Month: February 2015

Stan and Annie’s toes

  • Paper flowers with lamp

    Stan was annoyed as since the days were getting brighter and longer the dust on the furniture was becoming more evident..Not that Mary was a tyrant  in any way but she was out at work ,whereas he was free from his purgatory working with gamblers and homeless drug users.
    Of course he had been pleased to be working to improve society but enough was enough.He already was helping two people on a voluntary basis at his  local church.Still Mary was labouring in the lecture hall explaing how linear algebra might help folk to lead better and more virtuous lives especially if they were going into Parliament or the higher reaches of the Civil Service which aided government ministers dealing with strange confusions in th Economy and the entire world
    He picked up his microfibre dusting rag cut from an old towel and started to dust the TV set.After that he sprayed Dettox onto the keyboards of all their laptops,ipads,phones and remote controls.Then he dried them with an old tea towel made of cotton and linen.
    Suddenly he heard the back door opening.In ran his beauteous mistress Annie wearing a green and red tracksuit and purple trainers with pink spots on.
    Shall I make some lovely coffee,she asked impertinently.
    I have not done much housework yet,Stan cried tearfully, with a smile
    Let me see,she responded with the genuine  interest of the retired and bored,
    My, this remote control is very,very clean,I am stunned
    She put it in front of her eyes and glared myopically at it.
    All her mindpower was concentrated on this one object which was now her whole world.
    You have done brilliantly with this but you do need a break from this tedious and arduous work,she enthused to her aged lover.
    Oh, OK then,Stan answered laconically.
    She poured coffee and  Jersey milk into two Portmeirion pottery mugs and took them into the conservatory where she admired his potted plants and his herbs.
    What ‘s this  funny plant here, she called.It wasn’t here last week,
    It’s cannabis,he informed her wilfully.
    Are you a user now she enquired tactlessly.
    No,I am keeping it for a friend.. he is a scientist,Stan claimed
    That’s what they all say,she riposted jocosely.
    Well,I don’t know how to use it.I believe you smoke it so does it have to be dried?
    I guess so , she said like a cowboy from Alabama on a diet of coke and french fries.
    Well,I am not going test it,he said pensively.I don’t even smoke a pipe any more.I suck my thumb instead.It’s free.
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    Would you like to suck my toes,she asked him lovingly.
    After all,the Duchess of York had hers sucked and I am her equal in some ways she told him truthfully

    Sucking women’s toes has so far not been part of my repertoire and neither
    has whipping and smacking them either.I prefer to suck their lips and caress their cheeks. Stan informed her politely
    Which cheeks? she asked suspiciously yet humorously
    Sorry,dear,I am happy to caress any part of your warm voluptuous flesh but I need to get on with the housework.
    Just ignore it,she ordered him.I’ll help you after we have been to bed
    I didn’t know we were going to bed, he said in a puzzled tone
    Well,you do now,she giggled deliciously.
    And so does Emile who is already on the landing from where he can see the mirror opposite the bed.What a naught boy he is,but what would you do in his position?
    I thought so.

    Midwinter

Mary tackles the Superfish malware and gets a haircut

by KateM @ 2015-02-26 – 17:15:

Pavings 4

Stan’s new laptop computer with Windows 8.1 seemed very good but, alas,superfish was installed on Lenovo computers for a few months and it is adware with a malicious aspect getting a false trusted certificate into the registry.
What a pest when this happens. to stupid young folk.Mary was about to fix it manually, but first she went the hairdresser, a new and gentle Turkish lady.When Mary went she always said just take a little off the ends but the hairdresserstook no notice…possibly because they knew she was often daydreaming and musing and unaware of recent trends So today she came out with a bob long at the sides and short at the back.She had noticed this on other women around the town so she was now on trend for once though Stan her over virile and naughty spouse would hate it.
What is that big white dressing in your cleavage,the manager asked her impertinently.
Oh,it’s where they accidentally sprayed frozen nitrogen over an open wound she said.The doctor was a bit drunk I think but can you blame them when they are so poorly paid?
How can they afford brandy then,he asked curiously.Or is it white spirit or some chemical?
I have no idea said Mary.We never learned that at Yoxford.
Differential equations,yes.People,no
So emotional intelligence was not taught? he enquired tactlessly yet gently.
How could scholars teach that,Mary replied pensively.They have none.Or not much.

