Day: April 24, 2016

And an early dark grave is here waiting for me.


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I’ve sung my wild singing in time gone before
But I don’t want to sing now
Oh,never no more.
And it’s no nay ,never
No,nay,never no more
Shall I use my voice here…
Nor out will it pour.

My name is Allanah,or Eileen. perhaps
And I came here from Ireland
with outdated maps
And it’s,Why,why ever,
Why ever and more
Did the Brits give no votes to
The poor Catholics?

My sister and brothers
All died from T.B.
And an early dark grave
is here waiting for me.
But I bore six children
And I cared for my man
As he came home so filthy
From the old coal diggin’

We had no free doctor
And no kind midwife.
So though my son’s born,
Strain is takin’ my life.

Always and ever
The rich will maintain
That without them this country
Will go down the drain.

But why don’t you try it
As a memorial to me.
Let the rats all depart
And what shall we see?

No,nay,never,nay never no more
Shall I bear my man children
No nay never
Not ever again.

I looked down from heaven
Where God has put me
What did I find
When out did I see?

I saw that the world
Turns round once every day
The beggars and homeless
Kneel down and they pray

Oh,no no never,
dear God help the rich.
Your son tried to larn them
But they were n’t bewitched.
They have their accountants
And they have all their laws
They find their amusement
In troubles and wars.
They think that they own you
But,dear God,you’re not theirs
We saw your son Jesus
And he said you are ours

So when will you come down
To make that judgment?
My pen it has broken
My life force is spent.

So it’s no,nay never
Not ever again
Will I sing my old songs
Nor  shall I love my own man

Stan and the standard deviation

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Stan was teaching social statistics to a group of elderly neighbors.Since he was 101 it gave  much  hope  to them to see him demonstrating his prowess with various techniques on the overhead projector,.He was planning to do some logic and  some philosophy too.Annie was sitting by the door so she could answer the bell if any paramedics turned up for tea or supper…
I’m not going to calculate ” the standard deviations” he murmured.”I just want you to grasp the general purpose.”
“Deviations,they’re not normal are they?” enquired his neighbour “Henry,an ex-English teacher.”So how can they be standard.It’s utterly confusing..”
“Are you thinking of deviants?” Stan enquired calmly yet nervously
”Certainly not,at my age I’m  long  past that!”
” Still it adds a bit of excitement to the class.” he thought.
How do words in ordinary language relate to those in Statistics?”asked Henry kindly.
“They are just more precisely defined in statistics.To say someone is a deviant is a rather vague term.”
“No,it’s not!My neighboru is a deviant.He always dresses entirely in yellow.”
“Well,that must be hard to do.Certainly unusual.” Stan agreed boldly.
“But in another country that might be the norm.So it’s a matter of  context.In statistics it’s more prosaic..There’s a formula.It’s totally independent of context.Have you ever wondered why so many mathematicians have  a touch of Asperger’s syndrome?”
“No,it’s not something that  meanders through my mind much”replied Henry wittily.
A shudder passed through the audience  on   hearing the word “formula“,which perhaps they considered something of a deviant word. Anything with letters and numbers mixed together is certainly not welcome in many people’s minds, along with their more unusual sexual tastes,desires and inclinations which were kept secret even from themselves in many cases.So Lacan appeared to think.As I am unable to understand his writing  myself,I cannot be sure if he was right or even half right.
“Time for tea.” called Annie,hoping to divert their attention to the everyday realm of food and drink..She carried in a platter of mouse [mice?] sandwiches kindly donated by the local ambulance service and some iced Victoria sponge she and Stan had made the day before in her new  oven.
“Just a quick word about next week.We’ll take a look at ratios and proportions and maybe see how that relates to the concept of rationality.”
“That sounds fun!” Annie called encouragingly.Henry decided to act on a deviant desire and fell onto her lap
”Oh,dear!” she gasped loudly as the chair collapsed under her.”Why can’t you be deviant at home?”
“My wife won’t let me!” He kindly answered.And it’s impossible truly.
“And look,” Stan continued,”we’ll have to ring 999.This chair is in fragments.I thought for one day we’d be able to avoid calling them out!”
“Well,life is not controllable.” said a quiet but fierce looking lady with sharp green eyes.”That’s what makes it tolerable“
She then greedily consumed a large piece of iced  sponge  cake .
“I can stand the thinking if the cake is good” she whispered to her shy friend Amy.
”That’s rather a feeble argument,”Amy retorted.”You can’t really compare cake and statistics.”
“I’ll compare anything I like!” the green eyed woman snarled loudly.
“You do what you like but you must keep a sense of proportion!”As we all know….
“Now then,have you rung 999?” Stan queried of Annie.”Yes,here they are,and they’ ve got a stretcher for the chair!”
“Well,that’s certainly unusual,even deviant“,Stan thought anxiously to himself.
”Where do they get their funding? Is there a fund for distributing money to help chairs which are not normal?

