Day: November 19, 2016

Anyway,how is your nose?

 

When I am down I like a little Bark.
What about my shoe,Bert?
I know it’s a stiletto , but murder doesn’t cure depression.
Nothing lasts…except the ten minutes before the doctor begins the 22 injections into your face.
You know I hate the way   they talk,You are going to smell the smell of human flesh burning.
It’s what we call schizoid.If they said, your own flesh burning then you’d be shouting,  and bawling.And they can’t handle that.They are only trying to help you
That’s what Hitler said to Freud
And what did Freud say?
i prefer a cigar,
I didn’t know you smoked
It’s  the new oven.
What’s the make?
Belsen,I think.
You sure?
Or Schwitz they said.
I think that’s disgusting.
Well you have to leave it all behind you.
it’s still bloody disgusting.
I agree,we are going all electric soon… starting with the chairs.
You are barking.
Or Digging ’em.
Don’t get the spade out,We’ve buried enough.
All you need is love……. it’s just this bloody hate that lurks about…..Oh,my God

Killed by the phone

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http://www.salon.com/2013/11/02/smartphones_are_killing_us_and_destroying_public_life/

 

Quote:

Personal technology may be only a small part of McCullough’s interpretation of “peak distraction,” but for most people, the computer, tablet and phone are a focal point. What permanent connectivity does to our minds is the subject of great debate. What it does to public space is less often acknowledged. Essentially, smartphone users in public operate under the illusion that they are in private. They exist, in the words of two Israeli researchers, in “portable, private, personal territories.” Their memories of visited places are much worse than those of control subjects.

It takes a long time

  •  

    It takes a long time for a tree to die.
    Though its trunk be almost severed with the axe.
    There was plenty of sap above
    Then the leaves began to wither
    and fall though it was spring time…

    It takes a long time,to forget.
    Not to remember
    How to live.

    First the tree stops growing.
    It pauses,as if waiting for a message.
    Then,as I said, the leaves turn brown.
    It all takes time.Time to stop waiting

    The leaves drop,then the smaller branches shrivel.
    Humans also find that when ill, the hair may stop growing
    And the finger nails.
    We sacrifice the less important pieces of ourselves.
    Even the most.

    The small branches shrivel and dry out….
    Yet the tree still looks alive.
    Then gradually we notice it’s drying out;
    it’s branches are parched and soon the trunk dries too.
    It may split in places and insects make their home there.

    It takes a long time before the trunk dies.
    From the top down it dies.
    The sap is too limited in quantity
    To climb the trunk….
    So the sap stays near the ground.
    Eventually the whole tree seems dead
    Yet in the roots there is still subterranean life.

    The tree has died and is now brown and leaning a little sideways
    No longer magnificent in display.
    Time is all it needed
    After the sharp cut…
    And sometimes the roots are strong enough
    To begin to send up new shoots
    Another tree may grow..
    I have seen that.

    People ,of course ,die more quickly.
    We have no roots.
    And what of love,how does love die?
    Like a tree,like a tree,like a tree

As from the wind’s hook I was flung

The hook of the wind caught my jacket
And spun me around on  its rope
The look of the wind wasn’t happy
As I spun on that strange gyroscope.

The rain drenched my hair and my glasses
I could not see where I was flung
All I could see was the passing,
As from the wind’s hook I was flung

Then as I hung down from an oak tree
The sun made a brilliant return
So I could see how the birds see
Above  the  grey smoke I could learn

My jacket came loose , the wind whooshed it
Until I fell into a ditch
I think I may purchase a broomstick
And become  the new neighbourhood witch

My jacket still hangs in the oak tree
But my hat has  stayed glued to my head
The crows were delighted to see me
But I will not let birds share my bed