Month: September 2013

Become a better leaver:the end of our love.

Sou
Kathryn

since i lost you i have lost
the keys to my heart
the front door key
my mobile
and my money

now all i have is a large tube of ibuprofen gel max strength
and some feathers from the tail of a baby wood pigeon
that flew into our house when i left the back door open

maybe i need better boundaries
closed doors
and windows

the wood pigeon was so strong its agitation rocked the front door like a thundergod
like you,it did not realise
there are easier ways to leave
than smashing through glass
leaving shards to pierce my heart
not to mention my feet

become a better leaver
have mercy on those other lovers
for charm wears thin but courtesy is everlasting
like love itself

By Kathryn

 

Like the softness of just opening leaf buds in spring.

I see a light fuzz of hair on your head
like the softness of just opening leaf buds in spring.
The chemo is over,and you wait relieved and letting that
take you for a while before you start to face the next stage.
Will your Spring turn to a warm enchanting Summer
or has the cancer,as they say “spread.”
Just for now,you’re in that lull
so in three weeks time you will not be
arriving for another session of drugs
and days of sickness.

I see the light fuzz which reminds me
of how the cat’s fur grew back after her surgery
and she,being unable to reflect or question,
leaped from the fence top onto next door’s kitchen roof;
no thought in her mind of stitches breaking.
How beautifully the patterned fur returned
and the vulnerable skin was covered again.
Oh,to look into those eyes and see you dream
about mice that live behind the shed
and how you sat watching for hours
and how you were alive till the very last moment.
Then , all of a sudden,you were gone.

Pray it will not be so for ,the fragile,loving human
now waiting and living,hoping for what you took for granted…
a “normal” life span Or maybe just three quarters of one
would be satisfactory;would be a beneficence
such as trees feel when the sap turns and begins to flow back.
bringing life out of the darkness of earth and soil.
And another Summer comes at the right time
and we find it,shall we say,satisfactory?

Touch me again

Source: Kathryn

Behind glass

When he went away,

He went away

Away.

I didn’t know where

he had gone

where had he gone?

The call came.:

call came….

Man,white,good health

Has died.

Has died alone

Died alone in an hotel room.

So a stranger would find him.

Man alone;

man alone in hotel room.

there was a man

alone

in his hotel room.

Not wanting to be any trouble.

trouble,no trouble alone

in his hotel room

not his room,you see.

not a shared room…

An hotel room.

Tall man with light brown hair

alone in a small hotel room

with no TV.

We had no smartphones

Smart

Phones

No,don’t tell , not me ,not yet.

He was all alone.

He was behind glass

glass walls

windows

a window of glass.

I could never touch him.

I could not touch him.

not touch,no,never,

Man alone.

Solitary man.

Tall man with brown hair.

Beds for love

Beds for leaving.

Don’t you die alone

in that hotel room.

Don’t go

You wanted to be alone,

afraid to feel.

Thin skinned and pale like a torn petal from a wild plant.

You were alone again

And you left me all alone;

alone without you.

Now I’m alone

in my hotel room.

my room.

Someone knocks.

I’m dreaming of you

wishing you were near me.

dreaming,wishing,

lonely for you.

He was all alone,they said.

In an hotel room.

His doom

In a lonely bedroom.

Don’t leave me yet.

Yet you were never here

behind your window

I see you

but can’t touch you.

Can’t touch you.

Can’t touch.

Touch me.

Touch me again.

Love me…

You were all alone

alone.

Why did I not break the glass?

Break the glass?

Why,why?

All alone

An hotel room

He never even made a cup of tea

Not a day for going out for tea
Nor chatting with some vigor on the phone.
Rain falls, variegated as green sea;
And dark earth takes it with a sighing moan.

 

Not a word from him whom I did love
Nor picture,image photograph or mail.
No cooing from a kindly turtle dove;
Just pain that feels some kinship with a nail.

 

Not thinking now nor feeling in my heart;
Not hoping,longing,wishing for his touch.
His last words hit me like a poisoned dart.
Now always I must keep far from his clutch.

Not tea nor even coffee did he brew
That has taught me more than I once knew

Freak verse

Source: K

Ersatz raps

Oh,I see the wolf listening..he’s so gentle or is he mental?
Oh,Ah,kerbumplof.
Shrieks,calling for mate
Bang my soul up
In your bedroom
Ker pluf
Thor.War
Storms of lightning
Hail you
AAAAAAhhhhhhhhh
Me,oh,me oh,me stuck here in my groove
Give me electric shocks;the silent treatment.Sulk for me, please,Argentina.
Screech,scream,I felt you watching.
Touch me with a feather
Dust me!
Glug!
I see the wasps round your coat
They hug you and nip your neck
Bong!
Don’t cocme near me again
wolves are not
Well come!
I sigh for mein mutter
she’s a nutter,
utter
Sob
Scream
nightmare
Thud!
You hate me!
Never call again when you’re already here
You are not welcome.
I close my door
on your foot boot
Oh,yes.
Thunder and lightening
Go home now
This is a poem as likely
ill conceived
Eagle flies while I am
Falling down a mountain…
Scree burning.
I never want to see you again,babe.My duck.
Please be a love and leave me.Cheers
That’s ok.I understand you.
Asp,gasp
Per bot fly!
No thud
No dach
sunds whimper.
It’s time for my tea and biscuit
I cooked it twice
but you were
ab ab a aaab aa absent aahaa
sent!
No.No.no
I can’t believe you!
Cut this string and let it all hang out again
Oh,bloggers.Go to bed
Now
How
Mein eschreitschzung.Flightschzung.Nachtschzung
blung.blung
blot me out
I’m an ink stain.
I like your fingers, so clean and curving
I’ll mark you and give you homework
Och,aye
It’s well come
Crooning mouse traps
See Rockefeller
drop out and
Bring a bag of sylvia plath’s
scrap paper.
did she know?
Did she k now?
Did she sweat
Bang?
Thud.My sky fell in onto the millpond
Don’t smoke near me
I’ll get burned
For I hate you
Or just want your hat and an E for
flatness
Droom,droom
Dee
Bag
bug
Ted went to bed
where he spent his honeymoon
with another woman
Not with the second one
Mathilda
It’s finished us all off
Brang.Blong
Eschreitchzung

Fleightschztung

Herr Meightschrung!

