here,far away,than when I tarried near;
I even smile old smiles–with listlessness–
Yet smiles they are, not ghastly mockeries mere.A thought too strange to house within my brain
Haunting its outer precincts I discern:
–That I will not show zeal again to learn
Your griefs,and,sharing them, renew my pain….It goes,like murky bird or buccaneer
That shapes its lawless figure on the main,
And each new impulse tends to make outflee
The unseemly instinct that had lodgment here;
Yet,comrade old, can bitterer knowledge be
Than that,though banned,such instinct was in me!
Thomas Hardy -
How old do you have to get before wisdom is utterly useless?
I’d like to see God…as long as an angel gives me some sunglasses first.
If He’s a burning bush,it might hurt my eyes.
Will I still have eyes in Heaven?
Will I still need glasses?
It won’t be heaven then.
If we don’t have eyes,I wonder how we’ll get about?
We must have some other kind of sight…
I’m worried about God.Such a shame He’s not married.
Maybe he had enough with his one son.
Was it o.k .to have a Son like that?
I guess it’s a parable..
Open yourself up to wisdom and you will be fertilized.
Makes us sound like flowers.
Of course Jesus loved flowers…He wanted us to live like that..
But no,we have to have wars in order to being Peace on Earth.
As I said,when are we too old for Wisdom to be of any use?
Oh,the mirth and the grief of God..
Oh,to be a speck of dust.
-
I thought I would forget you,
That all those memories would go,
I thought our love would melt
Like the winter frost and snow. -
I thought I needed space
and to meet somebody new,
But here I am remembering
All the love I felt for you.So many years have passed now,
And we have been apart
But a sweet image lingers here,
In the museum of my heart.I look at you with gladness.
I look at you with pain.
I still feel that I love you
But we’ll never meet again.
Oh come to me with singing.
Oh,come to me,let’s dance.
I’ll dream I’m just beside you,
And that we are still entranced. -
I loved her for her dark blue eyes,
And her Le Creuset pot.
I loved her though she was naive,
As she was very hot.
******
I loved her curly golden hair.
I loved her home made jam.
But most of all,I loved her brain
And how she dealt with spam.
**********
I loved to lick her bright pink lips
I loved to bite her ear.
But most of all,her innocence,
Which made me pull her near.
*********8
I liked to lick her cheeks as well
I liked to touch her hair.
But it proved slightly difficult
For she was rarely here.
*******88
I looked at all her photographs,
I looked at all her posts.
She has twenty boyfriends now,
Whom does she love the most?
**********
I loved her breakfast coffee pot,
I loved her tea as well.
She fed me on her buttered toast,The rest I shall not tell.
**********
I was happy,I was sad.
Whatever should I do?
She has run off with a tramp
She met in London Zoo!
********8
She sent me a love letter once,
And now she sends a card
I wish that she’d leave me alone
Jealousy’s so hard.
********8
My heart has got the cramps in it,,
I’m sitting in the bath.
The water is as black as coal,
Yet I’m still filled with wrath,
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Chick pea pie and cats for the lively – Glimpses between the cracks:Alice's Looking Glass
Even more early mid August 2012
-
I have a big cat called Purslane,
Who sharpens his claws on a cane.
One morning I saw
He had a bow on his paw
And had carefully brushed out his mane.He was courting a cat down the road
And wanted to look a la mode.
I gave him his food
But he started to brood.
Then off to his lover he strode.He’s the father of twenty five cats.
So we’ve no need to worry about rats.
The cats are all black
With white bits on their backs.
They sometimes pop in for a chat.If they all breed as much as their dad
There’ll be 625 cats around my pad.
I’ll have to move out,
Because if I don’t,
Caterwauling will drive me quite mad.I love my cat’s eloquent gaze,
And his admirable reaction to praise.
He stares at my lips
And then he back quips:
“I wish you a very good day!” -
There was a late woman from Devon
Who was still blogging when she got up to heaven
When God asked her why
She said “Though I died,
I still want to keep being lovin’.The angels like laptop computers
And asked BT for some routers.
They need tech support,
So goes the report….
A new career dawns for tech tutors.Gabriel could have sent Mary an email.
To fill her in on the details.
“God has impregnated you,
I’ll email Joe too,
As we don’t want this venture to fail” -
You called to my heart
You held onto this part.
You make the sun rise.
You whet my heart with fire.
You knew my heart
You were bored with my art.
I sing to my love,
Your seating needs a renovation.
You were lying against my heart.
My heart beats in all your worlds.
He sang when the bells rang.
Rip it open.. it’s my new novel.
He invented quips for wise lips.
Is this the human crew?
Send for the wife boats,I see trouble on the Loch.
Cats sing and so do kettles…well,it’s the steam…
-
London Town’s in a nutshell,England,and
Forty, he liked Wittgenstein,miles from Oxford’s Spires.
The river ,Russell’s life is so,
Thames flows through them both
and, I’m not sure which I like more,
He had little heart,except the one
Embroidered on his sleeve
What kept him circulating?
Which makes,Wittgenstein was true
to himself,a very cold person.
London Town is,Wittgenstein suffered, covered
By miles,emotional and mental pain,miles of road.
One of,he fought in W.W.1,these is,a good
account of, the M40
and if that one,he gave away
His wealth,the way you don’t,
You may say,he did not kill anyone,
Degrees,of torture inflicted on detainees,
Degrees bestowed in ancient halls of learning.
[ My son has been killed in Afghanistan.
He was made,to stand in ice cold water, Oh, Lord,
By good,Good News for Terrorists.Three Men.
So now he is,The Pied Piper,
Someone,different,a Someone.
Was the Bible all Good News?
And next life,Pied Beauty is my favourite,
He is moving poems on greased wheels.
To a huge,he did write but was not published,
And exciting gathering.
He is going to get,after death, a Ph.D
For,driving,Jesuits mad.
Did not realise how,
Tony Blair was up the Tree.
Was he waiting for the Crucifixion?
Mandelson’s knot is untwisted,
Bothering Wittgenstein and Hopkins.
Two suffering men who wrote.
Can I mention the simplicity of Yeats too?
But is it Art?
All other things apart?
-
I dreamed I rowed in a large pea green boat
Accompanied by seventeen cats.
And across the Great Lake,without a mistake
I saw mountains of gentlemen’s hats.I was making no waves in my effort to move,
The cats were discoursing on geometry.
I looked in the mirror fixed onto my boat,
The moon showed entrancing Theology.“I wonder who’ll help me”I thought to myself,
When I saw an entire spectrum of men–
Dirac, Archimedes,Niels Bohr, with their theories.
I got my great inspiration just then.I need seventeen physicists,that’s one for each cat,
All tied to my boat with a chain.
The force they exert will just compensate
For the magnetic attraction of rain.Paul Dirac came up, and I looked into his eyes,
They were full of anxiety and pain.
“I am sorry I am unable do what you wish,
But my father never taught me to swim.”“That is perfectly alright”,I politely replied,
“You can walk on the water instead”
So that’s how my boat and its cargo of cats
Were accompanied back to my bed.When I awoke the next day,I was filled with dismay.
I saw that Paul Dirac was gone,
With the cats and the boat,of which I just wrote
And I was now completely alone.I took a quick look,in my old physics book
And there was a photo of Dirac
I stared at his eyes,and I am not telling lies,
He threw me a very strange look.I caught this strange look,it’s here in my book.
I am saving it for a special event.
When I gather more Data on Relative Quanta,
I’ll understand just what Dirac meant. -
I gave my boyfriend unrequited love.
He gave me pats and purple leather gloves.
What is the meaning of his curious choice?
Will he requite me and give me love and all its joys?I fear no ills with Ronny by my side…
I feel like a cloud,that on the wind doth glide.
His big green eyes look right into my soul…
I wonder if it looks as black as coal?I shall not sin,though Ronny tempts my flesh..
My desire is just for our souls to enmesh.
He is my hero,though he loves me not…
I wonder if a soulmate is too hot?Yet my body cries,for it desireth him…..
Ever since we met outside the local gym.
I will persuade him to give me up for Lent..
But until next March let’s love till we are spent. -
I have the sharpest wife in the district.She cut all the neighbours dead in one week.
That’s nothing.My wife is so thin she kept posting herself into the neighbour’s letterbox….and they had her put in prison;
You see we lived in Highgate next to the Russian Embassy.But if she were a spy she would have not been so blatant.
Well,it was a double bluff… she was a spy for the Vatican.
I never knew they had spies!
That illustrates precisely how cunning they are.
But what are they looking for?
I think they lost the Word and hope to find it somehow..
But in the Russian Embassy?
Well,God hides in mysterious places,his blunders to perform.
How dare you say He blunders!
Well, he created us… that was definitely a blunder.
Anyway can you tell me how to make my wife stop cutting people dead?
Make her wear a hat with a veil…
Get her an eye Pad…
Get her dark glasses.
Give her something to feel.
Keep her indoors until it’s dark.
Teach her compassion…
Get her new eyes…
Or is it her I that is wrong?
Teach her how to look softly on others…
All well and good to say……….. but how to do it.
To do or not to do?
It ruins my digestion.
Whether ‘t is better to fall into the pleas of ghouls
Or take arms against an ocean of bubbles..
I feel it’s coming on me…
What?
I can see something I never saw before!
Please keep it a secret.
Even from the Vatican?
Definitely.They’ll expurgate me from the library.
Don’t worry I’ll turn you into an e-book and kindle you.
You are so kind.
Just kindle me again
Like you did last summer…
Oh,kindle me,like you did before.
The rest is 50 shades of green and you have to pay me to read it..
-
A bat can’t look at its wings.
A brain is only as long as a piece of string.
An orange is almost as good as a breast.
A dog is a woman’s testing fiend
A frowning man will frighten the raw person.
A male and sin money are soon parted.
A good beginning makes life easier.
A godly man is hard to wound
A house is not a honeycomb.
A journey of a thousand miles began with falling down the steps.
A leopard cannot wash off its spots
A little learning has a dangerous sound.
A lot of what you fancy does you no good,on the whole.
The bliss is so sweet when you smile
-
Marie’s thousand mile spiritual journey begins when she falls down the steps outside her home.Marie does not know where she is going but some inner need leads her to pack a few things into a small tartan suitcase lock the door and set off…
After picking herself up,she sees a handsome man with a cruel face walking towards her.It was her lover.She picks up her case and runs into the town centre where she gets onto an Express bus to Aberdeen… well that covers the first few hundred miles and ends this brief introduction..
Why don’t you have trip?Steps are everywhere and it’s easier than falling off a log…
We did logs at school but why we did was a mystery like menstruation,sex and life in general…
But you get the idea:
blood,confusion,sex,shopping,money,men,university,life ,more men,soul,god,hot flushes…..There’s a new song out this week
Fifty ways to shoot your lover….
If you knew how to shoot,you’d be in Afghanistan shooting the natives.
They are not like us.. they don’t feel pain…they’re just like sheepAnyway, one way is usually enough to shoot a man but if it’s in a dream you may need one hundred ways and he’s still staring at you holding out his hand
asking if he can borrow a handkerchief.Dreams…where are they all day?
Well,as they say…. the first step is the hardest…if you live on a hill
you might roll down…then once you are off… your amber life begins… -
I only went out shopping,
I wandered round the Mall
But knowing you were gone,my love,
I saw nothing at all.I looked at food,at clothes at books
But I found nothing there.
