I follow myself now

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I have grown so conceited I have begun following my own blog.

I am so  vain I never look in the mirror, to avoid temptation.

I like to stroke my own head but people may think I am narcissistic…If they can spell it.

I comb my hair only once every week to avoid disturbing the insects.They are my friends,in a very itchy sense.

If I am rude please tell me as I like to  learn  good manners now I’m too old to enjoy anything else except sniffing glue.

I am so kind I comb the cat’s hair as the hairdresser refused.Well,I get pleasure from it even if the cat doesn’t and  who  buys its food?

I  enjoyed the Latin Mass but they abolished it…what has the Pope got against me? I think he’s so selfish I’ll never confess my sins again,I’ll just enjoy them  or abandon them

What not to post on your blog if you want fame

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[Art by my sister]

You make me feel like flu

You make make me feel like glue.
Stick em up,who?
Is there a wrong to be wrung?
A belle to the bung
My ma rang out the washing and hanged it daily
We had no washing machines and were we fat?No, but we dies anyway!
I arrest my own base.
Here’s song to be flung to the highest bladder
Cannot you ring?
You make me feel like flu.
A week in bed with a zoo.
and a caterpillar too
How about you?
You make me reel ,there’s a fu to be kung.
My nose has a bung
A sin to be twinned
and a tune to be hung
You make me feel like death
You make me right till I’ve left
The warp and the weft
And an end to my breath.
You make feel like Sue.
You call her name too!
You wear her old hat
with a cat and some spats.
how about all of that?
Is it me ,you and Sue
And doctor Who?

Boo.

Touch you gently

We were sitting as usual by the window
gazing at the wintry trees
You began to cry out;
The house is under attack,
A storm is coming .
The glass windows will shatter
We’ll be stabbed.
We’ll be injured
We’ll be killed I must get out

Looking out .I saw only the calm bare branches
Of the maple
And two wood pigeons in the fir tree
were chuckling to each other.
The wind had not changed.

I know it’s midwinter with the bitter
breeze with an edge to it like a knife.
The sun low like lemonade in an almost emptied glass.
Semding light through the forsythia onto the  bent old fence.

I turned to you puzzled
Reached out my hands to comfort;
But you shouted
Keep away
as you got your thick coat out
and ran from the back door right into the dark woods.

If there was real danger,why did you desert me?
Years later you told me of bad news you’d had.
Seemed like the inside and outside got confused.
I became a Fascist.I was a flaxen Anglo-Saxon.
I was Hitler’s grand-daughter.
I was a descendant of the Borgia Pope.
A witch , a demon, a torturer.
You believed that
I would break my glass; cut your face
with the jagged edges amd laugh
like  we once saw in a film.

Unlike in  science,
We can’t go back and repeat the experience
as if it were an experiment.
See if we were drawing the right conclusions

If you’d stayed a few minutes more
You might have realised
You were half asleep
And dreaming.
It was a daymare that escaped.

Once gone,you  never returned
To the house where it seemed the glass broke
into shards and cut you to shreds.
And a possessed woman loved you.
I don’t blame you
though I weep.
We are often deceived by our imaginations
We see not what’s here
But what we most fear.
And flee the human contact
Which alone might help.

I always leave the door ajar
And some food on the kitchen table;
In case you come back hungry and tired.
It was your mind that shattered,not the glass…
And that’s much harder to mend.
But it can be done
If you stop fighting.
And let the inner seas flow free.
You need a hand
But it also frightens you.
Besides, my hand is not strong enough to hold you.
Only to touch you gently
To say how sad I am

Like a leaf

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    I feel my soul is trembling like a leaf
    that clings on in the worst of a fierce gale
    yet will drop into black mud far beneath
    though briefly through some sunshine it may fall.
    I am as nothing trodden into earth
    And lower than the lowest living beast,
    I make no estimation of my worth
    and for the worms I shall provide a feast.
    At first I thought that I could ride the storm
    That I could live without your circling arm
    But truth has taken hold of me entire.
    The choice is death by mud or death by fire.
    I see I am now trampled with earth’s dust
    No more to be an object of mere lust

What makes the psychopath so charming yet dangerous? The secret revealed. | Psychopaths and Love

What makes the psychopath so charming yet dangerous? The secret revealed. | Psychopaths and Love

7321081_ddc4f0581d_mWhat makes the psychopath so charming? The secret revealed. | Psychopaths and Love. Continue reading “What makes the psychopath so charming yet dangerous? The secret revealed. | Psychopaths and Love”

Women in government and dress

Why should women have to be subjected to constant examination by the Press regarding their appearances
On the other hand, are thigh high slits in your skirt appropriate for women MP’s when you know what the Press is looking for?
In theory people can wear what they like but is there any limit?Would a headmistress or a doctor wear such clothing?Thigh slits are hard to wear as well, like mini skirts when you are in a Panel on News Night,One uncrossing ot your legs and there we see your charming undies…
I think what I mean is to say that there are boundaries with regard to dress and from the knees to the throat is probably best kept covered if you are in a profession or you are in the government…it may be hard to accept but why feed the media?

In other settings a highly slit skirt or a see though top may be quite a good outfit to wear.The Ministers in the government should be trying to avoid press comments which is not possible totally but why ask for it
One can look elegant and charming without showing off the intimate areas of the body in work settings.
We seem to have lost some sense.I don’t want my thighs on TV or in the Sun… mind you,my thighs would have the opposite effect nowadays.. no photo would be erotic,so I think though my husband disagrees..but it’s private to me and him