Day: April 16, 2016

A child that was

 

The hole sucks me in,with its deep darkness
The Fall was never healed.
Can I resist the call of the killers?
Will they kill me with kindness or with hatred?
I try to hide but no place feels safe anymore
I negate my writing and hide my pens.
Pain degrades  Writing deleted returns in imagination
 I can do little but I try
 Black gravity is the monster in my soul…
 Sway not the tree
 On whose strong branch the leopard drapes himself
 But let the moon speak in silver tongue
 as the leaves rustle
 I am invisible
 except as a home for ants
 Who steals my words.
 I am no more than a punctuation mark or a short title
 I am near the end of my sentence.
 I’ll be hanged by some inverted commas
 From the oak tree.. burning in the sun’s borrowed fires
 I can’t see your face now.
 Just shapes in grey fog
 Like the doctor without feeling for my child.
 A child,that was..
 that would have been…
 that has gone.
 I am uncertain
outside the circle,
outside the circle.
the circle
of
your arms

Phish in the Jordan with me

Is he male and a terror? No,I mean  is email  an error?

I googled all night  with him.Am I with child or just wild?
I  got phished out of the river Jordan
He has broken my tart with his  drink
And deliver us from hacking.O,Lord
Please flaunt me tonight and tomorrow.
The doctor want half my nose and  £3,000… Is  this a new rite de passage?
Deport me now,please let me row.I don’t love your ancient door
I don’t love wolves  by the score.
My floor is always hoping for you to step on it
I love you so clutch.
He was schizo -affectionate.. he was in two binds about me
His personality was ordered but we don’t know by whom.Anyway he was so orderly it was a disorder if you can blunderstand  that.He’s incuriable.
Be my stitch.I’ll never cross you.
It took me all fray to thread a  beadle.My button skipped off and my houses fell down.
My  wonderwear was impeccable.As  white as a blow.
Shred the horned beef and wish with dashed potato.
Sausage and Mass?
He’s gone to Expression now to clear his whole for tomorrow.

Ersatz raps

This is meant to be read aloud… it’s a sound poem.I made up some words too..

Source: K

Oh,I see the wolf listening..he’s so gentle or is he decentral?
Oh,Ah,kerbumplof.
Shrieks,calling for mate
Bang my soul up
In your bedroom
Ker pluf
Thor.War
Storms of lightning
Hail you
AAAAAAhhhhhhhhh
Me,oh,me oh,me stuck here in my groove
Give me electric shocks;the silent treatment.Sulk for me, please,Argentina.
Screech,scream,I felt you watching.
Touch me with a feather
Dust me!
Glug!
I see the wasps round your coat
They hug you and nip your neck
Bong!
Don’t come near me again
Wolves are not
Welcome!
I sigh for mein mutter
She’s a nutter,
utter
Sob
Scream
nightmare
Thud!
You hate me!
Never call again when you’re already here
You are not welcome.
I close my door
on your foot boot
Oh,yes.
Thunder and lightening
Go home now
This is a poem as likely
ill conceived
Eagle flies while I am
Falling down a mountain…
Scree burning.
I never want to see you again,babe.My duck.
Please be a love and leave me.Cheers
That’s ok.I understand you.
Asp,gasp
Per bot fly!
No thud
No dach
sounds whimper.
It’s time for my tea and biscuit
I cooked it twice
but you were
ab ab a aaab aa absent aahaa
sent!
No.No.no
I can’t believe you!
Cut this string and let it all hang out again
Oh,bogger.Go to bed
Now
How
Mein eschreitschzung.Flightschzung.Nachtschzung
blung.blung
blot me out
I’m an ink stain.
I like your fingers, so clean and curving
I’ll mark you and give you homework
Och,aye
It’s well come
Crooning mouse traps
See Rockefeller
drop out and
Bring a bag of sylvia plath’s
scrap paper.
did she know?
Did she know?
Did she sweat
Bang?
Thud.My sky fell in onto the millpond
Don’t smoke near me
I’ll get burned
For I hate you
Or just want your hat and an E for
flatness
Droom,droom
Dee
Bag
bug
Ted went to bed
where he spent his honeymoon
with another woman
Not with the second one
Mathilda
It’s finished us all off
Brang.Blong
Eschreitchzung
Fleightschztung
Herr Meightschrung!