Talking with myself

I started writing “conversations” and similar writing a few months ago.Sometimes a word keeps coming into my mind,like “syntax” which rhymes with £sin tax”I usually make them humorous.But I never know what I am going to come up with.Sometimes I use “play on words”,sometimes I use an approach based on my emotions or feelings about past experience such as a 7 year old child being prepared for their first Confession…. something which can be agony for the sensitive.Another use could be to discuss something painful with yourself…Humor is the way I tend to travel.Try it.Take a walk with yourself.And enjoy it for me…I am listening to you.

Shoes
Shoes

Source: Kathryn

Love by the lily pond

Lily pond

Talking

I like to write imaginary conversations with myself.Alas my unconscious mind is very vulgar,That’s why I write naughty poems and stories.Why not try a chat with yourself?I find it fascinating…Maybe you are very moral.Then again,you never know till you try.And it’s free entertainment

A tax on sin or on grammar

She said she never knew what syntax was until she met me.
Well,you do look worn out by your sins.
How do you know they were sins?
Well,you went to Confession twice a week all your life
That was my scruples.Sometimes I went twice a day…
It sounds like having an upset stomach.
In my case it was an upset soul.The soul emptied out and hung out on the Maginot line
Eventually I realized virtue is not attainable by Will Power alone
How is it attained… won’t power?
I knew you’d say that!
That!
Anyway to get back to syntax,it’s about structure.
Like council tax?
Words fail me
That’s good.I meant tax on a building
You seem very rude today
It’s not just today,I’m like this all the time.
I never noticed before
You only met me tonight
That’s almost true..now syntax is a very important topic.
Are we on a date or are you giving grammar lessons free?
No,I have Wasperger’s Syndrome.It’s as if I have Asperger’s but I sting too.
When do you sting
When people say sharp things to me.
Go on,you’re just needling me..
Truly I think you’ll love syntax and spelling rude words.
Well,we’ve had santax for years.Women pay VAT of 20 per cent on Tampax
It’s enough to make me throw up
No,throw out!Throw out the Coalition Government
Do you think Labour will remove Santax?
I don’t know but at least you’ll learn how to do percentages with them
I will?
Thank you so much.I am delighted to hear that.We are engaged.Here is a ring.
That’s beautiful.Was it your mother’s?
It still is my mother’s.
How can I wear it when she might see it?
I’ll tell her I liked hers so much I got one the same.She’s got poor vision so don’t worry.After the Wedding I’ll give it back
How mean.
I never knew you liked statistics.What about deviance?
Well,some I like,some I don’t… you catch my drift?
Well,babe,I’ll explain everything when we lie together.
That makes us sound like the government.
How come?
They all lie together.
Do they really.That explains a lot.Do they come together often?
I guess they have a rota.
You can’t come by will power.
That’s good.I want to come in a a horse and carriage.
It might frighten the horses.
I mean to our Wedding ceremony
Do you want four horses?
I am not that heavy!
No,I want you to have it all.
Suppose it’s not enough.
We’ll have to play it by ear..
Is that the organ?
Well,it’s a kind of organ.
A harmonium?
Maybe..I’ll ask the priest.
Does he play?
No,he just hears confessions and says Mass.
It’s a pity confession secret.He could write a long novel.
I daresay some have…. with pseudonyms.
I use a wordprocessor… should I get a pseudonym too?
You are crazy but I love you with all my heart.
And is it big?
Big enough for two.
Thank you,God.
I

Kiss your own foot and live forever

 

© 2013 kathryn

Be my saviour or do I mean saver?

Image

 

I once had a lover called Denis

Who hated both cricket and tennis

So when in our bed

We played patience instead!

So he never found out what my yen is.

 

My yen is to kiss for an hour

I also love gazing at flowers.

But if I am pressed

Then his  arms are the best.

I hope our embrace lasts for hours.

 

Do you think I am very common

to write limericks and verse with men in ’em?

Well,God made me so clever

I’ve the highest IQ ever.

That includes both men and women.

 

So before you ask me for my favours

You need to succeed in your labors.

It’s not the money ,my dear.

I’ve enough,never fear.

But God  blesses those who are Saviors

 

 

 

 

 

George Osborne is a merry soul.they gave him all our money

 
my hand 3

The Earth keeps googling all of us

To see just where we are.

I am feeling rather angst ridden but,

Nevertheless, I care.

The earth is sweet ,the earth is round

It might be a ginger biscuit,

I think I’ll have to  gnaw on it.

I wonder,shall I risk it?

The earth has many seas on it,

Shall we drink them dry?

You can if you want to do,

I ‘ll just sit and cry.

The earth has googled Nicky Clegg

And found him in Westminster.

She wants to move him up the road,

To somewhere much  more sinister.

She googled Osborne wallpapers,

For to decorate the sky.

But her credit card was out of date,

So she’s not allowed to buy.

George Osborne is a merry soul

They gave him all our money

And  on Budget morning we’ll find out,

If the outlooks’s sunny.

And David Cameron looks down

To see what we will do.

I think that I might emigrate

And so should all of you.

You want to google Mrs.Earth

And she is googling you.

We are much too inquisitive,

And now we are all in view.

The earth is square and made from silk

,t hangs upon my wall.

Don’t let David Cameron know.

I bought it down the mall.

I think I’ll find a rabbit hole

To go down when I worry.

