Month: December 2016

Mary misses her man

Dotty cats 2

 

Mary, now going out again after grieving for her dear old man, was invited to  a birthday  party at Knittingham Cricket Club.The name reminded her of many happy hours on a marsh by the sea in Suffolk where it was quiet enough to hear crickets and smell the fresh sea air and fall down into the mud now and then
She was told by her best friend Annie  to dress smart casual but when she arrived in the venue everyone else was dressed up in their best clothes.She shrank into her khaki trousers and over sized Windsmoor top which hung from her like a  cheap and flimsy nylon  sheet on the washing line in the backstreet where she had grown up.
All the other women were wearing  lovely flowered  dresses , necklaces and jewelled rings.Annie had betrayed her as she wore a  sweet  long dress from Monsoon and some amber jewellery with a huge matching  ring on her hand
Well, at least I got here, Mary consoled herself kindly.And nobody will  envy me.
She sat talking to a very friendly lady who told her a what was clearly a very exciting story.Unfortunately Mary could not hear a  single  word.She just varied her expression to match Jean’s.The noise was immense  as if ten rock bands were playing music from the Rolling Stones  at once ..
Luckily there was plenty of food and drink.
Oh,Jean cried,here is my grandson,Adam.He likes mathematics.Can you speak to him please
I am very sorry,Adam I have forgotten everything except transcendental numbers and uncountable infinity.
But those are the hardest things,Adam’s father cried.
They stay in mind because I feel that starting from counting animals  mankind developed  the ideas  of many new types of number, pi being  one which was used to build Solomon’s temple.They used 3 as an approximation as the Egyptians did
Adam said he was going to do complex numbers next year.But you can’t use them in cash machines his brother informed him
Well,hope you enjoy that,Adam she said brightly,wondering how she had forgotten so much so rapidly.Well it was deliberate.She had grown tired of it all and preferred gazing at trees all day since Stan had gone on to his new abode in heaven or perhaps  in hell with naughty ladies to love him
So smart casual,what does it really mean?And should Mary care?Would Emile her cat care? Did she want to attract another man?She has cut off her hair with the pinking shears to save time but men  prefer long  hair and also they don’t like to spend a party time talking about surreal numbers nor post modernism.They can discuss those things with men
Smart casual means looking good but without effort.An impossible paradox

And so pray all of us.For she’s a jolly good yeller.
And let’s pray with no fuss.

Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley




I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Who am I to question any soul?

Who are you that loved me from afar
Yet did forsake me when the night  was long?
Who are you that loved a distant star
Impossible to ever   touch with hand or song?

Who am I to question any soul
When I have done bad deeds when overwhelmed?
Who am I to seek another whole
When I have  lingered long in sorrow’s realms?

Who is God that he should seek us out
When we’ve ignored his  messengers and saints?
Who is God and why do  we have doubts?
The world’s  his canvas  which our evil taints.

Should we not seek   leaders of more  worth?
Instead  we fall to  savagery  and curse

 

 

Symbols in literature

photo1337

http://www.thehypertexts.com/Best%20Symbols%20in%20Poetry%20and%20Literature.htm
Excerpts from “More Poems”
by A. E. Housman

XXIII

Crossing alone the nighted ferry
With the one coin for fee,
Whom, on the wharf of Lethe waiting,
Count you to find? Not me.

The brisk fond lackey to fetch and carry,
The true, sick-hearted slave,
Expect him not in the just city
And free land of the grave.

Charon’s ferry symbolizes the transition from life to death, or dying. The “one coin” is the obulus, which symbolizes death: the ultimate cost of mortal life. The river Lethe symbolizes forgetfulness, oblivion and concealment, as the dead are concealed from the living, and vice versa. The grave is also symbolic of death. In this poem the river Styx symbolizes death; although it is not explicitly named, we can infer it. In Greek mythology, Charon’s ferry carried the newly dead from the land of the living across the River Styx to Hades, the realm of the dead. It may interest Christians to know that Hades was not “hell,” as Hades incorporated heavenly regions such as the Elysian Fields and the Blessed Isles. Y

 
Sonnet 147
by William Shakespeare

My love is as a fever, longing still [1]
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest.
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are, [11]
At random from the truth vainly expressed,
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as Hell, as dark as night. [14]

This is one of Shakespeare’s famous “Dark Lady” sonnets. It employs simile, a type of metaphor in which comparisons are introduced by “like” or “as” (please refer to lines one, eleven and fourteen).