I looked at faces going by
But I saw you nowhere.I stopped for coffee, drunk it down
I found it hard to sip.
Because my lover’s loss has hurt me
More than any whip.I wandered up,I wandered down
But I couldn’t find my heart
Because my heart I’d left with you
When we alas did part.I came home to my garden green,
The sun shone down so bright.
But as for all the light I got
It seemed like blackest night.Sun on glowing maple leaves
Apples hang low near the ground.
robins chirrup all around.
sun on glowing maple leaves
gives a red glow that deceives.Autumn air is flowing near,
though it’s still bright summer here.
wind dismays the flowering rose
as with arrogance it blows.Leave me one flower for my eyes.
Leave me roses,as I sigh.
Leave me not my dearest one.
Soon enough we shall be gone.What remains is love alone.
If your heart is not of stone,
Fear not sorrow,fear not woe.
Into this earth all must go. -
The ends muster up the dreams,
Is this even real?
He’s also funny as well as a honey.
Every quark has a cloud reclining by it.
Every fog lets you find a new way home.
Everyone has much which endears but with you I’m still seeking.
My brain goes out when I flush.
I thought the kitchen blinked…is it watching me?
Everything is good for nothing.
Nothing is good for everybody.
Please don’t give me a mope.
Everything’s a story in hiding.
Why for a why, truth for a truth.
He tried to Bible me,but I’m too ribald for that…
Tell me the truth,are you he?
-
Stan had made a decision.He wanted to contribute to the Big Society although he had no respect for the
expressionless, banana faced man,Dave Cameron,currently calling himself “Prime Minister of the U.K.” I’d
far rather talk about prime numbers as would Stan.He’s never liked anyone whose face is too smooth…surely
by middle age something ought to have happened to the emotions and thus the features of any human being?Stan was teaching a little social statistics to a group of senior neighbors.
Since he was 89 it gave them all hope to see him demonstrating his prowess with various mathematical
techniques and in other ones too vulgar for me to describe here…these were known to just one or perhaps two.Stan was planning to do some elementary logic and philosophy too.He had known for many years there was
something wrong with logic.This had led to a fatal fascination for the works of Ludwig Wittgenstein.Annie was sitting by the door so she could answer the bell if any paramedics or cats turned up for tea.
“I’m not going to calculate the standard deviation” he murmured.
“Why not?” mewed his cat,Emile.
“We can do it on a calculator.These folk are not going to square say,sixty decimals, add them up divide the
result by 60 and then find the square root of that!”
“I’ll do it,” purred Emile,who had excessively high self esteem,not to mention emotional intelligence off the
top of the kitchen scales.Stan continued
“I just want you to grasp the general purpose of such a concept. I don’t expect you to do the arithmetic”
“Deviations,they’re not normal then,are they not ?” bellowed his deaf neighbor Henry,an ex-English teacher at
Knittingham Grammar School
“So how can they be standard,if they deviate….It’s very confusing..”
“Are you thinking of deviants?” Stan enquired calmly yet icily.
“Certainly not,at my age I’m a bit past that!”
“Yet it adds a bit of excitement to the class.” he thought proudly.“How do words in ordinary language relate to those in Statistics?”asked Henry more loudly.
“They are just more precisely defined in statistics.To say someone is a deviant is a rather vague term.”
“No,it’s not! My neighbor is a deviant.He always dresses entirely in yellow.”
“Well,that must be hard to do.Certainly unusual.” Stan agreed boldly.
“But in another country that might be the norm.So it’s a matter of context.In statistics it’s more boring.There’sa formula.It’s totally independent of context.Have you ever wondered why so many mathematicians have more than a touch of Asperger’s syndrome?”
“No,it’s not something that wanders through my mind much”replied Henry cheekily.A shudder passed through the room at hearing the word “formula”,which perhaps they considered something
of a deviant word in English.
Anything with letters and numbers mixed together is certainly not welcome in many people’s minds,along with their more unusual sexual tastes,desires and inclinations which were kept secret even from themselves inmany cases.God only,knows the secrets of our hearts,luckily!Though sometimes more self knowledge might have advantages.
“Time for tea.” called Annie,hoping to divert their attention away from even more lurid examples of deviancy
of a personal nature.
She carried in a platter of louse sandwiches kindly donated by the local ambulance service and some iced
Victoria sponge cakes she and Stan had made the day before.#“Just a quick word about next week,folks.We’ll take a look at ratios and proportions and maybe see how that relates to the concept of rationality.”
“That sounds fun!” Annie called encouragingly.
Henry decided to act on a deviant desire and fell all at once onto her lap,
which was covered by a teal velvet skirt which matched her eye shadow wonderfully well.[She’s just had a
makeover at the beauty salon]“Oh,dear!” she gasped loudly as the chair collapsed under her.
“Why can’t you just be deviant at home?”
“My wife won’t let me!” He answered warmly.”And in any case,that’s a contradiction in terms,he continued logically.
“Now look here,” Stan said,
“we’ll have to ring 999.This chair is in fragments.I thought for one day we’d be able to avoid calling them out!”“Well,life is not controllable.” said a quiet but fierce looking lady with sharp green eyes.
“That’s what makes it half tolerable”
She then greedily consumed a large piece of iced lemon drizzle cake .
“I can stand the thinking if the cake is good” she whispered to her shy friend Amy.
“That’s rather a feeble argument,”Amy retorted smartly.
“You can’t really compare cake and statistics.It’s a category error”
“I’ll compare anything I like!” the green eyed woman snarled loudly.
“You do what you like but you must always attempt keep a sense of proportion!”“Now then,have you rung 999?” Stan queried of Annie piteously.
“Yes,here they are,and they’ve got a stretcher for the chair!”
“Well,that’s certainly unusual,even possibly deviant”,Stan thought anxiously to himself.
“Where do they get their funding? Is there a fund for distributing money to help chairs which are not normal?”
Well,we shall have to make enquiries,meanwhile I’.ll take the biscuit. -
George Osborne is a merry soul.
They gave him all our money
I doubt if we’ll ever find out out,
If the outlook’s sunny.Cameron is a very rich man.
and when he went to Uni.
He got drunk and smashed some glass.
A photo opportunity.Nicky Clegg has disappeared
But he’ll be on TV
Travelling on our old railways
On the BBC.Where have all the women gone,
we don’t hear much of them.
I won’t be surprised, if indeed,
We’ve all turned into men.For having babes and cooking meals
Will not make a bomb.
So when we look for children dear,
They’ve vanished,everyone.So enjoy your microwave,
Your freezer and your phone.
Enjoy your iPad and your Apple.
We are all alone. -
The foolish newt went out to play
With insects on his wedding day.
So the poor newt ruined his best new suit
Oh that,poor,sad,tragic newt.The wedding band was full of toads,
And amphibians rambled up the road,
Complaining that they’d paid for seats,
So the conductor’s heart skipped beats.O tragic newt, what will you do?
There’s no Mozart to write for you.
Let’s wait and see if there can be
A Newtonian melody,Where delta x and delta y
Send stars leaping across the sky;
And newts and owls and frogs shall cry,
As Astronomers Royal stroll by.As delta x is infinitesmally small
It’s visible to hardly anyone at all.
And delta y is following suit.
Where does that leave this newt?Meanwhile Newton’s going mad,
From experimenting with lead.
He tries to turn it into gold.
His brilliant mind is fooled.He brought about the Industrial Revolution,
And influenced Darwin’s Evolution.
Who would think playing with x
Could have such consequences?A century or two drag heavily by.
Atom bombs fall from the sky.
The newt is better off than we are,
In fear of all things nuclear.The tragic newt was married later
One toad was believed to be the traitor.
The newt was father to the man
Crack that those who can. -
At one with your sisters?Write to me in confidence.
A famous artist doodled on her bare shoulder.Now she’s selling herself .at the Edinburgh Tattoo
He has his clothes on a chair… so he wears a cushion cover.
Give me a pot for all the tea in China..I am dying of thirst.
She married a whistling gesture of a man.She dances to his tune all night.
She’s not playing with a her new man… she’s just testing.
What is the ghost of a chance? The spirit of endeavour?
He had the sharpest wife in the district.She cut all the neighbours dead in one week
There is something personal about it.You are a self opinionated,dimwitted. fanatical crank just like me.So,yes,I’ll marry you tomorrow.
Theres’ no-one to breathe for anymore.
You are nothing to write poems about but I can love you wordlessly
You have nothing with which to grieve…why not get a heart?
Anyone who has a heart will feel pain sometimes.
-
We are told that talent creates its own opportunities. But it sometimes seems that intense desire creates not only its own opportunities, but its own talents.
Eric Hoffer
-
Since it’s about a thousand years since the Vikings invaded Britain I thinj
j it’s about time we Danes spoke proper English..
so I’mKatharine Clearing/Village in the Forest.
Do clear up that forest,Kath or where will we live?In a treehouse?
Since everyone lived in these clearings it’s not a very noble name… in fact we could be anybody..
Thwaite is a common name in Westmorland..
Alternatively we could move to Denmark… it may be easier.Will they want us.. we are the ones who succeeded in getting away…still I always liked Danes
-
I am fated to stay here, I can’t walk away now.I belove you too much.
I have no crones’ chat.
I leered at a cool cat.
i love you more than you love your elf..
i need that like I need a whole head to myself.
i never met a man I didn’t like to stroke in a rowing boat.
i want my grace in the sun.
i was born yesterday according to my husband.
i wouldn’t flash on your teeth or they may set me on fire with their whiteners.
i wouldn’t trust my bust to him.
I’d lose my head if it wasn’t inside my stomach.
I’ll be a flunkey’s uncle.
Well I’ll be spammed!
I’ll bare my grudge to the whole community.Yes,I am a which!
I’ll vex you all night to give you delight,
I’ll leave you with something a few have had already… jealousy.
I’m not getting any younger men now… but the old ones look younger as I get older.
I’ve got him cut and pasted already…. for my mail album
I’ve stood up in it up to my ears…so I am almost clean…. why I’m virginal
He had nice water in his veins so the vampire wrote in blood.
-
It’s hard to wallow in gloom when one is very happy.
-
The apples fall at random
The apples fall at random,
But tears fall purposely.
The apples fall at random.
You want a cup of tea.The baby wants her milk
And the cat wants some as well.
The apples fall at random,
If there’s a pattern ,I can’t tell.The children want their dinner
and I want time to write.
The apples fall at random.
Bit inspiration brings me light.My husband wants to kiss me.
The baby falls asleep.
The apples fall at random,
Memories gold to keep. -
Old cats need a kind home.Can purr and sing as the coal burns..Be kind and take two in today…. they also keep youwarm in bed
I had my hand on him but he never felt me.He had such a thick skin,you see.I needed to fondle him all over before he noticed.Then he sometimes said,
I’m trying to read the fucking paper…..
Fuck the paper….I handle bugs and viruses until they are tame.Then I re-home them
My hand’s on your shoulder…it’s going to pat you on the back.
My handwriting was on the wall.My mother was put out…
Why can’t you write on your hands ?
she asked.
I thought I wrote with my hand,I replied…but that was impertinent…so no pocket money this week.So no paper either.I’ll write on my leg… or on the sheet.He’s as handy as a jacket on a scarecrow…
Please hang in the wardrobe with my clothes till my husband goes out.
Can you hang me out to dry after I have a bath?The towels are all wet.
Meaning sings along to every word you utter.But I can’t translate it into English.
Why is it so good to hang yourself in the wardrobe?