Alice went down one of them

Look how the rabbits scurry.

Those rabbits know more then we do,

Like all of earth’s dear friends,

Don’t google rabbits please I beg

That would be the end.

Dotty cats

No privacy for animals,

No privacy for people

Let’s send google far away,

And climb up the church steeple.

Let bells all ring,let angels sing

And ponder on earth‘s wonders.

We don’t need google earth for that

We do it every Sunday7

my hand 2

God wants to go home


God has handed himself to the police in East London:wants to go home

God voluntarily turned himself in at one the governments vans asking illegal immigrants if they want to go home.Lawyers are assessing the cost of shooting God up to heaven from the top of Snowdon or Great Gable.
God declined to say how he arrived in Britain though his shawl gave us a clue .
She signed in for benefits as Jessy Christ and said she had two husbands.At the time she was labelled as border line schizophrenic but the Father and the Spirit were found in her council house. feeding some beggars.To have a council house in Walthamstow is a miracle in itself these days
God will be getting a reduction in her housing benefit
He can sleep in one bedroom if the bed is large enough [Infinitely]In f,act,does God ever sleep?If not he can be moved to a single room.
Why God came here is not known as yet.
However he has been a great burden on the Economy as he has so many gainfully.
His English is ok grammatically but we were told he has a “foreign accent and so many children that the Social Services can’t count them all”
He/She had no papers or identity cards.
God has asked that all the Medieval Cathedrals in the UK be returned to the Catholic Church as his son does not like Anne Boleyn very much.Nor any of the Royals.
We’ll let you know more about the drain on the Economy and whether God caused the Recession in the next day or two.

Stan smacks his lips

 

I have written many stories about Stan.Time goes backwards and forwards.Ages fluctuate.But the main characters always come in somewhere.”Double entendre” and exaggeration are some of the humor tools which I use.I chose the name “Stan” for the main character as a tribute to our English novelist,Stanley Middleton

Sometimes I give a little instruction about e.g. when to call out the Emergency Services and when not to such as when the cat scratches you or you break a chair leg.You’d be astounded to know what trivial reasons cause people to phone Emergency….. then again,perhaps you are one of the culprits!

Source: Kathryn

My art and photographs

I take my photos mainly with a mobile phone,sometimes with a Fuji camera.I use Artweaver Free3.1 software,Paint.net and Microsoft Paint.Also Google Pixir.These are all free software available on the Internet.Why not try?I find it fascinating.A crack in the pavement or a gnat bite on your leg can make a great image!

My imagination

Source: K
Source: K
Source: K
K
K

Source: K
 

A strange world

While Mary boiled the kettle in the new greenish blue painted kitchen,Stan smacked his thick red lips.
“I thought we said, we’d have no more corporal punishment,” she murmured loudly.
“Why did you smack your lips just now?”
“Well,I can hardly smack yours” he said politely
“But we said no more smacking at all yesterday”
“I just like the noise” he confessed, turning as red as a stalk of ripe rhubarb.
“Sado-masochism may be fun, but after reading,Fifty Glades of Fray,I thought we said we’d abandon it”
“Well,why don’t we abandon ourselves to our bodies or divine providence?” he answered curiously.
“I am unsure if one can do that on purpose or if it just happens whilst doing something else.”
“Elser than what?”
“I dunno” the Oxgrudge educated woman replied sheepishly .
“The Government didn’t give you a three year research grant so you’d say,I dunno” Stan told his slender and silver haired wife and lover.
“Well,that’s their problem.Three years studying Searat’s equation did nothing for my spoken English” the brilliantly brained brown haired and eyed lady told him shrewdly.
“Well,are there rats in the sea?
“I dunno”
“So who wrote the equation?” Stan asked her.Immediately in a peevish tone
The door bell rang.
“Hello,Mary,It’s me” cried Annie their naughty neighbor and man magnet
“No,it’s not”
“What do you mean?”
“You never invented Searat’s equation”
“Pardon me for living,”Annie answered rudely.”I prefer peeling potatoes to this noist argument.”
“I never knew potatoes pealed”
“Yes,it’s like little bells ringing” Mary informed her kindly
!Oh,for God’s sake,”Stan shouted quietly,”that’s Emile’s bell ringing so the birds can escape from him”
The women went red all over with shame.Annie ran into the kitchen and poured a bucket of cold water over her head.
It’s this hot weather;it’s too much.I need a man now!I am mad with desire.
No,it’s just that mid life madness coming too late,she told herself gently
It’s too hot to make love anyway.
Why you must be getting old,she remarked to herself confidently
Heat never turned you off before.Why you once said you’s lie down in the road and sleep with the next man who passed by.
Unfortunately he passed by on the other side,just like in the Bible.
But in my case no Samaritan came to my aid.
“Am I having a mental breakdown/” she shouted pensively
“No,it’s me” Stan told her,I am trying to stop Mary smacking her lips but it is hard work. and it has create a bad atmosphere.”
“Is it wrong to smack your own lips?Can you morally smack someone else’s?” Annie said wonderingly
“Why do you ask me that?”
“Well,it seems lots of things are wrong if one does them alone but are moral if you do it with someone else or to someone one else”
“I just have no idea what you are talking about,”Mary called valiantly.
“Make me some tea.My lips are parched!”she continued
“No wonder,”said Stan vivaciously
Well,thought Emile,I am glad cats have no lips.That’s one thing less to worry about.He sat up and drank some tea from his china saucer
Stan and the ladies sat quietly on the patio watching the birds flying about.
“Do birds ever get obese?”Mary asked.But answer came there none.
Night fell and they all went to bed together,Emile says there is safety in numbers and I find thirty is a safe number to share my bed.I write30t on a postcard and pop it under my pillow.With my dentures and my hanky and four mobile phones

 

Sou

I can’t love without

Source: Kathryn
Source: Kathryn
Source: Kathryn

I can’t love you without loving the whole world too.
I can’t open my heart unless everyone can be part.

