Month: February 2014

In honor of Paul Tillich

Paul Tillich gave our spirit proper place.

He showed us courage as a  space to dwell.

He wrote for us and left us with   his  grace

With hope he might speak and he might tell.

So many people ignored Fascist speech

And lived with mind cut off from  their own soul

With pen in hand he wrote to reach

And touch us as we strive towards the whole.

Expelled from his own country, he wrote on

Continuing during  tortuous war long years

He lived, he loved ,he wrote, he died and then

His books continue to dispatch our fears.

For many men have lived and have destroyed.

Yet Tillich showed  us how to face the  void

Take now your bitter heart

Image

I loved you once,and now you’re gone

Such grief,such sorrow.

I loved you once,but now you’ve run

Not back  tomorrow.

I loved you once until I saw

Your bitter heart

II loved you yet you had a  flaw

Inside you’re sharp.

I loved you, now my heart is raw,

pierced by your dart.

Where has all the loving gone?

Such sweet emotion.

Where has all the loving gone?

I had no notion.

Your  face was just a mask

Created for the task

Of winning hearts.

Your heart was steel and wire

Hardened by anger’s fire…

Where should I start?

Begone,false words and songs

You did me such wrong..

I can’t forgive.

Begone you hypocrite

Quit this poetic writ

And let me live

LET ALL THE WORLD IN JOYFUL SLAVERY WORK,FOR THY GOD AND KING,THE FREE MARKET AND THE HATERS OF LIFE

abstract war on terror

 

I had a very bright idea y.Hearing the condemnation of people living on huge disability benefits of £80 a week or jobseekers  over ample allowance of £65 per week,it occurred to ne that it was very evil  for birds to sit in trees and sing,when they could be doing something more useful to contribute  to society and increase the gross domestic product.Similarly frogs,spiders,toads.trees,clouds should all be forced to work and to achieve government targets set for them by e.g .Nick Clegg or George Osborne.Indeed every  living thing should pay its own way.And if Jesus came back to earth he should not be allowed to wander around telling stories.He should be put to work in a factory unless he had £30,000 or so to go to the University of Tunbridge Wells to do  a degree in Carpentry or Woodwork.Anyway there would be no fish in the sea or birds in the air.They would all be at work or in prison.All must contribute to the GDP or die in the attempt.Amen,I say to you,do not harm an hair on the head of one of my creatures  or you will be cast into outer darkness.And after Westminster that will be a nasty surprise.Look into your heart and see what you find there before you destroy even one bat ,spider or ant.

The Stress of the Unthought Known

Very intriguing

Mark Brady's avatarThe Committed Parent

There’s an unpredictable neural trickster living inside each of us, taking up residence in the dendrites and synapses that weave their way through the right side of our brain. It’s been living there since before we were transformed from embryos into fetuses – between weeks seven and eight in utero. By then, great learning has already begun and the primary driver of learning and brain development turns out to be … sound! (One reason hearing is one of the first senses to develop and the last to leave us?). Especially powerful is the sound of mother’s voice, which we begin paying close attention to during this important time. The growth that begins unfolding, driven powerfully by mother’s voice initially, almost immediately begins making a preponderance of connections on the right side of our brain.

Many months later, as we begin to acquire language, this lopsided neural development and…

View original post 1,016 more words

A hairy caterpillar

I really like this

Steve Schwartzman's avatarPortraits of Wildflowers

Woolly Bear Caterpillar on Dry Stalk 8416

When wandering beneath the power lines west of Morado Circle on December 17th I also encountered this hairy caterpillar on a dry stalk. I can’t say for sure, but it might be the larva of a salt marsh moth, Estigmene acrea.

© 2014 Steven Schwartzman

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My life on the net

garden 2

When I was at University I spent 6 years studying mathematics.But I always liked poetry and novels.My school thought I should study English Literature,but to me that was not a creative activity.The way we were taught was to criticize books,plays,poems by many famous writers [mostly men!]