FGM in white Christian America

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/friendlyatheist/2016/12/06/in-white-america-girls-clitorises-were-cut-off-because-christian-parents-feared-masturbation/?utm_source=%5B!%5D%20Newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=NL%20Best%20of%20Patheos%20%20%5BFinal%20Combo%5D&utm_content=2695

Surrealism explained

Women and Bird in the Moonlight 1949 by Joan Mir? 1893-1983

Miro from the article below by the Tate

http://www.tate.org.uk/learn/online-resources/glossary/s/surrealism

 

Extract from above:

Surrealism was a movement which began in the 1920s of writers and artists (including Salvador Dalí and René Magritte), who experimented with ways of unleashing the subconscious imagination

Some think love’s a letter we can’t type.

A symbol is a well  where  we must dig
To find the deeper meaning hid below
On our human knees we need to beg
To gain admittance to the daily show.

Life is but an apple we must bite
Our teeth may break and so we suffer pain
But from our  human ills we cannot fly
But suffer learning,digging, once again

Love’s a cherry with a lively stone
Which desires to live itself when time is ripe
Some see love as meat gnawed from a bone
Some think love’s a letter we can’t type.

Love or   hate ,a fruit will have its pips
Which choke  us while its flesh is on our lips

 

So look not into God or you shall die.

Poetic justice    found in Shakespeare’s play
Dictates that those who sin must  be rebuked
The good rewarded  in remaining days
The bad   must suffer,ills not overlooked.

In real life there is no simple match
The evil may  succeed  in  violent theft
The good ask why God let their child be snatched
The bad  may trample  those  who are bereft.

We cannot  understand the human state
God is not a kindly  father   here
He is  force and fire and strength  and fate
We not children on his lap in tears.

The redness of the sun can burn our eyes
So look not into God or you shall die.

With my mistress, Annie fair.

Stan and Mary went in town
To buy Stan a new dressing gown.
But he wanted a woollen one
In March that is not on.

The shops are full of summer clothes
But Stan’s not warm enough for those.
Mary likes to look around
But see how old Stan frowns.

So Mary says,I’ll go online
I’m sure I’ll find some fully lined
Made of wool and acrylic…
Them you can make your pick.

Thank you,Mary,you are kind
despite that brilliant,anxious mind.
I am the best dressed man in town
And soon I’ll have my gown.

Would you like cafe au lait?
I have my pension,I shall pay.
Very nice,dear Mary said…
I’d like a piece of bread.

Won’t you have a slice of cake?
I know it’s not quite what I make.
No,just plain bread,sweet Mary said
She then turned very red.

Mary,you look very hot
Is it healthy in this spot.
The central heating is too high.
She gave a weary sigh.

They drank their coffee and made jokes
About old folk who never spoke…
They bought some fresh fish for Emile..
They alway shop with zeal.
..
When they got home.Stan dialled Dave
Who told him he was very brave
and not to stand near a bus door.
Or he’d fall on the floor.
.
Oh,how I’d like to lie down there
With my mistress Annie fair.
but Mary is at home today
So i’ll just have to pray.

If you’re in pain and can’t have sex,
They say that prayer is second best
Morphine is so hard to get…
and it makes me feel sick.

So tomorrow Mary works
Stan and Annie have their perks
Dave calls round to bath the cat…
How obscene is that?

If you would like your cat washed
Or if your shopping has got squashed
Just dial 99999
The service is divine.