..i…Cat pen and flower collage2

For violins of gypsies I do pray.

When  mere  genius and expert  create art
And commoners  no  longer  sing and play
Then in this world I wish to play no part
For violins of gypsies I do pray.

Folk dances and melodies  divine
To the public  people once  belonged
On Feast Days we all met  with joy again
With   roasted pig and  cider we did sing.

Society is now truly at  its end
Our rain water to Spanish banks belongs.
Can we into hell further  descend
While famous tenors ravish us with song?

My reservoir is empty and I’m sick;
For all we had is taken by   these tricks

Fruits exotic

Next year in  Eden  sweet I  hope to  be.
Tasting pears and apples in delight,
Or fruits exotic I have not yet seen
And other glories now hidden from sight.

Yet, for now, I struggle on my way
As if  uncertain whether it is right.
Must I ,alone, decide the price to pay,
And stumble in the weeds in dim twilight?

At times I search  my dreams   for their insight
Or, as if blind, ignore a potent sign.
Anxiety and doubt bring me no light.
To shades and shadows I must be resigned.

Faith and hope we keep  or we shall die.
Can Love itself be nothing but a lie?

Murderers of the heart

A home can  be a comfort or a cage;
A place to leave or rest in comforts dear.
We may feel like the bears that danced on stage
Or   sometimes find a sanctuary  from fear

Uncertain of our love a  spouse may be.
And so  they test us when there is no need
Is it not so clear to those who see
The test itself may make our love’s heart bleed?

Testing to destruction  is a crime;
To kill to feel a semblance of  our powers.
To test is  to make invalid good times
Murderers  of the  heart are   frightened cowards.

 

A home is not a place for setting tests
Be no murderer if you long for rest.