Three in one

Praying

I didn’t want to criticize only.I wanted to write but I never thought I could.I followed my career as a mathematician until my vision deteriorated.I could not read mathematical symbols anymore.Still it had earned me a living

YOU IS SO MUCH FUN,ME IS NOT SO DONE YOU IS SO MUCH FUN,ME IS NOT SO DONE

I began going to an Art Class as I wanted to  see as much as I could. in case my vision got worse,I was so  very  embarrassed because all the others were very good whereas I had no idea what all the terms meant [Even for pencil drawing ].I was afraid but I kept going and did learn to look at the world differently.At that time I .I had not got a computer.Later I could not get to the class but did more here at home

Two cats

Two cats

I bought my laptop and after some time I discovered digital art.I had no books about it so I just played.I found Microsoft Paint inviting and simple.Later I found Artweaver and Paint.net which I used to manipulate my photographs

Lily pond

Lily pond

I only took photos because by error I bought a phone with a camera on it.Next time I’ll tell you how I wrote my first poems

6419415_506e1f1602_m

I like blue

6419534_5a28508448_m

 

God is a cat and Emile curses and swears:modern life

 Cats five

Mary was  on a  step ladder in the bathroom spying on her husband  Stan,through a hole in the wall…which he had drilled for spying on women sunbathing nude in their back gardens.

He was climbing over the fence with Emile their cat on his shoulder.
I think it’s so ridiculous, she muttered .
Surely Emile,  a cat, can jump over the fence by himself.But Emile was very limp,she then saw
He can’t be dead,she whispered  to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the and hit her head on a tap… a dangerous event for a human with weak  retinae or retinas or even deaf ears.
Oh,my!That hurt…I’d better be careful.She  flew down stairs and imet Stan in  to the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said happily
Is he not dead,she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how

did he manage it manage to climb up?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her graciously yet boldly

If you say so ,my dear.I’d do anything you ask..
Don’t put on that act! he said nastily
I mean it.
A bit late now.
What do you mean?
After 40 years with your mind on Wittgenstein,Dirac,Pascal and Kierkegaard,do you think I don’t know you made a mistake marrying me
But whoever I married,I’d have read those same  writers…
Umphh,said Stan dolefully.
Just then Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.

Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up?I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver  path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some fucking idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I fucking well feel like,he said.
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here.I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a deep kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully as it pained her to think Stanno longer desired her.
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you some tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in
Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I fucking well fell out,the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of almost silent films starring unnames and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said Fuck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais pas.
Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Bush..
And the last too, thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered
Well,you see,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile.I’m not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave,he ought to know that God is a cat.

Since I began this blog

Image

Old wooden table looks like my furrowed brow

I have during the course of this blogging found some new and interesting authors but all the books are really hard.I am struggling to read them but at the same time I am very happy to have found them.

I may not post much for a bit as I want time to mull over these books and what I am learning.I find writing here has lead me to learn a lot and I hope it’s true for some of you readers… a whole new world has opened for me,,,I may not be blogging here but please look at the authors I’ve recommended if you have time to learn.

Semiotics:a sign has two parts

http://users.aber.ac.uk/dgc/Documents/S4B/sem02.html

A sign consists of the  signified and the signifier

If what is signified is love,the signifier may vary … it can be a  “x “.a bunch of flowers,a poem.

Of course it may be misunderstood if two people come from different cultures/countries  or even different parts of the same country with maybe a different form of Christianity,with an atheisitic family etc

Some people tend to see a meaning in an act or word that was not intended…if carried too far it can lead to paranoia…I can imagine writing a funny play based on such confusion

More from Wikipedia

Signifier

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 
 

Ferdinand de Saussure theorizes that a “sign“[clarification needed] has two parts: signifier and signified. The signifier is the form that the sign will take, whether it be a sound or image and the signified is the meaning that is conveyed.

Example

Signifier: the word ‘tree’ = Signified: the mental image of a tree.

Charles Sanders Pierce analyzed sign systems and came up with the following: An Icon signifies by resemblance. An Indexical sign signifies by causal connection and finally, a Symbol signifies by learned convention.

See also

Related articles

Known not understood

 

If we see some cherries
Hanging from a branch
We’ll pick the fruit and eat them
It is our last chance

When our end is nearing
We must live far more
Like the dust motes dancing
In the sun,in joy.

