Motor Lodge by John Drury, [An American poet from Ohio]

“So this is it, experience,” I thought,

lugging tin buckets from the ice machines

to rooms of real adults with cigarettes,

mixed drinks in plastic cups, and proffered coins.

I reached out for their blessings, but the tips

were nothing next to rumpled, unmade beds

at four in the afternoon, women in slips

and men in t-shirts while the TV played.

Down in the laundry room, I counted sheets,

stunned by the musk that vanished in the wash,

and balled up soggy towels that down the chutes

exploded in bins. Before the evening rush,

avid and timid for what I glimpsed at work,

I left, hanging my gold vest on a hook.

Irony and other droll matters

http://www.dailywritingtips.com/what-is-irony-with-examples

I believe that we English people use irony more than other folks do,although I’ve not carried out any surveys.I am waiting for the government to give me 5 million pounds to carry out a short research project on this.

Now,if you hear someone say

This government is the best one since King Alfred burnt the cakes or since Queen Elizabeth the first lost her virginity,you would guess they did not mean exactly what they said. BTW what kind of cakes did Alfred make? More importantly,what kind of oven did they have in those days.We had one adjacent to a coal fire so to bake or roast the fire had to be well alight and going strong.Burning cakes was not too easy because there was no thermostat and the fire tended to die down.So you could not turn the knob around by accident or for fun as my brother did in 1947 on our gas cooker when my mother had put all her eggs,dried fruit etc together to make a Xmas cake… rationing was still on and besides we were quite poor then.A cake like that needs a long time to bake on a low heat.So it was ruined and although I was only a baby then I can hear the shouting now.Had my brother been the king then,no doubt he could have put all the family into prison where at least they would have got a slice of roast pigeon and some stale Xmas cake…. probably left over from Saxon times.Come to think of it,were the Saxons Christians and if not how come they made Xmas cake? Now if the Royal family had gone to Amazon and bought an oven timer history would be quite different now.I wonder what Alfred was doing? Was he enjoying the delights of his Queen? Now in my baking book it says

Never make love while waiting for a cake to bake.Not even to yourself.It will distract you.

Personally I’d admire anyone who got turned on after spending hours mixing the ingredients and preparing the cake tin but maybe I am unusual.How would I know if I were?I can hardly go around asking if they find making a cake arousing.I’d have thought that it’s what you do when you are frigid as you hope the oven might warm you up.On no account must you try to make love in the oven on a household cooker because it’s not possible.Why?That requires a lot of thought.Basically it’s all about size.Now if Queen Victoria had baked instead of having so many children the history of Europe would have been very different.The Kaiser was her grandson and because his mother was Victoria’s first child he believed he should have been King of England.Now if he had been,would there have been a war?Is there any point in speculating like this?Again I need a research grant to carry out …. research.Speculating can be dangerous sometimes.Again soe folk like gambling and others like playing Solitaire.Vive la difference.Oy vey.Amen

Now if Victoria had stuck to jam and cream filled sponges the world would be utterly transformed and we would all be speaking a different language…but which?

Leaves

To try to explain scientifically

why leaves fall off trees in autumn

or in particular

why a certain leaf fell before the others

would be very difficult

and take the mind away

from enjoying the spectacle.

“Go with the flow”

Or “gone with the wind”

“Do not go gently into that good night.”

We have no choice

Only acceptance or refusal

What makes a poem a poem?

When I was writing this,I could feel myself as a bird up in the sky looking down at the earth,the hills and the lakes.And I still feel that now.However in my opinion it is not a real poem unless other people also feel something of that when they read it.I find it’s so easy to think you have written something good because you feel so good during or after the writing.But that does not mean it is good,objectively.I might feel good mixing up eggs, flour,sugar and butter but if I don’t know how to bake it will probably not become a cake however good the making feels.I know it’s not exactly the same but I hope you can grasp the point.I suppose it might be true of love as well…Feelings alone are insufficient.

Here is a useful website

http://www.dailywritingtips.com/telling-a-good-poem-from-a-bad-one/

THE LARK

Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.
Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang ,and dipped,and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.
I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.
I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark,
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.
Do it again,
For me,

Abstract

Peace and Succour

Be wary.This is a song and I may post a video of myself singng it!

True imagination is a friend

Images both peace and succour bring.

