‘I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot. ‘So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of My mouth. ‘Because you say, “I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have need of nothing,” and you do not know that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked, read mor
I got lost trying to find the out of hours doctor as haf the hospital has been demolished…there was nobody around so after walking a long way I felt ill and a visitor went for help… hence the wheelchair.When they wheeled me in to the doctor I could barely speak as I was breathless.. so he thought I’d had a panic attack.But it was entirely rational to shout and moan as I could not walk and did not know where the new place was..
I reached into my handbag and gave the doctor the urine sample.I realised my mind was not right and it was because I’ve had this for 2 weeks without knowing except for feeling weak and faint.So now he has given me antibiotics which I see cause anaemia..which I already have..
I think I’ll get them to come here in future.I felt much worse after this ordeal…though I met a fascinating man in the waiting room.. a teacher.
I used to fear to cotton wool balls
Freud might quite well be appalled
If the penis were cotton
Sex would be rotten
Anyway now I fear hankies and shawls
I never intended to mention
Men’s organs or metal detection
It’s the rhyming, you see,
Which has control over me
So much for my clever pretension.
i don’t know why even vulva is rude
For it’s hard to see, even when nude.
When I went to the clinic
I turned green as spinach
As on a TV my organ was viewed.
The doctor kindly said I could look.
Yet I preferred reading my book.
I took one sideways glance
As the doctor’s hands pranced.
So she uttered a loud, rude rebuke.
I said that new instrument hurts
She said it’s my finger,you berk.
Well it felt very rough
as my skin is not tough.
She wasn’t just rude,she was curt
If God had meant women to look
at their vulvas as well as their books
He’s have put them elsewhere
not hid them down there.
But,perhaps his holy hands shook.
i admit it all fits very well.
As far as a woman can tell
For we can knit gloves
While our spouses make love
Down on that farm in the dell
After reading that one can only conclude that humans can fear anything/
Fear of cotton wool because you might swallow a ball.
Fear of knitting wool as it might strangle you
Fear of sheep as they might eat you in a pie . [Shepherd’s pie really has the shepherd in it]
Fear of thumbs as they are like hooks.
Fear of wrists.. because they hate having watches on them and want revenge.
Fear of rings as they might make people think you are married.
Haplology,haplology, it nearly rhymes with tragedy.
Oh,no it don’t, oh no it don’t… i used to like topology.
Doughnut jam.doughnut jam,I don’t know what sex I am.
Oh,aye you do, oh aye you do… you are just a wee baah baah lamb
Gender bends,gender bends, they aren’t good when love descends
oh,yes they are, oh yes they are, let us all make our amends/
If I kiss you,if I kiss you, what do you think that you would do?
Don’t be daft,don’t be daft,I would give it back to you.
This life is all we have to live,how much money will you give?
I got none,I got none,I put all into a sieve.
I feel like a fraction half untied,how shall we get classified?
I don’t ken,I don’t ken,go and ring that old Big Ben
Haplol’gy’s a bwu ‘iful word.,
Even eh trifle absurd.
I ain’t heard it afore..
Let’s all use it more.
33%’s almost a third.
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I wonder if people will know in the future why pots and kettles were black
Or why we drank so much sweet tea.
I think with George Osborne running the country we will need a whole lot more of that.
It’s the first General Election I didn’t vote in.I couldn’t leave mu husband alone.
When he fell it was 2,5 hours before the police picked him up.The ambulance never came… it was a Bank Holiday.That was when he got a lot worse.I lay on the bed and he was on the floor covered in blankets for nearly three hours.Then they manages to keep him in A and E till the end thus freeing a bed for some young drunk with a broken leg
A day of sudden changes;
Clouds
cross the sky
like whales swimming North in rows.
The sun was bright,dazzled my eyes
with gold and silver.
Wind cut across my face
like a slap from an angry father..
Those who love can also seem to hate us too..
The lure of that small childish body
tempts them to divert their anger towards it.
When the ones who hurt you
are also the ones you love,
it’s hard to know which direction to run in;
but it usually turns into a circle.