Surely your clothes don’t want to go to bed all together?I’m as happy as spam that breaks your inbox.
Are you as happy as a lark in spring?Call me now.I need you like a pie needs jam.
This is our traffic warden,James.He’s such a happy clamper.He loves to be hated.It’s called ambivalence,I believe.
They had a barred day’s light… all night!No wonder they wrote,We all live in a yellow submarine.They did except it was blue and was a yacht.. but you get my drift? They were completely at sea.
Are you shard headed?Go to the Museum now.. they may exhibit you free.
Old rats free to a good home. Can read and play the piano….sing along.
What is a hard full stop?
I had a bare brained idea… when I bust my skull…Here it is:Life is good…whatever.
Why do we need a leg up?How will we walk with only one?
The writing is in the hall.
Plug in and flow
George Osborne is so cunning he charges the sands rental for lying the sea shore.~How about him lying in the run up to the last Election?
And has he lied again…they refuse to be lavish with the truth..I steal wicks from Church candles as I’m going bald….. Do you think I’ll look good as a bedspead? Candlewick is always in Vogue.
We blew out the electricity to save money.Next we blow out the gas and die…that’s an economic depression for you.This way to Hell or Heaven.
My cat chews bats…and scratches my posts here as I write.
We’re chewing our tails and splitting our hairs.How about biting your nails?We’ll pay as we bite
I am chief Book and Kindle washer…..
We enjoyed some wild play while the others slept..
Let’s chill today like there’s ice tomorrow.
Let’s love again like we once did here.
Shall we connect ourselves up and chip in so that the computer can dream for us?
I see some lips on your shoulder….. what an about face!
I love men with good software and instructions on usage.Plug in and go!
-
He’s as well read as a politician’s email
Do dead cats pounce?
She fed presidents humbug incessantly.
I like a true blogger.Is it in their genes?
Are we dead to sight?
I’ll deal with all these flirts artfully…like the Dodger.
She felt an April slower today.
.
Death by a thousand cuts..,our Economy today.Dear head lights for sale cheap.Cheques broken.
Blogs on hold following web blight.
Spread yourself into a bowl and offer yourself a fresh start.
Woo cheaply with an reusable rose… wash or dry clean only.
Make yourself up as you go along.
Do as I pray and not as I say.Today may be your day
-
I wear perfume because I don’t spell right.
But I can quell a rat…
And I can wash the cat.
-
Paint hard whether a true love shows up or not…pictures will absorb emotion.
He’s a fair weather fiend.
She has affairs whatever the weather..she has a few umbrellae, as the Romans might have said…did it rain then?
He’s my call guy…I call him for funny jokes.
I fell head over wheels when my bike ran amok… why can’t it just roll along like other bikes do?
I was so thin I fell through a crack in the door right into his bed.
What a great design… he had it all planned.It’s like falling off a dog…..depends on size.Some dogs you fall on.
It’s a family affair….I love all of them.Am I mad?
I fancied meeting you here… and I fancy you anywhere if there are roses..
He gave out his Bar cry… I see a pub.Run!
He hit me like a fast brick whirling through the air and now I’m under his spell.He knocked me down with a feather .. a very large feather.I think he made it himself on purpose… still I enjoy being tickled sometimes.
Some day,some night,I’ll see the Light!
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Vertigo limericks – Glimpses between the cracks:Alice's Looking Glass
BBC News – Hitler drinking game probed by Huddersfield university
Even more early October
-
Your face is map enough for me
Your gaze your smile,your frown,your glee.
And if I want to know the rest
The shape your posture’s made is best
For saying what your life is now.
A look,a gesture,all this show.
Till all you are is then disclosed
And I am in your arms enrobed.
Love vanishes when analysed
And thinking too’ by Love’s despised
Use the means to fit the end
And then I’ll be what you intend.
-
Like watercolour pictures left out in the rain
Our colours have mingled,yet the originals still remain.
Two watercolour paintings without frames,
Became one picture over time,
Yet two of us still there.
Our colours blended naturally,
Now all the hues are shared.
I love your colours intermixed with mine:
Together they have made a new design.
A Watercolour picture painted by the rain,
We may go, but our Watercolour Love will still remain. -
Season of Writs and Yellow Legal Pads
Season of Cat Theatricals and Many Merry Kitten Calls
We wish you a Merry Dish Wash:Use Alcohol to Clean Up.
Season of Wistful Ways and Yellow Fruituality:Lost Your Spirits?
Angels are Dancing on my PIN…..how to go bankrupt quickly and easily.
Abstract Cake Making:applied Solid Geometry for when you lose your Cook Book.
Shades of Right Surround me ever: Clegg Confesses All.
Am i Who I used to Be: No,your i’s are different.
Commuting Groups and Symbols that Keep Flittering like Butterflies.
Non-commutative Operas with Demonstrations of invariance under rotations and regulations from anywhere at all in any direction or deconstruction -
‘Twas illig, and the blithely Stoats ,did fire a Thimble at a Ghrost.
Around the World I’ve Lied with Youare and Blush,The Twin Horror Show.
Alice in Blunderland.
Malice through the Magnifying Glass.
Malice in Gove Land.
All Whimsy were the Government’s Groves:Chequers for Hecklers
All flimsy were the Lying Grounds, yet the War Mongers Outslayed
Where are they,Mioaw?Cameron’s Cats for Rich Rools..
Who stole my Government?
Shall I compare Thee to a Carving Knife? : The N.H.S reduced to Size.
How to write and sell your first Comedy of Errors: Mandel’s Sunset.
Death and Menace: New Big Society for the disabled.
Where have all the People Gone?: Holidays at Home for Dummies.
Philosophy in a new Sea. Lost Ideas and Drowning Brainwaves.
-
Stan had decided to do a some of baking.
The larder was empty
the cupboard was bare
he looked in the cake tin
but nut nothing was there.Sorry about that!
Stan had flour,eggs and sugar and of course milk and butter.Emile was under the table waiting for something to drip out of the bowl!He loved baking days.
Stan had bought a load of blackberries in the market so he was thinkin of blackberry tarts,blackberry crumble..
He picked up the bag which seemed very heavy.Putting his hand in …..he pulled out a Blackberry!He went to the market
to buy me some fruit
and now he’s got Blackberries
he’s going to shoot!Annie his next door neighbour was coming to the back door.”What’s up ,Petal?”“Oh,dear.I seem to have made a category error.”Stan answered philosophically.”Well what category would you put me into?” she asked petulantly.
“Why are you so egocentric ?Not everything is about you!”He said fluently.
“Well if I’m narcissistic it’s because my infant grandiosity was ruptured too suddenly and I was not held and contained in a suitable manner.”
“You’ve been reading that Wilfred Bion again.” Stan said admiringly.”No,not just him.It’s some American chap as well .Would you like to read it?”
“No,thanks,I’m finding Julia Segal is more than enough for me.I find Bion is a bit too mystical.I don’t think I can approach you without memory or desire.To be honest,without memory or desire I wouldn’t want to approach you.”
“Wow ” she said stupidly,her large green eyes staring avidly upon him inviting him to fall into their salty sea like depths.
“Shall I ring 999?I can’t think of anything to say.I’m lost for words.”“Perhaps you have reached that mystical spot beneath language mostly only known to babies,the mad, or meditators?”
“well,I do feel a bit of madness today.”
“Is that why you have purple and orange eyeshadow on clahing with your alarazin crimson lipstick and your light beige, but not too light, foundation by Lancome of Brixton and Blackheath,Paris,Rome,and London?”
“I suppose so.” she replied indifferently.I feel as if I’m behind a glass wall.”
“Oh,don’t worry.That’s the new window!” Stan explained courteously.”You really are behind a glass wall.”
“You’ve been reading schizoid processes again on Yahoo,”
“Yes,” she admitted her face blushing violently.”It’s those new people who’ve moved in across the road.They are both psychoanalysts so I wanted to feel up to their level of knowledge.”
“I didn’t know they were psychoanalysts.How did you find out?”“Well,first of all,there were two large sofas, and then hundreds of knitting needles and a lorryful of wool.And I thought,”Hello,hello,It must be one of Anna Freud‘s followers.”
“So have you met them?” he asked laconically?
“Yes”,she confessed animatedly .I went over and said,
“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
“And what did he say?”
“Are you all mad round here?”
“So I thought,”You’re not getting hold of me that easily.””
“So I said “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m am an admirer of Melanie Klein,”
“Oh,how did they react to that?”Stan quizzzed her jovially.
“He was so rude.He said,”Are you telling me you’re a lesbian as well as a lunatic?”“Oh,dear.No wonder your make up is all running off your face and disappearing down your cleavage.Why don’t you pop upstairs and have a bath?”
“Well it’s either that or ringing 999“
“My self is totally divided.”“Into equal parts?” “I can’t say” she murmured.”Oh,well” said Stan “you sit there with Emile and I shall make a Victoria sponge and a lemon drizzle cake without the lemon…I’ve only got bananas and they don’t drizzle.
“Why not adapt to reality and make a banana loaf?”
“Is that wise?” Stan enquired.”Wise or not,it seems to make sense.” she whispered coyly.”Get a move on or Mary will be back on her Raleigh shopper bicycle and there’ll be no cake for tea.”Thank you,honey.”Stan replied.
“I am filled with memory and desire.””And quite right too,”mioawed Emile from his basket.”I’m like that every night!””And so are all of us,”Annie twittered on one of Stan’s blackberr -
http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/24/doctor-empathy-a-factor-in-diabetes-care/
I would not be surprised if it were true across a wider spectrum of health problems,that the doctor’s attitude can have a physiological effect.I have already seen evidence that medications work better if you get on well with the doctor… even antibiotics.I have noticed lately our doctor is busy with NHS reforms and so is not so available….
I wish he would read this article.Three of my family are diabetic -
I once met a very smart man
Who lived in a little red van.
He ate his meals out
Though I have no doubt
He would sometimes eat beans from the can.He took his shirts to the laundrette.
That is,to be sure, where we met.
He was fascinated by music,
But just to confuse me,
He never told me he played the cornet.Thus,when we listened to Mozart’s French Horn,
And I was feeling quite puzzled and torn,
He criticised the breathing
Of the player who was meaning
To show the world why he’d been born.If someone had written a piece for the cornet
Which sounded like a half drunken hornet,
He might have married me
And now I would not be
Sitting here writing pornette. [ A new word meaning very soft porn] -
Looking out,
I see the yellowish wood
of the forsythia
where blackbirds live.
Now the sun shines and a leaf or two
wave in the wind;
the points of light
edge of each holly leaf
like moulded silver flowers,
celebrating the falling sun.
Pine cones dangle loosely from the conifer
will we be showered innocently
with these fruits?
cat comes out of the shed
looking determined,
moves off quickly
down the curving path
in search of movement.
Peers into the glass door
but won’t come in.
Hello,cat!
Make hay,while the sun shines.
I hope it shines for you,too. -
Floating like seaweed on the tide,
The final leaves of summer die.
The birds ride on the wind’s broad back,
They know no fear and know no lack.
The air is filled so with great treasures,
My female heart its wonder measures.
The clouds are deep and dark and grey
What rainstorms may they fetch our way?
The sun appears and gives a glow
Of yellow to bare branches low.
Red berries so bright, like summer flowers,
Decorate the holly’s pointing tower.
Sharp thorns protect the smaller birds,
And from inside,their cheeps are heard.
As dusk arrives the blackbird sings,
So much sweetness nature brings.