Reality and dream must blend

Before I sing my unique song

As in our dreams at dead of night

We visit loves who’ve gone before

These visions shed a gentle light

Then we ache and long for more.

I fall into a deep and quiet reverie

When I have patience with this pain.

This is his joyous gift to me

And it will come again.

Oh,let me sing my song for then

I’ll tell how I both loved and lost my man.

And yet I feel his humorous gaze

Which will be with me all my days.

The music constantly reminds

Of touch and kisses and his light filled eyes.

The scene like any film unwinds

Says, to be truthful satisfies

Well-being!

A new poet on WP

Autumn Ambles

smile emoticon kolobok Bipedal steed awaits with nonchalant ease
Diurnal practice of the rider’s mount;
Fair distance has been growing by degrees,
The mileage on the speedo keeps account.

Of late the rider wears a trendy hat
Lest mishap should assail his hairless head,
His eyes demand protection ‘gainst the gnat
Who wanders willy-nilly, ’tis the dread.

The hour of the day when he appears
Is likely to be in the later morn,
Oft, duty casts their trysting in arrears
Their passionate encounter must adjourn!

Inclement climes despoil their fun-filled jaunt,
Though rider can be seen on stepping steel;
Foul weather resolution cannot daunt,
Long may well-being feed such zeal.

Eurythmic routine pleasures as it trains –
Our hearts, our bodies, spirits and our brains.

(From: New Ventures)

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Flowers for the weekend – large oil on canvas – circa 1980

A most beautiful paintint

My Life as an Artist (2)

I painted this large oil on canvas as part of a series in 1980

I hope everyone enjoys a wonderful weekend….filled with flowers and magical hummingbirds….

A Bientôt

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Forgot?

A sonnet has three verses of four lines each which rhyme in a certain way as you can read in mine.Then the have two lines at the end which should be succinct.Shakespeare’s sonnets are the most well known and rightly so

My error

I live a life that many would enjoy

My home and garden artists would admire

And yet my heart is sad and I feel flawed

As my real life fits not to my desire.

I married for the money that I’d gain

and for the house and garden of my dreams

Yet looking back my error is quite plain

That love cannot be found by she who schemes.

I gave birth to a six children whom I love

My sons and daughters are my living joy.

Yet I fear vengeance from the God above…

I made my husband’s life into my toy.

And yet he seems so happy with his lot

Perhaps my traitorous heart has been forgot

Superfish and Stan….Mary says,Amen or Hey,men!

Stan’s new laptop computer with Windows 8.1 seemed very good but he had discovered that “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.So Mary had read.
What a pest when this happens. to stupid young or old 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 hairdressers usually took 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 probably hate it as he liked her wild look.Even though she nevr wore the thick makeup and turquoise eyeliner of her friend Annie.
What is that big white dressing in your cleavage,madam, the manager asked Mary courteously
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 thoughtfully
How could such narrow minded scholars teach that,Mary replied pensively.They have none.Or not much.Well.they could download it from the web.A self teaching aid.There’s a creative notion,she told herself..

But why do we have to learn it @Mary continued quietly.Is it not part of our natural development like learning to speak? Even 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 de-sacralised and bankers steal from the poor and men make whores from young immigrant women who have no idea where to get help.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.She rushed out without paying but they all knew who she was,
When Mary opened the front door of her detached bijou residential red brick home she heard Emile the little cat sobbing under the bureau in the entrance hall.
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.Love you,Mary,
Mary then removed the 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 than merely recovering from various operations..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.Amen.

A day with a stranger

[Photos by Mike Flemming copyright]

Catalpa bignonioides aurea_15-4 [1024x768]

The holy and their rivals.

A day with a ranger.

Astray and in danger.

A little down,in Bethlehem.

God tests you very gentlemen.

Deck your balls with burning holly

Away with a stranger.

Oh,do not frown in Bethlehem.We keep quite still and sigh.

Angels we have heard then cry

Give me icecream or a lolly.The jolly with outsized knees

Zion blights

Outrageous and evil

Spies with lights

Cries and slights

Can women bite?

Men shall fight

All is warm,set me alight.

Dance in sight

Taking down the cards

Tonight I decided to take down the cards

with their condolences

good wishes

and assurances that I am a strong woman

And mixed with them was just one

of your birthday card.s

Well.I shan’t be seeing any more of those

I’m not planning to have another partner,mate or spouse.