Wait for me.
I’m not afraid.
Wait for me.
I may be delayed.

I see you in my mind
Smiling, sad and kind.
I can’t love you
Unless I love the lost too.

Give me your hands
Outstretched across the world.
We’re all one
Love has begun

Trust the Unknown

Trust the unknown”.
All shall be well,and all manner of things shall be well”
St Julian of Norwich

Trust the unknown force that grew you,
From the joining of two cells.
Act of love, of self giving,
Thus to grow a newer self.

Trust the dark,the unseen aspects
Of the life we all do live.
Trust that there is wisdom elsewhere,
To your emptiness to give.

Wait in patience for the time
When inspiration comes at last
Trust in darkness,silence,lowness.
Opposition forms the cross.

Pain is bearable in lowness,
Like the worm in earth I dwell.

When I look I see the sunrise

And I trust all shall be well.

Stan is down on his uppers

Source: Kathryn
Source: Kathryn
Source: Kathryn

Stan was down on his hands and knees washing and scrubbing at the carpet with a new microfibre cloth and some shampoo for dry hair.He had a bucket of hot water beside him.Happy, as always, when cleaning and scrubbing he whistled “The lark ascending” for his cat Emile, whilst sipping at a big mug of lager.
Mary was down in the town buying some new earrings to match her red dress from Phase 8 Sale.Their granddaughter Flora had also gone to town but she wanted a nose ring not an earring.As she was a girl it was mandatory in the UK.Suddenly,quite out of the blue,the doorbell rang.They always do don’t they.It was their Muslim neighbour Bert.”We’re going away in the caravan.”He boasted gruffly.”Anyroad,the cat ,Nelsonia Mandelinaah, doesn’t want to come.Would you be able enough to feed her over the weekend without any politically correct remarks being issued ,as it were?”
” Certainly” Stan responded jovially.”When are you off?”
“Well we went last week but we need a weekend in bed to recover from seeing Brent Cross Shopping Centre in Kettlewell right next to the old Post Office.[Kettlewell,Yorkshire’s idyllic village]
“Very strange”Stan said,”Mary was in it only yesterday ,she claims,in Knittingham spending all our minute joint pension on new dresses and shoes.”
“I encounter women who have seen Brent Cross down the road all the time all over Britain.Still they’re entitled to believe what they want!” “But what will the consequences be?”Is there a flying Brent Cross?”
“That sounds rather religious,” Bert answered quickly
,”Is it an augury?”
“I’d say it’s an omen,myself”
“But of what?”
“The times we live in?
“But what’s going to happen?” “God knows.” “Well,does he though?”Stan’s hot water had gone cold.In fact it was frozen.”The laws of physics seem very mutable” Stan wrote in his journal,”Also my spelling has deteriorated badly ssince I began drinking laaaaaaaaaaaager.Would whiskey be better?”Meanwhile,he had cleaned only one third of the carpet.
He filled the bath with hot soapy water,stepped in fully clothed and then rolled himself around all over the carpet to pick up all the fluff.

When Mary came in she was amazed,”What’s going on?”
“You look as if you’ve been having an orgy on the floor!”
An orgy was something unknown to Stan as yet.”Would you like one?” he murmured.”Yes,”said Mary childishly “Age has not beaten me yet!””Better have it soon before my knees get too bad!”So now Stan is cleaning the carpet again.It’s very soft and thick,just perfect!The list of invitees is posted on his blog.
Well,he’s been told to do something new every week.An orgy this week,the marathon later!
But why is Mary ringing 999?
Does she want to invite Dave,the paramedic or is it more sinister than I can tell you? “Yes,indeed,she wants to invite Alistair Campbell and Tony Blair but she’s not telling Stan!.He’ll be furious.In fact he might kill someone but no,even these people have the right to life.And they did some good in Northern Ireland.But would you want them at an orgy?””Me neither!”

 

The book lover

Two blue cats on pink background
Source: Kathryn
Pink cat gazing
Pink cat gazing

Source: Kathryn
abstract

I once fell in love with a book.

I was unable to eat or to cook.

It’s cover was blue,

That’s my favourite hue too.

I kept giving it meaningful looks

I bought it and carried it home.

I wrapped in white plastic foam.

Alas it expired,

After I had retired.

So I buried it in a bucket of loam.

I never even read my blue book.

What a pity I didn’t take a look.

The attempt to preserve

The love object served

To make me a real  neurotic freak

The moral of my limerick is this

We are alive now,so now we must live.

Don’t keep love back,

You are on the wrong tack.

To live is to love is to give.

ON FALLING DOWN A FULL STOP AT THE END OF A SENTENCE

 ?????

If you can’t acknowledge your hatred if you deny it exists, even to yourself then it may cause havoc in your life.This does not mean letting it rip either.It is very painful to hate someone you love.This is the dilemma of the infant and of all of us in life.Perception and its possibilities and flaws are of the utmost importance to me ideas wide and narrow focus in seeing They came to my notice in the book “A Life of One’s Own” by Joanna Field [Marion Blackett-Milner] and in her later book “On not being able to Paint”

Wonderful books, still available.

This poem is an attempt to describe of the problems of only using the narrow focus in life

Blind sight scattered my wits

Like whitened bones

Across the deserts of my mind.

I descended into blackness.

Love shrank into the tame cat

By the fire,unacknowledged hate

Grew to fill the room.

I stared too much,

A full stop grew gigantic

Crowded out

All the words in the sentence

I saw nothing but this dot

Now a gigantic black hole

Into which I was dragged.

An energy coming from within my own head

Sucked me into the black hole.

That place was the wrong sort of dearkness.

Within that full stop,

Love Fundamental became invisible.

Disappered into the dark.