G tWell.they could download it from the web.A self teaching aid.

But why do we have to learn it,Mary murmured lovingly.Is it not part of our natural development like learning to speak?Wittgenstein did not speak till he was four and he was never happy but is it normal to be happy when the world is so desacralised and bankers steal from the poor and men make whores from young immigrant women who have no idea where to get help.And what type of man wishes to have sex with poor, terrified girls?

Are people really depressed now or are they seeing a horrible reality in their world; where military solutions are sought for impossible situations…. fascinating though awful but I must dash home now as my thin old husband needs me to feed him and he is so sweet..goodbye for today.
When Mary opened the front door of herdetached bijou home she heard Emile sobbing under the bureau.
I thought superfish were real fish and I wanted to eat them for my dinner,he told her artfully between sobs
Would you like some sardines in olive oil;it might make your fur shine and impress your lady friend,Ariel…..7
Yes,please,Emile mewed.Yum,yum.love Ariel.
Mary removed superfish malware with an automatic tool from the lenovo website which was not as interesting to do but was quicker than a manual approach.But where was her old and patiently used husband Stan? Was he in the shed with his mistress Annie, polishing the tools for springtime or had he gone to the butchers for some liver and pate?Why had he made no sandwiches nor even hardboiled a few eggs.Mary took off the dressing on her chest and looked in the mirror,What a horrible sight,this will keep the men at bay, she thought in a resigned manner more suitable for one about to be beheaded in the Tower of London.So she opened a tin of baked beans and scoffed the lot cold and tomatoey,just like that.What next for this resilient,beautiful and highly unemotionally intelligent lady, we may wonder …. a new boyfriend or two or proof that God must exist but only as a transcendental number…so one can really count on him at times of danger even though as a decimal he was non repeating and endlessly changing,just like a woman one might say.Though women are very various and not all the same.That’s where the Trinity comes in handy.What would we do without it….. may God bless us and drag us out of the mire of sin we are stuck in.P1000147

What,nonsense?

She has a very auspicious poacher.
He likes fried eggs and boasts.
They say, when he doubts,then clout.
I say, when glum keep mum.
Silence is not denuded enough in our sobriety.
What, did he pray?
What did he pray exactly?
What did he prey on?
We are having a one pot sinner tonight.
I found a Jewish cookery nook in the bookshop.
What is the advantage of reading the riot pact?
Her greatest virtue is tact.
I often sit on the hairs if all else fails.
Do you like bacon on fried bananas? It’s a merry pan, so they say.

Self portrait from an interesting period in my life.

This is a lovely painting

janetweightreed10's avatarMy Life as an Artist (2)

In my West Chester, Pennsylvania studio – mixed media.  

Scan 107

This self portrait, tells the story of the complexity and at the same time, simplicity of my life during this particular period.

It was 1988 and I was living and working in my studio which had no heat or running water.    I always say, it was the time that I grew up.

I didn’t realise it at the time, however the hummingbirds had already begun to weave their magic.

P1140767

A Bientôt

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Rinse pies

If you are going to pass,be frisky.
Flowing in our sins.
California scheming.
Play a little fair for me,my baby.
Tears may set  me on fire.
The bounds of pylons.
She’s weaving foam,hi,hi.
Life is what happens when you are making others dance.
My isle of guinness free.
My file of winners’ fees.
Blathering frights.
Song of the biscuits.
Sand in his flies.
Be sure to wear some towers with your flair.
Be sure to bare some wealth for Tony Blair.

Unfried chips for sale with wishes free.