But if one turned up

out of the blue

I’d have to see how I felt about him or her or them

Maybe a goldfish is less trouble

As they never say things like

I never want to speak to you again.

I never wish to see your handwriting again.

Why are there no socks in my drawer?

But neither do they hug or kiss.

Cold.

“Love” by George Herbert

George Herbert. 1593–1632

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning	5
If I lack’d anything.

‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’
Love said, ‘You shall be he.’
‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.’	10
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
‘Who made the eyes but I?’

‘Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.’
‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘Who bore the blame?’	15
‘My dear, then I will serve.’
‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’
So I did sit and eat.

Seen with love

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

English works to be studied this term

Oliver Kissed by Charles Thickens

Oxford and literary Manscrapes by a Don.

Jane’s Hair by Harlot Tonte

Cambridge Pies and other worrying notions by Hee.Who Nose.

Love and the afterswoon by A Lady of Note.

Yonder the green men pee by Thomas Tardy.

The end of the world was last night by the BBC

The End of that Despair by Graham Groan

Three men who can gloat by Pheronomes K Getoff/

Venture to the Wisteria. by Lance Vandermost

Bridesmaids revisited by Evelyn War.

Collected ruins of English poets chosen by Ted Huggins.

Please keep notes at all lectures and keep in a folder till the Last Judgment.

Music:A selection from Chopin intermingled with Gershwin.Wear ear plugs if you like

To chastise God

How like a prison is the cubicle

Within this space my husband’s life closed down

I hummed and sang in all ways musical

To change his look to glad when he did frown.

He spoke but once,of many lovely friends,

He smiled and winked at me ,his own dear wife

And thus his years came to a rich and sanguine end

Without a dash of bitterness or strife.

He went but now I cannot take it in

Was it a dream or am I now alone?

To chastise God is now my bitter sin.

My heart has hardened to a hate filled stone.

Oh,dwell not on the past for it is gone

we mortals and our suffering goes on.

My state of mind so far has not been mapped.

There was a competition in a poetry magazine to write a sonnet beginning with the line I begin with here

How like a prison is my cubicle

Within four walls I feel I am entrapped.

How like a song unsung,unmusical,

My state of mind so far has not been mapped.

Inside my heart I used to have a room

Where space and grace and nature all did dwell.

But then a new man led me to my doom

The details I shall never wish to tell.

My walls fell down like Jericho of old.

My love became my enemy,my hate.

With rubble my heart filled,alas, not gold.

These cubicles each write my inner state.

What seems to be outside is found within

True love can never last when lovers sin.

All constraints torment me with the blues.

How like a prison is my cublicle..

An open office split by folding walls,

The cries of co-workers,unmusical,

Upon my pained ears unsweetly fall.

I hear them mutter,cough;I hear them fart,

These sounds soothe not my isolated soul

For though I hear them, well we are apart.

I see no face nor gesture to console.

And should perchance I need to take a piss

I’m loth as I’ve adapted to my bonds.

An ensuite lavatory would be true bliss;

And save me frightening ducks on yonder pond.

Yet if not this jail, which jail would I choose?

All constraints torment me with the blues.

The effect of seeing things written down

At the bus stop I often see the same people.Most of them seem to read the Mail or the Sun.I find it amazing how they believe things that are printed there more than they believe in the Bible!Especially popular now are articles attacking foreigners,human rights, people on benefits,people with large families and so on.If I were to say [which I rarely do]

Why do you think they publish newspapers? Is it to give us the facts,to make money or to excite us etc?

Mostly that is a waste of time because people get very upset if you disagree or they just repeat it more and more.But soon they may find their own families affected by these new regulations,About 25 % of the population are suffering from anxiety… so I read i n another newspaper which gave its sourse.No doubt all these articles plus all the health ones do trigger anxiety i many people…

That relates to the idea of preventative medicine.If we all do as we are told and eat right ets then we wll be immortal,they imply.Yet we do know we all must die one day.In fact having just seen someone die it seems more amazing that I am still alive.I know we need to be aware of certain issues but the amount of information we are getting is overwhelming.And studies done using a very small number of people are given a weight much greater than they deserve.So avoid read ing the wrong newspaper or you may have a nervous breakdown

My sense and nonsense of humor

I used to like making up humorous notions perhaps from the titles of well known plays by Shakespeare and such like.One day one of my readers told me I ought to be writing poetry not this kind of funny stuff.But sometimes it is nice to relax with some weird notions.