As I turn my mind from in to out,
I feel salvation for my doubts.
I know that I’m part of the whole,
And with all life I share my soul.
In this peaceful place I rest,
As with love’s eloquence I’m blessed.
There’s singing in my inner heart.
Like bees to flowers,my fears depart -
1.
I was once quite addicted to fruit
I ate anything whether raw or half cooked.
Till waking one night,
Without very much light
I gnawed a hole in my husband’s new boots.2.
There was an old gent in New York
Who hated to eat with a fork
He lived on tinned soup,
And ate poetry books
And got protein from the insects he caught3.
There once was a foolish young girl
Whose hair was not willing to curl.
So she chopped it all off
Whilst in a huff.
And instead she wore a crown made from pearls.4.
I once knew a scientist of note
Who never wore a winter topcoat.
When I asked him why,
He said with a sigh,
There’s no space when you live in a boat. -
Leaves have gone so suddenly
Small birds float on the wind
Like boats astride a choppy sea.
Their swaying stills my mind.Wild geese fly past at dusk again
They head towards the West.
If I were such a wild white goose
I’d know which path was best.But as a human I need words
To find my destination.
So many words which are packed
With genius of generations.I send my words with love to you.
I hope you deftly catch them
Send me true answers from your heart
And I promise I shall match them -
I will love you like a big elastic band would,
Holding you but not constraining.
I will be like a giant paperclip
Keeping all your bits connected.
I will be a sheet of paper
On which you write your thoughts.
I will be a curtain on your window
To hide you from the glare.
I will be a briefcase that you hold in your hand.
But I refuse to be a wastepaper basket
To hold your garbage.
I do have my limits
Though they are elastic.
But even elastic is not infinitely stretchy
And neither am I. -
I walked across the water.
I skied across the sea
I took the television too,
And it’s heavier than me.I fell up a mill chimney
I slid down a sunbeam
I have to go to London
I was told to in a dream.I drove right up a mountain
A horse rode on my back
I felt rather excited
But I forgot to take my mac.I swung across the ceiling
Like a spider in its web,
I say,you are so beautiful.
Do you have a double bed?I am sitting on the roof top
Drinking cider from a can.
I wanted to get married
But she said she wants a man.I climbed right up a tiger’s tail,
I crowned an elephant
But my most abiding passion
Is to learn to mix cement.I spied for several governments
But then they threw me out.
Because I am an alien
Of that there is no doubt.I’m not a human being
I am lacking in some ways
I’m too kind to kill other people,
Even when it’s highly paid.I write with a big crayon
I draw with candlewax
I live on cottage pie and rice,
And I’m addicted to kind sex.I set my curly hair on fire.
I swam In boiling oil.
I went down to the market
To watch the apples toil.I had a lot of people
Who were living in my house.
I could not ever remember
Which one was my spouse.I taught my doctor to love lice
I showed him how to shoot.
And now I’m training Isaac up
So he can be a Newt.I skate across the surface
Of everybody’s eyes
And all I ever ask of you is
Forget how to tell lies.I am coming down to your place
As it’s twice as big as mine.
Have you got a chip sandwich?
To feed our love divine?I want to see the people
who are living in that Palace.
I have to tell them God told me
It belongs to Carroll’s Alice.Roll your eyes like marbles
And interweave your hair with trains.
This is how it happens,
When you don’t heed Labour’s pains.
. -
A few people have told me they would rather know what I was doing than read my poetry.If you are such a person I have just bought a number of new sheets and pillowcases.I have also bought 12 table napkins from France.I ate some pizza at midday.It’s raining and quite cold.I am reading “Dresden Green” by Nicholas Freeling…..or I was.I lost it in the bedroom.No doubt in 6 years I’ll find it in the wardrobe.The logical deduction is…buy an e-reader.Wow,why did I buy new sheets?It’s this urge housewives get as winter approaches…fill the cave with food and other stuff….And new sheets are nice.One looks like tent fabric it’s so tough.They are from a French mail order place.Sartre…. what sort of sheets did he like?The heating is faulty so I have a fan heater on.I have some navy blue track pants on.I found them in the bathroom on the chair.And I have a blue jumper on…. bright like my eyes.My hair looks really good today…
it’s some gunk I put on,really as long as it feels clean and don’t give a toss how it looks…It’s gone lighter and lighter blonde till now I think it’s platinum.. and all without a dye.I feel quite envious of myself.Is that possible?I shall ask a theologian..I know two.I know some people hate themselves… so you could be jealous of yourself.Isn’t life weird?Or is it me? -
Leaves have gone so suddenly
Small birds float on the wind
Like boats astride a choppy sea.
Their swaying stills my mind.Wild geese fly past at dusk again
They head towards the West.
If I were such a wild white goose
I’d know which path was best.But as a human I need words
To find my destination.
So many words which are packed
With genius of generations.I send my words with love to you.
I hope you deftly catch them
Send me answers from your heart-
And I promise I shall match them. -
Seven o’clock- and the sun’s still glowing
Seven o’clock – finishing colour bright day,
Up above – pink tinged clouds are sliding
Down still sky,sweeping sun away.Come back sweet sun,do not leave me.
Come back bright beams,I need sunlight.
Down on earth,it’s witch moon darkness,
When your golden face is out of sight.I see the orange tinged clouds extending.
I feel such sense of sky lit bright.
But gently now,the mist surrounds you
And sweeps away that happy sight.Into velvet blackness sinking,
The dazzling, dreaming darkness falls.
Goodbye to haste,and glare, and sunshine,
Time for reverie,night time calls.On the night-train’s gentle journeys,
On this trackless train we ride
Strange,seductive haunting pictures
I will see in dreams’ designs.In my night trainI’ll be happy
In such rich deep reverie.
We visit darkness in our sleeping,
There we learn its ecstasy.Now we have no God to hold us
In His Hands of Living Love,
What will help us trust deep blackness
If there’s no Saviour from above?Must we enter that great darkness,
Go back to dark from which we came,
Into dark all living creatures,
In that darkness find our home?Trust the dark unknown, to hold us,
Trust the dark ,both night and day.
Must we walk into that darkness
And trust it is our safest way?Nonsense
I lack personal walls.
He was sacked by the draper.
And bagged by the greengrocer.I have hacked what I said from my own files.
It was a snack in my hand that gave me indigestion.
I’ll be a duck in a beck in Cumbria rather than take from the poor.
Are you back on the fiddle or is it the guitar?
I shall back my life up onto my brain….
He was a back seat driver owing to his overly long arms… that’s why he let his cat sit in the driver’s seat,so he said to the police.
The judge sentenced him to community service so he’s now the Vicar.Are you an expert at jabberwocky/
We went back to the dear ones…. they were so creative.
We all went back on the duty to hoard.
A lack of salt mines made it easier to sweat.
He gave her a cackhanded compliment so she struck him with her walking frame and is now in jail for criminal damage to an artefact.
I believe in rum tea.
Is it possible to be flat all over and still be a woman?
I have a little…..
Wave your breath through the hole.Will it separate the particles out?
Pay,why?Are you a bill….?
Weigh your prayers.God cares.
Scarcely a den left on Hampstead Heath…where will thieves meet?
Westminster….you know where!He was bare except for his own shadow… and that was not very cosy.
I am wiping the bottom of the barrel… it’s been digesting our polticians all day.
Season’s Tweetings to all my friends
I reckon it will cost as much as a bed for the bananas.
I have second sinned now…I got my eye in,or should I say on, a handsome man.~Is it mortal?
All men are mortal….
As for sins, we leave that to God.
What,he sins!
No he judges our sins…our motives and our thoughts…
Seems a horrible job…Never wee when you lie.If you are so scared,tell Ruth….I mean the truth.
I pee in the glass till it’s only half empty.We have no loo here, you see.
Why not pee outside in the garden?Are you afraid of the dark?
No,but I am afraid of sky larks.
You mean nightingales?
Well,I’d rather spend the night in a breeze.
You are getting on my wick.
Sorry,candle.
Don’t take that tone with me.
I am so sorry.I am tone deaf.
Tone blind too,if you ask me.
I shan’t ask you.
Wank you.
Wank you very much.I see the light at the end of the funnel…I fell into a big teapot.
Where is the spout?Can you see which way the bacon rinds flow?
Yell,” No doubt” if you hear any politician speak.Or “Unclear.”
My senses have overflowed….I am sorry you had no Mac.
I separate the men from their toys at night so they can play with me in the dark.
Well,I am in the dark totally but it seems fun at the time. -
Suddenly the air was full of roses
smiles floated out from strangers’ faces
children blew bubbles
I stood watching the colours on one
as the sun lit up the edges
as it ascended into heaven
everyone was smiling
music played
world more real seemed here for a moment
perhaps a’re always on the edge of paradise
if we stopped running so fast
the world keeps whispering
“I’m here,see,listen,look”
wants us to interact,relate.
the air I breathe was once in your lungs,
We are all fish in one ocean
green and deep,we swim blindly
like the mad. WE are the mad,
As the mad sometimes tell us.
They saw too much,too soon.
We see too little,too late,
Though it’s never too late to start -
Trees so tall their
wind turned branches stroke the air.
leaves still green,
still stretching sunward
will burn red and gold soon.Wood pigeons cause a flurry
by the birdbath,
as I pass they indicate surprise
with strange cries.Look up at the sky,
it’s blue again
no clouds.
a silver plane flies north,
are people looking down at us?If only love made time last
would like this morning
to be longer,
for our turning earth
to pause for a moment.How dear you are to me.
I stretch my hand
to touch you,
as if you are a leaf
bathed in light.
no shadows on your face,
no shadows in your eyes
but smiling with the beauty
seen by those who love.
come kiss me now ,my dove. -
Watching the car come round the corner,
I put up my arm and ordered it to stop.
Don’t pedestrians have the right of way
over turning cars?You can see I was already
feeling impertinent even before the man
would not give me a chair in the bookshop.
Still I saw a woman laugh and she patted me
On my arm and said she’d remember me.
Standing by the flower stall,counting rose petals
The world seemed simpler and more beautiful.
What’s the answer to the unspoken question,
We all ask.The point is will we recognize this answer?
Will it pass unnoticed as we look the other way?
Which vision will we use to decide?
Where are we looking?
-
Stop for a moment.
There has to be an incantation,I demand it.
Oratory has a place but needs music
To make the world succumb
To get all the atoms vibrating as one
Will you find out how to do it?
Ancient people knew it,but we lost the art
Logic was all we thought we needed
But logic doesn’t make the sperm penetrate
As the ovum waits patiently.
Such waiting,such stillness.
How can we not admire it?
Sing special songs for the acceptance of the female spirit.
This Mozart sonata,the piano’s voice is almost painful
in its beauty.
Just stop for a moment,please.
He’s inverting all the previous melodies
Upturned then and made something new.
It’s in the air,invisible
Like scent of raindrops,
Touching the face and tenderly passing
On their way to earth -
Somehow,I’m thinking,there has to be another way
that doesn’t destroy the tenderness of love.
that leaves the grass green;
and lets the daisies flower on cricket pitches,
In England and the commonwealth.
Where’s the soul’s astute intelligence
playing itself out?
Look at my hands,
They speak of it all
Tapping on keys while I listen
To the silence
all around
with the distant radio
giving yet more news.
An end to nonsense,we are the animals that can learn
from experience.
but we have to want to change. -
It’s autumn weather,geese fly by.