Symbolism in poetry and other literature

photo0022

 

Symbolism

Example #1

We find symbolic value in Shakespeare’s famous monologue in his play As you Like It:

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
they have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,”

The CIA determined that individuals linked to Moscow stole Democratic party emails, according to the Washington Post.[From the Guardian Facebook page]

controversy11n-8-web

Agence France-Presse in Washington

Saturday 10 December 2016 09.29 

US intelligence agencies have concluded that Russia interfered in last month’s presidential election to boost Donald Trump’s bid for the White House, according to reports.

A secret CIA assessment found that Russian operatives covertly interfered in the election campaign in an attempt to ensure the Republican candidate’s victory, the Washington Post reported, citing officials briefed on the matter.

A separate report in the New York Times said intelligence officials had a “high confidence” that Russia was involved in hacking related to the election.

The revelations came after the US president, Barack Obama, ordered a review of all cyberattacks that took place during the 2016 election cycle, amid growing calls from Congress for more information on the extent of Russian interference in the campaign.

The wrong sin

Leggings

He’s writing the definitive book on sin.
Do people want to hear any more about sin?
Any more? I’ve heard very little recently.And which people?
The Word has vanished!
You read the wrong newspaper.
Can a newspaper be wrong in itself,intrinsically wrong?
Can a newspsper be a Sin?
Well,there’s one called the Sun!
Why don’t they just call it The Big Sin and have done with it?
You should write to Rupert.
Who’s Rupert?
You know him,Murdoch!
Now Iris Murdoch,she was a right one.
Well,she certainly wrote a few!And bedded more than a few
A few too many,in my view.
Too many for whom?
My,you talk posh don’t you?
Should it be,you talk poshly?
Me!I’m as common as ,as ,as as,aas,..muck!
Do stop,you’ll fall down a crack in the pavement soon and then where will you be?
I’ll be in Australia with Rupert!
Suppose you came out in New Zealand?
Well,it would be a change. I’m tired of England.
You never mentioned it before.
I didn’t want to upset you.
Well,I’m not so keen myself.
You sound like a knife!
Do you mean,a wife?
No, a knife…with a blade.
Yes, it does look well made.
Shall we buy one?
But do we really need it?
Do we really need anything?
Get a move on,you’re not at college now you know.
Who’re you?
My name is Wisdom.
I’m so sorry.
Why are you sorry?

It’s hard to be called Wisdom when you are a complete idiot.
Well,better a complete idiot than a sharp tongued wasp!
Do you mind!
Not at all.Better an idiot than a mutton dressed as lamb.
Are you a vegetarian?
I do eat the odd vegetables.
And who eats the even ones?
They all go to the supermarket.
So that’s how it works.You are so clever.
Well,I’m an economist.
I believe in economy for all.
I prefer comics myself.
No,they are called graphic novels now.
A bit like those Rupert books we had as children.
I wish Rupert Murdoch was called something else.
I’m sure he will be in tomorrow’s papers.
I mean,it defiles the memory of Rupert the teddy bear.
I learned to read from those.
A pity.
Why?
If you couldn’t read,think of all the other things you could do.
Like writing?
If you coudn’t read ,it would seem to follow that you couldn’t write.
Yet there are people who can read but not write?
Yes,it’s all to do with Venn diagrams and symmetry.
Venn is a weird name.
Yes,pity he wasn’t called Diagram.
I thought he was called,Venn Diagram.
All I know is that diaphragms were a form of birth control.
I was puzzled by that because we all have diaphragms, yet some of us have no control of any kind.
If your diaphragm doesn’t move you can’t breathe so you can’t procreate.
No,you’d be dead!
A very strange form of birth control.
Maybe you just faint and you husband can have his way with you.
But would you want sex with someone unconscious?
It’s another case of a-symmetry.. a man can have relations with a faint woman but if the man faints that’s the end of it.
How about carrots?
What for?
Can they faint?
No,but they make a nice flan.
Fancy that!
I do fancy it actually.
What is it?
It’s a big carrot!
How superb.It seems a shame to eat it.
Well, would like to worship it?
Not today.
Well,it won’t last forever.
In that case I’ll stick with God:
I’ll stick with Thee
Fast falls the chill of night
Semd me an angel,I need something bright.
I have no fear,with Thee I’ll be alright.
Why not give in and have electric lights.
You are very odd.
Well,it makes a change…
Not with you,you’ve always been odd.
So,in a way I’m not odd.
You are right!
Odd. is’t it?
And yet even simultaneously.
It seems almost like quantum theory.
Those were the days.
From Schoenberg to Schrodinger: cats for all.
Enberg to Dinger.
You could call the cat Dinger.
What a good idea.
Mioaw.

