Month: March 2015

Sad news for literature and languages studies

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/31/education/as-interest-fades-in-the-humanities-colleges-worry.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=edit_th_20131031&_r=0

In the USA and in the UK  we find fewer people are studying the humanities.Here it is because of the economic climate.. people wish to study “useful” subjects.Literature won’t get you a job,perhaps.It only enables you to live better.Already in schools the study of Greek and Latin has almost gone.

Economics still gets students………. odd considering that economists did not forecast the recession but were up to their necks in mathematical models.Economicis not a science and cannot be.I believe it’s a branch of philosophy in a broad sense.

I admit I did not study what we called “The Arts” at University but most of my friends did.But I read poetry.I liked Auden greatly.I read all the great novels.I read Doris Lessing and Iris Murdoch.I read Evelyn Waugh/I even readNabokov…. what a writer!And I read Shakespeare Plays.

But with the much higher fees,recession and other worries,fewer students will spend three years studying the humanities.Plumbing or Carpentry are better options

I am thinking of writing some new plays.

A  Fit Plumber’s Nightly Schemes

Witches astir.

Ham to let.

Sing Fear.

Make up for the Mind

A Midsummer Balls Up.

The Emptiest.

Please defreeze me,let me grow.

A man without limits

Much Ado about Hacking.

As you Recycle it.

Julius Seized the Emails.

Fool Us and Squeeze Us.

Twelfth Fright.

Hacked to Death.

The Blaming of the Guru,

Prospero Not.

http://www.debate.org/opinions/are-the-arts-too-elitist

http://theamericanscholar.org/the-decline-of-the-english-department/?key=55705194

Related articles

English grammar for forgetful people!

I used to publish on  an American website and somtimes people who were aspiring writers got teased  about their grammar so I wrote this for them and also to remind myself of a few of the rules… so it’s not meant to be condescending,

It’s and its

A cat loves its kitten.It's lovely to see them
A cat loves its kitten.It’s lovely to see them.

Three confusions

I learned grammar at school but when I began writing found I’d forgotten a lot of it .Here are three sets of confusing words

1. Its and it’s….This is the one many of us get wrong.

:”It’s” is usually  short for” it is”. sometimes for “It has” Otherwise there is no apostrophe separating the it and the s. So if you say “The cat took its prey behind the dresser” there is no apostrophe.

But if you say “It’s cold today” there is.

Sometimes “It’s” can be short for “It has” eg “It’s been raining all day”

2.Their and there.

Their coats,their possessions.Usage  is like that of my or your.

“They took off their clothes and fell into their cosy bed”

“There” refers to a place.”I thought I left my keys just there on the desk,but when I came in I found them there on the table.It’s related to “Here”

“Did you leave your coat here or was it out there by the porch?Isn’t it cold? It’s really freezing

tonight.The cat brought its kittens inside by the fire,.I gave the dog a bone and it’s really happy

now,out there.They have their own lives.”

3.Your and you’re

again,like in 1. an apostrophe indicates a missing letter.So” you’re” means”you are”

“You’re crazy if you believe that Hitler was not a dictator”

“You’re late again”

“You’re mine,You’re divine.You’re practically sublime”

“Your” denotes belonging to you.Like “Where is your coat? It’s on the chair with yours”

“What is your dad saying?”

“Your country needs you”

4.Conclusion:Apostrophes are a problem.We see signs in the market “apple’s 20p each”If in doubt,leave it out!

These are the three commonest confusions.Your work will look more professional if you’re well

versed in grammar.Other bloggers will  sometimes like to help you with your work.It’s nothing to be ashamed of  to ask for guidance.Or consult your public library or buy a secondhand English grammar [but they can be too complicated]

Every dog has its day,Every cloud has its silver lining.It’s time for me to go so I’ll end there and let

everyone find their own needs out.