A Stranger’s Plan
Disparate remedies
The Refracted Glass Teacher
The Fly Passed Me.
The Excluded and Elaborated Mysteries of the Hellishly used Fields
Far from the Maddening Cloud
The Wriggler by the Heels
A Group of Ennobled Charms
The Hand of Othello’s Lurcher Bit Me on a Train
Lewd Beyond Ciuring
Poetry Abjured
A Dysphorialic Mission,
The Striving Breathed Not
Life’s Titted Tyrannies
The Heir was Passing Water at the Bridge
A Mere Interlude ng by Our Foibles
Oxford Booksperms impregnate a Library and a Whore!
A Pair of True Lies.
Poems Of The Lost And The Hesitant
The Poor Fruit Of The Ill Covered Tease.
The Return of the Narrative,
The Nomadic Adventures of a Milk Pail
Selected Short Whores
Selected Borings of Jonah‘s Party
The Taut Chores of the Bawdy
The Crooked And Wearing Tales Of Romulus the Tardy
Stories that Bitch and Bark
Stories of Old Western Sex
Tales come out of Old Puzzles
The Three Dogs in the Manger and other Xmas fiction
The Trumpeted stranger.
The Strumpet and Robert’s Voluntary Maiden Overtures
Two on the Blower

.Two for the Price .of a Bone
Hatch Flu under a Shower…Get Disability Now
True Essences of Males who love and adore.
The Uncharted Tarts of Old Anglia
Under the Screaming Pastic Tree.Who will Lie with Me?
Under the Green We Feel Free to Wee.
The Well-Reloved Woman
Free Sex Blessed Poems and Other Terser Verse
Free Sexy Males Now
The Withered Farm
The Withered Charms
The Grubs Slanders
The Illustrated Writings Of Thomas Bawdy In Hose And Worse.
Blessings from the Charming Visages

And if you want to make sweet love ,don’t go where we have gone

Down by the House of Commons
My love and I did roam
We were looking for a Monet
To decorate our home

Down by the Palace Gardens
We went a-walking next
As we believed that in that green
It was good to have sex.

We were caught by the police!
My wife was quite displeased.
“Oh,can we plead not guilty ,sir.
We don’t know where we are!”

Down in the court of magistrates
We were accused of sin.
We stood there in the dock
And hoped that we would win

I thought sin was not a crime!
We crossed that narrow line
But in this country there’s a link
Sin and crime are synched!

We asked to go to Westminster
To confess to a Catholic priest.
We could just take a penance

From him or the police

But the judge was feeling lazy
He sentenced us to death.
And we are going to die because
We wandered from the path.

If you want to get a Monet,
Buy a print from Amazon.
And if you want to make sweet love
Don’t go where we have gone.

For safety lies at home

On a mattress of pure foam

Sheets of cotton newly washed

Like wheat we are all thrashed

Which point of view?

Is it ever possible to communicate experience in words?There is a very big difference between the experience of sitting by my husband in the hospital,holding his hand and singing psalms and saying to a friend,I sang while my husband was dying.

Is it something about the point of view?That in my own experience I was inside,almost at the centre,of the activity whereas when I mention it to another person I am describing it from the position of an onlooker,seeing both myself and my husband from a distance.

And someone said to me,All those nurses and doctors,they will never forget hearing you singing…again as if we are looking at the scene from afar..

Whereas for me,I was inside the experience,singing softly sending out soundwaves which some other people could hear,but those people were invisible to me.I could see only what was in the cubicle

A warm welcome

He was wearing the wrong kind of clothing

His awkwardness gave him away

He wore a white mac

With my footprints on the back

Where forever they will rightly stay,

He went out to Mass on a Sunday

And confessed all his sins well before.

He suffered from pride

And many women he eyed.

Whom he gave a warm welcome and more.

The religious folk seem to get tempted

By the sins that they wrongly fear most.

They think of smart asses

And lasses in glasses

When of their salvation they boast

Poor old Stan

Stan was polishing the windows again with his black microfibre cloth.The computer was on.As soon as he finished the sitting room windows he planned to look at a google document he was co-writing with hislfriend Annie, on the failings of the British Empire..She only lived next door but they both liked sharing new techniques of various kinds.
He sat down in front of his computer and looked at his email.
There was one from Annie.Joy!