Stan feels better

Black cat looking out of the window
 

Stan was feeling somewhat glum,nay even despairing,on Monday morning.
Mary had gone to work on her new folding 6 gear bicycle with own basket and an extra basket from Wells-next -the- Sea 1995[the wicker basket now somewhat gray in hue.]
He was left at home sorting out all his art work and materials as well as doing the baking and bathing Emile,the delightful yet trying male cat.
Sunk in dark misery,Stan sat in an old uncomfortable chair in the darkest part of the room, while Emile snored on the rug by the bright French windows.Stan went through all the possible reasons for his state of mind.
Was he guilty about his flings with his alluring next door neighbou rAnnie?
Could it be his failure to toilet train Emile? ~Or his omitting to carry out the penance given by Father Brown after Stan confessed to stealing sweets on the way to Confession in 1956?
The longer Stan brooded the more reasons he found for his depression.
He could hardly get up to make a cup of coffee ..even instant seemed too much trouble.Would he even clean his teeth which somehow he’d failed to do?
The doorbell rang… it was a new cord for his laptop as Emile had been chewing the current one ,and 29 books in a sack from Amazon which his wife must have ordered,as he had no recollection of any such foolish spending.How would they pay the bill on the credit card? he ruminated.
Later in the day ~Annie peered through the window.She tapped on the glass with her well manicured blue finger nails.
Let me in she cried.
I’m too tired for any hanky panky he murmured lovingly as he ran his fingers through her thick red tresses.What is this delightful perfume,beloved?he questioned her.
It’s Poison! she replied.Oh no,sorry it’s Iris and Jasmine Eau de toilette from the Bodyshop.
Despite his lowly sunken state Stan loved this perfume.He sniffed rabidly at her well rounded form.
Well,shall we have some tea?She enquired.
Stan sat there hand on chest.
I’ve been feeling a little gloomy,he muttered.She peered at him.You look terribly pale,Stan.I can’t recall,he said.Oh,here it is in my vest.
What a strange place to keep it,she responded.
Mary made pockets for all my vests.at one time you could buy vests with pockets
She’s good at sewing despite being so clever.In fact she loves doing things with her hands.
Annie got the GNT spray out and handed it to him.
Have you got a pain?
Well,yes,now you mention it,I do,he replied verbosely.
Well,in the name of God, use the bloody thing,she whispered endearingly into his left ear.
He opened his mouth,raised his tongue and with his hand resting lightly on his chin he pressed the button with his forefinger.
His head began to throb.
Annie appeared with a cup of Earl Grey tea and a biscuit.
Why,you look a little better.Do you need another dose?
No,I feel much better now.I’ve had it before.He drank the tea but didn’t eat the biscuit which he threw out later in crumbs for the field mice in the shed.
His spirits began to rise.Why did he always forget that physical ailments can worsen a mood?He still felt a trifle glum but nothing a meringue wouldn’t put right.
OK,what shall I make for Mary’s supper? he enquired.
You sit there in the window and I’ll just make my special spaghetti,Annie replied gaily,as long as I can stay too.
Yes,I’ll open some red wine he said youthfully,and we can have fried apples and bananas for pudding with non fat Greek yoghurt.
What a wise choice she murmured gently into his ear………that will use up some of the newly picked apples,the bananas were from Lidl’s as usual.
Well,Stan you look better.said Mary happily,You’ve been pale all weekend.Was it Annie who cheered you up,not to put too fine a point on it?
Actually it was nitroglycerine,he said roguishly,but Annie made me use it.
But for us women you’d be dead,she replied equably.
But for you delightful creatures I wouldn’t be here at all,he moaned ecstatically.
Now then Stan,control yourself she urged,After all we have a visitor,Annie!
What a hoot,he thought as he twisted spaghetti round his fork in a careless manner splashing tomato sauce all over his new acrylic jumper.
Thank the Lord for washing machines,Mary said.
I didn’t know Jesus invented them,Annie said with a tone of mild sarcasm but no-one bothered to reply.

As told by Emile to the local paper last week.

Revenge and rumination

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I’ve been reading and thinking about revenge,retaliation and hate.And forgiveness.
If we ruminate over past harm done to us,we never recover let alone forgive.
So the Christian Liturgy on Good Friday
[now altered  to be less offensive by the  Pope.A little late in the day]
by constantly reminding us of the allegation that the Jews  werer esponsible for Jesus’s death means we’ve been ruminating for 2,000years on this.And Christians wrote the gospels. a good few years after the events..the true story may be different.
But should we not in any case forgive ?
After  all the Jewish religion gave  us Jesus too.Should we not thank them for this?
Should we not have gratitude?Should we wonder at a God who needs his son to die anyway  [it’s a fertility ritual I believe in ancient times?]And now foreigners and no doubt all Jews except Jesus,Mary, and a few others.Yes, when you mock Jews you mock him.He died as a practising Jew and many other Jews were crucified by the Romans.

How raw numbers deceive.

In statistics we use  very odd words;
Quartiles and deciles absurd.
But we need them to perceive
How raw  numbers deceive.
To get a grip so that knowledge is shared.

The more deeply we wish to see
The more words unusual  there’ll be.
Deviations and ranges—
How what we see changes
Uncertainly we make our plea.