******Words or phrases that sound the same are not always written the same.****************

I hoope this iss a helpful shart articel fur mi reeder’s to larn frum.Iff nott ,kindley iggnore

Photo

Everyone can get their own shopping there
Everyone can get their own shopping there

Life and other terminals

The main purpose of sex is multiple onanisms.
Children are deceived half way through a womans bicycle.
Sex should not cause rubble in bed.
Remember a joke can aid your text life
Married folk can kiss on the Sabbath only and must not work at it
Please do not whore coal in the bath.
Please repress yourself in the kitchen.
Do not split up before dinner.
Do not separate eggs in a bowl.
Please warm the oven before cooking your goose.
Please light the fire before putting Polly on.
Coal is back in fashion.Smoke in comfort,just breathe.
Do you have trouble weeping?
Did your wife leave home with a suitcase?
Better the devil you sow.
After a time,life will be deranged.So bear up
Do you prefer text to sex?You are not alone!
Try to remember all the other people of worth.
If self involved you will save money on dates and raisins.
My whole life flashed by as I fell off the step.Then I fell off a ladder and it flashed by again in colour.Now I’ve had enough and am moving to a bungalow in Holland.
Sex is not bad as things go and being a thing it went
The weals of life are mainly on the interface.
My husband wears rubber pyjamas so I bounce around all night and I’ve lost a stone already.It was in my ureter.Then it wasn’t.
Please get divorced before marriage as a refusal often offends.Two cats

Post sent from my u- phone.
Fly with Whore Airlines cheap and fast.
Also whore multimedia is the best.
Try our new smartbones for the dead.
Swearing a problem?I have a degree in cursing.
Get yours in a month with my free u boat.
Sorry,F”””.. book.Only £7 to pensioners.Free to bankers
Angels needed.Apply with sin
,

Paul Tillich and I: The Courage To Be

Paul Tillich photo

Tillich 1You know this experience, sometimes when you are browsing in a bookshop you come across a book with a wonderful title. This happened to me as  student when I saw a book with this title:

“The courage to be ”

by Paul Tillich

I was going through a hard time and just the title alone helped me as no one I knew had ever said it takes courage to live well.So I bought this book and dipped in. I found it interesting and thoughtful.Sometimes I would just look at the front cover and repeat the title.I had discovered mantra meditation.in a sense.

This morning I was listening to a radio programme  about poetry in England and tidying up. Suddenly my old battered copy fell out of a shelf and into my hand.And I said, thank you. Because I had  lost this companion and now it’s restored to me when I need again to say the words to help me in a personal crisis.

The Courage to Be

And to recognise the power of words on the human mind and thus to take care of  self and others and what we say to them for they too are struggling humans as we ourselves are.

And to discover virtue is not faux piety which suddenly reminded me that Tillich had a weakness for women. He was no plaster saint. I am not saying. I approve.

Had he stayed in Germany he would no doubt have been imprisoned even killed like Dietrich Bonhoeffer.He would not have been silent

Books… they save lives. I was so grateful and still am for education, books, people who talk to me .Had I lived a few years earlier it would have been different.

http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/595850/Paul-Tillich/7266/Development-of-his-philosophy

Tillich was expelled from Germany in 1933,the first non-Jewish theologian to have this honor bestowed on him.I never saw him but I love him for his writing.

Loneliness expresses the pain of being alone and solitude expresses the glory of being alone.
Paul Tillich
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/p/paul_tillich.html#y15kkZigwdviBd76.99

My toes

I have to go to the gynae oncology
So they can study my ass’s topology.
I can’t see it myself
For love or for wealth.
But I do feel what one might call neurotology

I sleep with a light on my nose
And a flask of gin next to my toes
I dream through the dark
As I sail on my ark.
But where that is, only me knows.

In dreams we can process our lives
without cutting our brains up with knives.
Mind surgery’s free
Or at least it should be.
But who knows what surgeons connive?

He rolled his own eyes and smoked them

He rolled his eyes on the television.Je ne pays pas son license.
She met his eyes down the street en passant and pleasant
His eyes narrowed as they passed through the Thames Barrier;quod errant demons tantrum
His eyes were askew as they sailed in the dinghy down the river bed.Que sera tara
His eyes said,hello babe.Non erat liberace
His eyes roamed about wildly. Kyrie eleison
The cat’s eyes were missing as they drove down the main road. Ite missa pest
His eyes were all over her and she was a full bosomed lady of ample means. Heilige snacked
Her eyes never mated with his although he gave her a large glowering look.Stille nacht.
Your eyes are not sharp enough,the teacher said as I broke the lead in my pencil.Mal a la tete!
His eyes melted the ice round her heart as they caressed her with tender pity.
Oh,mio solo
His eyes spoke volumes but no-one wrote it down so it is lost to posteriority.Amen
Her eyes were as hard as diamonds but in reality she was a soft touch.O mio sho low
My eyes dropped and I looked ashamed of myself.Kyrie illusion
My eyes stammered all down his sweet face. Que sera?
Her eyes ran and so did she…. that seems logical to me.QED
My eyes watered and the plants were rejuvenated.Non tolerante les diables.
Your eyes are too bold,the doctor said.Wear dark glasses and keep away.Niger est superiore
I put my eyes on hold and then forgot!Esta la vista de pleurs
Do eyes count? Numinousity
Are eyes free? Liberare mei
My eyes twinkled when I read his letters.Je l’adore.
My eyes are just stars really.Visible retinae
My eyes are in bed today,Ou est le trouve?
My eye,my eye,my kingdom for an eye….le chat est le mort d’arthur.