I dragged my eyes away

And saw the moon appear , so eerie,

It shone,grey silver.

If I had opened my eyees wider

I would not now lament

What I destroyed in the wormhole

Of the black dot that drew my eye

Into a tunnel of darkness

It blinded me to the light

Did not let me read the sentences

Beside the full stop.

An error of focus left hate

Unacknowledged,unmitigated unredeemed,

Kept from love or goodness

Afraid to spoil my love with hate,

The fear of hate became

That which spoiled all else else,

By freezing Love itself.

Find the peace of your center

Image

Deep in a pitiful saddened state,

Relaxation is hard to await

You feel so tense you can’t sit down

Your eyes glare out, and  then you frown.

You talk too fast,you lack patience

You lose touch with your common sense.

New cats today

 

Follow instructions from a book?

oh,no your entire brain’s been spooked.

So what to do to help yourself,

Not to mention your  mental health?

I discovered that very deep within

My self is always quiet and still.

To gain tranquility we  must sit

And to consciousness this peace admit.

December writing 2012

 

 

Deep down inside you are at rest

And with love your soul is blessed.

All you have to do is sit

To get in touch with this sweet state.

Your loving peace is always there

But you have spend time to discover her.

 

Sitting may sound  a simple  skill

Were we capable of will

Pretend your chair is full of glue

We have some here called UHU.

 

Pretend  that you cannot get up,

An elephant  is sitting on your lap.

Gaze patiently at a tall  tree’

We share an affinity with these,

With flowers,cats bats and bumble bees.

So let all  words and thoughts  now go.

Your mind will shift until it’s slow,

Dotty cats 2

Relaxing improves our perception,

Doing nothing is good for the complexion.

I love to look out,

And see birds about.

While glimpsing if any of them have specs on.

ALL FOR THE LOVE OF A TREE

 

 
 

 

 

My daughter‘s in love with a tree,

It’s a most wonderful sight to see.

She hugs it all night

In the pale moonlight.

But what will their joint offspring be?

 

My sister’s in love with a book

She gives it long lustful looks.

She takes it to bed

I think it’s so sad.

If she conceives it will be by a fluke

 

My niece is in love with a girl.

She thought she’d give gay life a twirl.

They dance and they kiss,

O what utter bliss!

I think I might give it a whirl.

 

My neighbor has love on his mind

He’s ancient,,but he is so kind.

He showed interest in me

But I’m in love with a bee.

So I ‘ll have to see who-em I can find.

 

My friend  loves a politician.

You’d know him,you definitely can’t miss him!..

He’s on the T.V.

He’s a P.M. to be.

.She’d be far better off with a tree!

 

A story with a hint of a prayer

Source: Kathryn

Deodorants R Us

Stan was looking out of his bay window at the old rowan tree. in front of their lovely house in a quiet tree lined avenue in Knittingham,U.K..After some very intense sunshine in August,its leaves had withered and he thought it might be dead.He had his microfibre cloth but was not even pretending to clean the window…. one of his duties in the home..he preferred cooking.
He was thinking pensively because his wife Mary had told him he ought to be wearing an antiperspirant when they had a few words the night before.
“But I’m 105,” he cried.”Surely,I don’t need an antiperspirant now?”
“Don’t exaggerate,”Mary replied,”You are only 75.Do you need Cognitive Age Truth Therapy as well?”
“Don’t be so rude; do I smell nasty,?” he asked her angrily,ignoring the faint hint he was exaggerating about his age.
“Well,it says in the Telegraph that all the Top Men now wear deodorants.”
“Good grief, what made you read the Telegraph,that extremely right wing apology for a newspaper?And I should say the present government certainly need strong deodorants.I have a good wash every day and a bath once in a blue moon…I am clean enough for my mistress!”

Annie his mistress lived right next door to the surprise of all who thought they knew them well.How can we ever know any other people well?
“Well,I am taking you to Boot’s tomorrow to find one for you”
“How dare you order me about like this.Even if I wanted to wear a deodorant I wouldn’t tolerate being spoken to like that.~I am an adult man and I smell the same as always ;why don’t you buy me a new sponge and some decent soap in Sainsburys’ instead of this lavender or rose rubbish.”
Mary began to sob quietly
“What’s wrong,my little jacket potato.” he asked her gently in the language of the North British.
“Well,maybe it’s my therapy…I have been recollecting memories of girls teasing me because we had only a tin bath in our house and no bathroom.It was cold going to the lavatory down the backyard as well,especially when I got dysmenorhea………….otherwise known as period pains, when I might be there half an hour.
So I guess I thought I might smell nasty.I am reliving the pain and anguish and as a defense I am projecting my fear onto you,That’s maybe why I was so rude to you.”
“Eeh,by gum,she’s swallowed the Dictionary of Psychoanalysis not to mention the Encarta too”thought Emile their smiling tom cat.”Does she like the Oxford Dictionary?”
“Well,you do smell.Like honey… you smell just the way I like a woman to smell…Natural”
“How would you describe it,my sweet onion pie?”
“Like a cat on heat ,my honeybum” he answered tenderly yet manfully with his Freudian slip sticking out a mile.
“But surely you have never had intercourse with a cat?” she queried nervously yet longingly.
“No,not sexual intercourse, but I have slept with many female cats and I know well their varying smells,their mews and their claws.”
“Just like me” whispered Emile,” and I like how women smell too.I like perfume..especially Poison and Chanel Nr5″
“So I shall come to Boots with you and I shall buy you some perfume.Then we can have coffee and cake somewhere for a real treat.” Stan told Mary assertively.She kissed his fair white cheek.. now a little red from the sun.He kissed her right ear as it seemed the only part near enough.
“I like coffee and cake,”purred Emile,”And I want a deodorant and some cologne. and a few other things”
“I think I could put you in my handbag “,said Mary kindly….which would be a pleasant change for Emile.They often left him alone in the house though he could drop into Annie’s at any time…and watch her tidying her make up box out or having a bath with lots of foam.Emile adored her,She even had a cat flap put in just for him.
So soon they will be on their way into town in their best clothes.Will Emile sit on a chair or will he stand on Stan’s knee.Wait patiently…. he might break his saucer.
The future is pre-fiction

You have to take an exam in kissing,Stan

You have to take an exam in kissing!