When thinking hurts

Young_Lady_Old_Woman_Illusion

My title has two meanings.One is that sometimes we have to think about a painful event or a person who has hurt us.Or even some past events…I recall pain when  I was told about Hitler and Stalin

On the other hand some of us  use thinking in words as a way of blocking painful emotions.whilst this  may work for a time,it may give  a lot of trouble when we need to deal with pain.Essentially we do not wish to “know” the truth in the full sense… we deceive ourselves and maybe others too

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/fulfillment-any-age/201110/the-essential-guide-defense-mechanisms

William Blake wrote this poem

Joy and woe are woven fine,

A clothing for the soul divine,

Under every grief and pine

Runs a joy with silken twine.

It is right it should be so;

Man was made for joy and woe;

And when this we rightly know,

Through the world we safely go.

I’ve been reading Sylvia Plath recently.I see that after her husband left her she went into a frenzy of activity.She had two very young children.was often ill with flu but she wrote all her most famous poems at this time;then she moved to London antd socialised a lot to prove she was not just a deserted wife.After this she became more, ill,there was a severe winter….then she crashed into the depths…I feel that  her frenzied writing was a way of not admitting her grief… and she got worn out and decided death was better.
Some of us who are quite cerebral are not in touch with  our bodies.We don’t feel that knife in the heart,the tears unshed,the anger that threatens… and eventually this cam lead to problems.,sometimes flu sometimes a breakdown,sometimes a broken marriage.and also the thinking can take on a life of its own so  it keeps us awake at night… and the feelings can come out in nightmares.So thinking can  be a curse.We all need defences at times but too much cuts us of from our own lives.And brooding and ruminating are very damaging to the mind and soul.Thinking is not wisdom

 

abstract war on terror.

A lovely poem that i am fond of

O sweet spontaneous

by: e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

sweet spontaneous

earth how often have

the

doting

fingers of

prurient philosophers pinched

and

poked

thee

, has the naughty thumb

of science prodded

thy

beauty, how

often have religions taken

thee upon their scraggy knees

squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive

gods

(but

true

to the incomparable

couch of death thy

rhythmic

lover

thou answerest

them only with

spring)

Many things cannot be proved or disproved.Most things actually

 

 

You can’t prove by logic  God exists neither can you prove he doesn’t.You might have experiences which prove it to you but you can’t get anyone else to have the same experiences.
You can’t prove logically that Beethoven is greater than Haydn nor vice versa.
We can only use language but if there is a God he was there prior to language being invented by humans.He might sing like a bird but better!
You can say the religious experiences of St Teresa were merely molecules in her brain moving about.You cannot either prove it or disprove it.You choose as you wish.
I can’t prove my husband loves me but I deduce it from how he acts and speaks.

 

Something will crack.

 

With a smack
However we pack the bags and  how we gab
The nonsuburban, sick to death electorate will decide
the ultimate end of humanity
that the system has failed and failed,repress the button
and start looking around for a strongman to
vote for like Stalin.Trostky, Hitler,
– someone willing to assure them that they are ok and are to be raptured
once he is elected,
the smug bureaucrats, will have a new habitat, a hot air pad
tricky lawyers, overpaid bond salesmen, even whalesmen at sea
and postmodernist professors  with post-truth dialectic
will no longer be calling hey,where are  the shots?
Is that a gun in your sprocket?

What a super Ego!

