This is another type of kinesiophobia which seems sensible but in the long run is not.It affects people in chronic pain,
Is there a nutmeg in the house,the caterpillar cried.
I’ve been upstairs and locked the door,what else might I try?
I used mace for many years the beetle told us all.
If you budget carefully,the expense will not appall
I have no time to go to town,the moth indignant cried.
And anyone who says I have will very truly lie.
A Penguin cookery book fell down and hit the sleeping cat;
I’ll ask the Vicar what she thinks of coincidence like that.
We looked for maces everywhere but nothing did we find
Except an old lace petticoat beginning to unwind.
Is there an alternative? the mouse asked timidly.
Personally I don’t put dried mace into my tea.
A housefly and a bluebottle refused to speak at all
Because they’d just got married and were saving for a ball.
I find it hard to live like this and I shall go to bed
But all the creatures loudly cried, Oh,when will we be fed?
The library of ideas
I thought I'd write some poetry, Though my thinking was too blind. So I called into the Ideas Library To see what I could find. I looked through rows of new ideas but none of them appealed, I turned and tripped and banged my head, where ideas can be concealed. If you bang your head extremely hard You really do see stars. but don't do this to loosen thoughts, It's the riskiest method by far I spent the night in hospital, Awakened every hour I was advised to watch my step And avoid the Ideas Tower. I wonder if there is a shop Where ideas and dreams are sold? For just a small expenditure, Put your creative mind on hold. But if you can't afford to pay The library is still there. Just look around and use your mind. Ideas are everywhere. The interaction of the world With vision,thought and mind, Produces many new ideas. Those who seek shall find
Just a load of cliches
I once lived in a notebook but now I live in your head with your dreams. And I scheme. He was warmed to the truth by tea and intoxicatologigated by me I see! I am right round the corner from him.You might say,we are at right angled cross purposes Is there a cross surplus?. As all set out,storms set in,then we all fell out if you see what I dream. I am mean You are as truthful as as a chorus of wrongs in rites of the Church choir Don't leave me in the lurch.I'm a liar. He’s as tense as a mournful frog in a bog in Ireland in wintery discontentll It's all meant As far as the wife can throw,I flew. I shall sue Sue. I was flooded as a whole.My emotions welled up and ran all over me like faries’ hands.. Like elastic bands I am honest as the day is wrong. Give me a song He was torn in three by tomcats with balls of steel They will appeal I have lost a whole stone and still no moss will grow on me.It grew on the stone! Now I feel so alone As Gluck would have it, music is heavenly singing by invisible choirs of cats. He was bats I sought him here,I sought him there.I sought him with angelic flair. But noone catches Tony Blair. I am as snug as a lapdog in a bog with a brick on its head Can I sleep on your bed? She was as tender as an apple tart is round. and quite sound As the crow flew,I had to fly as well to avoid it escaping me..I leave no crow alone They usually get stoned
Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite
Oh,doctor I am in a flap
Oh,doctor I am in a flap I cannot turn this childproof cap I cannot take my medicine So I shall toss it in the bin The beta blockers make me down I am in a study brown. The mini aspirins make me bruise And my mind is quite confused. The ibuprofen hurt my heart Yet without one I cannot start. The thyroxine has no effect So now I feel my life is dreck. The codeine fails to make me high I'm not addicted, though I try. I'll have to take a shot of gin And alcohol will make me sin. I'll go to parties in a dress That makes men's hormones more or less. I'll take a big one home with me, And give him poison in his tea. And when I am in jail at last I'll feel remorse for all my past. For as I suffer dreadful pain God has hit me yet again. It's not enough that I am blind And suffer terrors in my mind Not enough that lovers cruel Give me stick instead of jewels. Or maybe life does not make sense Especially when I feel so tense. Maybe random are my days and my life has gone astray. I think that I shall buy a cat And love it tenderly and chat. But if my cat gives me a scratch... I'll light its tail up with a match. All the world must me obey Else I'll be enraged all day. I want my own way all the time. Other people must conform. I am here and full of ills What do you think of these blue pills? If they take away my heart That at least will be a start. Then they can remove my brain To help me with this damned pain. Why not kill me right away Then I'll be from pain astray?
Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite
She loved her adverb more than me
My wife has left me for an adverb. I don't know which one it is! Is it slowly,quickly, nearly? Life should not be like a quiz. She told me that she "nearly" loved me, When "dearly" was what I had hoped. Life is full of lost illusions... How do we 'reaved lovers cope I think I should have kept it secret, For now I sit and sadly grieve. Do you think my wife is cruel? What a strange excuse to leave! Would she leave me for a pronoun? Would she leave for a full stop? Would I leave you for a quote mark? Would I fall down in a black dot? Come back,darling for I love you. I have learned I must take care. I will go for grammar lessons. I am sure I can learn flair! We can write a poem together, You can choose the topic,dear. I will hold my pen and write for They say true love drives out fear. Did I fear her? Did I love her? Was she worthy of my heart? Did she dislike my hairy nostrils? Was that why we had to part? Come back Mary,come back Mavis. Come back Sunny, come back Sue Without my wife I feel so lonely. What is a left man to do? Shall I vote for love or money? Shall I throw my self away? Shall I get a new agenda? Will a new life start today? Come back Miriam,come back Sarah! Where have all the women gone? Come back Rivka with your grammar. I can feed you a cheese scone. I work hard and I can cook. I put fresh linen on the bed. I can pay my bills in full. But without my Love,my heart is dead
When true love’s gone
When true love's gone and doom hangs over head When life runs like a river to the sea Then shall I take new lovers to my bed. And with their carnal touch consoled be? When true loves lie and break my woman's heart. When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path. Then, shall I my life of evil start And on the world shall I bestow my wrath? When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty. When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad. Then I shall upend causality And let myself do deeds which make me glad. For I have love's sweet child inside my soul And I shall tend her till at last she's whole
No sight is like the rising of the sun
No sight is like the rising of sun When promises of dreams seem clear and still My heart though sore ,can fancy love has come Without hard times and exercise of will. No morning is without new dawn of hope When all our conflicts shall be put aside. Imagination is far flung in scope, Never noting dreams may fraughtly lie. No love is like my long lost love for you Once known,once felt,it settles in the heart. Yet I do believe love can be found anew But only when the lost true love departs. So bother me no more with reveried bliss. Go leave me with my life,though all’s amiss
A Romanian from Devon
I once had a friend called Michel He was an immigrant, what the hell? He flew here from Heaven Our bread for to leaven... Yeah,the Lord is a Romanian from Devon. He blessed all the birds and the bees But the Government he sure liked to tease. You are too corrupt, He cried as he supped. So they slung him up here on' tween two trees. After he died we had storms And fires and floods and alarms. We never perceive Rather, we deceive... So by our fragmented fears we are torn. Collect up my fragments,Oh Lord Strike me not dead with thy sword. Reglue me with care as my faults I lay bare. Add my soul to thy heavenly hoard
Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite
In such captive grief
How like a prison is my cubicle How wary is my body on this 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 How gentle was your touch upon my throat. And yet you killed my words and all I brought... You were no lover but a randy goat. As in this mental jail I'm neatly trapped, I'll use this time to write and also pray. Perhaps my mind can extricate a map.. From which I'll plot the route to get away. The prisons which seem external are inside Yet in such captive grief some folk have died
A song about my cat
My cat went a roaming to find a new home. Sing kitty,sing katty,sing Oh! This cat was so clever he had his own comb. Look up,now look down,stone the crows! He went into the neighbours' and drank all their milk. Sing,fridge raiding kitties.No,No! Then he laid himself down on a piece of fine silk. Sing,what the dickens,my lovely pillow! He went to the butcher and ate all the steak. Sing greedy,he's ruined my flow. Then he went to the hairdresser for a shampoo. Where else can a puttitat go? He had no plastic,no money,no cheque! Sing,cheater,sing creature,sing woe. She sent for a Copper who paid the cat's bill. And so my puss came out all aglow. Now my cat was glossy and plump and refreshed. Sing:fancy,it all goes to show. So he came home and said this place is best. And he picked up his cello and bow. He scraped some Sibelius and also some Grieg. Sing: Northern lights can always glow. But,he looked so self satisfied,I felt annoyed.... One should not let one's narcissism show. But he was so handsome,I was glad he came home. Sing,grateful,sing katefull,sing Ho! And I hope he will never again want to roam. Sing glory.sing story;Sing So!
Postmodernism’s the fashion ne’er manque. We must study Foucault and his scribes. Get reason trapped and do not court delay. You need to find your intellectual tribe. Where is the goose which laid the golden egg.. Invented meta-talk and fairy tales? Which narrative is balanced on a peg? Which philosopher gets re-homed by a whale? Where is the whole truth and the nothing but? Whose ‘ the eye which sees reality? Who ‘s the judge who makes the final cut? Where is the God to whom we owed fealty? Now nothing is what anyone can say. I understand it’s meaningless to pray
Tellekinesis…………… moving the television
Belliekinesis……………. belly dancing.
Alienekinesis…… ……………….ethnic cleansing
Bollockinesis………………..moving bollocks.] is that vulgar?]
Followerkinesis………………. magically forcing your blog followers to move with you to another platform
Malekinesis………….. moving a man physically or emotionally.
Maleumkinesis…………….. moving evil around
Veilkinesis……………… making women’s veils fall off from a distance…
Chirokinesis………………. it’s not been invented yet
When I was writing the last post I assumed kinesiophobia was fear of physical movement or travelling but maybe it could also mean fear of changing our minds and looking at things from alternative perspectives.If you have not lived in different cultures even as simple a move as going from a working class home to a University may cause great anxiety. Changing your religious or political belief or even knowing that someone else has especially if it’s someone close to you is a major step.I know several people who still practise Catholicism but do not believe any of its creeds.But to formally give them up might be too big a step.Conversely,it would be even harder in some circles to move from atheism to religious belief in the sense that you might be mocked.This odd because there is no scientific reason against belief in God.
Ironically it was being made to study theology at school which was a watered down version of Aquinas that made me have doubts.I thought,so they are not sure.. and the head mistress was not tolerant of discussion.My attempts brought me into conflict and led me into mental pain eventually..
I suppose we need some movement in our ideas and our assumptions but not too much or we lose our footing.Sometimes we must hide it which is what I should have done when I was still at this convent school.
People who try to convert others like evangelical Christians or excessively left wing/right wing political groups should realise the dangers of asking people to make a giant leap of faith
Kinesophobia’s hard to measure;
Deprives the sufferer of fine leisure
They cannot travel in the bus
For fear their nerves will make a fuss.
Trapped inside a moving car
Hardly knowing where we are.
Do we trust the driver’s hands?
Dare we give some kind commands?
Others suffer when at sea
They drink gin for safety.
It’s all about control and trust.
Probably from our very own past.
The breakdown that we fear may come
Has already visited and gone.
We project our past into tomorrow
Which blights our soul with fearful sorrow.
All of life can give us pain
Don’t add more by worrying.
We’re often stronger than we think
Hey,who has stolen my hard drink?
It’s so easy to offer wise advice
If we’ve not been in that same place.
Grace may come to us direct.
What It Is:
Pathological fear of motion
About the Word:
The root of this word is kinein, Greek for to move.
That same root gives us cinema(moving pictures), kinesthesia(muscle sense), and telekinesis(using mental powers to move objects).