Smaller joys and pleasures are not sought

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How like a prison is my once loved home

Since now I linger here in fevered chills.

No more may I be free to walk and roam

Nor climb the mountains and the hills.

The television irks me  and annoys

I cannot bear the sound of human voice.

My  lost intelligence is not deployed

I err in thinking I  have little choice.

And so it is myself whom I destroy.

What path to take when feeling lost and ill,

When lying in  my bed I cannot rest.

What act would give me strength and  better will?

What  purpose has this illness and its test?

The road to hell is paved with too much thought

So smaller joys and pleasures are not sought

Funny mis-hearing

 

I saw this quote below in a book review:

“My slips didn’t do any real harm to anybody, but I’m afraid that I did make one exceedingly grave error during the run up to the general election of 1979. Apparently Sir Roderick Ketterington-Jones’ actual words were:

“I shall shortly be exploring a proposal for extreme fines for hookers arrested behind the Co-op toilets.”

Unfortunately, my hearing of the phrase was slightly distorted and I ended up reporting it as:

“I shall shortly be proposing to explore four extremely fine hookers’ arresting behinds in the Co-op toilets.”

 

This is funny but also very interesting.The speaker said something but the hearer didn’t hear what was said,he heard something [which might show his own interests in hookers and their behinds ]and that it would  seem this dignitary shared his interest
.I am sure that is how lots of arguments begin.We mis-hear.And we mis-hear according to  our own fears,desires and wishes.We think we hear one thing and the speaker believes we have heard exactly what he said.So when we begin a discussion we are already out of tune with each other.And it will conntinue to get worse unless we are aware of what might happen.Like asking someone to repeat what they just said.

Division

Division
In the sky,half dark,half light.
Will we get more rain?

How the mind fills up
With prediction and fear
Gone is trust in God.

Yet deep down we know
All shall be well;be it so.
Who can interpret?

Now we have no souls
Yes,we are social  constructs.
Am I still myself?

Yet why throw away
The wisdom of the ages?
We know what soul means.

And we  trust in God
More than we trust our leaders.
Who are wrecked by power.

We need to worship
Not gold,not  brand new  kitchens,
Something beyond us.

God predates our words
So he speaks in burning bush
Or in a fierce light.

The bush is not so hot
Compared to a new shopping Mall
The intercom’s  bust.

He can’t get through now
We have erected idols
Worship our plastic.

 

 

Mary has a date

Dotty cats 2

 

Mary decided that, purely out of scientific interest, she would join an on-line dating service.Her main problem was filling in the form.You need an degree in  English to even understand the,
Shall I  put down my profession?,she asked Annie her late husband’s mistress.who lived right   next door., which is why  he chose her as he was lazy
Just put teacher,Annie told her.Don’t  give any more  details,she went on
Why?Do you think men wouldn’t like female mathematicians Mary asked  tentatively
Wait till they have got to know you a bit first,said Annie
Actually I can barely work out percentages now,Mary confessed sheepishly.
But is it moral to deceive? she wondered out loud
Well,it’d better to  go step by step with many things.I’ll take a new photo of you after I set your hair.It’s your face which is most important and your eyes,
You could have fooled me,Mary told her ,recollecting colleagues gazing at her bosom in meetings.
Well,we don’t know for sure,Annie admitted scientifically yet prosaically
Two weeks later Mary had met a very handsome art teacher called Bill.They went walking in the woods and took photographs of trees and flowering shrubs and had tea in the cafe.Later they went out for dinner in a restaurant where Dave the wonderfully amiable  transvestite paramedic was by chance eating with his brother Peter,who was a sheep farmer .
Hello,Dave, she said.This is Bill,my date.He’s an artist.
So you like really  clever women,Bill,Dave asked him courteously.
I’ve never met any, as yet,Bill replied.
Mary’s face went bright red as she realised even if nobody  told Bill her job, she could not carry on deceiving  him.
Well,how about Mary ? Dave asked naughtily.
She’s    fairly  intelligent I think, said Bill.But I’m ok with that.
Suppose she was highly intelligent then?
I don’t think she’s  so  much above average.
Did you pass your maths O level.Dave asked politely
No,I never was good at maths but I am very gifted at Art.Brilliant.That’s why I am puzzled I can’t sell a picture.
Mary and Dave began to giggle.
Maybe you could paint Scrodinger’s cat? Mary cried
Where does he live,asked Bill.If it’s not too far I can drive over.Are they well off?
No, he’s dead,Mary chortled.I want a dust jacket for my book and you could  do  the design with a cat in the middle.
Bill looked a bit uneasy.He then turned to Mary and told her he was feeling faint so he ran out leaving her to pay the bill with her Sainsburys’ Mastercard or  even with money.
Oh,Dave,she said,why were you here? I liked him.He is handsome and fit.
It was just serendipity,he murmured as he admired her gorgeous red face and wild  curly hair.Maybe I’ll take you out  one evening?If Emile is ok with it.Emile being a cat did not speak English but  he made his feelings plain
So Mary was not going to see Bill again but at least she had been out

2013-02-08 11.15.30