The brightest bulb for hours

Now the brightest bulb has flowered it’s downhill all the way to the mountain peaks,the cataract and the cliff hangar
He is not the toast of happenstance. He’s a control freak and a manic depressor par strict and tense.
She is not the sharpest wife as yet but she can cut a man in half with a sentence,nay even one word… I keep it  secret.It is secret.
Lily is not the happiest sheep in the flock but soon her ram will come.
Nothing impersonal is alien to her.
Foam for the Foe,we say.
He needs nothing to freeze her cat except a thermometer.
I have nothing to write a poem about so I need therapy to give me a Lear or two.
I developed a neurotic transference because I could not spell erotic at that time.Anyway,psychotic,erotic,pneumatic, what’s the inference?
It’s all Greek to me but maybe you can transmute it into my head
He has nothing up my sleeve,mother.
Nothing censored is worth writing to Rome about
Now we never err but we never care either.It’s all  one schizoid  world
Splintered  personally into a million diamonds,worth a fortune but good for nothing.
Freud liked his eggs re-baked.Not re-laid.
Freud lost his libido in his forties.We  believe he was unconscious mostly,
Say whatever comes into your head everyday and you will soon be unpopular as well as neurotic.Unless it’s erotic.
Our dearest wish is to die,Freud averred.Unfortunately they won’t let us.
We require no stimuli at all.Peace is all we need.Not love.

Stan and Mary’s bloomers

Stan woke up feeling unusually  fresh and lively on Monday morning.He gently extricated himself from the bed where his cat Emile was sleeping on a pillow beside Mary his kind and gentle  yet tryingly brilliant and intellectual wife.Stan took a photos of the two with his Panasonic Lumix camera and took one of Annie ,his mistress, walking past in a lemon coloured light wool tweed suit

Lemon wool is rarely seen on sheep,Stan thought to himself,though he dreamed of lemon coloured sheep once after he got food poisoning and spent half night on the wc or crawling to and from his bed.
He flew down the stairs because he saw the postman coming and then he opened the door quickly in case it was a rude book he was expecting.
.The postman handed him a parcel wrapped in grey plastic.As it was soft it was not a book unless it had no cover on
He opened it and to his astonishment he found two pairs of old fashioned ladies long legged bloomers or possibly they were short leggings or jeggings as we say nowadays;
He rather hoped they were bloomers as he had always found that they turned him on more than g strings and bikini panties often worn now judging by the lingerie departments of  the Department Stores where he often lingered languidly, longing for more  love and romance even though he was 99 years old
.Altogether the the bloomers were a very winsome type of garment…c. as long as they were underneath a dress,perhaps a long flowing gown embroidered with daisies or roses.Stan did not find leggings and cropped tops made him  desirousas he preferred some mystery in women’s appearance which gave him a fantasy [often unreal] about the perfection  and shape of the body beneath
He made Mary some tea and took it upstairs on a little tray with painted naive owls decorating it.She was awake and looking very charming in a fleece nightdress with robins and butterflies embroidered onto it by her own hands
Hello,babe,Stan said winningly.I have just opened a parcel but it is for you.
What is it,she asked tentatively.
Just some big knickers,he said tactfully.
Oh,yes.They are for the play we are putting on for Xmas,,,, the Importance of being Furnished by Kasper Milde
Furnished with what?
With clothes,she said soothingly.Like women used to wear.So I shall wear a pair of whalebone corsets and these bloomers.
What about your top half?Will your bosom be bare,he teased her jocosely.
No,dear.Not here…I’d never live it down
As an artist I think if your art demands a bare bosom you must bare it or die.
Well,she said,I don’t think my mother had a bare top.She had a corselet with a built in bra and then a petticoat made of rayon with lace edging.And a woollen vest too.And an underdress.
Oh dear,Stan answered sadly.I hoped you’d be half naked…
You can see me fully naked here ,she informed him in a gentle and humorous manner…
I know.dear, but it’s not the same alone here as it would be on the stage.. that excites me a lot.I guess it’s my age.
You would not be able to ravish me in public, she said grinning at his reflection in the mirror opposite the bed end…..
Well,we could pop out in the interval,he mused to himself… it’s 15 minutes or so.
That’s not enough for me,she told him firmly
How  very kind dear.I am so glad you’d like me for longer than that.
I am just being practical,she murmured, we older ladies take more time to get going,as it were.And a vibrator never excited me.Where is the romance and humanity in plastic or even in vegetables?
Years it takes them to get ready for it,Stan thought dolefully.No wonder I have a mistress.Even she is only turned on about once a month…
Still there was always a possibility that sooner or later one of them would want him to stroke their backs and call them darling or buttercup or some other tender word.How he hoped today would be the day though the lemon tweed suit made it seem unlikely Annie would be at home.He smiled at Mary and offered to make her a bacon buttie.. who knows what might happen after that… and Emile is listening and hoping for a display of human passion as long as nobody died in bed  and disturbed his cosy nest