Man abstract 2

Stan had just got back to his lovely bright home from a ride on his old mountain bike.Emile had travailed in his special cat seat/basket just in front of Stan as he liked to see the road less traveled should it appear..and he liked purr to encourage Stan to ride further.

When Stan got home to his luxuriously detached yet bijou dwelling he went to the wonderfully disappointing cloakroom to wash his paws before putting the kettle on for some tea.
Ah,how peaceful it is here,he thought…,how nice Mary is still at work.
Suddenly and alarmingly, the door bell rang.There,on the flower bedecked porch,stood a large, beautiful curly haired woman holding Emile in her pretty freckled arms
I believe this is your cat,she said boldly.So he tells me.Why, he even knows the address.
Well,if he’s anyone’s he’s mine,Stan admitted uneasily.
What has he done now?
Did you not notice he jumped out of his basket?she asked enquiringly.
Well,no,Stan answered furtively..
I was getting a bit tired and keen to get home…I forgot my water,
Well,I hope you won’t let him do it again,he could end up absconding,
By the way,I’m called Yvette.
Are you Yvette Cooper,the MP,he enquired wildly.
No, she said,I’m Yvette Hooper,the swan lover.
Do come in for a cup of tea,he said caringly.
I don’t mind if I do,she said,then I can be sure your cat is alright.
Tell me,Stan said,Do you live with a swan?
No,she said,though I do have an old Swan saucepan.
A saucepan is not much company,Stan responded.
Well,at least it never shouts at me!Yvette said quickly.
Have you suffered verbal abuse? Stan said in a kind and supportive voice.
I have yes.We had a mutual agreement that I could be handcuffed and verbally amused for 3 hours a week.you see we’d read this book,”Fifty shades of grey.”It’s all about human bondage
But my boyfriend thought it was verbal abuse I wanted..As I was upside down I couldn’t tell him of his error.After that things were never the same.
Why did you have the handcuffs?asked Stan calmly.
We were given them for Xmas,she whispered.
Also a whip and some rubber gloves.
Why the rubber gloves?
For washing up of course!
But after being whipped would you feel like washing up?
I don’t know.We split up before we even tried the whip… to be honest,I didn’t want to use it.
Alright, my dear.I understand it all.
Here you are.. drink a nice cup of tea and try these biscuits I made myself they are almond biscuits from my Penguin Jewish cookery book.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm,delicious,she cried.Are you Jewish,Stan?
No,but why should they have all the best recipes?
A good point… maybe because they had almost the first alphabet so began to write them down before anyone else could.
Not to mention they invented monogamy,a great religion,Freud,Wittgenstein,Einstein,rhinestone
.Give them an accolade. I mean,Jesus Christ!
What more do they have to do to be rewarded?
Ascend into heaven?
Make more cheesecakes?
I wonder,said Stan pondering slowly

The back door opened and in ran Anne,Stan’s mistress.
She was dressed in soft teal with toning turquoise trainers and she wore a light beige foundation with bright coral lipstick making a subtle contrast… all by Lamcom of China.
Oh,Anne,have some tea.This is Yvette,she very kindly rescued Emile after he jumped off my bike.
Don’t tell me he can ride a bike,Anne screamed,showing off a good set of teeth and a long red tongue.
No,I was riding it.Stan told her sensibly.
Hello Yvette,Anne said,where do you live?
I live on the top road by the wood.Yvette answered politely, her auburn hair standing up in a mass off curls as she spoke,showing off to good effect her light orange lipstick and burnt sienna eye shadow…in fact it was color from her art materials..
Have you been there long?Anne enquired politely and warmly.
No,only a few weeks..we don’t know anyone..
So you are married?
Yes,my husband is in the Police Service… he cleans policemen for special occasions.
I didn’t know anyone did that.Can’t they clean themselves?
A self cleaning policeman…or how about putting coat of Teflon on them so they can be wiped with a wet cloth?
It’s up to him,said Yvette.I am a lecturer at Pond’s End Polytechnic.I teach philosophy..
In a poly?
Yes,I have a D.Phil from Oxgridge in the philosophy of science with particular reference to Dirac’s remarks on Wittgensteim.
Do they study such remarks in a poly?
All the students do Philosophy of Science…it’s compulsory.
Stan said,I wish they all did Peace Studies too…
I know,said Yvette kindly..If only we could bring peace but we are descended from the most aggressive primates… why many of them were sado-masochists.Well some were sadists and the rest were masochists I gather.The ones who weren’t died out as they never mated..
Well,I’m not a sadist,said Stan,or at least only to myself!
Do you beat yourself up,the ladies asked.
Just in my mind,he answered judiciously.So do I thought Yvette.
Let’s have some more tea,called Anne from the hall,I’ll make it.
Anne is my mistress,Stan boasted humbly……
There was little point trying to seduce Yvette now Anne had met her and vice versa.
Yvette was intrigued.That is rare ,for such an old man to have a mistress.
Is a wife not sufficient for you?
A wife is necessary but not sufficient,Stan teased her.
Well,my husband has no mistress, she said unknowingly,
but I have several boyfriends.
How do you get the time?
I have a rota,she chuckled happily.
You seem an intriguing lady.May I have your email address,mobile number and your landline?
Your height and weight too..clothes size and shoes too.
Yes,it’s
yvette999@hotmail.com
or diracisme@qmail.com
My phone number is Oh,oh,6666666666666.7777777777777777………………..
That’s irrational,he informed her knowingly.
Have you got an i Pad,she then asked boldly.
No,I’ve not even got a Kindle..do you recommend them.Maybe you could come to ComputersRus with me on Saturday.
No, she said,I’m Jewish.
Are Jews not permitted to visit Computer shops..Some religious edict,is it? he said inquisitively.
It’s the Sabbath,you dimwit,she responded.We don’t shop on the Sabbathbut don’t worry I’ll come on Monday with you..you are a charming man.I need as many as I can get.
Why are you deficient in some way?Stan whispered.
No,I’m very proficient and mildly conceited,she admitted modestly.
And I like a good kisser.Are you a good kisser?
Well,maybe you could give me a test,he said manfully,
and if need be you can give me some lessons followed by a total Examination to see if I satisfy you.
Just then Anne came in with fresh tea..
Emile mewed loudly.
What is it.Emile ? Stan asked.
I am jealous because we cats can’t kiss.
Well kissing is neither necessary nor sufficient in the art of love.Rolling about together in some soil is also very nice..
I hope you don’t expect your wife to roll about in soil,said Yvette
questioningly..
Well,i can ask her,Stan said,but her main interest is topology and knitting.She is often very cold in bed…
Can’t you warm her into life;Or buy an electric blanket?
No,she’s hopeless because of a type of Asperger’s syndrome but I love her anyway.
Have you tried a new technique like whipping each other or tying yourself to the bedposts.You can buy handcuffs now in Boots,I hear.
Why some doctors prescribe them on the NHS nowadays
I thought Love was enough, Stan answered
It seems in the UK people are into whips and handcuffs…
Well,count me out,said Stan,I’m more into a careful yet tender study of the skin from the toes right up to to head,followed by gazing into her eyes for ten minutes.
Why ten minutes?asked Yvette.
I can’t wait any longer…
Well,you’ll have to practise..she said coyly.
I can practise with him,said Anne virtuously.
Yes,the more the better…he’s getting older so he can’t wait.
He needs satisfaction as son as possible.
The door bell rang,It was handsome Dave the paramedic.
Hi,he said,I was worried as you’ve not called 999 today.I brought a leash and some whips.
I’m Yvette,the woman said.
I’m bisexual,he told her.
That’s a strange name.
Never mind that,give me your email address and phone number
It’s ywoman@love4all.com,she said

