We were so poor we six children had to eat our dinner off a cricket bat.
Well,it made you good at grammar!Us six had to eat off a cricket!
Did the cricket mind?
Yes,it hated being licked.
What a shame!
What a catastrophe.
Just think,we have no English crickets now.
We just have foreign crickets.
How can you tell?
They speak Dutch!
What do they say?
Festina lente.
That’s not Dutch?
Well,we had a Dutch priest in the fifties and he used to say,
Adveniat Regnum tuam;festina lente.
Your Kingdom should have come but the postman has been privatised.
That’s English.
I know.Strange is it not?
Who are you?Prince William of Orange
Don’t be that way.I talk proper because I passed the 11 plus.
I’d have thought it’d be the other way round?
You seem quite bright.
I belong to Mensa.
I don’t see what sex has to do with it….
I left my tart in Wan Fran’s Disco.
That was an error.
No,I was right.They had no cream.
Do you ever eat off a bat now?
No,it’s not hygienic;we eat off the Times.
After you have read it?
Oh, we never read it!
Why buy it?
It makes us feel superior.
Why not get some China?
Why is it called china?
I suppose that’s what was on the map when they looked.
That’s ridiculous.
I know.I agree.
I mean,you are ridiculous.
Some people like to insult others when they are in a bad mood
I can do it in a good mood.
You are balmy
Bedankt!
I mean barmy!
Off with ihre briefke!
Now he speaks French.
I want a letter!.
A French letter?
No,a Greek letter.
Here you are… it’s an apple pi.
Is it natural?
Ask Euclid!
He’s dead.
No he’s in a Platonic realm
Making Platonic love?
I am sure he could make a Teutonic love!
Why so?
His tongue is enchanted.His lips are fluorescent.
How about his nose?
It’s quite perfect.
And his eyes?
Like cat’s eyes in winter,glowing and amber.
Have you got his phone number?
Yes,it 4478733333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333…………..
It’s irrational.
Don’t tell him,he thinks it’s infinite.
Aleph null?
Is that your phone number?Where is aleph on a phone
Je ne sais Aleph Faux pas.
That is the end of
Thoughts at play

The crab which spreads its claws beneath the skin

Can be removed or burned away with ice.

And we can live  with spaces deep  within

For with our love,new life can be enticed.

Yet where’s the plumber who repairs the heart;

who stops the leaks and mends the broken pump?

We are not metal in our many parts.

And, with love, a stony heart may grow quite plump.

A newer heart may benefit the young.

The hopes of future joy can break the strain.

The loves around to whom we happy clung,

May bring us consolation once again.

Yet  later we accept that we must die

I  face this future with an empty eye.

I know of a fearsome old man
who keeps his spare cash in a pan.
when he lights the stove
his money explodes
If he survives life  then you and I can.

I knew of another old man
Who spent his life aping Cezanne
But eating raw fruit
Which he kept in his boot.
Kept him tied to the lavatory pan

Old men are important to society
though they daily may commit impropriety.
They must break select rules
Taught in tough schools
Especially the rules we call dietary.

I loved an old man with long nails
Though his face was alarmingly pale.
His hair was light blonde
And hung down in fronds.
Till it blew off in a fierce winter gale.

And I also loved a dame with clear skin
With her I’d be happy to sin.
But she was already engaged
Which made me outraged.
However could I even begin?

Old men are of interest to me
I wonder who cooks them their tea?
They gaze with sharp eyes
At the butcher’s meat pies.
They’ve no mother to call,where ar’t thee?

When I was a child the women had learned a kind of yodelling so that we could hear our mother shouting at 12 noon even half a mile awat in the park where we climbed on a metal frame and swung on old swings and played,House,inside the parts of the roots of an ancient tree which were above the ground.Why,I can see it now.Am I dead?

We might have died in childbirth;
We might have died in war;
None of us imagined
Death in a grocery store.

We went out buying fruit and meat,
Fresh eggs and chicken breasts.
We wanted to make dinner
For this night’s Sabbath Feast.

But noone knew that soft goodbye
Was to be our last;
A few shots and some bullets
Another life has passed.

What were our young children
going to feel tonight….?
We should be serving love and food
As candles give their light.