“Hi Stan
I didn’t really want to keep some of those remarks you wrote at the bottom of our document when we were both online,so I have deleted them. We should have gone into chat mode.They were not related to the topic we were discussing so I know you won’t be mind.And if you ask again we can chat either online or in person about sex and people’s lives
With my love,dearest one ,Annie

Stan felt furiously angry and cross. How could she know if he minded or not?
He went dark red as if his head was bursting.What was so dreadfully bad about his remarks?He had only asked Annie if her dead husband George might have been bisexual.Stan had once seen him kissing another man in the bushes in the park.Annie didn’t seem bothered last night.She never gave the impression to me she didn’t like it.Maybe she’s not quick enough to react
Anyway she should not have deleted it completely without asking me first.
He sat down on his old Habitat chair [recently mended free on the NHS by Dave the paramedic,] and he sent her an email saying he was furious with her for attacking his freedom of speech.It was unethical.It was too powerful .He must assert himself.He woul show her!
So he was not going to work with her on any more documents ever again nor chat on IM or Google Chat. Of course he still loved her but his anger was too strong for him to ignore.
When Annie got the email she was comgletely stunned like a cow in the abbatoir ready to be eloctrocuted.She apologised to Stan immediately but he refused to accept it ever even though she begged piteously for forgiveness.
Why did he want to know if George was bisexual, she wondered.Was he saying it to try to turn himself on or me?Or is he just interested in all kinds of sex and human behaviour generally ,like most people are ?But it was not concerned with the document which was about ill treatment of prisoners in India under the British Empire and relating it to other acts of outrage by the Brirish Government elsewhere.
I wanted to talk about us,not poor dead George.Whatever George’s sex life,he’s dead now.So l we should eave him in peace.
Meantime.Stan was thinking about how women were always interfering in his life,correcting him and improving his grammar.Making him cups of tea when he wanted brand and some HP sauce with his lamb chops not salad
He liked talking about bisexuality.It made him feel a sense of wonder at the differing habits and desires of humans.Why couldn’t she just go along with it or at least say something then rather than deleting his words secretly when he was off-line?Though maybe mentioning George was insensitive even though George was dead.
He was a man .He was not going to let a woman ride over him like a steam roller. Annie must learn her place in the scheme of things.
Where is that,asked his beautiful cat Emile.
I’m not sure but it’s not above me.It’s either the same or lower.
Can’t you forgive her.She may be in another dimension,another space alrogether,another universe of discourse?[He’d been reading Wittgenstein again]
Certainly not .No way.Stan answered,
But you love her,you said many times in here.I heard you
All the more reason to maintain some boundaries. Love is not the be all and end all of life for a man!
Next she’ll be cutting bits off me with her dressmaking shears,he cried in outrage and horror!
She’ll castrate me.She’ll turn me into a woman.
She won’t,she’s just a daft postmenopausal woman,said Emile.She wouldn’t ever harm you.she’s very gentle.you know that,don’t you?
She has invaded me,she has crossed my boundary.
Some people would be glad,mewed the cat.He was always hoping a lady cat would come by. and cross his boundaries or more correctly.he would be allowed cross hers.
Meanwhile Annie was sitting sobbing feverishly in her bedroom.She really enjoyed co-writing documents and news sheets with Stan.Now he won’t do it anymore,she whispered . He was really mad with her.He must be feeling upset and aggravated beyond all human endurance.She had assumed too much and now she was paying the price as she lay on her purple duvet cover with two boxes of Kleenex for men.Even finding the Kleenex required for all her sobbing was too much for her.
She cried and sobbed loudly for a while.Her eyes were bright red and bloodshot. She was so very sad she had unwittingly distressed dear Stan.Life is so tough she thought reluctantly.I wish I were somewhere else……maybe in Heaven with George and his bisexual lovers too, all playing harps or mouth organs and whatever else the could find up there.
Still,there were those new neighbours who had just moved in across the road.Two brothers,both very handsome.I wonder if they like writing on the computer,she thought.That cheered her up a bit,though she was very fond of Stan.In fact she loved him greatly and had kissed him gently yet thoroughly many times though she had never actually gone to bed with him ;never known him in the biblical sense.Was that the problem?Too late now either way,she muttered quietly to her goldfish Wayne who agreed with her analysis of the situation.
So in her mind she was moving from loving and adoring Stan to being loving towards yet puzzled by him.Was he afraid of being dominated by a woman?What would he be like as a lover?
But why try to talk about bisexuality?Could he not have thought of something else?Like female orgasms or kissing better?
There was a new book by Betty Dodson teaching frozen women how to have orgasms.Would he have enjoyed discussing female anatomy and pleasuring her naked female body and all the rest,[she always liked kisses on her throat,he knew that.]
Well,she would never know now.That was certain.Thank God I’ve found out what he’s like before things went any further.He might be a little too dominating.Though a certain amount is neccessary for the consummation of love.She was so upset her thughts began to turn towards women.
Would it be better all round to love a woman instead?Especially as I could show her how to have an orgasm having being studying this book for some weeks?Though she may already know,I guess.Still,a change is as good as a rest, so the proverb says.
How do I find a woman who’s into other woman, as it were, she thought.Can I find one on the internet?Will there be a club we can go to? How exciting!
So Annie grew more optimistic.A woman wouldn’t mind a few words deleted from a chat either.So a feeling of mild joy came over her and her sobbing died down.
Stan was sitting in his kitchen feeling superior and dominant.Except Annie had not come for coffee so it was hard being dominant all by himself.He began to feel depressed and morose.Should he change his mind?Would he lose his window of opportunity?
Why is life so trying.Why are women so manipulative, why do they all turn out fakes and bitches,he asked Emile.Why won’t they love me as I am?
It’s partly one’s own character,Emile replied.
Hearing this Stan lost his temper and threw the kettle of boiling water at Emile.Luckily it missed but Emile stalked out and went off to the shed leaving Stan more alone than ever.
How hard life is Stan shouted. I feel like topping myself. I”ll jump off the roof. of the civic centre.I’m going to ring the fucking Samaritans.
Just then his wife Mary walked in.What’s up Stan?
Nothing dear.I just dropped a brick on my toe
Why have you got a brick in here,in the lounge?
I was playing with it.
With a brick?
Well,it has a certain cold masculinity,he replied
Cold masculinity?. Shall I make some drinks?
Yes,please,dear
Oh,look there’s Annie walking past arm in arm with a woman.
I knew George was bisexual but now I see she is also or maybe she’s turned quite gay!Were they both gay?Is that why she only kissed him and never went any further?
Well,it’s not our business,said Mary quietly.
Aha,thought Stan.That’s what you think.If only you could see inside my mind!Inside his mind though ,he was wondering if Annie would ever see him again.But I will not forgive her,I won’t.I won’t!
What he might have said more truthfully was “Can’t”
For indeed,it is hard to forgive people for trampling into one’s sacred space even if it is an accident or misjudgment not a deliberate attempt to dominate.but …….
Life is sweet and yet very hard too.but as it’s the season of goodwill let’s pray it alll works out!