Autumn rust,red, gold so gay
Drystone walls,edging fields
Apples gathered,holly berries
Flash so brightly
Look like flowers
Sun shines sideways,shadows long
Of trees appear,I dwell among
Woods of gentle beeches sing
Flowing with the gliding wind.
Look at roots all intertwined
Feel their geometry in the mind
Looking up into the sky
I see the V formation high,
Geese fly home at end of day
My heart is moved by patterned dance
All in this peace and holy silence.
Is it true it’s only chance
Or is it that gods dwelled here once
I feel my heart open like the sky
And at this moment I could die
So I would stay with this still vision
Of geese set out in Autumn mission
Snails in rain pools slither near
My feet upon the terrace here
And look upon their whorled backs
The complete pattern of life is packed.
And yet so easily it’s destroyed
When blind foot steps into the voidI love those old genes
i am all peers…
All for a bone,and scones for the boys?
All hands are paint flecked on the deck,by order.
All trespassers persecuted in court.
All hands to the rumps.
How hell breaks the teeth!
She calls in almost daily with a smirk.
Balls in due rhyme.
It’s all over except we lost the map.Still we found another War… the War to end all Wars and it’s still ongoing.The War seems to be a great success …. but for whom?
We all paled in contrition.. our sin was imprecision
He’s all hawk yet no action.
All those Twitterers should be in jail.Tweet that now.
I love all that jazz….. and those old blue genes.
I had all the wits he needed…so he believed….yet he was deceived.
I kept them for myself,you see. -
Perspicuity sees more than convention.
I have let all words unreel for me.
As nervous as a maths Prof. with hot proof, he paced the platform looking for imaginary numbers.Cauchy put a stop to it all?
Never put off until Heaven the loving you can do on Earth.
I brought new police in for my wife.I need them to get a grip otherwise it’s Bedlam in here
A newbie: that’s a word I hate.What rhymes with it?What chimes with it.What sort of time can one have with it
Tall guys find lust at last when they get unstilted.Free here.
The girls were so bright and prey.
Well,I’ll flip my duck to you,Sir.And I rarely do that howerdays.
You need to flip pancakes for your lover.Or even do somersaults.
They need to unwind their bobbinsThere is no accounting for taste.It’s unmeasurable and undefinable yet it exists.
He made no grains at all…but he sowed all his wild oats and I sewed up all his coats.
It was a no grow relationship so I uprooted myself and wept.
I believe no colds were barred…they resisted innoculation on location by special bequests.
-
Note:I had a list of cliches.I joined them together with extra words…. and l altered some slightly.
I find it amuses me when I think of more cliches.
Sometimes leaving out part of a cliche or a proverb gives a new idea which may produce a poem.Sometimes just a laugh…
HERE I GO
You are driving me to thoughts which rarely entertained me before… give me my pen
Everything is coming up too ,you know.too intense,too dense.too claustrophobic,too near,too whelming
Don’t cry overmuch.you can pee instead,in bed,when you’re dead,standing on your head
He’s not worth a brushing with butter or a sprinkling with cheese.Eat him neat,what,cheat?
Faint hearts need GNT or a G and T ,What’s your poison?It’s all nectar to me.I live up a tree.. so how do I wee?
How do I love thee,lend me your veers.
Cats to the right of us,cats to the left.Let’s take our clothes off except for our vests.
Where have all the hours gone?
Where have mine gone?
Where have all our coalmines gone?
In England’s green and peasant filled landAVERSE TO VERSE?
I feel my heart’s cracked.
How..over spilled milk?
Do you want to feel me?
It does my heart good,yet
You are driving me crazy
with your endless words.Every blog has its sway..
In point of fact,
everything’s coming up roses.
Wasted hearts
never a true love know.Shall I
fall head over heels or
fall through the cracks
in the pavement.
I love you,please
fan the flames of our fire.
To know you is to love me.How can I end it otherwise?
My desire is to be here now.
And to paint you all over
With olive oil unless you prefer butter.
To be buttered! -
Beautiful face …………….
I have experienced a few times in my life a beauty that was so perfect that in some cases my legs gave
way.One time it was seeing Lincoln Cathedral floodlit through a window and I did fall down then.Another
time it was a drawing by Picasso,and again St Paul’s Cathedral at night.With people I’ve felt it once or
twice.One wishes to die at that moment simply to avoid losing the beauty.It’s as if someone has just played a
chord which harmonizes with one’s soul/psyche.It’s difficult to explain but maybe you have felt that too.
One time was very funny because it was a mere greeting card with a Picasso drawing on that made my legs
give way.So if I don’t post one day you’ll know I’m lying on the ground worshipping some beauteous image or
smile or face or the sky.I’m not drunk except on beauty.
.
Your face is so beautiful
when you smile,
I could die while gazing
upon it.
Your eyes affect me
like silver light gleaming
on a frozen lake in winter
I could remain entranced always
And,though I know
love to be eternal,
the music begins
the dance goes on.
You leave me. -
There once was a doctor called Spooner
Who was affected by all things lunar
When the moon was half sized
He was quite galvanized
By the bum of a lady piano tuner.There once was a scientist named Newton,
Who wanted a room with a futon.
But no-one had heard
Of that Japanese word
So he went off with his apple to Luton.I once “knew” your daddy,Newton.
Before he had got his new suit on.
When you were conceived
He said he’d been deceived.
And it all occurred here on that futon.A scientist went into to the loo
When he had lots of hot thinking to do
But the door lock got jammed,
And poor Newton was crammed
In a bathroom without any view.There was once doctor called Newt
Famed for his bizarre birthday suit.
So one day he went out
Clad in ne’er a clout,
So now he’s been given the boot -
If Jesus wants you for a sunbeam
Tell Him you’re not ready yet.
If Jesus wants you for a sunbeam
Tell him that your mind’s not set.If Jesus asks you something silly
Then it’s highly likely that
It’s not Jesus,it’s your shadow
So you can just say “Godwot.”If you see your Guardian Angel
Flying round your kitchenette.
It’s a sign you’re high on wine.
And you’re not an angel yet.I am most wary of illusions
If they satisfy my dreams.
True imagination only works when
Our ego’s not in the scheme.Let Jesus go and take a step
Into the darkness on your own.
Ask a human being for help,
Then you really will have grown.Goodnight fairies,goodbye witches.
Goodbye elves and fantasy.
Take your self into the future
Where we know not what may be.“Jesus wants you for a sunbeam”
Is a very weird sentence.
If Christ’s religion has a value.
It’s based on truth and not pretense -
Oh,Mr Osborne,what did you do ?
I took away the free bus pass
From silly old fools like you.
Oh,Mr Osborne,may I ask you why?
Yes,indeed, we Conservatives
Want all you old fogeys to die.
So we are getting rid of the heating allowance
And sending you all back to work.
So the stress and the strain ,the worry and chill,
Will get rid of you all,oh fuck,[I know most of you like this word,unlike me.. remember the rows]
I’ve lost the bit of paper
On which I had written my budget
Oh,God,Oh ,Hell on earth,I say,old boy,
I’ll just have to bloody fudge it.
You can say whatever you fudge,
And we old people may die.
But history will soon be your judge,
And your own children may ask you”Why”
You’re making the BBC pay the licence fee
For people over 75,
When it should be the tax from the rich folk
Who expect us to take a deep dive
Oh,Georgy Osborne,I’ll put your wallpaper all over your eyes,
So that you cannot see,but you’ll still hear
The poor people’s loud, raging cries.
And remember the coalition lose votes
If too many old people die. -
Put your thoughts down on the page
Whilst you’re in the writers’ rage,
All you want can be said here,.
Imagination’s clear.Remember those long sunny days
Playing in the park always,
Every hour was filled with mirth
Imagination’s birth.Put your burden down and play,
Today is now the only day.
Sun is up, joys may lurk.
Imagination’s work.Never let your heart go sour,
Live in moments,not in hours.
All of us are here anew,
Imagination’s due.Wrap your arms around the world.
Keep them always warmly curled.
If you hate someone, forgive.
Imagination lives.
Imagination lives
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15 Ways to Feel Well and Live Well With Hypothyroidism
Finnigans Wake
Dazzled by the lightness of his language,
How his words danced like angels on the point of his needle.
He sewed them together in new ways,
Until they became almost other;other languages
Sing,
if you don’t know. Understanding come, with hearing
Attending,opening, your mind is a flower
on the Dingle; it dares to trust its heart to
Atlantic gales and bends low beneath them;
Yet rises too in the warm sun of his total gaze;
And enraptures the listener and the seer
Into another Eden,it’s possible,
with patience,to enter
Even to stay.
Water of life,carry me home to you at last
To the rocks and the flowers
and the dancing butterfly words
Of the Gael.
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From early October writing…love and humor
-
There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
So that makes the total three.Transubstantiation is a special thing,
I looked down at that bag.
Is Jesus really inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?It’s a secret I have never told
But Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder there’s an awful gap.We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
And I ate a chocolate mouse.So Three of had taken a ride
And after that mi Dad had died.
I saw Father Dan saying Sunday Mass
With holy Jesus,so I cried. -
I went to the doctor, he said I’d pre-flu,
I said “my dear doctor what shall I do?”
Next time I went, he said “It’s pre- shock.”
And then I had pre measles,pre mumps and pre-poxI ran to the doctor,he said ” You’re pre-well”
I said “Are you sure it’s not just a pre-quel?”
Next time I turned up,he’d gone out for a walk
It’s hard for a doctor who wants to pre-talk.I went to the optician, who said I’m pre-blind
I thanked him for being so intensely unkind.
I went back to the doctor,and these words I said
“I’m pre -blind, pre-deaf,pre-ill and pre-dead -
Found guilty of committing a crime
Now I am serving my time;
To this jail, I lately was sent
For loitering without intent.I was standing inside a large Mall,
Though I had bought nothing at all.
The judge says it’s bad for the pound
We should all make an effort to spend.So the tax payer is spending on me,
Is that good for the economy?
Now I am lingering in here,
Imbibing the prison atmosphere.Strangeways makes an excellent setting
For the new novel I’ve been plotting.
You can live quite freely in prison,
If you possess John Bunyan’s true vision.When I have finished this term
I will not have this lesson to learn
“If you really want to do naught………………
Don’t do it where you might get caught”
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The Ten Best Irish Songs of the Last Ten Years (My Opinion Only)
The fatality of the dance
We were dancing to a tune,a tune I’d heard before
We were spinning across the polished floor
But as I moved towards you ,you moved the other way
And I knew then,you heard differerent music play.
I made a mistake,yet I thought you understood
Realisation comes down in a flood.
You’re just a stranger who seemed to know the dance
And I thought you meant it but that was just chance.
I’m so foolish,I give my heart away
I make errors then,of course, I have to pay.
Why don’t I learn more? Why do I repeat
The dance I am dancing which leads on to defeat?
Oh,I’ll still keep on dancing for the dance is my life
And like Anderson’s mermaid I walk on sharp knives.
So foolish, so foolish my heart
I dance though I know it tears me apar
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Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi …..find your flow – Glimpses between the cracks:Alice's Looking Glass
Early to mid September writing 2012
-
Stan was sweeping the garden path.He had a stiff broom with a small head that was useful for cleaning the edges of the steps.Emile, his beautiful cat was sitting in the old apple tree gazing down on Stan.
“Is it time for coffee yet,”Stan asked himself.He had forgotten to put on his watch.
Suddenly he heard a shriek.He peered through a hole in the fence.His neighbor Annie was lying on her back in some mud.
