I swallow the antibiotics

They make me feel sick and so tired

I was rude to my cousin

Just one of a dozen.

I think he said,get rewired.

The doctor said  I must take them

As my kidneys are full of complaints.

Even though I feel worser

He got even terser

And said,if you must,you can faint.

I feel troubled already,

And I must have them for two weeks.

Still it’s better then dying;

I may do much sighing.

As I write now,my hand creaks.

My mood seems unpaired from the real now,

As I feel  very happy and gay.

Should I be depressed

Or to evil confess?

Well,I’ll save the rebukes for a day

When doubts and drawbacks struggle in the mind
And certainty seems but a demon dream,
When the faith to love is what no-one can find
For even when asleep, the mind still schemes

When darkness and defeat seem close at hand
And lights dim even as we pray for peace
when wrecks and ruins rile the native sands
When in this life we feel we’ve lost our place…

Then at the saddest depth we see the light
Surrounding with such warmth,with love adorned.
The path that seemed so wrong now leads us right
And in our hearts, warm feelings are new born

Within each storm there is a calm still eye
From there we see the fiercest clouds blown by

You know there's that little place in the inner wrist

where it's so soft and tender?

Where I need your touch;

Where I touch you

Wrist to wrist,no-one will notice;

But we notice,

I feel your pulse beating,

Or is it mine?

Take the rose,

Take the rose for your table.

And when you see it

Remember,

Remember everything

What we said,

What we never said but implied,

And only the rose will listen

As you sing your song

The rose will be there

In the heart's garden

Dreaming,

Dreaming us back into being.

As we fade gently away

With evening time.

Choral voices croon, Penitents in homage kneel – Absolution frees! © Meanderings 2015

Source: Renewal!

Catching wild  herring off Whitby-

My husband went out with the tide

He felt nauseated

So they had him gold plated

And he stands up, as broad as he’s wide.

I went out  in a rowboat

The thunderstorm hit me so hard.

I flew into the air

I cried,I declare…..

Danger  should never be barred.

Stepping stones  in a wide river

Still  give me a childish delight.

Ambleside’s best

In all the North West.

I wish I could fly there tonight.

Gently dancing in the sun
Wildflowers grow;
they bloom,
are gone.

With no thoughts,they have no cares;
Yet their lives are gentle prayers.
May I walk in such a way
That I am alive to this day.

So I see with widening view,
And joy and sorrows embrace too.
Then my time will come like yours...
And of us nothing shall endure.

As to the earth our bodies go,
All are one;it shall be so

*If you liked this post you may also like my post,“The excellence manifesto”. *If you are looking for empowerment related material click here.

Source: THE MINDSET OF COURAGE

http://www.pij.org/details.php?id=692

You certainly get your wordsworth from my blog.

The beach was way too shelley for me on Saturday.

I hate eyre so much,I never want to see eyre again.

Shakespeares somewhere else  please.

I hughes the royal mail sometime.

I spender money often and she is ok with that.

My book is jew to be published in the spring.

I wish the leaves  did not russell.

I do like a whitehead of eyre.

She’s too austen-tashius for me.

My baby was over jew but he war fein after birth.

I want a war on peace .

I don’t get the Tolstoy eyrie.

I hope to make a prophet this year or the next.

Jacquiline rose again,I see.

I don’t know Phillips from Adam.

I don’t noah at all,just crossed plaths with her now and then

I saw him last eve.

Mary’s eyre’s amazing since it was trimmed.

I want to read the Hebrew ribald soon.

I wrote my last will in the Old Testament.

I believe in tragic.

How like a prison is my cubicle
How restless is  my body on my chair.
How still my heart and yet how truly fickle.
How fast it flies to you who are not here.

How elegant your letters and your thoughts;
Ambiguous was your touch upon my throat.
You destroyed  my words and all  that I had wrought
You were no lover but a self crazed goat.

As in this mental jail I'm  now enrapped,
I'll use this time to write,yet what to say?
Perhaps my mind can extricate a map,
From which I'll plot the route to get away.

The prisons we think external are inside
Yet in such captive grief  we may soon die.

Source: Mytwosentences 115

http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/jim-mcvicker-way-seeing/

As I lie  nibbling chocolate on my couch

And watching old trash on my small  TV

The cat stands on my leg,so I cry,Ouch.

She’s  needy,though yet  youngerer than me

For this cat does not like for me to move

Once she has settled right behind my knee.

I realise it’s not I she truly  loves,

To her I am no more than a small tree

I stumble to the kitchen for some tea

The kettle boils; I find  I have no milk.

I’m  bothered by  my need to wee and wee.

My flesh feels  less and less like  Chinese silk.

When nature  makes us rest,  we must obey.

Or maybe we won’t see another day.