Last requiem in pace

acw

‘The joy of losing one’s self

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There are trends in society to encourage us to build our self esteem and to value ourselves… to develop and achieve  a place suited to our talents.. but what is best for me is when I lose myself in something.I was reading an old blog of a friend and was quite absorbed and went into a different state of mind..then I regretted I don’t manage to lose myself enough being  a housewife and having much on my mind and being busy.

Sometimes it can happen when we love a person.Sometimes a wonderful landscape feels like home.. other times a sunset across the Irish sea from the cliffs of the Isle of Man where myriad butterflies swirl and float over flowers and rocks.

Modern life, the News,talk,excitement of the wrong sort seem to lock us into  our self and frighten us so we forget the value of fining something in which to lose ourselves and grow as a result. Sitting by a river  fishing,knitting,sewing,a book, many things can elicit this response  And remember how horror filled was the self consciousness of adolescence and how good to forget one’s self being more comfortable and accepting of appearance and image..How to live like a wild flower for a time… and be happy not to be a rose but just a tiny wild geranium or a moderate  sized  gentle pink flower in a arden

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How even the best writers are affected by bad reviews

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I have mentioned that I very much liked the writer Kenneth Gergen and especially his book,” The saturated society”

http://identitythoughts.wordpress.com/2009/02/11/the-saturated-self-dilemmas-of-identity-in-contemporary-life-kenneth-j-gergen-pt-2/

http://www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs/article/view/553/1198e”

I think it’s  beautifully written and explains the bad side of post modernism but also how differently it could be used.He got a very good review on the Washington Post but later got a terrible one in the NYT.In an interview he told how this affected him badly until the man who wrote the review died ten years later,I’ll put a link in here later.http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=SweMLEe6TpgC&pg=PA294&lpg=PA294&dq=kenneth+gergen+the+saturated+self++washington+post+review&source=bl&ots=_lKF4I_lVi&sig=VEbgQl1ZpIwcLgfw3S5M5sI9__U&hl=en&sa=X&ei=JJ_VUtfLEeaP7AaviYHwCA&ved=0CGwQ6AEwCA#v=onepage&q=kenneth%20gergen%20the%20saturated%20self%20%20washington%20post%20review&f=false.

!He used to wake up at night with thoughts of what he’s like to do to this person.This shows how even someone of high quality can be wounded easily/

Most people who read English novels have heard of Virginia Woolf. She was highly acclaimed yet had breakdowns whilst awaiting reviews .Eventually she committed suicide during WW2.Her husband was Jewish and she was afraid of what would happen if the Germans invaded Britain.

But her mental health was fragile after losing her mother and favourite older sister in her teens and also possibly being sexually assaulted by her half brother.Despite al this she had  much happiness and is one  of the most highly acclaimed women writers of the 20th century…not much good  to her of course

Sylvia Plath a great poet  a generation after Woolf also committed suicide and later became known as one of the best poets of our time

http://www.neatorama.com/2008/03/18/writers-who-suffered-from-the-sylvia-plath-effect/#!scilW

Would you like to be a tormented genius and enter the literary canon or just be an ordinary,moderately happy person? Most of us are not so gifted in any case.

Some of us believe that others with more gifts,more money,more winning personalities are much happier,but it’s not true.Many geniuses are troubled.

On the other hand being troubled ,by itself, will not make you a genius.

Trapped

monday-30-april-2012-034Trapped behind bars?

Can’t stop thinking?Read this article.Can’t stop reading.

Think about :

Doris Lessing

Moving house

Extending your kitchen

Getting your hair cut off and buying a wig.

Streaking in church

Shrieking in church

Seeing visions

Having a siesta

Fantasise about sex

Fantasise about chastity

Take a quiz for Aspergers

Take a test for mensa.