“Hang on,I’ll come round!” he called.
There was a gate in the old fence which was rarely locked
since Annie loved to drop in on Stan.
“Oh,Annie,how are you feeling?” he asked her anxiously.
“Bloody annoyed.I’ve only just bought these,”Not your daughter’s jeans” and now I’ve torn them,” she replied politely.
“But you don’t have a daughter!” he informed her loudly.
“I know that.It’s just they are better cut for the mature figure.”
“Your figure is not mature.You are quite slender.my dear,” he murmured lovingly.
“Well,I never feel happy with it!” she said mutinously.
“Whereas I am very happy feeling it,” he responded romantically.
Tears came into her green eyes lined with purple eye shadow.Alas,it was not waterproof and purple rivulets ran down her cheeks across the peach blusher with which she had valiantly decorated herself earlier.
“Can you get up?” he asked tenderly.
“Yes, but it would be nice if you picked me up.”
He leaned over her and licked the purple streams of tears off her cheeks.
“I hope it’s not poisonous,” she murmured.
Then with the aid of Emile,he lifted her to her feet and helped her into her large trendy kitchen.
The kettle switched itself on as they entered and a robotic voice asked if they’d like coffee.
“God in heaven,what the hell is that?” he cried confusedly.
“It’s my new computerized hot drink maker.After that fall I think a double espresso would be good.”
Emile ran in and asked for coffee too.
“Emile,you usually have milk,”Stan reminded him softly.
“Well,coffee is a new taste for me but I like a little.”
the cat whispered sweetly.
“I’ll give you some of mine in a saucer,” Stan replied.
Emile began to sob.
“Why Emile,whatever is wrong?”
“I want a cup and saucer just like you” the cat howled.
But you have no hands,Emile,” Stan reminded him.
The poor cat was crying loudly now.So Stan rang 999.
“Can you please send the emergency ambulance round.the cat’s crying and all his hankies are in the wash.”#
Soon Dave,the transvestite paramedic appeared.
“I love your light teal kitchen,” he informed Annie,
“And your eyes look like two deep pools in a coal mine.”
She slapped his cheek naughtily.
“Have a look at Emile” she ordered him sweetly.
He turned to the cat who was sitting on the dark pine table.
“Here,Emile,I got you some Kleenex for Cats in Sainsbury’s.” he said gaily.
“I want a real hanky,”cried Emile.Dave took a clean hanky from his own pocket and dried the cats tears.
“What made you cry.Are you feeling bad.”
“Yes,I want to go to Cafe Nero,” Emile mioawed.
“Who told you about that?”
“Another cat down the road has been and he said it’s lovely for people watching.”
“The town is not safe for cats like you,Emile.”
Dave urbanely replied,
“But when summer come I’ll take you to the out of town
Marks and Spencer’s.They have a cat’s coffee corner upstairs.”
“Wow,isn’t it amazing,”Stan wondered out loud.
So Dave poured out the coffee and they all sat down and
discussed Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein.
Ray has discovered that Wittgenstein liked cats but as he moved around quite a bit,he never owned his own cat
though Elizabeth Anscombe let him play with her three cats now and then.
We may all be different but most of us value the love of a good cat.Even boiling their hankies and ironing them is very nice.We all have this problem though.
Where can a cat carry his own hanky?
Do cats need shoulder bags?
What would Wittgenstein say?T
-
–
The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.Michel de Montaigne
-
The search for happiness is one of the chief sources of unhappiness.
Eric HofferRead more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/sources.html#FcB0I3hGiehKceaU.99
-
Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We
do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence,
but rather we have those because we have acted rightly.
We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an
act but a habit.Aristotle
-
Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone: it has to be made,
like bread, remade all the time, made new -
Good luck soup… boil a horse shoe in water with an onion and some cloves,then liquidise it
-
On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs he had bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.
Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously.
He had OCD now and then.
People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
Why has God kept me so youthful?
Surely not so I can seduce more women?
We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?
Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
Or is it, More paste,guests feed?
He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
He looked again at his image.
His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
His dark hair looked very full for his age.
His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner,
Jacob Weissmann.
And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.
As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.
At least I don’t wear make up!
Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.
More taste less greed.
What does that mean?asked Stan.
If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
I want to go high,high.
I want to reach the sky.
what will I do when my love is away
Will I be happy on my own?
Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
I’ll try not to sing out of tune!My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready
At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbor.
Hi,Stan,where are you going.
I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
I can lend her some,she shrieked.
Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
Who is normal?
Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,
Anne shouted in a fury.
No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
Very true,she replied,
As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick.
At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
You both look very merry!
Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly.
Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
Why? she murmured,I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
Your wish is my command he muttered,
I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere.
He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back to the terminus.
But we want to go into town,every one howled.
There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.Hello! said Mary.
Did you get my needles,Stan?
I’m so sorry,Mary.I’ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
And where is my supper.
I’m afraid it’s still in the womb of time!
I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast.
But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep.copyright
-
..
Living life in all its fierceness,
Birth and death and joy and pain
We struggle on our unknown journey,
Sometimes lost and found again.We are indeed like lambs to slaughter
Death will be our final goal.
But while we live,let us live bravely.
Let us not destroy our souls.Climbing in the hills and moorlands
In the heather, children play.
The sun half blinds me with its light
Yet still I see the given way.I received a call to climb.
These hills are my essential home.
My vocation is to dwell here
While in the silence,mind may roam.Noise in cities is destructive.
Though nature’s fierce,it’s also true.
Struggling on life’s craggy slopes
I offer up my words to you. -
Private
Crop a line into an infinity of dots…it takes forever and a way.
I dropped the bucket.What lucket!
Supper was benign.
Whopping like flies on amphetamines.Have they got HDHD?
I try drown my sorrows but they can swim too fast.
I was as drunk as a Monk after a day of lasting abstinence.
Fly with a Crone.
.
Good luck soup… boil a horse shoe in water with an onion and some cloves,then liquidise itWuck!
Plumb in a fox… it will wash you with its tail.
It would come in the post if it was delayed.
Numb as am iceberg’s stump.
Dumber than a clump of shagged out spammers.
More numerals than a box of clocks.
Shall we go to the crux
Such a feat.
A witch’s treat.
Twitchy feet.
A bitch in the heat…
and wild in the cold.
Put my clox back now!
-
Insanely flung by chance into a brothel she worked her way out with a book,The Joy of Cookery.It was heavy enough to break the thickest windows.
I wonder why windows don’t have brakes for hot weathe
Sieve your breath for health.
Pray for whom you bill.
Today for your prayers read your Palms.
Scared of the cows in a meadow?Then take the bull by the horns.He’ll show you the ropes.
I am wiping the bottom of the barrel..I can’t sink much lower.
Reason’s freezing
A record busting wind blew as the herd wound slowly over me.where’s the coward?
I see I’m I to me and thou to thee.If we just had one pronoun how .easy life would be…
When a baby can see itself as me as well as I,it’s already moved out of its self centred viewing point and can se
-
The Wild Swans at Coole
Photo courtesy of Mike FlemmingWilliam Butler Yeats (1919)
The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
And now my heart is sore.
All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
The first time on this shore,
The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
Trod with a lighter tread.Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake’s edge or pool
Delight men’s eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away? -
We seldom realize, for example that our most private thoughts and emotions are not actually our own. For we think in terms of languages and images which we did not invent, but which were given to us by our society.”
― Alan Wilson Watts -
The Pilchards.
23,Sweetnames Avenue
Knittingham
Near Nottingham.
England
Dear Jane
Hope you are keeping well in this unusually cold spring weather.
Stan has had flu.It made him so bad tempered and waspish
that I took up the Duraglit polish and got him to polish all the brass,
except the front door knob, as that doesn’t come off.
Mind you,it made the bedroom smell odd… a mistake,perhaps…
so I sprinkled lavender oil around.
He seems to get thinner and I seem to get fatter.
So our average w eight remains constant.
What a relief.I’d like to be weighed as a married woman.
Can you believe this..
I’ve got chilblains! It’s those dratted blood vessels of mine.
Still,I polished some old plum colored leather and wear them in the house.
We seem to be doing polishing frequently here.. boots,furniture,apples.
How is your new book “Nonsense:A.N.Whitehead and Lewis Carroll” coming on?
Hope it’s progressing….to a nonsensical ending.
I’ve got a new book of poetry coming out in April
[from Polar bears publishers]
It’s called,”An unpolished performance.”
My fourth book on Wittgenstein’s cats is almost finished.
And the publishers can’t wait for the photographs…I’ll get a friend to do those for me!!
It gives me a change from all that polishing.
I’ve begun to talk to myself out loud…. in the street.
Just seeing if I can still do my old Lancashire accent.
I suppose it might worry people but no one has said anything as yet.They may be afraid.
“That which is unsaid can,nevertheless,still be heard.
Stan is still involved romantically with Anne, our next door neighbor.
I can’t blame him as chilblains and Wittgenstein not very romantic.
When I think of how we used to be,it makes me smile and feel sadness too.
I wonder if I can find someone new for a romance,myself… someone with Asperger’s syndrome
possibly…as I’ve just been diagnosed.It’s quite common in mathematicians.It may be an
advantage in concentrating a lot
I need a boyfriend with weak eyes as my clothes are all full of moth holes
and I’m damned if I’m going to buy new ones.
I can’t see well enough to darn but I’ve sewn the holes up neatly thus
giving a strange pleated effect to my clothes.
On my merino wool knitted trousers, one hole was right on the ass.
It looks now as if I’ve been shot in the rear…
but I can’t see it.So it does not exist.
Sometimes in the past I would iron on those motifs like
butterflies…but
I think it would look odd having a butterfly just there…. or indeed
anything else like wild rose.
I could make a little sign saying
“Keep clear,from my rear.This is a hole where a moth scored a goal.”
Still,not many people are going to look there now I hope….
I seem to have stopped knitting but am still drawing.
Meantime I’ve just ironed some of my winter clothes as it’s still chilly..
and am planning to iron all my pink and blue knickers now
as I believe it kills any germs left when you wash at 30 deg.I got those colours in case I should
change sex or is it gender?
I wonder if I should iron the sheets?
Could I do it while they are on the bed?
I don’t wash them much as it wears them out and me too.
I am going to take up baking again because Stan is getting so thin.
I fancy a Russian cheesecake as it had a lot of protein in it.
I have a genuine Russian cookbook and also am waiting for a delivery of a
Jewish cookery book as I have lost mine..no it fell down onto my head last week
.God only knows where that came from.
but I believe there were good cheesecakes as Jewish cooking has much in
common with Russian,perhaps because once many Jews lived in Russia.I just
made friends with one here….he is charming and like me he hates golf.
I have got almost all the Penguin cookery books ever printed but mislaid a
few.
In fact it’s quite hard to get into the kitchen
with all these books on the shelves.And a little food.
I was comforted to read that the parent’s of John Burra,the artist,
had books piled every where in their large house….
and he was very untidy too.
So all I need is talent and practice and I’ll be an artist.
After all,anyone can be untidy but not everyone will practice their Art.
I’d like to practice the arts of love.
They say you should love your neighbor as yourself,
but personally I prefer the neighbor or even the milkman to myself.
Meanwhile I’m happy with Emile our cat
and my 500 photos of Wittgenstein.
I shall make Stan a lemon sponge pudding.
That is the love he wants…Food.
“If music be the food of love I’ll cohabit with a pure white dove.