Candles burn in memory
Of all the innocent,
who are caught up in tragedies
That someone else invents.

Let young men delude themselves
And politicians too….
Don’t forget those murderers
Could be me and you….

We are not so different
But for circumstance.
The murderers and their victims turn
In a macabre dance.

Now you are far,so far away,
The longest night,
The shortest winter day,
will be places where I might die.
The heart’s interior, no-one else
Can view.
When you are lost,
I cannot find your face…
Its outline on the pillows,
My fingers shaped to trace…
The new design,
the stellar rhyme,
Where have you gone?
You slipped from out my arms.
You slipped away.
Was night or day
Ever cut by such a narrow line?
In your embrace I lay.
You seemed so strong,
Yet,sighing, took the path away.
I can’t see where
Is it night? Or is it day?
I tried to write to bring me light,
It’s dark, and still.
I long for you to come.
Oh,will we ever quite
Find out our way?
Or is that an illusion?
As we stagger through
the wandering furrows
in the fields
They shoot us down.
What is this confusion?
The war goes on
The world goes round
The mirror gapes
at each new clown.
But in a crack,
a seed may grow.
I can’t see where,
But yet,it’s so.

He left his life where so much might have grown.
The aspirin bottle and the tumbler thrown.

I was waiting for him in the church
But alas he left me in the lurch
He’d met a rich woman..
She saw him coming
Before he kicked her into touch.

She was the best person I never met
As she kept  wandering men as her pets.
And I met my  new lover
At night undercover.
I didn’t want mal a la tete

• Who is this man?

  

  1.Nigel Farage.
  2.The Queen.
  3.Pope Benedict 13th.
  4.David Cameron.
  5.A cyborg
  6.A glove puppet.
  7.My husband.
  8.My ex.
  9.W H Auden
  10 None of the above

• Guess who this is.

  

  1.My husband
  2.Father Xmas
  3.The prime minister of the Hebrides.
  4.My cat’s husband.
  6.Jesus.
  7.The Pope.
  8.a barn owl.
  9..A lost cat.
  10.. me giving a lecture on why e is not an algebraic number.
  11.All of the above.
  12.The Devil

  • Where is this?

• 

  This is
  1] London
  2]Zurich
  3]Colorado
  4]Estonia
  5]Greenland
  6]Montreal.
  7]I don’t give a monkeys.
  8] A photo of Finland my art teacher wants us to do a painting from using mixed media.
  9]The lost world of Atlantis.
  10] A and E in London Hospital
  11]The capital of Norway.
  12]a ski resort

She performed a Freudian strip ,that is she got dressed.

He made a Freudian ship sail  on dry  land.Still,we all have our weaknesses

I dreamed I was lying on a sofa. then I   told a lie in church when I said I was sorry for my sins,They are my only pleasure in life.Sinless, I’d die at once.Where is the sense in that?Drink about it.Eat about it.Then talk about it.

How about a Freudian knot?No way out.

I love Freud with all my  parts.

Am I spare?Am I mean?Why not tell my analyst and have fun with it! Freud  did and look what happened to him.

I can’t  recall precisely how I wrote it this poem.It came from a strange elsewhere  in my mind.I think it carries an message,namely that,if you can’t acknowledge your hatred, if you deny it exists, even to yourself then it may cause havoc in your lifew.This does not mean l  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.

I  think I began to  write it by choosing  a long word at random and  seeing how many  words I could make  from that.Then through  staring blankly and in a friendly  manner at these words a a poem began to come into existence.It seemed to write itself especially towards the end… It certainly surprised me with its advent.I can hardly believe I have written it,though wide and  narrow focus  in seeing are of special interest to me.They came to my attention in  the book “A Life of One’s Own” by Joanna Field [Marion Blackett-Milner] and in her l later book “On not being able to Paint

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 my own head,
Sucked me into the black hole.
That place was the wrong sort of darkness.

Within that full stop,
Love Fundamental became invisible.
Disappeared into the dark.

I dragged my eyes away
And saw the moon appear ,eerie,
It shone,grey silver.

If I had opened my eyes 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.
t 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 apart from love or goodness.

Afraid to spoil my love with hate,
The fear of hate became
That which spoiled all else,
By freezing Love itself.

 We are in this 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
Wherever you may go.