Sometimes there is a moment

Sometimes there’s a moment in life when you know something is utterly wrong, that your life as you have known it might become something other,something alien.This happened to me in late February 2014 when I took my husband to buy some shoes.

For it seemed he had given away all of his shoes but one pair.It might seem obvious to a practical dreamer like myself that in the winter a man needs two pairs of shoes,in case snow or rain attacks one pair.But he knew better than I did what he really needed

He never explained.He was really a very quiet man but at the same time an extravert affectionate person.He didn’t share my need to help or amuse others by explaining why I had done something.That .was one big difference between us.The bigger one was that he was a man and I am a woman,

The shoe shop was crowded but we had no plans to go anywhere else.Then I felt sick.He eventually found a pair he liked;he rejected my suggestion he should get two pairs which turned out to be a wise decision though I had no way of knowing it on that day.I was like an animal that smells a new scent in the air and has no idea whether to run or to get closer

When we got home I knew:something is going to happen but to which of us?And when? And now I know a I sit here with the deep but almost invisible,indecipherable scar on my Viking face looking at the mantel shelf where 60 or 70 letters and cards of condolence stand,I know that it was to both of us but I am the one left behind; the one who arranged the music for the funeral;the one who answered the letters .And I am the one who saw death enter,a black shape moving like a dancer across the threshold behind the bold woman who took our lives and tore them apart.As if she were under orders.As if there were no choice.

Destructured …………..destruction?…………………………

I’m finding Derrida de-structured

And Levinas‘ face makes me smile

Who would have conjectured

That one day I’d lecture

On thoughfullness and all its trials?