Rinse pies here after Xmas.Apply now,without replay

No eatings swallowed here by murder

Convenience conversion

photo0253

I may have mentioned my husband was having some surgery last summer.Whilst he was waiting [dressed only in pyjamas and dressing gown] he decided to go to the l toilet .He saw a door with  two signs so  that either sex could use it.He went in,locked the dor and made use of the urinal.,which was in the open with no door, then went to wash his  horny hands.
Suddenly the door of the cubicle opened and out came a woman of riper years.Instead of looking surprised  or worried that she had forgotten to lock the door she came over to him  at once.
Are you a Christian? she demanded  wistfully
Well,I believe in God,he answered dishonestly yet truthfully
May I give you a tract? she enquired loudly and urgentl

If you must,he whispered sorrowfully
But she couldn’t find one so she departed..was she real I wonder?

cyclamen black
Beware of such shared conveniences as you never know whom you might meet.Maybe it’s a tactic for desperate lonely singletons.
She declared she would pray for him.But is it always a good thing
to pray for someone if they don’t want it?To me it seems a mite agressive.Why not pray for them without telling  them?

Suppose he had been much younger and more aggressive?He could have attacked her claiming it was shock… lock the outer door in such places,I beg you

Emile and the superfish: the beginning

Photo1176

Mary looked at herself in the webcam.She was looking very  beautiful as she had washed her pale gold hair and applied some scented oils to it and though she was normally not interested in peering into mirrors she was intrigued by the Webcam.
She was happy as she had just removed Superfish from Stan’s Lenova laptop though she wondered whay else might lurk there…Supershark?Emile had been waiting ever since he heard her say
I am getting the superfish out today,Stan,dear.We can have Onion
Tart for lunch.
I shall wait for the super fish,thought Emile excitedly.I can just imagine what it will taste like… wonderful.
Meanwhile Mary who had never been bold enough to act at school was discovering her potential on mini videos one of which was going to be on Twitter soon. asking people to vote for Labour despite Miliband’s adenoids……But though she seemed bold as she spoke out,it was not her native temperament but a kind of madness that had come over her.Polemical Poison,one might say.
Shall we have tomato salad,asked Stan sweetly as they had a bag of cherry tomatoes.
Mary did not answer because after making her video she realised her face was lopsided.How horrible,she thought.No wonder it’s evil to look in mirrors too much as it makes one self conscious which is bad.To forget one’s self is the best way to live if you can achieve it without taking heroin or laughing gas.Gas never made her laugh at the dentist who had committed suicide shortly after removing 4 of hem teeth and barely managing to bring her back from the clouds above.
He was a gambler and an alcoholic but her mother had loved him and sent all her children there for treatment.Surely that was unethical thought Mary petulantly.Even if dad was dead ,consorting with drinken dentists was utterly foolish.What  a pity her mother has lived before the invention of vibrators,though come to think of it the dentist’s drill vibrated angrily at times!I had better push these thoughts away Mary decided and warm up the tart as it were
English has too many aimbiguous words.

I am no tart,cried Annie rudely .I do it free.

Well.what would Wittgenstein make of that,thought Mary t herself/

Whereof one caannot charge,,thereof one cannot do !

We need both words and images

The old apple tree

Before we learned to talk we communicated with our mothers and later the family by gestures,cries and body movements.In fact inside the womb we swam like fish ..Then we begin to babble as if we learn the music of our tongue before we learn the individual words./Eventually we get caught in the web of words and assume without thinking that everything important can be expressed this way.However when we are with people we still rely al ot on body language and the tones and musicality of the voice itself.A ugly man with a beautiful voice can become very attractive to women.for example.

But later we may come to realise many aspects of life cannot be expressed easily in words.As humans evolved they developed different kinds of language.Poetry and science describe aspects of the world and of the people speaking these languages.Music is one form which does not use words

One , might almost say that with printing and later mass literacy we moved from an oral,bodily centred ,sensuous language to a more abstract less personal way of communication.

However, there are many forms of writing and much more can be expressed this way than most of us know… but when we come to the edge of the world of language .. we realise that the sacred,the ineffable,the holy may be beyond the powers of even the best poets.Yet they can point us there,Music and art may give a more vivid enchantment which we recognise but of which we find it hard to speak.

Words are a net to catch the world but the smallest fish drop straight through it

Poignant view

Photo0705 Photo0674

Blue moon
Too soon
Particles turn
Heart churns
We disagree
You and me.
Life in sand,
Understand.
I draw a line
Love is mined
For healing pain,
My love remains.
I glance at you.
Poignant view.
Eyes shine with hope
Will love cope?

