What next we may wonder …. a 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 is non repeating and endlessly changing,just like a woman one might say.Though women are very various.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.
Winter love comes when we near the end
Yet do not wish for solitude each day.
Cupid wtih his arrows may descend
He jokes with us and invites us out to play.
Winter love may come amidst the snow
When frost bites noses and nips fingers dear.
But despite age a woman out may go
To walk her lover and content appear..
The age of frost has not entered my heart
My mind has filled up with fine new desires
The problems come when lovers desperate
Show contempt and start a bitter pyre.
Yet winter love can grip me despite flaws
Hope and laughter circle me uncaused.
t
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I was always out of the lurch of normality,if you grasp my scheming.I had a hare brain and no mind to speak to except that of my doll with no head.
it fell off,unlike mine,that’s china for you.Potheads are a bad idea in general.
Please read under each line today and then hover tomorrow.
To take the path of least consistency is hard for mathematicians
but post-Godel it’s just one more hurdle to lean over
Play as you go where,sweetheart?
His lips paid me such service,no-one since has matched his adroitness,
yet he never knew my real name was Sylvia.
I was just one of a number of girl he loved in rotation;we were almost a constellation
and definitely a consolation to each other,united by our hatred of the one we loved.It’s what we call manbivalence.I never saw him naked as he wore his underserpents in bed and even in the daytime too.My therapist said I was stupid and it’s a relief after all these years of being too clever.Anyway they don’t reach one to understand one’s textuality unless one is French.Lacan,Foucault, I dunno… why do they make it sound umpossible?
I thought when I wrote the past post that it could be confusing for people learning English that some people say
I don’t give f*ck about you
but we never say
I do give a f*ck about you.
Why is that? (setting aside the fact that many of us don’t ever use the word f*ck.I confess when I dropped a cast iron pan on my toe I did say it.)
I once was labelled an athlete
For I played the violin with my feet
I placed a cloth on my private parts,
Purely, for the sake of art.
But the sound I made wasn’t so sweet
But because I played worse than the best
A man suffered from cardiac arrest.
The policemen of the heart
Took him off in their cart
So after that I almost confessed
When arthritis afflicted my toe
It could not go where toes need to go.
I took up my pen
To write music again
For the shy, it’s a good way to go.
Introverts and performing arts suck
Too shy,too inward , give a f*ck.
But writing on paper
Here we can caper
And get read by the beats, if in luck
Exhilarate is derived from the tongue
Of the Romans to whom Latin belonged.
What a sad notion
That most are not taught it
It helps English acquisition along
However, the highest value today
Is whether a subject will pay.
Toddlers learn coding,
As computers are loading.
And learn not at all from their play.
Yet play is vital for satisfaction
To the sensuous world we interact in
And tots learn how to talk
Without much conscious thought.
So we can learn if the future is fiction.
How my heart sings 