And while he coos and sings for me.
I’ll try not to :fall out of the tree,
Get stung by a bee,
Have psychotherapy
Make more enemies,
Let my thought free,
Hurt my knee.
Let moths frighten me.Well,time for some tea.
Now Jane, please write to me soon.
I love to see your so strangely beautiful handwriting
and to hear about Whitehead and Cambridge and all the weird dons.
I hope it’s not too damp and cold there near that river.
Keep warm and make a note of any intriguing happenings to relate to me.
And anything beautiful you can see or hear.I hope Edward is writing
regularly..where is he doing his research now… did you say Stanford?
Maybe you should install Skype..then again,perhaps not as you would have to
wash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.
Do write soon,Love always,Mary.
-
-
I wish I were an apple
and you were eating me
I’d like to make you happy
As you sat by this tree.
I wish I were a blackbird
So I could sing for you.
I’d like to make you cheerful
And stop you feeling blue.
I wish I were the sun
So I cold warm your frozen heart.
And then your heart would melt for me
And you would be less tart.
I wish I were the moon
so I could protect you all night long.
But being only me may I
Present you with this song? -
P
-
1.Why is denim now a sign of conformity not rebellion?
2.Where are the best jeans from?
3.Should you wear “double denim”?
4. Why is denim too hot for summer and too cold for winter and yet we wear it anyway?
5.Why don’t most people wear winter coats nowadays?
6.Why are the shops so hot they make one feel sick
7.How shopping makes me feel sick and other ways of saving money.
8.Why did the Russians have the best novelists?
9.Is 8. true?
10.Is life worthwhile?
11.What does 10.mean
12.Who can come up with the best ideas for small talk?
13.Food processors…are they a good thing to own?
14.Did you see the second version of Dr Zhivago?
15.Why is Russian Orthodox liturgy so moving?
16.Have you been to Walsingham?
17.Do you like day trips on a coach?
18.Why is fish and chips our national dish.
19.Why is roast beef our national dish.
20.Do other nations have fish and chips?
21 Is rapeseed oil any use for chip frying?
22.What an odd name rapeseed is.
23.Did Einstein eat chips?
24.Is your skin sensitive?
25.Why do women wear deodorants but men don’t usually bother?
25.Do you need suncream in the winter?
26.How many grains of sand are there on Brighton beach?
27.Why is the sea at Hythe sometimes teal
28.Why are the Saxon cliffs in Kent a mile from the sea?
29.Can the Kent authorities move the cliffs back near the sea again.
30 Isn’t it odd that the railway line runs at the bottom of the cliffs near Folkstone as the tide might come up
as a train goes by?
31,Is this small talk?Topics for small thought
Small talk topics
-1.What newspaper do you read,if any?
0.Do you have a blog?What about?
1.The weather [in UK]
2.Health problems…. or possible ones.
3.The government
4,Your clothes
5 Recipes.
6.Light novels you have read.
7 Stuff from the newspaper
8.TV if you can get to yourself to watch it.
9.Your car or bicycle or your bunions.
10 Your new camera/computer/i pad/u pad/her pad/ur pad/z pad.
11,interior decor.
12.Money..the recession and price of food.
13 Religion
14.Atheism
15 Indifference
16 Is depression an epidemic? Do you worry too much.Or talk to much.
17 Are your boundaries strong enough?
18 your sex life or somebody else’s or the lack of
19,Is pornography responsible for crime?
20 Crime.
21 The police
22 The riots.
23 The strike planned by teachers
24 12/12/12
25 Xmas.
26 Baking.
27 Xmas presents
28.Family problems.
29 People who don’t speak to you or vice versa
30 Pets
31 Breadmakers.
32.Pop stars
33 Schools.
34 Newspaper.
35 Disabled people’s benefits being cut back.
36.Should you buy an Amazon Fire?
37 Are women too like men now?How?
38.Do you think life was better in the past?Which era?
39.Do you use a table cloth.
40.Do you wear a nightie or pyjamas or a night shirt or your underwear in bed and if so why have you picked that one?
41 Should people wear old clothes at home and only dress nicely if going out?
42 Why do so many people wear jeans?
43.Is tencel better than denim for jeans.
44.Should fat people dress to look thinner or dress how they please?
45.Why David Cameron has no expression on his face.
46 A and E closures.
47 Chemotherapy.
48 Best hairdresser.
49 Makeup.
50.Do you wear accessories or think they waste time? -
Private
Do 4 things to cut your risk of diabetes by 93%:
Eat healthy
The lowest rates of Type 2 diabetes in the world occur in populations consuming a whole foods, plant-based diet.
Lose weight
ExerciseOverweight people walking 150 minutes a week can reduce the risk of developing diabetes by nearly 60%
cliches
Again,I am frayed.
In pain I have prayed.
In the main,poems don’t pay.
Don’t be plain in your way.
I’ll explain it some day.Training cats and dogs to pray seems idealistic.
Training frogs the time of the day is an idea but will never become real,
Praise the jar… an early invention rarely mentioned.
Waking up the bunny was cruel.
I am a wholly cat.
Battle with your cage or walk out the door.
I saw the end of the wheel.It turned a full circle.
I reached new knights near a round table floating in the sea.
Ideas breed between the lines.
I bleed between the lines.
I need more than a few lines.
Lead the fine poets to print their own books
I led the riot to attract opposites
-
You bit my big tart
She lies over willed silk
Do you feel me approach?
Food does my art good.
You are making me wavy.
Mindless words damage.
Every dog has his own way.
Painted face art never should shows
I fell dead on the wheel.Now I have wings
Maternal reverie
Gale Dictionary of Psychoanalysis:
Capacity for Maternal Reverie
Top
Home > Library > Health > Psychoanalysis DictionaryWilfred R. Bion developed the concept of the capacity for maternal reverie in his three books written during the 1960s: Learning from Experience (1962), Elements of Psycho-Analysis (1963), and Transformations: Change from Learning to Growth (1965).
Although he was an adult analyst and was primarily interested in group dynamics and the workings of psychosis, the concepts that he proposed (based on study of the analytic relationship in these two areas) in fact also proved to be very dynamic and very productive in connection with study of the foundations of the psychic apparatus—that is, the ontogenesis of the psyche.
In Bion’s view, this ontogenesis of the psyche can be related to a digestive model of the workings of the “thought-thinking apparatus.” At the beginning of its life, the baby does not have access to a thought-thinking apparatus that is mature enough to metabolize—that is, to use and integrate its very first mental or proto-mental materials. Bion thus described the beta (b) elements, which correspond to extremely archaic bodily feelings, to emotional states linked to the infant’s very earliest sensory and relational experiences, which it cannot utilize as such. There is thus a need, for the baby—that is, for its mental growth and maturation—for a detour through the Other.
The infant projects these beta elements into the psyche of its mother (or other adult caregiver); this adult effectively lends the child their own “thought-thinking apparatus” to reshape, detoxify, and transform the beta elements into alpha (a) elements, which can then be assimilated by the infant and integrated into its own mental functioning. This transformation is due to the “alpha function” of the mother’s psyche, or “capacity for maternal reverie,” which thus fulfills what could be described as a “desaturating” function with regard to the beta elements produced and felt by the infant (or by the patient).
From vantage point of the history of ideas, the emergence of this concept is situated at the confluence of Bion’s ideas on the functioning of groups, which also have a containing and transformative function (containers), and his analytic practice with adult psychotics: “If the patient cannot transform his emotional experience into alpha elements, he cannot dream,” he wrote in Elements of Psycho-Analysis.
This model is indissociable from the grid that Bion proposed to categorize the different types of mental materials (horizontal rows) and the various ways these can be used in communication (vertical columns). The beta and alpha elements correspond to the first two horizontal rows (A and
of the grid, the last row of which is the “algebraic calculus” (H).The extrapolation of this model to early psychic development was effected more by later theorists of child analysis than by Bion himself. In France, René Diatkine published L’Enfant dans l’adulte ou l’éternelle capacité de rêverie (1994; The child in the adult; or, the eternal capacity for reverie), in an implicit homage to all that this concept has contributed to the work of child analysts. In Diatkine’s view, the concept of the maternal reverie must be understood along with Jean Laplanche’s work on psychic translation in the context of his theory of generalized seduction.
Bibliography
Bion, Wilfred R. (1962). Learning from Experience. London: Heinemann; New York: Basic Books.
——. (1963). Elements of Psycho-Analysis. London: Heinemann.
——. (1965). Transformations: Change from learning to growth. London: Heinemann.
Diatkine, René. (1994). L’Enfant dans l’adulte ou l’Éternelle Capacité de rêverie. Neuchâtel and Paris: Delachaux & Niestlé.
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http://cjstone.hubpages.com/hub/Schrdingers-Cat
I think this is a good post
Leave your hyperbole at home,
MATHS FOR LOVERS
How many toes can you suck at once?Advice for guys
How do I love thee when I’m an Aspie? Delightful Mathematicians.Their care and feeding and
even…breeding!Will you still love me when I have forgotten what logarithms are?
Bizarre tales of love in the Mathematical
Institute.Forget Maths in twelve easy steps: Dancing for Darlings.
Inch by inch:Crawl up the Wall with Professor Braithwaite.
Baby steps to Love for the Mathematically Gifted.
Dr Braithwaite’s Love Problems:Triangles,Squares,Elliptical Approaches and Heaps of Leaps.Solutions at the back.
Leave your Hyperbola at Home: Dates,their care and feeding for the Geometer.
Are Quadratic forms relevant for Sexual Success:Succinct Replies to Astutely Odd Queries.
A Dummy Date: Trial and terror.
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Mike Flemming has passed on this wonderful website name to me.It really does take the biscuit!
![blue butterfly DSC_20194-01 [800x600]](https://i0.wp.com/data7.blog.de/media/388/6533388_7c636f5963_m.jpeg)
Copyright Mike Flemming,Published with permission. -
How are you?
Who are you?
I’m your brother!
Sorry,dear,my eyes are not what they wear.
Well,why not have new glasses if you must wear them?
What kind of new classes.Socio-economic?
Are you deaf?
I think it’s a dress.
Are you not sure?
No,I’m not insured so it’s no good you killing me for the money!
I’d bill you just for pleasure!
Too much leisure? Why not do voluntary work?
If it’s voluntary,is it work?
Yes, she does smirk?
Who?
Meryl Streep!
What sort of name is “Streep”?
Perhaps it was a spelling error?
Yes,she does fill me with terror!
I thought you liked strong women.
Only as they lust and last longer in bed.
In bed.What a joke.You’re 96 tomorrow!
Yes,it will be my 96th lady tomorrow.I hope to find four more sweet ladies before I die.
I won’t ask why.
I’ll tell you anyway.
Go on,tell me;I’m all here.
Well,with the first ninety I have realised I was doing it wrong.
Can you do it wrong?
Well,yes,if you want to procreate or to please.
Did father not tell you what to do?
Bell me!I’m a man not a cat.
Look,there’s a pretty woman.
I can’t see anything!
She’s across the road.
I need stronger glasses.
I just need stronger spirits.
Do they breed,those ferrets?
I never know what they do.
Can’t you watch them?
Well,they’re so quick!
Yes,I love Diana Quick.The best actress by far I believe.
Better than Judi Dench?
Well,no-one is better than Judi.
I’m no-one.
I’m a moral vacuum.
Can I take my morals from you?
Yes,I love stew.
No,Beryl’s in a stew.