My mistress’ eye is like a currant spun

7:29:18

My mistress’ eye is like a currant spun;
Though she has issues,she is now divine
Her bosom is bared and bold  in  midday sun.
I hope that what is hers is also mine?

My mistress’ eye looks clear as it is glass
She lost her marbles playing with a fox
She’s good at letting ferrets rustle past
And feeding mice as well as darning socks.

My mistress dear, I gaze upon her breast.
I see her skin is warm and she does sweat.
I, too, have lusted and I have confessed
But still she grumbles  though she places bets.

In truth I am as fickle as a weed,

But each must act according to their need

Keep things clean except for the jokes

Grand Bridge Blenheim
Photo of Blenheim Lakes by Mike Flemming, 2015 copyright.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/stephanie-snay/household-cleaning-tips-f_b_6564996.html?utm_hp_ref=cleaning
Do you like dirty jokes?
Do you like sick humour?
Are you apolitically incorrect?
Do you suffer from muscle envy?
Fear not.Just take 2 aspirin and right a limerick.

Blenheim Elms 68 [800x600]
The lost elms at Blenheim By Mike Flemming

There was an old man from Vancouver
Who got his foot trapped in the hoover.
He cried,Oh,dear me
In the dustpan I’ll be…
No doubt hanging up dans le Louvre.

For Art is not beauty today
It’s a pissoir or madmen at play.
But I like to draw
What I have saw…..
Like the sun going down by Lyme Bay.

What sort of love do you cherish?
The secret or the one with much flourish?
Keep yourself whole
Sell not your soul..
For love, it is not wise to perish.

I have indeed erred and have sinned
For affectless living unkind.
So now I embrace all
By my long garden wall..
And often am over-entwined.

Oh,Lord do not make me a ball
I may look like string as I’m tall.
But I am flesh and blood
I am not  cloth or wood….
I be you pay heed to my call.

What number is God’s own cell phone?

Does he ever  text when  alone?

Or does he meditate

On our human fate…

Sometimes I hear a  sharp moan.

What do you wink?

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Sometimes  the best thing in life is to flee.

All good flings come to an end.

You are not the only chicken in  the. casket

He was so  odd he wore a hat in bed and a codpiece  when he fled.

I think blogging is for cowards.We can’t trace reality at all.

You can’t teach a cold blog hot tricks.

He said he was devilish,doctor.Is it a Satandemic?

The truth it cries

What,shall I grumble at a little ill,
And see a mouse grow to a chimpanzee?
Shall I moan and shriek and fall downhill
When I might look at mountains and broad sea?

Oh,shall I endlessly repeat the story sad?
And make my brother men be saddened too?
Or shall I spend my time with people glad,
And show my sister women, willing new?

I see that in my heart I must contain
Some painful,prickling agony and grief.
But knowing that my life comes not again
Shall I permit such woe to be my thief?

For, in a glance into a beggar’s eyes,
I saw compassion and the truth it cries.

All for my tea

He was only a piano tuner,but he was more than a forked man to me.
He was always very tendentious but I forgave him it all for my tea.
He had hands like a pair of mittens;there were pegs where his fingers should be.
He was only a working class hero,but at least he was an other to me.
He was like a Requiem after a Concerto; would he have accepted a plea?
He became a good therapist manque but he was far better than Freud was re his fee.
He was merely a dry land sailor,except when he went out to sea.
He wanted a ukelele but I preferred toast and hot tea.
He said he was an agent, double….but all he became was a pharisee.
He was neither fish not serpent;Thomas Cromwell he was not,not he!

Why are the poppies ?

6 – 12:51:50

We have to be breathing right to hear it,
the silence in which all song arises;
we have to be breathing slow and gentle
and not to be staring angrily at the world.
We have to be breathing right to feel it,
the tenderness in which we are held by nature.

We have to be breathing quiet and soft
and to be looking receptively,without desire.
We have to be breathing right to recall it
the music we heard when there was silence.
We have to be being breathed by the world
We have to be part of the whole..
and so,we forget it
as we are pounded by noise of radios and TVs
by people talking loudly on cell phones
by the green fields and river
by the secret heron
by the coots nest ,by the daisies

When I am dying  shall  I think
Why was I scarcely breathing?
Why did I forget those  joyous moments?
Why did I not live more deeply?
Why did I not sing more sweetly?
Why did I nor love more dearly?
Why did i not listen more carefully?
Why did I not sing more sweetly?
why did I not see more completely?
Why don’t we talk more gently?
Why don’t we look more intently?