Goodbye

7486380_f260

Mary stood at the bus stop in her chocolate wool winter coat which Stan had always loved very much.
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 mysterious vision of the Matterhorn in midwinter while on heroin.
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 as well..Wearing Stan’s vest was a mistake as the bus was overheated.She turned pink like sunrise over ICI in Billingham  for, perceive it or not, 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.Oh,for some fresh tea.
Where’s your microphone, the youth demanded in a  light voice.It must be one of those new tiny ones,I guess
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 him in a manner resembling that of a mildly dotty 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  pure rainwater water falling off High Force in Teesdale. in  a summer storm.
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 brothers may have noticed but they were too nervous to tell Mother I needed any 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,worried about her bill.
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 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 Tranter
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 awkwardly.
No,it’s a life sentence,she said humorously as she put her hand up her skirt to get her phone.
That’s a silly place to keep your 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,Stan continued to Mary.
I’ll do whatever I feel like,she said rudely.I could use a comforting arm around me.
Stan sobbed as only a holy soul can.
She said,quickly
Don’t worry.I’ll get Emile to sit on my knee.Goodbye for now,darling.
Goodbye whispered Stan faintly.
Good bye…. goodbye.

 

Her eyes faltered.

It appears the world is a verb not a noun.
I’ve had my suspicions of course,
I know that’s how I see,
Not yet having achieved object constancy
I see afresh,which is alarming until one adapts.
I see the way you see on Heroin,
But for me,it’s free.
I never knew if mother was the same person today,
Or some new other mother.
She did have the same hands
But her eyes faltered.
I gave them all the same name,
Like a folder on the computer.
Let’s see how many mothers I created!
In the end I had to go to school
To get some kind of safety net.
We had alternative explanations there
Like we were saved from sin.
But who can save us from multiple mothers?
I never let on,though I felt stressed sometimes
By all the changes.
Couldn’t things be more fixed?
Dreams end,but life goes on
Being a verb it has to act, you see.
If it were a noun it would be enclo
sedBy many parameters,grids like stunning geometric orgasms,
Quite beautiful to look at it but never felt.
Feeling is the art of life.
Art is the life of the feelings.
What are the feelings of the feelings?
Who understands the heart of Art?

“Everyone who moves here should be made to dress the way we do”

guys-in-suits

The above remark was made to me by a friend  in a  phone call.She is thinking of Muslims but other ethnic.religious groups  do wear distinctive clothing. I  only dislike face coverings because it’s frightening to see such things when we know we have terrorists about.
Jewish  men in Stamford Hill have worn the dark clothing which  is similar to what their grandparents wore when they fled Russian pogroms over 100 years ago.So should they have to wear jeans or emigrate or be i mprisoned? Shades of the Spanish Inquisition…

Here is what many young women wear nowadays.In fact they often wear shorter or crop tops too.Do you feel Muslims and Orthodox Jewish women would like this?

Many of us wear  jeans and anoraks.I  am unsure if my friend is thinking clearly.Will the police arrest folk wearing heads-carves or big black hats? Women wearing wigs or headscarves to hide chemotherapy side effects could be in trouble.I know in France they have outlawed any Muslim headcovering. Would that stop me wearing a big headscarf if  I felt like it?

How about the many Indians here? Must they wear  jeggings and jeans?

sari

And how would a religious Jewish man get on dressed as below? I suppose if they wore forced to bare their heads that would suffice but .why should they?We have always been very tolerant in dress.I hope we will continue to be

men-in-suits-072213-06

We feel our love absurd

Art though my own and may I now love thee?
Art though my own and shall I  thy wife be?
As waiting long  lays waste to love and joy
Art though mine,  or with me do’st thou toy?

O treat me not like  stuff disposable
O treat me not  as one intolerable.
For if  thou touch then thou hast made a claim.
And from  my heart, to lose is to be maimed.

For  women are not like  to sheep or goats
We have hearts to feel what thou hast wrought
And if  thou come to steal then   thou’rt a  thief.
One of many  causing women grief.

Do not touch with hand or with sweet words
For  if thou  lie, we feel our love  absurd

 

Losing

Have you ever lost your handkerchief,
And then mislaid your hand?
Have you ever lost your ball point pen?
I completely understand.