  • A bad Ego,
    What a super Ego!
    What an Idiot
    What a split rationality!
    What a  complex boundary personality
    An unconscious Messiah came by
  • A bag of noses
    A rage of poses
  • I’ll flee in your boots
    I’ll see about Coutts.
  • A word in the ear is wise to the fears
  • A bigot, at least
  • Oh,not in my mindscape
  • A cult  of  post-truth
    A cult of bulls’ flies
  • A bull in a whining shop,
  • Such fun  in the coven.
    Joan of Larks is near
  • A bunch of  hard drives in his hand
    It’s all backed up  onto the Crowd
    A chain is only as long as its length
  • A cheap book  coughed
    I whip off  my bold  frock
  • I’ve got Christmas foxed this year.

Inside my heart, this sacred place

dscn0042 

Inside my heart, this sacred place,
Where freely mingle truth and grace;
Where friends and enemies alike
Are viewed as equals for love’s sake

Inhabited by deeper self
In touch with all that in me dwells;
I leave  my failures  gladly here
I will not live in morbid fear.

I don’t insult the force divine
By pride in any good that’s mine.
For willpower cannot birth virtue
But  can  attend to the eye’s  view

By trusting in   the vast unknown
We turn  attention from the known.
Our eyes relax and  gaze without,
To  bring proportion  to our doubts

Trust, itself. will widen gaze;
Enable us to find our ways.
With terror,fear or loss of pride,
Constriction comes to human eyes.

Perception is the highest good
By what we see,we choose our road.
The blind rush like the swine to hell
In patient,watchfulness   we’ll  dwell.

Virtue and will

 

Just knowing what virtue is ,does not make us good.
We deceive ourselves withouthitlerknowing.
Can we be good by willpower: to some extent by avoiding places or people where we know we can’t control ourselves.That’s a  negative  way of being good.
Knowing what vice is might tempt us but innocence is dangerous too.

Tears of mirth

IMG_0047He told me he loved me before the tide over-took us
His hands seem to twitch all over me and I trembled with tears of mirth
He was the most underrated blogger of his entire degeneration
His words felt like raindrops on toast.
He could mimic anyone and was often mistaken for a Lord.
His talent was unmarketable his genius a sorrow in the dark
His eyes gleamed like traffic signals stuck on ”  go”
His writing was hard to put down and even harder to read.
He never told me his time frame but I watched him covertly on my swatch
He told me I was named in his bills.I had overspent his money.He divorced me and I over responded by shooting him with my bow and arrow.All things may go round  and rend us.
He died by a  whim.God wanted him upstairs
He said he never forgave me for beating him at Chess.Is it my fault I am so quick?
He admired my coat as we left A and E.He asked me where I stole it from.A and E of course.To be honest I bought it online in a gale in 2005 and it still  fits me more or rather less!
He was so funny I wakened up laughing.I was  in an inverted coma.
Still, you get used to them and just when you get comfortable they die.

love is more thicker than forget by e e cummings

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
love is more thicker than forget
more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail
it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea
love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive
it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky

For grief has struck me

The darkness and the greyness of the day
Pulls down my heart to places deep in earth
Where there are no tall trees nor wind to sway.

 

As little children, we went out to play
Did not   think this sunless time a curse
Just darker and  more cloudy than  some days.

My heart is touched by memories  and by prayer
But still resides in darkness of love’s dearth
Where there are no tall trees nor wind to sway.

I do not know my path and do not care
For grief has struck me  and stolen all  my worth
Oh, the darkness and the grayness of that day

I only wish that I could swiftly lay
My burdens down and  run from  this dread  curse
Where  live the trees of blackness  and dismay.

 

Oh,God why have I had no love, no  birth?
Interior darkness hides away my worth
I  dread  the outer  darkness  of these  days
And   these old   trees  which frighteningly  sway

My muse has gone to Hades, is it hell!

My muse has gone to Hades, is that hell?
I   sing for her  while my heart palpitates
Lord, I’ll be  in  demonic  space as well

I think my little cat has  lost her bell.
On my plight, I sit and meditate
My muse has gone to Hades, is it hell?