Why are the poppies growing so wildly?
Why are the battlefields growing nightly?
Why do we murder  so lightly?
Why do we not love more rightly?
Why are the poppies covering the soil so politely?
Why did the young soldiers leave so frightfully?
Why are we not here more quietly?

Railway trees

6819924_f1126074c2_m brighter

When I saw you waiting in that cafe
I knew you would be mine.
You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were specially designed.
You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
I’m so broke up,so broke up;you don’t love me anymore.

I saw you on the station as I came from out the train.
You wore an old green parka to protect you from the rain.
I wanted to be one with you,to make a Love entire;
But all you did was give me pain too bad be endured

You walked away so quickly,I could not see you long.
I wish I had a big guitar to draw you back with song.
I looked at where you disappeared;what love has loss revealed?
I wish I could just lay down on this floor and keep my face concealed.

Railway stations sadden me, for I know we’ll never meet .
I won’t cry more ,for tears are running almost to my feet.
I walk fast looking straight ahead past that entrance gate,
I pretend that you have missed your train,that work was running late

I count from one and one up to a thousand and many more–
But I know for sure it’s far too late; you have closed that heavy door.
You are hiding in a dungeon
You are covered with white steel
But I know you had a heart and you must surely feel.I lost all my illusions,
and then I lost some more.
I wish I could lay down and die,right here on this floor.

Love of the dark

http://youtu.be/IEVow6kr5nI

I love Leonard Cohen when he’s singing his own songs
None I have been listening to have ever been too long
I love that hawk like nose and those mild sardonic eyes
Let me love you Leonard, for without you I might die.
I write these extra verses though your song is almost done
And I’m far too arthritic for the dance of Babylon
I want to keep your music playing to the very end
The gravel and the poetry make a perfect blend.
Let me hear you singing when I cross the final bar
You are,you are,you are,you are,you are my gleaming star.
Yes,you are

.In the order of the ways we have to take our chance
We will never ever know our cognitive dissonance

So beautiful

Love shines from your eyes
and makes your face so beautiful.
Smile has a rare beauty,
Like a foreign flower
transported into a bare English garden.
Though it’s winter out,
it’s summer in my heart
as I lose myself
in the warm colour of the sea within you

The patterns in our life histories

http://youtu.be/1xn7rjlOxfc?list=RD7WlV2z1dWcI
Innisfree

church23
Our church

http://youtu.be/pdKAuIkJCWs

My sister spent a long time trying to trace our ancestry as many people do now usually after they retire.And it seems an interesting topic
.But what was she really looking for? Was it just the names of the Irish towns they were born in or was it more?
Well.one intriguing fact is that both of our parents were born to fathers who were illegitimate.In the late 19th and early 20th century it may have been a source of shame.So they had no family on the father’s side.
In the case of my mother,she never mentioned this nor that her father had two sisters born to his mother after she had married .For she left him with her parents and brothers. He went down the pit when he was 14.I imagine he must have felt sad and angry when his mother left him behind.
When he was 24 he got married to a young Irish woman who gave him six children.Alas she died after the last child as they had no doctor there owing to poverty leaving him alone once more.This must have caused grief amongst the children but it was never expressed.My grandad was a very silent person.
So my mother was already affected by this when she met my dad.
Ironically he had exactly the same history except it was his father who had died relatively young and his mother never recovered and took to drink in a big way.
After his mother died my dad got married and had five children.Unfortunately he died after only 11 years leaving five children.And of course grief was forbidden to us children and we were crammed together physically but never talked about our loss.I can only imagine my mother’s feelings.
My mother’s idea of a Sunday treat was to walk us 1.5 miles to the cemetery.The grave of her mother was lost in some grass and even dad’s grave had no stone on it.Later grandad was buried there and my mum and after that a stone was placed there.
I have often suffered from grief and pain and looking back it’s not where theancestors came from that matters but their stories which contains illegitamacy hence loss a father figure,then further losses causes by illness or childbirth.And there was no NHS which might have helped.
Another factor was both my grandmothers were Irish and even in their children a feeling of loss and sorrow about losing their green home country was present.We all know how Britain treated the Irish in the 19th century… starvation was just one tool.TB was common among the immigrants and my grandmother lost her parents and two brothers to that when they were only in their thirties.There was tremendous prejudice here agains the Irish until black immigrants arrived!No Irish,No Jews, were signs that were displayed until the Race Relations Act in 1964.
[Until then Jews could not join many gold clubs.I learned this from my friend Cyril who is 98 years old.His wife came here on the train which saved a lot of Jewish children [Kindertransport.. must check spelling]She was shocked they could not join the golf club where all his fellow workers went.]
So my belief that it was my dad’s death that was the problem in my family seems imcomplete.
It’s strange how my parents married someone who had a similar sad background.Nevertheless there were good times.My grandfather took great joy in his 18 grandchildren and after he retired he got a beautiful dog which died the same week he died when I was 21.Soon after that my dentist committed suicide but thst has no connection to this story that I know of…