Retreating turns into a new arrival.
Straight lines might be better. though
On a spherical earth
difficult to find.
Even parallel lines meet
In their Riemannian geometry.
So we can never get away
Sometimes the best we manage
Is to increase the circle’s radius.
Though how is hard to know.
Do you love me or hate me?
Do you want me to stay or go?
What do I want?Do I have a me?
The memory of warmth draws me back
Like a cold lonely beast leaving the jungle
To lie down with a what appears to be a lamb,
Surprising the farmer up early to milk his animals
Finding a strange new one
Looking with tender,puzzled eyes
into His Human Fac
How like a mirror is this copper pan?
So often washed,so polished for effect
I feel it loves me, for I have no man
This image pleases well ,I now reflect.
I’ll never boil my hankies in this gem
Nor throw out water at the waul of cats
But perhaps I’ll use it when I love again.
To cook spaghetti or to steam his hat.
I bought it in a warehouse sale downtown
Along with cake forks,spoons and knives.
For spending too much money makes me frown;
And stealing men makes vengeful many wives .
Remember tragedy can fall on anyone.
And all too soon our journey will be done
'Twas but a reptile passing by. It flew across the deep blue sky Why do reptiles fly so high? I'll love you till I die. "Twas but a cat under the moon. Did you have a silver spoon? Why can't cats all waul in tune? I'll love you very soon 'Twas but a wooden legged man, Carrying a large brass saucepan. Why can't men do what women can? I'll love you better than. Why are adverbs? What are nouns? why do circuses have clowns? I'll love you lying down. Where do dreams go in the day? What game can we adults play? Can you or can you not say? I'll love you,in my way. 'Twas but a verse that seemed so free. It floated over my oak tree. I have eyes but cannot see. I'll love you when I be
I was talking to David last night
He observed that at the funeral and elsewhere
It was I who had to comfort the mourners.
I wished I were in a religion like the Jewish
where the bereaved are cared for
They must tear their clothes and weep.
And they are comforted.
I got told,you were so dignified
but is that right at your husband’s funeral?
One man admired my dress!
I heard this music on the radio today.
we had it for you that day
and by chance it was already playing
I pressed the button.
You winked at me and then died… typical exactly….
the nurse used to open the window to let the soul out
so that is why I chose this even though to a snob it’s too popular.
Like food is too popular and water..
So was it a mere coincidence?
Hair, someone told me once, was a sure sign of life. I.e., if you’re growing hair, you are alive. (There are other signs but hair is a definite yes-I-live). I’ve even heard that any mole with hair growing out of it––mole as in the things on your skin, not the things that dig holes in your yard––is almost certainly not a suspicious mole, because hair is a sign of life.
But here I’m talking mostly about head hair, which I lost pretty much all of to chemo. As I’ve said before, if I’d been younger, I’d have been devastated. My hair has been my obsession, probably bordering on fetish. I’ve had all kinds of hair:
This is my 1982 hair. (I’m the one on the left, smartass. The one on the right is George RR Martin. Just FYI.)
This is my 1986 hair. (I’m the one on the right, smartass…
View original post 543 more words
Does anything rhyme with spontaneous?
Other than Coriolanius
I spelled it wrong?
It looks far too long.
Well,I am bright but I was never a genius.
Geniuses are often eccentric.
As circles are always concentric
I hate words that go ” ic”
It’s not English like nick.
Why is greek thought superior to aramaic? (double entendre here)
I am feeling unwell and sick
What a bad day I have picked
It’s the weekend, you see
And no doctors there be.
If it’s cystitis that’s not very chic.
When I had pneumonia I weed
As the cough made me weak at the knees.
I wore ten pairs of knickers
which made me look thicker.
And 140 pairs hung from the trees
Fortunately they are now very cheap
So lack of them won’t make me weep.
They are five for a shilling.
Ain’t this life thrilling
Even without going deep?
I
You simply must be spontaneous.
You hate me?
Why ?
I am cruel,harsh and rude?
I say,that’s rather beastly.