I prefer Kierkegaard to Sartre

Who sometimes makes me feel queer.

Who would have expected

That words would be texted

As men smoked cigarettes and drank beer?

Some people like reading Jane Austen

While others juggle with Wittgensein.

Who would have discarded

The notes in the margins?

How sweetly these words recombine

Munch liked to paint people screaming,
his premonitions were strong
Who else would have expected
The human destruction
Europe brought to the world before long?

“God and the Other” Symposium: Part 1 (churchandpomo.typepad.com)
The Art of Connecting to the Other (huffingtonpost.com)
A long review of Conversations with Emmanuel Levinas (complexnumberblog.wordpress.com)
Wittgenstein’s Architecture (deandettloff.wordpress.com)
A Wittgenstein Paradox (maverickphilosopher.typepad.com)
Wittgenstein’s Private Language Argument (kierkeguardians.wordpress.com)
Wittgenstein and Kierkegaard Against Hegel (deandettloff.wordpress.com
R

Sex is a form of exercise,in part

No mobile moans are allowed to leave this hospital.

Please faint on the bed only.Or if pushed,faint on the nurse

No lipstick to be worn at night by men.
.
Do not attack the doctor.He is only a short term pest here so far

Pills must be taken gaily

Do not undress in this cubicle.Undress outside before entry.Leave your clothes in the bin for people to steal.Thanks your X ray team.

Kindly tell us your name before we knock you out.Write it on your arm with black ink

If afraid please report to the nurse who will comfort you as best he can
.
If no night nurse is available please die after 8 am.

If you must have sex in the ward, please do not scream or moan as the other patients may be jealous.

If you have no relations please ask the doctor to oblige when he finishes his rounds.

If you feel weak,do not use your Kindle Fire on the bed.Get on the floor

After a heart attack do not resume sex until you get home unless you had the heart attack here

in which case please feel free to continue either or both..

Sex is a form of exercise but also can create chaos in public.Try walking instead with or without a partner.

If borderline,kindly make your mind up whether you love or hate the pest doctor before he arrives.

Having sex with all the other patients in the ward is impossible so please think of another form of entertainment or be prepared to go to jail…

No medicine to be taken unless we are your supplier.

If you want to say a last word please be quiet.
If we have to freeze your nuts off, we will do so with levity.

If you have no bosom,you are probably a man.Wards are now mixed so there is no.problem apart from a shortage of braziers.
If you have any nuts,please leave them in the hands of a female nurse prior to surgery.
Cover all your parts before the Royals visit.

Please leave me all your money before you leave the ward when about to pass over

Sex changes by an operation or sometimes naturally.

Are you bored in bed?Get out and walk up and down the corridor to annoy the visitors.

Kindly do not drum your fingers all day.Use a drumstick.

If you have erosive dermatitis, please dry carefully.

If you have an egg please donate now.Fertility counts.

Owing to a world shortage of egg cups,we now use mugs.

Do you have any further problems?Please weigh your words.

None of the staff understand the government…so please do not mention David Cameron if you
wish to go home on one piece.

Pies are sold in the conservatory.We do not know why.

In fact we know hardly anything but don’t worry,we’ll treat you barbarically anyway.

Be a stoic and keep quiet; do not gasp like a dying fish as it annoys the doctor

Summer time

For if a woman’s born tone deaf and dumb

No noise had ever irked him like her thrums.
His head ached and he even shed some tears
Thank the Lord,she’d chucked out all his drums
No music was so painful to his ears

No sound was sharper than her voice

No lullabies would cross her cold drawn lips.

He’d like to fly away to hotels choice

To escape the barrage of her clever quips.

No guitar man made would emote in her hands.
No tutor could impart the tragic gift.
She’d cause commotion in some lurid band;
Or soon be sent to sea and set adrift

.For if a woman’s born tone deaf and dumb
From her hands no joyous note shall come.

Does God have hands?

Why did Jesus feed the five thousand?

To prevent them eating his lawn and his tomatoes

Why did Jesus like fishing?

He often caught a compliment.

Why did he cross the road?

The road was flatter on the other side.

Was Jesus an Athlete?

No,he was a Jew.

Was he not Mormom?

Called Norman!

Was Jesus very strong?

About the same as best whiskey.

Why do Catholics eat his body?