See the clouds all blowing…
Where is it they go?
Like the leaves and flowers
Like the rivers flow.

See the face beloved
Known,not understood.
See the human mystery
Feel how love can flood.

See the smoke blow upwards
See the children gaze
Innocence and beauty
New born each day.

The first time our eyes opened
We saw a human face.
The last time we close them
Let us then embrace.

Though the day is ending
Do not cut it short.
Live each moment till the last
In love as we were taught

Little sister

Trying to keep a hold of you;
trying to keep a hold of you.
Don’t go,
Don’t go.
I’ll not let you fall down that gap.
I’ll always try to pull you back-
Little sister.

You slipped so far away from us.
You slipped because you knew you could.
You saw a gap and fell right down.
You were serious,my little clown.
Come back now.
Come back now.
My baby.

I sang all those songs for you,
But I still needed a mother too.
A mother too.
If only I were stronger…
Stronger,stronger..
Would you have stayed here longer?
Little sister.

As you rocked in your little chair,
the demons of the past were there.
Your blue eyes shone,
Then you were gone.
My sister.

I saw you in a long blue gown,
With a golden halo all wrapped round.
You smiled and said you didn’t know
That I had really loved you so.
You were sorry to leave like that,
And would I kindly feed your cat.
My sister.

When I woke up,the dream was gone;
But life and work must still go on.
If only I’d been grown and strong,
On this earth you’d still belong.
Little sister.

I sang the song that you once sang,
But felt my tears made it go wrong.
Once you smiled and laughed with me.
Life was not all black,I see.

Sisters,sisters three.
Now it’s two,just you and me.
But when we meet,a shadow’s there-
I see a flash of her dark hair,
Our sister,sister,sister.
A gap remains for grief to fill
and on we mourn till hearts are still.
One day we’ll die too
And perhaps then we’ll be with you.
Little sister.
My sister.

The man who cannot write or read a book

Though full of direct knowledge of his fellows
Whose eyes and faces are a script humane;
Though voices sing to him like Lobos’ cellos
Yet in lack and loss and woe this man remains..

In times gone by,the voice and face sufficed.
Poets read and we seized upon their lines;
But now a subtle torture’s been devised
To write with pen and letters intertwined.

This man though wise like cat,or bear or owl,
Has failed in his acquaintance with the pen.
Nor does he have the words which politicians howl.
Nor can he read more than his list of sin.

For now the map is where the mind must dwell
And of reality,no-one can tell.

Gambol through life

 

Doctor,doctor,100 per cent of the patients waiting has died.
You mean have died,surely?
No,doctor,there was only one!

Doctor,doctor,50% of the patients is men today!
You mean “are men;do learn grammar”
Well,there are just two patients!
So 50% is women.
A woman!

Doctor,doctor,33.333333% of the patients is a child.
I am unsure if it’s your grammar,the topic or the fact that 1/3 can’t be written as a finite decimal number that is making me feel queer today,
Well,doctor,be gay if you like.I am ok with that!
I seem to fluctuate.Is that normal?
Who gives a damn about what’s normal?
The abnormal?

Doctor,doctor,50% of my fingers have fallen off.
And you can still calculate percentages.That’s a miracle.
To me it’s a catastrophe.
Don’t worry,I can reattach them if they are to hand.
What a funny way you have of talking English.
Speaking English..
Speaking,talking,uttering,muttering…I don’t get you Anglos.
I’m a Jew!
Well,you are an English Jew.You wear an English hat on your noble head with its amber eyes
And you are an English Indian.You wear an England scarf around your elegant neck!
Our Venn diagrams intersect.What a miracle!
That’s two miracles already.Before we even think about Venn diagrams.
It’s the intersection that we like…
Yes,100% of us two like them.
We agree.We beat the percentages.
The odds.
Life’s a gamble

Or a gambol?

Shapely tulips catch my eye

Shapely tulips catch my eye

Red as cherries

Winter berries

Spring will never lie.

Willow buds as green as glass

Happiness

Happiness

Memories are made of this,

Sunlight slants across the wall

such loved color

my eyes follow

Delight  to me is all

Mauve and grey the evening sky.