• 
• Oh,Sue lost her special pencil,
  She could not make her stencil.
  She’s been searching through her art bag all day long.
  She found fifteen putty rubbers,
  And stuck them in her cupboard,
  She’s suspects somewhere,somehow, something’s going wrong.
  She looked inside her briefcase,
  That pencil must be someplace!
  Sue is not yet singing her sweet songs.
  The cats  screech in panic attacks,
  Her lover said he won’t come back.
  He says he’s taking the next plane to Hong Kong.
  Kate looked in all her pockets,
  And inside her gold lockets.
  This blooming search has gone on far too long!
  So let’s get things in perspective.
  This pencil’s misdirected,
  but all this searching speaks a special tongue.
  She’s not looking for the thing she lost,
  She’s looking in her Freudian past,
  She’s trying to correct  all she did wrong.
  So down came her Guardian angel,
  To show her some new angles.
  but Kate was shouting “Oh,go off,go hang!”
  So the angel got so cross and mad,
  She said to Kate,”Look here,you’re sad”
  So Kate sat down and hummed the Song of Songs.
  The angels dance,the cat’s entranced,
  Her lover offers glad Romance,
  and Kate is very happy to belong.
  She lives on earth,life’s full of worth,
  She wants to write all through the night.
  And ideas flood her mind like songs
  This  poem is getting far too long………
  too long,so long.. so long………………
  bye………bye…………

How like a prison is my once loved home

Since now I linger here in fevered chills.

No more may I be free to walk and roam

Nor climb the mountains and the hills.

The television irks me  and annoys

I cannot bear the sound of human voice.

My  lost intelligence is not deployed

I err in thinking I  have little choice.

And so it is myself whom I destroy.

What path to take when feeling lost and ill,

When lying in  my bed I cannot rest.

What act would give me strength and  better will?

What  purpose has this illness and its test?

The road to hell is paved with too much thought

So smaller joys and pleasures are not sought

A new word to us is miasma

So we must practise much faster.

For milliona of words

Just wait to be heard,,,

Please don’t say up yours to the pastor.

I suppose a rhyme might be   plasma

But that’s even worse than miasma.

I am all in a fog

Does my heart need a cog?

My haemoglobin  would circulate faster

I can cross galaxies, Light years in a blink, When your heart desires for me Whisper my name, in your dream Shooting falling star, here I be

Source: Tryst

 by AB

Perspectives on Life, the Universe and Everything

When we go to Mass,Jesus’s body is created by the priest so we can eat him.

I suppose it’s a safer  style of cannibalism.

It  claims words have  the power to change bread into the divine being of Jesus.. what’s this tragic Magic?

If we eat Jesus then we will become holier……… God only knows how evil we would have been without this grace.

Of course,if the priest has a  loving relationship with a mature woman his spells will no longer work;however if he has bare basic  sex with the altar boys  God does not withdraw his grace.That tells us something about Catholicism.

We don’t hear about sex abuse amongst Anglican priests.Most are married as are rabbis.

Magic,hypnosis,gnosis,hell who knows this,supposes this?

A- woe -on -men

I didn’t used to eat  men until I  ate Jesus one day.He was too thin.Why can’t they use croissants instead of wafers.More folk would go to church then but would that mean more sin?After all they give you a list of sins which we would not have known about unless we got Missals for Xmas.Oh,b*gger.Some ink fell on my head.Thank you,Lord.

http://articles.latimes.com/2003/jun/09/entertainment/et-perry9

The idea that we are filled with the Holy Spirit seems almost amusing in a black way.But this play is not about that

I once fell in love with a Hoover,
But he had no sense of humour.
When I fondled his cable
He became quite unstable
And ran home to his mum in Vancouver.

This is limerick therapy.I write the first bit and she writes the rest as she feel her brain needs help.We’ve not yet found what the effect is on her  functioning but it’s a bit of fun.

The Messiah?

What would  Jesus choose?

I am puzzled because I have found a  woolen cap like my grandad wore  on the sofa.It says XL but my husband’s head was medium and I have no memory of this colour of cap.It will  fit me as my head is very big,The only man whohas been here is an out of hours doctor and I don’t think he had a hat on. If it is his I am not phoning 111 because he was rather angry and not very nice…If he remembers I doubt if he will come back for it.My husband was very fond of wool caps and some Jewish men might wear one but round here they mostly have big black hats and black coats as they were from Russia and that was what they wore when they first came here after the pogroms and massacres.

What would Jesus like of the two I wonder? I have never seen a picture of him with a hat on but Bishops seem to wear little silk hats that look like Kippas and vestments a bit like prayer shawls.What a surprise… if we are just  the first  heresy  from Judaism. meanwhile nobody has  found the  real messiah yet.He may be iin hiding.Well,that’s just my idea.Given the state of the Middle East he went AWOL

This is nice