The cat can’t phone, if only she could  yell.
I  hear my thoughts  and manic,  agitate.
Soon I’ll be  in  demonic  space as well

I wish that animals could use a cell.
All they can do is eat and procreate
My muse has gone to Hades, Villa Knell

I hear that poets should show but never tell
All I can do  with wit is cogitate.
Will  I   fly   to inner  space as well?

I earn enough,more than the going rate
I use black pens and you should see my state
My muse has gone to Hades,  give her hell
Damn,  I  am   lured to  ink dark  space as well!

Elemental as a storm

A force far deeper than our anger
Elemental as a storm
Annihilating all before it
Terror makes man’s rage perform.
 
This force fearing self is threatened
Runs to rise and to protect,
Most murderous when we’re most alarmed
Rage the enemy detects.
 
Over-riding other feelings
Deprives us of the power to think
Like a nuclear tsunami
Disconnecting human links
 
Reddened vision,focused,narrow;
Eyes locked onto enemy’s
All the wider context losing,
Wipes out our good memories
 
Like a mother tiger fighting,
And the cornered eagle’s force;
We will destroy what we think other
Without bitter,pained remorse.
 
Nature made such to protect us;
Yet our perception can be wrong.
Once the flood of feeling takes us
All reflections seems too long
 
Later, if we see our victims,
Will we know that we have erred?
For hate deceives ourselves and others
When our inmost terror’s bared.
 
How can we step back and ponder,
See life from a wider view?
How can we become less blinded,
So we see our world anew?
 
Succumb not to final despond
Succumb not black despair.
Always there are those who see.
Always there are those that care.
 
Tempered by reflective wisdom
Rage can change when understood.
When we find another being
Who contains our frightful flood

The recent political surprises in the West

From  the latest issue of the LRB

http://www.lrb.co.uk/v38/n24/jonathan-lethem/diary?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=3824&utm_content=ukrw_subsact

 

49365167-cached

We were warned by Richard Rorty in 1998:

Something will crack. The nonsuburban electorate will decide that the system has failed and start looking around for a strongman to vote for – someone willing to assure them that, once he is elected, the smug bureaucrats, tricky lawyers, overpaid bond salesmen, and postmodernist professors will no longer be calling the shots.

We were warned by Sheldon Wolin in 2003:

The elements are in place … a weak legislative body, a legal system that is both compliant and repressive, a party system in which one party, whether in opposition or in the majority, is bent on reconstituting the existing system so as to permanently favour a ruling class of the wealthy, the well-connected and the corporate, while leaving the poorer citizens with a sense of helplessness and political despair, and, at the same time, keeping the middle classes dangling between fear of unemployment and expectations of fantastic rewards once the new economy recovers. That scheme is abetted by a sycophantic and increasingly concentrated media; by the integration of universities with their corporate benefactors.

We were warned by Carl Jung in 1938:

He is like a man who listens intently to a stream of suggestions in a whispered voice from a mysterious source and then acts on them … The true leader is always led. We can see it work in him. He himself has referred to his Voice … That is why he makes political judgments which turn out to be right against the opinions of all his advisers … When this happens, it means only that the information gathered by his unconscious, and reaching his consciousness by means of his exceptional talent, has been more nearly correct than that of all the others, German or foreign, who attempted to judge the situation and who reached conclusions different from his. And of course, it also means that, having this information at hand, he is willing to act upon it.blythburgh_church_-_roof_angel

Yet tigers spring and care not when we scream

Was this Earth designed for life or death,

When wired up cheetahs surf the desert sands

Seeking prey to stave off hunger’s wrath?

This hunt’s repeated over all our lands.

And in deep seas of green we find the curse

Of being pursuer or of becoming prey.

Blood in water looks to me much worse

Yet God requires that we should kneel and pray

Rare flowers can snatch and eat the striped bee

Programmed by genes to fertilize and feed.

I grieve a violent  God exacts a fee.

Loves to see his creatures as they bleed.

Nature soothes our souls when life’s all green.

Yet tigers spring and care not when we scream