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I saw you on the pavement
with your old brown dog
You were shabby,poor,ragged,
Sitting on your tartan rug.
You had water for the dog,
You hugged him and you sang,
But the people walked on by,
And no-one looked at you.
No-one looked at you.But you still sang your song.
And you sent me so much love
It crossed from eye to eye.
I felt it coming in.
I heard that you had died,
Though you were only thirty three.
Only thirty three.I wonder,where’s your dog?
I felt our souls had touched,
You gave to me so much
As I wandered in my grief
Through the roads and round the streets.
In your glance, you touched my heart.
I felt love swimming through,
From you right into me.Will you come again?
I see all these dim, grey men
Who cut your benefits
To give more wealth to few;
So that the needle’s eye,
which is waiting when we die,
is forgotten, for they want
protection for their wealth.I wish that beggar man
would come back here again.
I liked to hear his songs
But I can’t recall the tunes;
Maybe I’ll write songs myself,
That’s the highest sort of wealth
Our creativity
Is a path to dignity.Come back every one!
Wherever have you gone?Wherever have you gone?
Day: December 11, 2015
Winter eve
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The cost
My velleity is not enough to call desire.
It summons up no demons with its power.
Yet denying it would make me a true liar.
I have a wish which fills my surprised hour.
If tremulous velleity should fall away
My life would be a sentence to be served.
I cannot judge if I have gone astray.
Did I go straight and miss some hidden gentle curve?
At any instant, we may make a choice
Which sets us on a track we did not see.
Or daydreaming, ignore dear psyche’s voice;
And with will power, demand how life should be.
Attention must be paid ,or lost
Is our vocation and we pay full cost
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Goodbye Stan whispered
M
Mary stood at the bus stop in her chocolate wool winter coat which Stan had always loved.It hangs so well,he had told her.The optional imitation fur collar had been removed as she preferred natural garments made from wool with no ostentation.As a matter of fact she has one of Stan’s woollen vests on under her gold silk top.Her hair fell in light blonde curls around her pensive face and her eyes looked as if she were seeing a vision of the Matterhorn in midwinter.
Suddenly she realised the bus was there and she put her card up to the machine before looking for a seat.The bus was rather full so she sat down next to a youth with an i phone hanging from his hand.Suddenly it rang.His chosen theme was, Please release me, sung by Tom Jones.Mary smiled as, if she were near Tom Jones she would need no invitation to free him.The youth began to speak rather louder than normal.
Mary tried not listen but it was impossible.She was too hot.Wearing Stan’s vest was a mistake as the bus was overheated.She turned pink like sunrise over ICI in Billingham as the pollution had a beautifying affect.
I’m sorry I wore your vest,she told Stan.I should have given them away but I was trying to save money on heating.Still I will be home soon.
Where is your microphone, the youth demanded.It must be one of those new tiny ones.A microphone? Mary said curiously.Yeah, he cried.I assume your phone is in your pocket.
Actually it’s in a pocket in my knickers,she informed h m in a manner resembling that of a mildly autistic scientist.We used to wear these knickers in the gym at school.
Did you not wear a top? he enquired,his eyes running over her hourglass figure like water falling off High Force in Teesdale.
Well.I didn’t have a bra until I got my grant to attend university,she told him sensitively.
Well,that’s news to me,he said.So you had to wear a bra at University? That was before feminism,of course.Did you burn it later?
Certainly not,said Mary.I’d been longing for one but my mother didn’t seem to notice my development which was her way of coping with adolescent girls.Of course my older brothers may have noticed but they were too nervous to tell Mother I needed support.We were all so shy and afraid..Anyway be quiet now,I want to speak to my husband.
Have you had your phone on all this time? he asked anxiously.
No,I don’t need it to talk to him,she responded.
Why,where is he? the youth enquired sardonically.
He’s on my knee,Mary informed him.In this bag.She pointed to her hessian shopping bag.I have just been to the Coop for him.I ought to have got a cab as he is quite heavy.
Jesus Christ,cried the youth,hastily pressing the bell before leaping off the bus into a small pond that had been created b y Hurricane Desmond.He swam away into the cold night.
Well. that shut him up,Mary said to Stan.
Mary,don’t become less gentle and kind,Stan said in her ear.
I can’t be gentle now,she said.It’s a nasty tough world without you to help me and tell me what you think of Jeremy Corbyn.And do I need to have a roast dinner at Xmas or just some toad in the hole?
I am sorry,sweetheart he murmured.Maybe you need assertiveness training.
I’ll just get more aggressive,she replied.Micro-aggressive perhaps.
You’ll need more than micro in this era,he continued.Mary forgot to get off the bus and found herself in the Leisure Centre by the River Trent.
What about the river,Stan, she asked.Would you like me to throw you in.A policeman standing near by ran over.
Madam, is it suicide or murder, he asked her.
No,it’s a life sentence,she said humorously as she put her hand up her skirt to get her phone.That’s a stupid place to keep a phone he said.Anyway don’t call a cab,I can run you home in my car.Have you got any China tea?I could kill for a hot drink.
I have some lapsang souchong,she told him.Do you fancy that? I do called Stan from the bag.The policeman passed out.
I told you not to get a boyfriend yet,he continued to Mary.