Convert to a new religion

See a therapist.

Bake a cake.

Have a bath

Go to bed with the Vicar

Go to bed with the Rabbi

Buy a bike

Related articles

It seems we all have a touch of narcissism As well as paranoia and grief.

Sometimes it’s hard to realise
that other people are our equals
in this existence game;
that they each have a mind and world of their own.
But now I think of this,
Isn’t it wonderful that there are all these worlds
And that I’m not the centre of the universe.
And if God cares for a sparrow
I like Him.
Though what He is
Is not expressible in our language.
How dull life would be
If I were the only real person in it
And if I wanted every one to admire me
And think well of me.
And how sweet it is to love an other,
Eye to eye,
Skin to warm skin.
and how the sun was so red at daybreak
and the bare twigs gleamed in its light.
and how precisely you are different from me
Yet I can understand you, at least in part.
We are all absolutely important
And yet paradoxically unimportant.
And how sweet it can be to lose oneself
to become entranced by creation,In or with another
Or by a loved one;
By being with children.
Worlds and worlds unfold.
All we need is respect.
Be an other lover,today
.

The tale of the coffee loving cat  

Stan was sweeping the garden path.He had a stiff broom with a small head that was useful for cleaning the edges of the steps.Emile, his beautiful cat was sitting in the old apple tree Tiggergazing down on Stan.
“Is it time for coffee yet,”Stan asked himself.He had forgotten to put on his watch.
Suddenly he heard a shriek.He peered through a hole in the fence.His neighbor Anne was lying on her back in some mud.
“Hang on,I’ll come round!” he called.
There was a gate in the old fence which was rarely locked
since she loved to drop in on Stan.
“Oh,,how are you feeling?” he asked her anxiously.
“Bloody annoyed.I’ve only just bought these,”Not your daughter’s jeans” and now I’ve torn them,” she replied politely.
“But you don’t have a daughter!” he informed her loudly.
“I know that.It’s just they are better cut for the mature figure.”
“Your figure is not mature.You are quite slender.my dear,” he murmured lovingly.
“Well,I never feel happy with it!” she said mutinously.
“Whereas I am very happy feeling it,” he responded romantically.
Tears came into her green eyes lined with purple eye shadow.Alas,it was not waterproof and purple rivulets ran down her cheeks across the peach blusher with which she had valiantly decorated herself earlier.
“Can you get up?” he asked tenderly.
“Yes, but it would be nice if you picked me up.”
He leaned over her and licked the purple streams of tears off her cheeks.
“I hope it’s not poisonous,” she murmured.
Then with the aid of Emile,he lifted her to her feet and helped her into her large trendy kitchen.
The kettle switched itself on as they entered and a robotic voice asked if they’d like coffee.
“God in heaven,what the hell is that?” he cried confusedly.
“It’s my new computerized hot drink maker.After that fall I think a double espresso would be good.”
Emile ran in and asked for coffee too.
“Emile,you usually have milk,”Stan reminded him softly.
“Well,coffee is a new taste for me but I like a little.”
the cat whispered sweetly.
“I’ll give you some of mine in a saucer,” Stan replied.
Emile began to sob.
“Why Emile,whatever is wrong?”
“I want a cup and saucer just like you” the cat howled.
But you have no hands,Emile,” Stan reminded him.
The poor cat was crying loudly now.So Stan rang 999.
“Can you please send the emergency ambulance round.the cat’s crying and all his hankies are in the wash.”#
Soon Dave,the transvestite paramedic appeared.
“I love your light teal kitchen,” he informed Annie,
“And your eyes look like two deep pools in a coal mine.”
She slapped his cheek naughtily.
“Have a look at Emile” she ordered him sweetly.
He turned to the cat who was sitting on the dark pine table.
“Here,Emile,I got you some Kleenex for Cats in Sainsbury’s.” he said gaily.
“I want a real hanky,”cried Emile.Dave took a clean hanky from his own pocket and dried the cats tears.
“What made you cry.Are you feeling bad.”
“Yes,I want to go to Cafe Nero,” Emile mioawed.
“Who told you about that?”
“Another cat down the road has been and he said it’s lovely for people watching.”
“The town is not safe for cats like you,Emile.”
Dave urbanely replied,
“But when summer come I’ll take you to the out of town
Marks and Spencer’s.They have a cat’s coffee corner upstairs.”
“Wow,isn’t it amazing,”Stan wondered out loud.
So Dave poured out the coffee and they all sat down and
discussed Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein.
Ray has discovered that Wittgenstein liked cats but as he moved around quite a bit,he never owned his own cat
though Elizabeth Anscombe let him play with her three cats now and then.
We may all be different but most of us value the love of a good cat.Even boiling their hankies and ironing them is very nice.We all have this problem though.
Where can a cat carry his own hanky?
Do cats need shoulder bags?
What would Wittgenstein say?
Nothing is my guess.
Whereof one cannot speak..