Because they hate making breakfast.

Does God care if we don’t go to Church?

What’s a Church?

Why does God help those who help themselves?

Because many hands make light work

So God has hands?

In a very meaningful sense.

Why did Jesus ride on a donkey into Jerusalem?

He just missed the bus and they only ran twice an hour

Modesty again

Stan and his sweet blonde girlfriend Anne were studying government data on inflation.He wanted to give a lecture for senior citizens.

Why are you wearing those smart wool trousers and black tights,darling? he enquired kindly.

Well,it’s the the fashion dear heart, and more modest than a mini skirt for if I bend over I’m protected.Her answer seemed ludicrous With her sweet bosom,hips and tight clothing it was hard for Anne to give any semblance of modesty.

Wouldn’t a maxi skirt be modest?I saw some in Marks last week.I bought one for Mary

Do you often buy her clothes? Annie asked with surprise.

She used to do it once …. but she stopped because she’s hopeless at dressing.She’go out in pyjamas left to herself

Well,silk jim jams are the summer fashion this year.

Can I have some,please? miaowed the cat,Emily.

You already have some silk nightgowns… four!

Do you really buy nightgowns for the cat?asked Anne incredulously

Well she sleeps with me now you know,as I like to hear someone breathing at night.Mary is downstairs studying algebra.She only needs three hours sleep.And she has no interest in loving me.It’s a puzzle how she bore our two daughters Lyra and Desiree.She says she found them under a gooseberry bush, but they look very like Bill Clinton.

Was Bill fond of gooseberry bushes too?They have big thorns.

He would not let a few thorns put him off…he’s a very tough man.

What about goats’ horns.. would they put him off? Or Matterhorns?

Let’s get back to statistics,my beloved,Stan murmured foolishly

I’ll just boil the kettle,my lambkin

I prefer boiling water for coffee.

Stan was famed for his wacky sense of humor………….amongst the friends of theirs who all taught maths or played cricket for England.Annie walked away looking charming in her black wool city shorts with shiny patent leather boots.Her chest distracted him as she wore only a yellow vest.

Have you not got a cardigan ,darling,he whispered shyly.

No,the moths ate it but I’m going shopping later she muttered

.I hope you’ll wear a coat.You might catch a chill,he said anxiously

Fret not,,I’ll drive down.Annie screamed
.You are 55 now you know…you are not a girl.Modesty is a wise trait for mature ladies. Modesty………I gave that up years ago.I dress how I feel.

Well,you make me want a feel.Suddenly the leg fell of his chair and it collapsed tossing him onto the floor,As he lay there he muttered sarcastically,

I blame those trousers of yours! Call 999.

She tore off her trousers to reveal some black silky lace flowered underwear

Is that better? she enquired chastely .

I suggest you get tested forAsperger’s syndrome,he shouted.

I have enough trouble with Tourette’s she whispered tenderly.It makes me say bad words…………..

I’ve never heard you.What sort of words?

Like, “Be off,you silly twit.”

That sounds funny to me.he responded sweetly.

Can you tell me some more bad words?

No I can’t,you dolt!

Why not,my angel?

Well,isn’t this a family friendly web site?

Nowadays,what does family mean?Two ladies who love one another and their child fathered by the cat.

I never knew it was the cat.I’ve often wondered about that.Emily purred happily as she was hoping to have kittens soon with her boyfriend Emile who was in the garden.

Look it’s tea time.I hear Mary ‘s bike.Get up off the floor and get a hammer I can mend that chair.

Wow,you are so clever……we men are unneeded now! Stan informed her ironically.

Don’t be silly.I love you,the dearest.Thanks you so much…it’s good to hear those sweet words. meant I want the dearest maxi skirt as a reward,she said saucily.

Women,Stan thought wryly. Can’t live with them;can’t live without them.Go and put on your nightdress Emily.Warm up the bed.I’m having an early night.

Quick,get up.Mary is here.she’ll imagine the worst if she sees you on the floor.She’ll think you are ill!

No,I know what you do on that rug,you little minx! t was Mary who had crept in in her bare feet.Look at you,no shoes!How vulgar.You look like a fraction!

Better than looking like a decimal!

Now,said Stan,have a cup of tea and then we can have a sit down on the rug and study algebra and geometry.

What a nice man he is!Why is Annie so keen on decimals see my next instalment… when I pay it!

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