or 09964321.3333333333333333333…..
If you’d like a non rational phone number email me at
hotcats@hell.com

Read more freely in the Daily Slur tomorrow….on sale everywhere and making life hell as fast as they can

A cat sings for you

Emile is a talking cat who lives with Stan and Mary and features in many stories

Emile’s garden

Source: Kathryn
Source: Kathryn

Emile’s song

Fish,fish wonderful fish…

Nothing so tasty gets onto my dish.
I live on Whiskas and milk and cold tea.
They don’t know I drink it to help me to pee.
Milk,milk,I love it well.
Mother‘s was best,but,oh,what the hell!
I drink it at night,to send me to sleep.
I feel so nervous when Stan’s old sheep bleats.
I sleep with Stan and he’s very kind.
I lean on his legs to help me unwind.
When he’s got company,I stay outside.
I look through a mirror and blimey,I spied
Stan was cuddling a lady who was totally nude!
You would not believe the weird sights I have viewed.
He was quite naked but I’m used to that.
He has no bosom…………..men are quite flat!
Mice,mice,mice are so nice!
Mince the left overs and serve with boiled rice!
Do you need puddings…we never do.
Some cats like chewing their master’s old shoe!
Drink,drink let me imbibe

Nothing quite like it for aiding a Scribe!

Losing you

Image

As you walk away through lush leaved trees,

I see you come and go like a sine curve wrapped

around the axes

of tall trunks

and flat earth.

I want to call,”Come back”

but my mouth won’t open.

My lips are dry without you.

I’m flooded with loss already,

though I can still glimpse you now and then.

Sun,so high and golden,

yet I am like a moon,

my desolate heart its inscape,

my hands its freezing soil;

I stare as evening comes

into the dark night sky.

 

I’m getting buried in the morning.

I’m getting buried in the morning.

Ding,dong the bells will surely rhyme.
I am in no hurry
So do not make a flurry
And do not let me get there  on time.

I’m get buried in the morning
I’m puzzled as I am not yet truly dead.
There must be an error,
But never mind the terror.
I am thinking of those books I’ve never read
Put them in my coffin
And please stop that sinful laughing…
I’d like to die r  beside you in bed.

I’m getting buried in the morning…
We had to book it ten years in advance.
We are running out of space
For the human race..
But why don’t we make love again,just once?

 
If the exertion kills me
It will surely thrill me
And I’m sorry I am so unfit to  sing and dance.
You may die as well..
There’s no way to foretell.
But  why not take this very last chance?

 

The Risks of Love

The brightness of the summer light,
The songs of birds whose brood take flight,
I love to take in these earthly pleasures,
And so to fill my mind with treasures.

The conversations with my friends,
The closeness only death will end,
To share my life with those who care,
How could we have better fare?

Those who suffer pain and grief,
From whom love’s stolen by a thief,
Let us take them to our hearts,
So their healing path can start.

Those who fear friendship and love,
Who set themselves at too low worth,
Do they know how courage grows
Through acceptance of our woe

Life is tragic comedy.
Love may be the remedy.
Though if we give our hearts away
We shall have grief and pain to pay.

But if we lock our hearts up tight,
And keep all feeling out of sight,
We will wither like dead leaves,
Falling down from autumn trees.

Trees swaying

 

Source: Kathryn
Kathryn
 
 

Trees swaying in the wind
Leaves
blow
down.

 

Birds flying through the sky
look
for
lorn.