Wire lambs embolden

Silence emboldens.
See red ,sweet maid,I bet you’re very clever.
He looks as bold as he feels.
He feels me very touching
Thank you very much for the poetry ironer.
So is this a good mien…
Some clotheads insult me without even gnawing.
He broke up with her as all the windows in his house fell in when he made love on Sundays.
But surely it was an act of God; he was trying to reap moles on the Sabbath.
And he shot a chicken when it tried to cross the road.
He was deficient in elasticity….he needs a rubber soul…………………. and a tin heart
She has Mall a la tete.
I have ’em all a ma tete.Wire lambs

Thank you for your funny face

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Thanks for all  those calls and emails,
Thanks for caring that I’m here.
In my darkest, lonesome moments
These replies will keep you near.

Thanks for answering all my letters
Thanks for the rich time you give.
Thanks for sharing heartfelt thoughts
And being so generous with your love.

Thank you for your wit and grace,
Thank for your funny face.
Thank you for your deep blue gaze and
Thank you for your warm embrace.

Thank you,thank you,thank you,thank.
Love you,love you,love you,Love.
Thank you,thank you,thanks to you,
Because,because,because,Becaus all

Two limericks

  • new windows

    That is no hat, it’s a lion;
    The label says its name was Brian.
    To think that it’s dead
    And sits on your head.
    Thank the Lord it’s not Ariel from Zion

  • Photo0374

    I like to read medical humour
    Or tales about school childrens’ bloomers.
    Do they still err at subtraction
    And large vulgar fractions;
    Or start off  wild hysterical rumours

Mostly they work out of sight

coloured tree and sshadowI am unsure if I’m suffering from trauma.
Or from eating a dish of beef korma.
I felt shaky all day
As if I were prey,
But the doctor says,Who’d want to harm y’?

I am unsure if I was confused
By a man whose two eyebrows were fused.
He got it in one,
By the beard was undone.
I scratched his face,just to bemuse

I guess mother feared the Old Devil
And the drunken orgies at his revels.
She warned he had hooves
And about how he moves.
Though he can seem quite charming and civil.

But it’s real men who cause us dismay
As on us sweet women, many prey.
They may fast and pray too,
And cry,How do you do?
Run from “good” ones without more delay.

For saints do not boast of their might
And how they have reached to the most dizzy heights.
They are self forgetting and plain
Use no-one for their gain.
Mostly they work out of sight

The little bird

6378673_f260

A bird taps on this window every day,
Fast as flying leaves flail  in a gale.
But now he perches on the potted bay.
He feels the weather as the blind do braille.

This bird is faithful and I love him dear.
He’s fearless as he pecks upon the glass.
I hope he has a modicum of fear,
For who knows when a sparrow hawk will pass?

I see him like a human soul forlorn
Struggling to discern his own true way.
For soon he may be taken by a storm
But blithely he will eat, and after play.

The smallest bird has trust in the Unknown
By his example, our right way is shown

Oh,dear I’ve lost my battery.

Photo1174

http://youtu.be/vwzBod_Tnfw

Oh,dear… what can the matter be
i’ve not written a sonnet since Saturday
Oh,dear,what a calamity
My head was set up in the air.

I promised to write a poem or a melody.
I promised I’d help Gray to rewrite his elegy.
I promised my lover some energy.
My head has flown off and it’s where?

Oh,dear,my home’s not in Battersea.
I fear my home looks real slatternly.
Oh,dear,my knitting is patternly.
My head’s like a Viking’s,so there.

I promised to write a note late last Saturday
I said I’d pay you a salary.
I promised to paint you a gallery.
My eyes have got stuck,so I glare.

I like antiques from Abbleby
I like a sinner with dignity.
I once ate half of a dictionary.
That’s why my cupboard’s not bare

Did Munch have premonitions about the 20th century?