http://www.bereavementservicemk.org.uk/Organisations.htm

Reglue me with care

I once had a friend called Josuel
He was an immigrant, but what the hell?
He flew here from Heaven
Our bread for to leaven…
Yeah,the Lord is a Romanian from Devon.

He blessed all the birds and the bees
But the Government he sure liked to tease.
You are too corrupt,
He cried as he supped.
So they slung him up here ‘tween two trees.

After he died we had storms
And fires and floods and alarms
. We never perceive
Instead we deceive…
So by our fragmenting fears we are torn.

Collect up my fragments,Oh Lord
Strike me not dead with thy sword.
Reglue me with care
as my faults I lay bare.
Add my soul to thy heavenly hoard.

Take Maud

photo0274 3photo0274 2

Come to the garden,Claud.
I love both you and dear Maud
I may be bisexual
Extra-terrestrial.
But nobody seems to be awed.

Come to the garden,Claud.
I need to kiss and be pawed.
I may be a sinner
But don’t miss your dinner.
I put all my trust in the Lord.

Come to the garden,Claud.
It’s mother,coe blimey,oh Gawd.
She’s got out her rolling pin
She knows now just how I sin.
Best run away and take Maud.

Alcohol will make me sin

Oh,doctor I am in a flap
I cannot turn this childproof cap
I cannot take my medicine
So I shall toss it in the bin

The beta blockers make me down
I am in a study brown.
The mini aspirins make me bruise
And my mind is quite confused.

The ibuprofen hurt my heart
Yet without my dose I cannot start.
The thyroxine has no effect
So now I feel my life is drecked.

The codeine fails to make me high
I’m not addicted, though I try.
I’ll have to take a shot of gin
And alcohol will make me sin.

I’ll go to parties in a dress
That makes men’s hormones more or less.
I’ll take a big one home with me,
And give him poison in his tea.

And when I am in jail at last
I’ll feel remorse for all my past.
I fear I suffer dreadful pain
God has struck me yet again.

It’s not enough that I am blind
And suffer terrors in my mind
Not enough that lovers cruel
Give me stick instead of jewels.

Or maybe life does not make sense
Especially when one feels so tense.
For so random are my days
thus my life has gone astray.

I think that I shall buy a cat
And love it tenderly and chat.
But if my cat gives me a scratch…
I’ll light its tail up with a match.

All the world must me obey
Else I’ll be enraged all day.
I want my own way all the time.
Other people must conform.

I am here and full of ills
What do you think of these blue pills?
If they take away my heart
That at least will be a start.

Then they can remove my brain
To help me with this  fearsome pain.
Why not kill me right away?
Then I’ll be from pain astray.
.

Married ambivalence

The doctor said his heart had failed
So straight away his feelings quailed.
He went to bed to meet his end
And drove his sweet wife round the bend.
He got up after 13 days
And stuck his tongue out 13 ways.
He hardly ate his well made meals
And wanted trifle or he squealed.
His wife explained that failure meant
His energy would soon be spent,
But not that he would die next week…
Though diuretics made him leak.
She washed his trousers and his shirts
She washed his hankies but was curt.
They had some cross words and were sad
And then he jumped on her i pad.
I think it’s not right,Millie said
You make me feel this awful dread.
My heart is aching in my breast.