I’ll do whatever I feel like,she said rudely.I could use a comforting arm around me.Stan sobbed.
She said,quickly don’t worry.I’ll get Emile to sit on my knee.Goodbye for now.Goodbye whispered Stan faintly.Good bye
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Another new word for me
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Microaggression: Words We’re Watching
Subtle comments that are demeaning to a marginalized group
We have been referring to offensive actions as aggressions for more than four centuries. The word first referred to military attacks, and by the 20th century its meaning had expanded to include non-martial behavior. Now at the start of the 21st century, the meaning ofaggression is changing again through the addition of a prefix: micro-.
Microaggression — which refers to a comment or action that is subtly and often unintentionally hostile or demeaning to a member of a minority or marginalized group — has seen a decided increase in usage over the past several years, though the word is at least 45 years old.
The first known written use of microaggression comes from January 1st of 1970, when the word appeared in the scholarly journal Universitas, in an article written by W. Hallermann (Reports on Crimes of Aggression):
“Between the first and second, I should insert those forms of microaggression such as squabbling, mocking irony, didactic arrogance, authoritative presumption, and so on.”
Although the phrases ‘mocking irony’, ‘didactic arrogance’, and ‘authoritative presumption’ all might relate strongly to the modern-day concept ofmicroaggressions, the article written by Hallermann did not concern itself with issues of bias.
Later that same year, microaggression began to be used by the man who is generally credited with having coined it, Dr. Chester M. Pierce, a professor of psychiatry at Harvard University. He wrote the following in The Black Seventies, a collection of essays:
“Hence, the therapist is obliged to pose the idea that offensive mechanisms are usually a micro-aggression, as opposed to a gross, dramatic, obvious macro-aggression such as lynching.”
Pierce was using microaggression to refer to what he called an ‘offensive mechanism,’ one that was specifically motivated by race. In a November of 1970 article in The Journal of the National Medical Association, Pierce wrote “Every black must recognize the offensive mechanisms used by the collective white society, usually by means of cumulative pro-racist microaggressions, which keep him psychologically accepting of the disenfranchised state.”
Most of the early 1970s uses of microaggression are either by Pierce or by other academics who are referencing him; Hallermann’s near-simultaneous use of the word does not seem to have gained any traction. This would appear to be one of those unlikely events where a word is coined almost simultaneously by two different people. If we had to grant credit to one or the other for having ‘invented’ the word it is almost certain that Pierce is the one who first used the word that is now being regularly employed.
The meaning of microaggression began to broaden later in the 1970s, and to be applied to offensive mechanisms motivated by something other than race. Pierce himself used it to refer to injurious behavior directed by adults toward children, and other academics employed it soon after to refer to similar treatment of people based on gender or sexuality.
Microaggression has shifted from academic jargon to common parlance only in recent years. It has not done so without some measure of controversy, which is not uncommon for words which deal with subjects that make people uncomfortable. Dictionaries do not pass judgment on the words they define; if enough people are using a particular word to mean a particular thing it will be viewed as a word that should be defined. Microaggression, about which there are a number of blogs, numerous articles, and seemingly innumerable tweets, certainly appears to meet these criteria.
Words We’re Watching talks about words we are increasingly seeing in use but that have not yet met our criteria for entry.
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Word of the day:Velleity
I have never heard of this before.
velleity
December 11, 2015
noun
\vuh-LEE-uh-tee\
Definition
1
: the lowest degree of volition
2
: a slight wish or tendency : inclination
Examples
Samuel sometimes mentions that he would like to go back to school, but his interest strikes me as more of a velleity than a firm statement of purpose.
“It should be enough of an advantage for online retailers … that you can order items from them the instant your internet-browsing fingers conceive a velleity to own something; exploiting and maintaining anachronistic tax loopholes is uncalled for.” — The Economist (online), 9 Sept. 2011
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Did You Know?
Allow us, if you will, to volunteer our knowledge about velleity. It is a derivative of the New Latin noun velleitas, from the Latin verb velle, meaning “to wish or will.” You might also wish to know that velle is the word that gave us voluntary (by way of Anglo-French voluntarie and Latin voluntarius) and volunteer (by way of French voluntaire). While both of those words might imply a wish to do something (specifically, to offer one’s help) and the will to act upon it, the less common velleity typically refers to a wish or inclination that is so insignificant that a person feels little or no compulsion to act.
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Pied Beauty BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS
This poem is also an example of the use of quiddity. Nowadays if you want to be published the cognoscenti prefer quiddity to vague or general spiritual writing.Alliteration is very well done here.
Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.
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A surprising rendition of Klimpt’s The Kiss
Freedom Graffiti
by Domus
Syrian artist Tammam Azzam and his personal Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” on war-torn building in Syria
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Psyche:A sonnet
Pyschic pain may take us to the depths
Absent may we wish to be from these,
Where Jesus in Gethsemene has wept.
What is it we ‘re reluctant to perceive?
Universal answers don’t exist.
We differ in what we willingly accept.
From over frantic action I desist,
While learning what defences from me kept.
I fear humiliation and ill will.
Yet in the deep a response may be hid.
Despite the suffering, I remain quite still
I gaze at trees, awaiting psyche’s bid.
Psyche wished to see and then was pained.
Yet, with desire, much knowledge she attained
How my heart sings 