  • munch_ashes_388.jpg__600x0_q85_upscale

    http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/edvard-munch-beyond-the-scream-111810150/?all&no-ist

    Munch was much more prolific than many of us realise.ii feel he was psychic;that he foresaw the horrors to come.
    In particular,the situation in the Middle East now is a direct consequence of how Britain and France behave after W W 1 when they divided up the Ottoman empire.Most of the States there did not exist… and have never functioned very well.
    I wonder why Arabs seem to have been despised when they had a marvelloulsculture and invented algebra for example…societies rise and fall as the British Empire has done

  Rain stopped prayer today

Rain stopped prayer today.
It never drains when it pours.
I never complain till my heart roars.
He pestered me,flustered me,beseeched me,admired me ,then threw me off like a used old coat as he had ten women lined up already waiting for him.not to mention his wolf… I mean,wife.Woof woof.
What a liar..but to do him justice he’s very trying and none can compare in sighing with self pity.. sometimes witty,
Floods washed my heart away and I feel lost.
There’s many a true word spoken as  a test.
Endurance is the only way  to get rhymes
A few words are best not spoken.
Better to touch than to strike a hard blow.
“Tis better to have lived with cost,than never to have lived at all.
Better to have trusted and lost than to have manipulated to a self serving end.
Where have all the showers gone?
I love you only once a day.
I love you when I see you pray
Wisdom is the king of humour.
Spite is the malady that  kills.
He shall tear his frock…. stop stealing my clothes and tear your owm
Was Jerusalem built here,in England’s mares and evil spheres?
We here believe Jesus was white and an Englishman,
I wish you a merry Litmus.
He needs his head resting,doctor
Please don’t leer at the women.They are all wearing vests at least
I was tried many times and pleaded for sanity.
Where have all the old men gone?
Old men are more malicious as their nerves are torn.
If,homeless kindly sleep in Church.Thank me,too.
If depressed kindly weep in Church.
If shy,please don’t mention it.
If worried you may gnaw your embroidered kneeler.
If paranoid,we are looking at you sideways.
If fasting,kindly faint quietly.
If abstaining,please weep softly.
If dead please report to the Vicar.
If wicked ,please play away tonight.
Tread lightly for I have shared all my dreams and you have used me badly.
Don’t stop till the gnats have all stung.
The vicar went out with a wrangler from Cambridge.
If you need legal advice you are in the wrong place.
Fish and whips available in the bookstore.
Handcuffs are going up as Marks And Spencer go down…
If completely expired keep mum.
If past your use by date don’t rot till after the service then kindly place your body in the compost heap and you can call your soul your own for a while.
Men often have an idea of themselves totally remote from the truth.
And women keep quiet out of pity.
Whip up a mouse for the desert.
If weighed down by sins kindly recycle them in the church Bin.

For why not a kingdom with more than one hour for a story

Oh,rather rich and smart in Devon.4662161_f260 3
Hello,how’s your man?
His party’s won, his bill is fun
On both,he’s no Bevan
Live like today’s publicly plead
And relieve all those trespassers
As we don’t love all who whisper against love
We plead for no more deportations of women.
For why not a kingdom with more than one hour for a story
Moreover will it happen again?4655668_f260If we don’t lov

It can be good to feel bad

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I have at last found criticism of “mindfulness” and also the idea that negative emotions may have purpose and may be essential to us

You might think this is just another self help book but it’s not.I believe it’s well written and sensible and also I like the idea that we want to lose oursleves sometimes.When I am writing that can happen and it’s wonderful.

“The power of negative emotion” by Todd B Kashdan and Robert Biswas-Diener

When love is nothing but a word

When love is nothing but a word,
When our deep feelings can’t be shared.
When joy and woe unwoven lie
When we can’t speak, except to sigh…..

When we are lost behind the glass,
When burdened feelings never pass,
When no-one is a trusted friend
When we are scared but cannot bend.

When love embodied goes away
When we are numbed but cannot say.
When we are rigid with the strain.
When life has little but such pain

We suffer as our will has gone
And we’ve no task to lure us on.
We need to know we’re not alone
That love can penetrate a stone.

That, like the Christ, we rise to life
When we endure with will its strife.
When we accept that all is lost,
But wish to live despite the cost.

Then we are saved as are the flowers
Which decorate the fields and bowers
Though all shall crumble into dust,
While we’re alive we’ll slake our lust

Yellow limericks

Dandelion’s good for the bladder.
And for feeding to snakes like wild adders.
If you turn yellow tonight
Tell your husband you might.
I wish I had brought a tall ladder.