I knew it!
How?
I saw her hair was dropping out.
She’s up the spout.
How vulgar you are.
I’m doing my best.
Yes, do wear a vest.
I passed my driving test!
In what?
A car, of course!
So,passed at the 100th go?
Yes,that’s why I want 100 ladies.
You mean…………………..
So I hear!
What,are you still here?
I’d love a beer..
Yes,I have some fears and I shed a few tears.
I could lend you a hankey.
Will I have to pay interest?
No,just pay me some attention.
Detention!I’m not a schoolchild.
I agree,you are wild.
I’d like some mild beer.
Everyone suffers fears.
For years,oh,dear..
Yes,the strawberries are dear.
They are queer?I’d love a gay strawberry or two.
You are too old to be gay!
I’ll do it my way.
-
A clock of fire shone overhead.That’s just the sun,they said.
Up and punning.The life of an old word lover.
Sick of rhyme?Free verse now.
Take off that look.Try a new Face…. without the book.
Knock me off the shelf.I’m divine….ravings of the Cook.
At the top they are dead.At the bottom they dread.What is the meaning?
Are you on Plotter,the new social medium?Sign on secretly when you get a private message.I never spoke.
Don’t sign up to Paranoia.Madness hurts.
Of kilts and men.The Scottish affect:Gloom is us.
Oh,I shan’t bother!Listless and weak…. you need a new kind of speech…talk yourself well in ten days.
-
I am thinking today about reverie,daydreams and fantasy.I believe it is crucial to creativity to be able to enter a state of reverie,a state of mind that can happen if we feel secure and safe in our surroundings so we can let our attention float freely.When in danger we must be alert and our eyes are sharply focused.We don’t fall into reverie then.
Reverie is not fantasy.Fantasy to me is when you make up a little scenario that pleases you…maybe dreaming of dramatically rescuing someone from drowning and being presented with a gold medal.Or meeting a perfect person who loves you. forever and sees no faults in you.
Reverie is not self serving.What I think is that fantasy is done by the conscious mind often to gain gratifications unobtainable in real life.Most people do it now and then.
But a fantasy meal does not feed you.On the other hand it may give you hope.
In a state of reverie we are open to intimations and images from parts of our mind not controlled by the ego.In my case it sometimes happens by way of a tune coming into my mind…. a song.Or an idea about how to solve a problem…. or a phrase which leads to a poem.
I believe what is called “Stress” may be a state in which you cannot allow yourself to daydream and fall into a reverie.We feel in danger so must remain focused all the time.The eye muscles tense as do other muscles.So we get very tired.And we fail to see the broader picture.
As for dreams whilst asleep… these seem nearer to reverie to me than to wish fulfillment.But I’m not sure.
One thing concerns me is Lucid Dreaming.I try to taken this I believe people try to take over control of the dream and make it go in a way that they consciously want.If it’s a nightmare that may be a good idea
but in general I believe we should let our dreaming mind go where it wishes because it may be some other part of the mind sending a message.Or it may be God sending a message.The language of symbols is different from a spoken language.Symbols have many meanings.Each person can know better what their own symbols mean than an outsider.I think falling int0 reverie whilst contemplating a dream image may help to understand it in part.
As for Meditation,I’m unsure where that fits in… but it must be somewhere near Reverie…
Don’t mock it
Feel the money flowing over you?
Don’t pencil me in…am I unworthy of ink?
Ask Penny what she thought.
A Jenny pincher..he loves a Wren.
A penny waved is a penny scorned.
Many may be wise yet can thousands be more foolish than thou?
People who live in classy houses shouldn’t moan.
Deception breaks loyalty.
Pick of the wittier…political farces for the bored.
He picked the low hanging suit…… oh, belly in
A dictionary gives birth to a thousand elegies
I thought it was a piece of cake,mother….Never bite Art works.Dentists love them,hate them,pay them,but when?
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I shall peck a tin…..it’s the new diet for quick weight loss.
You eat the tin and throw out the food.He has been seen praying in the maths classes.
Have you got a pane in your neck?why not install double crazing?
Will you paint yourself in the corner?Make up is too sexy in front of the children.
Will Pandora put on her socks ?
I can paper over the cracks but with the holes in the floor that’s tricky and dangerous…especially with the stouter ladies.
I’d like a paper tiger for my bed.The cuddly ones are too lifelike/
Is there a bar for the horses?
He passed his dismay on to the priest and received a blessing and then a brick fell on his head.Oh,Lord…can’t you wait?
-
I copied this from the World of Psychology but regret I can’t find the reference.But read it anyway.
Not quite timeless but very oldConnect with the Timeless
There is another source of connectedness that does not involve specific other people and that has some advantages that attachments to people do not. The Gershwin song expresses the romantic wish that through “the Rockies may tumble, Gibraltar may crumble, they’re only made of clay, but–Our love is here to stay.” Well, the Rockies and Gibraltar are still around while countless people who earnestly sang these lyrics to their partner are not. Or their partner is not. Or both, through separation or death, are gone.
I am not proposing that it is better to love rocks than people. But I am implying two other propositions: 1) that it is unrealistic not to recognize the possibility of any relationship being transient and ephemeral, and 2) that the more we can root some of our attachment needs in things more lasting and even timeless, the firmer is the ground on which we stand in life’s changes and discontinuities.
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Private
A leopard doesn’t ache in spots.
I confess to two evils….eating cake and drinking.
Let sleeping dogs lie but not humans.Truth now!
Let the cat out with a flag.
Let’s roll over in the hay.
Let’s split in two so I am you and you are too.
Ticking off one’s wounds never works.
I shall lie down with lions and see how they like me…raw or cooked.
In life its rare to hear a bowl of cherries growl.
Life’s a sandy beach with the tide coming in…. then going out with us floating.
She was as light as the weather forecast on a stormy day.
.Switch the light off at your end of the tunnel
I got blight in my loafers.
Worms sing too
I was planning to make a carrot cake till my mother told me:
Carrots don’t eat cake.
What are carrots anyway? Why are they so picky?
I have to eat all my food or I get punished by hunger pains.
Are there worms inside me eating my food or biting me?
Do worms have teeth?What is it they like about soil.
Charles Darwin wrote a book about worms…
So far I have not read it.
Worms are the opposite of us.
They never get angry or depressed as far as we can tell..
How fortunate as to psychoanalyze a worm would be hard.
Indeed could you tell a worm to lie on the sofa
Or would you have to climb inside a plant pot next to the worm?
As Wittgenstein might have said,
If worms could speak we would not understand what they said.
I don’t know,I think I can guess though…
I have some experience …symbolically that is.
Or is it metaphorically?
Imagine a worm on your couch.
Hmm,how are things going?
Yurp,blurp!
Well,that’s good.
Werp,serp!
Quite right,I am interfering with your transfernce.
Hurpppppppp.
Would you like a little soil?
Mummmm
Oh,dear…I should not have offered you anything.
Daddddddd.
Surely you don’t remember him?
Herrrrrrrr.
So your dad was a lady?
Oh ,ahhh!
Well,it takes all sorts.
Glumb,glomb.
I’m afraid your time is up.
Tinnnnnggggggggg
You want a minicab?
Taaaaaaaaaaaaa.
That’s £500
Do you take plastic?
No,only notes.
Doh,ray,me
I never knew worms could sing…
Well,you do now.
Tools
The art of writing is to guess
which tool will suit your hand the best.
Know which muse will bring out joy
as you new sentences employ.Writing brings up treasures deep,
as do dreams whilst we’re asleep.
Take such gold and use it well,
If you have a heart to tell.Wisdom comes from sharing views;
So point out critics to your Muse.
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Better Believe It's Journal
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"Shallow Throat": Has "The Revolution" Started? – Democratic Underground
Sedona Method review « Trev’s Reviews
SING ME IRELAND
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the Dead Sea – The human picture
the Dead Sea – The human picture
Some wondeful photographs here for travellers and photographers
Some wondeful photographs here for travellers and photographers
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BBC News – Five ways the digital camera changed us
Elegance of the music
Our music is a late Beethoven string quartet.
Although I can’t see you,I know
You are listening; the arcitecture of my heart
Is structured round this form
alone.I sit here dreamingmhearing the bows
as they most beautifully cause vibrations
sending the depths of love through the air;
as also do the strong yet gentle bells ringing
on the collars of goats on a far away mountain.
I know it’s your music; I heard it
when I first looked into your shadowed eyes
and knew who you might be.
A pebble is tossed languidly into a lake
yet ripples spread out across the world.
Such deliverances as we find will only
link us further,as we dance,the elegant dance
of the knowingly brave
who never give in,
but will always keep in step with the world
as it turns unseen past flashing silver stars
until its time has come.
Yet the music we create remains for ever
floating through the air,
like perfume of these late roses
as I walk down the garden
and into the intolerable green newness of this tangled wood,
which srartles me with its violent wistfulness.
Oh,come now…I hear your footstep on the road.
It’s the wind sighing eloquently,
knowing you have gone away
into the dark and the deep.where new life is formed
and I wait for you,fierce yet kind, with tender love.
I offer my heart to the world
and the music takes me.
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Painting Glazes with Watercolor — Glazing with Watercolor Demo
How to Mix Greens — Color Theory for Artists
How to Mix Greens — Color Theory for Artists
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Intimations of spring
Frosty air still strikes so cold.
Winter’s yet in fullest mode.
Yet a single white snowdrop
Brings reminders of spring’s crop.
Crocus,hyacinth,daffodil
Will quite soon our gardens fill
Celandine and bluebells too
Will decorate our woodland views.
The names are like a magic spell
Which will all winter’s griefs dispel.
Let us be still,in patience now
Till buds outdo the winter snow.
Pale sun is higher in the sky
Nordic birds have sheltered here.
When spring arrives they’ll fly away
They must a deeper law obey.
Would human life be easier now
If we had nature’s guidance too?
Birds and flowers do not think
But live a life from pure instinct.
Would that we had such a guide
Leading us deeply inside.
In springtime woods I’ll roam with you
There to seek for guidance true.
Love is the light for you and me,
Which shows us what we need to see.
When we perceive in harmony
Love then will have its ceremony.
Flowers and grief both fade away,
As dreams do as we start the day.
The fruits of each will show in time,
And thus I quit my gentle rhyme
Winter’s yet in fullest mode.
Yet a single white snowdrop
Brings reminders of spring’s crop.
Crocus,hyacinth,daffodil
Will quite soon our gardens fill
Celandine and bluebells too
Will decorate our woodland views.
The names are like a magic spell
Which will all winter’s griefs dispel.
Let us be still,in patience now
Till buds outdo the winter snow.
Pale sun is higher in the sky
Nordic birds have sheltered here.
When spring arrives they’ll fly away
They must a deeper law obey.
Would human life be easier now
If we had nature’s guidance too?
Birds and flowers do not think
But live a life from pure instinct.
Would that we had such a guide
Leading us deeply inside.
In springtime woods I’ll roam with you
There to seek for guidance true.
Love is the light for you and me,
Which shows us what we need to see.
When we perceive in harmony
Love then will have its ceremony.
Flowers and grief both fade away,
As dreams do as we start the day.
The fruits of each will show in time,
And thus I quit my gentle rhyme
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BBC News – A sex addict's cold turkey
BBC News – A sex addict’s cold turkey
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The Rise of the Megacity | Think Tank | Big Think
Strangest case | BlackHumor.net
Strangest case | BlackHumor.net
How my heart sings 