Would you mind leaving immediately?
You’d be glad
I never want to see you again,
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This is my secret vice.. writing nonsense
Please alight as soon as your pen is working and you find the draper
I can’t bait to tear from you,fearest.
Don’t keep me banging on like this,whenever,I am ad hoc again.
Do I talk too Dutch?Please yell me.
Am I too blight for you?It’s my brains.
Are you still bare? I am.
Are you still arrive yet?Me neither.
I was a very intelligent dunce.So follow my elections.
I used to teach wrath at Oxford when I was hunger.
Does my mind put you down? I am heavy late.
I am missing you so clutch.Why won’t you perceive me?
I deceive you whenever you wish.
Do sponsor my phone balls please.
I paid a huge bill last streak.
They keep asking me for sure.
Why is money so cunning?
I have forgotten my PIN jumbles again for all my credit yards.Am I in a bauble now?
I am sorry I got married away.Twice.
Where will it haul wend…?
Was sin ever original?
Nobody believes in sin any bore.It’s Satanic.
http://www.ancient-hebrew.org/28_chart.html
The language your forefathers spoke
Dwells in your images.
Faces bleed with feeling.
Bodies rise out like rocks.
Your self portrait sings
Me,myself.I am.
As God spoke from the burning bush
You took the flame and ran
Consternation is not really unusual
Like seeing red eyes threatening one’s not delusional
For they are government spies,
Who have had their eyes dyed.
Before weeping crocodile tears at the Confusional.
Some have their eyes dyed deep green
To fit a more pastoral scene.
The rivers are blue
They have water in too
Consternation,where ‘ere have you been?
Yes, that is my grand daughter’s name
It nearly drove me insane.
I open the door
To shout Consternation no more.
She was meant to be little Rosebane.
At least she’s not called Chaos or Chance,
By God’s grace or just happenstance.
If I bellowed Chaos
They’d hear me in Laos…
It’s just now my butterflies dance.
Have you got a favourite name?
Or do you pick one again and again?
I like my own
As with it I’ve grown.
Of course it’s the parents I blame.
Does everything need to make sense?
Are all human beings now tense?
The Russians are bombing
with ruthless aplombing.
What shall we do in response?
Gaza is a bit overcrowded
Consternation was never intended
If the West Bank was East
That would do least
Harm for those on whom stuff keeps descending
Bombs,rockets ,pies and big shells
What story do these all tell?
Shoot before thinking
And never start blinking
For with eyes shut, they’ll get you as well
It’s Pandora’s box over again
Evil flew out as and when.
It covers the world.
Like a tablecloth swirls
It must be that Unoriginal sin
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He ‘d held me in his arms and said,
what I had never read,
That life is more than learned discourse.
So as he spoke, I watched his face
And his rich dark eyes;of course
His eyes gave out such natural force
More strong and subtle than the song of birds.
Yes,almost like a poet’s words
In how he moved me like no other man;
No matter how they think they can,
They lose the step and do not dance
And never ever chance
A leap when they might lift me high
Above their head. I’d want to fly.
Yes,the form and feeling give an extra note
To express those feelings more remote…..
We do not need to speak or write
We have both touch and our eye sight.
And yet our human discourse is a need
An anchor,lest the current’s speed
Should crash us down on Coniston,
And we’d be gone.
Just write it down
A verb ,a noun..
A string of sighs,our mouths,our eyes.
A paragraph that never dies,
within your finger tips and cries
For pen and paper and my wish to save
Some part of you,some heart some art
far beyond your grave.
Your gaze.
My days
A wonderful word is . syzygy. [ sizzigee]
It sounds academic to me.
But use it and play
With new words each day
But don’t let one sit on your knee.
Words must be treated with care
A great power lies hidden there.
Don’t lash us with your tongue
For it’s wicked and wrong.
And leads to a night full of mares.
Syzygy has three y’s in succession
It is this which has cause the recession
For it frightens the bankers
Or shall we say wankers?
And that zed shows a lotta erudition
How my heart speaks 