I’d see you like butter in bed
As on the white sheet you are spread.
I’d make a green salad
Or write you a ballad.
Better to be yellow than dead

I’d glance into your window to see
How puzzled your partner might be.
And what will he do
With the cheese in your shoe?
I almost regret I shan’t see.

In Praise of Melancholy and How It Enriches Our Capacity for Creativity | Brain Pickings

This is very interesting

marksolock's avatarMark Solock Blog

http://www.brainpickings.org/2014/11/28/against-happiness-melancholy-wilson/

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Writer’s dock

The lake in the park

Writer’s dock.1.A place for parking writers.

Writers’ dock..2.Where writers are tried for crimes such as plagiarism,poor imagination and bad errors of lovement

Writer’s pluck..~Rare courage in entering the Unconscious to find new Images.

Writer’s  knock. … the strange way nervous writer’s knock on the table at meal time.

Writer’s fluke…unexpectedly good word or sentence arrives in the mind of a beginner

Writer’s puke… reading awful stufff that makes you sick.
Writers flock…… writers who all write the same way.
Writer’s smock… a cotton tunic with pockets for pens etc to keep one’s clothes clean while writing or playing withink and
throwng paper darts across the  library

For all ,Cat licked every tear…

cat-pen-and-flower-collage2

Ray Queers cat’s in parquet.
They are waiting for our partitions.
Say but the word and my sole shall be heeled.
Guarded the angels from seven sodomites.
Hail glorious St Hat Trick.
Lord, it’s hearsay.
Lord, I’m worser
Forgive all dear trespassers.
Blessed is the foot of thy broom.
Pay for us now and the whore at our death.
I believe in none,God.
The communion of taints.
But Joseph had a bee.
Jesus wants me for his bathroom.
The Ten Demanding Torments are here.
Have you paid your wrecks yet?
For all the saints who laboured at their tests
For all the painted ghosts
Remember man thy tart is bust
Ash to ash,dust if you must
For give us an hour’s trespassing and we shall be in heaven already.
Please do as you would have fun by

Mother knew rest

Cats five in in

There’s many a true word spoken to test.
Was it ever true that mother knew rest?
Is it wrong to begin a sentence with words such as “but”?
Or will you merely look like a devilish foot?
There’s many a slip between top and hip.
Is there time now for my daily quip?

Never begin sentences without a remand
But should you wish to start them with a word like “and”,
Make sure you study the lines of the land
There’s many a lie that’s told in pure terror.
And many good actions are done in error.
Moreover,if you think that logic is essential for men
Never end a sentence with words such as “when.”
Rules are useless when gambling with crooks.
Never use words that are rude such as “fux.”
Thus if you are still with me at this rage of the game..
Fill out the form and set it aflame

The diet of worms [Strong language]

They’re hunting snails
In New South Wales
They’re hunting bees,
And shooting trees.
They’re hanging worms
For lengthy terms
They’re on a diet
And don’t we know it.

The diet of worms shall be our fare
And on the bible. we shall swear.
We’ll swear our oath
We are not loth
We’ll strangle frogs
They’ll die in bogs.

We’ll always use four letter words
And they shall be our hunting swords.
We’ll kill the good
We’ll burn the wood.
We’ll shout out,fuck.
We’ll burn the book

We’ll let no thin skinned people live.
We’ll always take and never give!
We’ll use our charms
To quell alarms.
We’ll rape the girls
Cut off their curls.

For as we’re human, so we’re mad.
We kill the good and love the bad.
We saw the babe in Bethlehem
We saw him die between two men.
We did not run to cut him down
We said,Oh,fuck,another clown.
For he spoke love
And said to give.
For he spoke peace;
Let joy increase

For like most human,we are crazed
We see it a we’re not amazed.
No sunset red
No welcome bed
No golden dawn
No welcome morn
No loving arms
No sacred charms
No newborn king
No tune to sing

Oh,we are damned
We are broke
We built Auschwitz
Saw the smoke.
And now it’s built again,again
Drops the bomb
In Bethlehem.
And on our knees, we women crawl
To bury babies born too small.
To take the swords from these mens’ hands
And bury them in desert sands.
To pick up scraps of humanness
To hold up hands for God to bless.
We did it wrong,we did it bad
We never thought, so now we’re mad