Sun descends

Day must end

One last goose flies by

http://youtu.be/Cc659yLMgEo

To know which

 

Each face has its unmeasurable beauty.
Inside I am astutely breaking down numbers
into their prime factors;
as I look out I see the polgons on your wrinkled skin
retain their topological invariance as you speak and gesture.
What’s that for?
Yes,my eyes say,I hear you,I am listening;
I’m a lake of warm water,Fall into me and float.
At one end I keep a Thesaurus of real and imaginary words.
They are waiting to inform me of my next disappointment
With the so called Real.

My false self is so true to herself
She has become real….
Declared as such by Royal punctuation.
My real self is waiting to get married…they are both female you see,
~So it’s going to be a really gay occasion.
We hope you can join the three of us.
I am a trinity;I am a reflection of God
in a puddle of rainwater.
There is the real self,the false self
And I who observe… A spirit one might say,for now.

The lacquer which made my pen look expensive is peeling off.
Underneath it is a crude orange..
So it has lost sophistication but gained
An edible appearance to a hungry writer.
And now I am a cheese tart in a dish on your table.
You may gobble me up and I shall see the glint in your eyes.
After a while we’ll have transubstantiation
When I become you though I shall be invisible to human eyes.
Have Faith!

The polygons look weary,Topology may describe but won’t help.
Let me touch you.Let me feel you
And see if my fingers can account for all parts of you…
See it’s all intellectual work and so for my homework
I must take you to bed and count your bits all night…
and of course you can count mine.Then we can dream
Of ripeness and late roses which bloom in winter.
Do we agree or disagree or is such language completelt inappropriate?
This is one kind of examination but not another.
the trick is to know which.

A letter or two

He gave me a fast party tickle..
I kissed his algebraic form.
He’s only a number to me.I am numb all over.
He says he’ll give me peace of mind.But did he mean a piece of his mind?
What tense are your muscles?
Is the past infinite?
Can we split the indifferent?
Was the past subjective?
Subjunctive is Latin for may be.
How about  the past, was it perfect,imperfect or inconceivable?
What is the future when not dense? Very intense..
Grimmer than grammar: the autolieography of a woman of many alarm clocks

Can a noun be irrational?Can my name be a verb?
What about an infinite sequence of jumbles?Is it useful?
What is a transcendental word?
I hate logs but like rhymes.Log-of-rhymes is my next book.
Why do letters need indices?So we can locate them?

I sent a letter to my love… which letter? A?

Oxford Holy Riddle

OXFORD HOLY RIDDLE
Gold stone from Cotswold quarries men brought
And built into a way of life for those who bought
Their lives so cheaply.And did not see
The children’s eyes,the ball,the game, the tree
Of life that grew in small backyards and gave
All to those who lithely climbed into its arms,
Why should this not be you?
O Eden, I see that you are nearer now,
In lowly homes where love is free
Than in the temple ,grove and softset brow
Of those who worship God,in churches built of gold
Now  this is simple to behold
When sun is setting, and escapes the ashes
Thrown up and floating in the watches
Of the days of voters’ eyes cast up to skies
And wondering, fearful, what will come
When all the secret deals are done.
So take the gold of Life and let it fall
Into your children’s growing souls,
And let this Cotswold town and spires
Melt into sunset’s glowing orange fires.

Felicity

Now together and apart
We feel unity
Happy silence dusts our ears

Memories of long ago

Deepen our time now
Gazes,smiles and touch enough
Make the daytime slow.

This and this and this
Thus and thus and thus
All is one and shall be so
True love,she does know.

She ran away one day with cunning stealth

My mother was a lady of skilful wealth

She used to shop in Harrod’s,right from the shelf

She stole China tea as it’s good for the health

Mother had a most peculiar  sense of self.

She liked to study the stars and moon

So many dark nights were spent in gloom

Yet for her husband it was a boon

As her presence spread a feeling of deepest doom.

She ran away one day  with cunning stealth

Society blamed her sense of self

She’d met a young man whom she called Ralph.

Who gave her many children of whom I’m the twelfth.

So, remember, the moral of my tale is none.

Love the neighbours,then choose one.

He’ll give you  some daughters and a son

Now my verse is almost     …….. gone.