That’s why I got this  laptop
and painted it bright red;
So I will never loose it
When it’s time for bed.

As I am so very small
I sleep beneath the lid.
I sleep in a long nightdress
Just like my mother did.

Well,sleeping in a laptop
Is not for everyone
You need to be both flat and thin
Claustrophobia’s not on.

I can give you my advice;
But it’s never worked for me.
So I’m agitated when
I need tranquillity.

One day it’s the thyroxine,
Another it’s aspirin
The calcium channel blockers
Have been found in the bin.

I woke up today at 4 am
The beta blockers fled;
The ibuprofen were laughing
At my computer bed.

I never lost the GNT
I can go up with a bang…
But please don’t call my doctor
Unless I’ve lost my hands.

I’m typing here with my big toes
They need some useful task…
And yes,I have just lost my heart.
I knew you‘d understand.

The Government say I’m fit for work
When I take all these pills..
Yeah,my life is wonderful
When they cure  my ills.

But somehow I don’t feel myself
with all my channels blocked…
I seem to be a new woman
Though I recognise this frock.

Oh,lay me down on our green earth
and make a bed for me;
For if I lose my pills again
The stress will half kill me.

And what’s the use of half a maid
To any loving man?
If he loves,he loves the whole…
As much as any can.

Oh lay me down just like a sheet
and then you won’t see me;
For sleeping in a laptop
Is  quite flattening hobby.

I leave my books to Oxfam.
Clothes to the BBC
So when they make a comedy,
You’ll think that you see me.

I knew my mind was going wrong.
My tongue became too sharp.
So silence is the best way out
Until I learn the harp.

No doubt I’ll be in Purgatory
For making grown men weep.
So  most men will all be happy
When I take my final sleep.

Oh,sure I have a few good points..
I can cook and knit;
And now and then I make a joke
As if I’ve lost my wits.

Generous,kind and gentle,
I have oftentimes been named…
But my late born assertiveness
Seems to accrue blame.

On my grave  lay a simple cross
And plant some daffodils
And,no, don’t see a lawyer
For I have lost my Will

 

Save rage as

weather-frozen-fen_3549042k.jpg

When I pressed the button
To save my latest words,
“Save rage as” came on the screen
And my mind went blurred.

Save my rage  for later
Save it from distress
Save my rage as powder
Put it in a keg.

Save my rage for humans
Save my rage for God.
Save rage as important.
Is saving rage so odd?

Save rage for a scapegoat..
Don’t show it where it’s right.
Why not hurt a scapegoat
Who will go in the night.

Save my rage for praying
Save my rage for God.
Save my rage for lovers
Who like milk go bad.

Save as rage for holy ones
who boast their worship proud.
Save as rage for followers
Who talk of God so loud.

Save a rage for victims
Save as rage for poor.
Save as rage for children
Who live without a door.

Save as rage for rulers
Save as rage for fools
Save as rage for women
Save as rage at Cruel.

Save as rage for torture
Save as rage for mad
Save as rage for politicians.
Save the world ,dear God.

The Pope visits Lesbos

 

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http://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/apr/16/pope-francis-flies-to-lesbos-to-highlight-humanitarian-crisis-in-europe?utm_source=esp&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=GU+Today+main+NEW+H&utm_term=167435&subid=9545527&CMP=EMCNEWEML6619I2

 

The refugees / “prisoners” were given showers clean clothes and proper food before Pope Francis and   the Head of the Orthodox Church Bartholomew I visited.Their conditions have deteriorated greatly in recent weeks

Malice and force

1.If malice or envy were tangible and had a shape, it would be the shape of a boomerang.
Charley Reese

2.

When we are civilised we’ll buy a nuclear bomb

IMG_0025#

I had a little missionary for my tea
I’m feeling very hungry,don’t you see?
I put a lot butter all over him
I must confess he was really far too thin.

Tomorrow morning I’ll boil an egg
Otherwise I’ll go outside and beg.
I have no missionaries in the house
But one is lurking outside near my dormouse.

It’s been a custom in my native home
To catch any missionary who there roams.
We believe we absorb their virtue best
By roasting them and having a big feast.

You see we are very backward here.
It must be genetic,so I fear.
We like to enjoy a very mixed dinner.
A few green leaves and more boiled sinners.

When we are civilised we’ll buy a nuclear bomb
And maybe a computer and a thousand million guns
We’ll start a war and kill a lot of folk.
You can’t break an egg before you boil the yolk

IMG_0013.JPG