 

Winter edges ever nearer.
Frost and fog will soon appear.
Cats sleep cozy by the fire
I clean the mud off my bike tires.
Trees swaying to and fro
sig
nal
love,
.
Birds flowing on air currents.

You’re my dove

Lehitraot”… “araka” … uvidimsya pozzhe..”auf wiedersehen”….. “a plus tard”

 

“See you later” is sometimes “Goodbye”

 
 
 
Source: Kathryn
Blackness
 
  • For all mothers or fathers who have lost their sons or daughters whether in battles of war,persecution, or other catastrophes who will never hear them say “See you later” again

 

When he went away,

He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”

Do vstrechi.

He died but I’m still here

Yes,in my heart I feel his love.

But why did I live,

And he did not?

Auf wiedersehen

Lehitraot.

Yes,darling,I’ll see you later,

When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright

I’ll see you shining in the night.

I’ll see you in my dreams alas.

Do vstrechi.

But why you and not me too?

Araka

I can’t understand.

Lehitraot,beloved.

A plus tard

Some where in this world,you fell

But no-one,not even God, can tell.

God was absent then or in some other place

He’s gone again.

They said He’s died too,

But He didn’t have a mother like you.

Do vstrechi.

My breasts ache and my heart and soul,

My breasts were made to make you whole.

To feed, give love and to console.

A plus tard

And now they ache with grief as my tears fall.

A bientot

My body trembles in the night

As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.

A plus

I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain

If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.

Do vstrechi.

The bell rings on the ancient clock

As time goes on as normal ,it doesn’t stop.

Araka

I wish the hands of time could be reversed,

And I was not living with this curse.

People forget that I once had a son.

They think my grieving has been done.

Araka.

But grief and loss and pain will never end

Until the curtain of my death descends

Auf wiedersehen.

Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees,

But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.

Lehitraot.

Th inscape of my heart is shown to few,

An artist of the lost would know this view.

I know I want to see just you.

Do vstrechi.

But for me there is no

Auf wiedersehen

Never again will you say

What you said that day

Lehitraot,

Mama.

Papa

A plus tard

Tot ziens.

See you later

See you soon.

See you.

 

You

 

Wherever you may go

We are in  our boat together
Sailing across the bay.
Some have an easy voyage,
The wind is blowing their way.
I wish I could always be sailing
Across a wide ocean with you
And never reach the other side
though it may be in view.
I want to see the sunrise
Across the dappled sea.
The ripples of the water
Reveal a new world to me.
One day this boat will reach the shore
Unless destroyed by storm
And I shall have to leave your arms
Where I have been so warm.
So just before we get there
I wanted you to know
That I shall always love you
No matter where you go.

 

Let your lips meet gently,

Let your lips meet gently,
the top one resting against the lower,
touching with tenderness
 your own skin to skin.

Forefinger propped on chin,
I let the others dangle,
like leaves on a branch;
how softly gravity tugs them downwards.

Let heart beat quietly,slowly
as the blood circulates
carrying its music ,
a river,
following the path of least resistance.

How the blood vessels receive willingly this flow,
touching it kindly as with tiny open fingers,
helping and being helped.

How the hair on the head
floats
on the breeze,
like tentacles of an octopus
waving goodbye.

Top eyelid loves the lower one;
as we blink they touch
like lovers kissing swiftly
behind a tree.

and how the light comes in
we see a world.
[mine may not be yours,]
but the blink of my eyelid
sends waves through the air,
so we’re all touching and being touched,
lips kissing each other,
kiss all living creatures.

skin to skin.
air to air.

And inside us,the rich darkness
of creative night
 transforms,in turn,
these touches
into dreams

 

A merry moral tale

Lake in gardens of Lea Valley water UK
 
 
 
 
 

Stan was cooking dinner today,

While his wife went out to play.
He cooked a pie of frogs and cress,
He wanted to impress.

Stan was wearing his old clothes.
Where old clothes come from,no-one knows.
He meant to change when he was done,
So he and Mary could have fun.

But Anne his neighbour rang the bell,
Stan was so surprised he fell.
He hit his head upon the stove,
And his poor scalp turned blue and mauve.

Ring 999 and ask for Dave,
This man is old yet must be saved.
The paramedic gave him glue
To stick together his old shoe.

Then he rubbed on arnica.
Stan’s head looks like Guernica.
“Get the camera,take a pic.”
Stan was feeling rather sick.

“How can you use my wounds as art?
Rest assured I’ll take no part.”
He hit the camera with his stick,
And felled his mistress with a brick.

So now they’re in a mixed sex ward,
This experience can be shared.
They get their food at 3 am
Half for the ladies,half for the men.

The doctor asked them what went wrong.
Both of them had lost their tongues.
Neither would say what they’d done!
Now their anger is all gone.

The moral of my myth is this:
Being unfaithful is not bliss.
Mistresses can be a pain,
Especially if they’re very vain.

And better not to look for love,
Except with cats or sweet white doves.
Let your neighbour love you less!
And don’t make comments on her dress.

And as for voyeurs,keep a crutch.
Hit them hard, but not too much.
If they want a work of Art,
Tell them home is where to start

Why It is Not Good to be in a Hurry

Wise post

bliss steps's avatarThe Lurker's List

Yes, I screwed it all up! What I am talking about here is my work. Yesterday, I screwed up because I overlooked some mistakes because I am hurrying to get home. To make it short, I will not discuss in detail but I will just summarize what happened. I am making an operations manual last night, geeez.

I accidentally used an auto-text  (that is supposed to be a ‘word’ only) that made the sentence changed a very important thought that needs emphasis. Thus, the whole gist of the paragraph was altered. See, even a single word can have a tremendous effect. All because I am not careful with my auto-text. The auto-text is originally ‘will be displayed’ when in fact all I want to use is just the word ‘will’. When you are using auto-text, the tool tip will show and you can just press the Enter key to make…

View original post 212 more words