My life has had too many tests.
I want to die and go to rest.
Arthritis is a goddamned pest,
Not to mention cramp and flu
What must us old ladies do?
I shall be glad when life is done
But I shan’t use a bomb or gun.
I’ll lie outdoors in winter frost
To turn myself into a ghost.
Then I shall haunt those wh’ove hurt me
And drop live spiders in their tea.
I’ll moan out louldly by their beds
And make burned toast from  their  fresh bread.
I’ll sour their milk and spill their gin
And  bore holes in their biscuit tin.
Then when my rage is gone from me
I’ll only haunt the apple tree.
Oh,dear Millie,Arthur cried.
I want you here by my right side.
I am so sorry I am weak;
Sometimes I can hardly speak
But when the bulbs are all in flower
I will not feel  so down  and dour.
We’ll catch a bus to Bushey Heath
When the oak trees are in leaf.
From there we’ll see all London grey
Thank God we’re not there today.
Ok Sweetheart,Millie cried
I’m so glad we have not yet died.
I’ll wash your feet and comb your hair
And fold a blanket on your chair.
I’ll make a video for you
And mend with glue your old suede shoe.
I’ll wear some sexy clothes in bed
Just a minute,Arthur said.
If we make love then I will die.
Oh,dear, what a thing to say…
But if I die too we will  feel gay.
We’ll be in paradise at last…
And all our troubles will be past

As honeysuckle on the walls

They lay down in awe and fear

, Of what their love was bringing near.

They gazed into each other’s eyes

And so did rhapsodise.

They lay down to gaze into

the eyes and soul and heart so true.

They gazed until,when overcome,

They were united into one.

Their souls and bodies were conjoined,

And thus their hearts were well entwined;

As honeysuckle on the walls,

In joy’s sweet arbours does grow tall.

Their loving lips and eyes and hands

Gave pause to time’s soft flowing sands;

And while they touched and gazed so long,

The birds sang out in glorious songs.

The eyes are mirrors to the soul,

and love will make us grow more whole.

Gaze lovingly on humankind..

And hold care in your mind.

God learned English as a foreign language

:Nursery_Web_Spider_(8990141331)

[Wikimedia image of nursery spider]

I went to confession last night.
Did you really?
Yes,I wouldn’t tell a lie.
So who you tell,an enemy?
I told the priest.I said,I am resentful.
He said,Why?
I said,sorry. I meant I did something unprintable.
He said,Shall I guess?Is it animal,vegetable or mineral?
I said,No,human.
He said,humans are animals.
Yes,Father,I said.How did you know? Animals can’t speak.
He said,you have wool on your coat.
I said,Well it is winter.
He said,so you rollick with a sheep just to keep warm.
I said,What the hell are you talking about?
He said,I can read between the lines.
I said,But is that moral? Should you not read on them..?
He said,Well get on with it.
I said,What, here in church?
He said.Well the confessionals are here.
I said, You want me to bring the sheep here
No,he said,for God’s sake tell me your sins.
Then we heard a voice shout.
Get out,the both of you.
so God is Irish then… not Jewish?
No,he just learned English as a foreign language from an Irishman.
It’s unusual for an Irishman to speak Hebrew.
He was an irish Gnu.
Gnu, don’t you mean Jew?
No,do you?
Yes, their jokes are so good… it’s what some might call gallows humour.
None so bereft as those who do not sue.
Well,we have no money to sue anybody now….
Then for my penance I have to learn to knit.Is it hard?
I said,No,it’s just a matter of time and effort.
In that case I’ll just go to hell in a handcart.
Why bother when it’s right here on earth

Sculptures

Liverpool

Photo by Mike Flemming.2015.Copyright

Mike and I  met at University  in a choir and we both come from Lancashire so I decided to make him an honorary brother as I wanted a younger brother all my life.

http://www.visitliverpool.com/things-to-do/another-place-by-antony-gormley-p160981

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2011/apr/17/antony-gormley-iron-men-row
Not everyone likes works of art as they cost money…and now charities and councils are in trouble,should we scrap such sculptures.This is a perennial problem