Day: April 21, 2017

Or what if it were a Holey Spirit… the tea would drip out

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    Oh,hello Mira.Do  tune  in .How were you?

    Wicked, thank you.I’d love some of your best tea… and some cake.

    Hear you are.I hotted it up in the microwave.

    How old is this tea?

    Only a few hours.

    The recession is truly cruel when you can’t afford a fresh cup of tea.

    Yeah,I  may disagree as it begins to taste like alcohol after brewing for hours.

    You should open a brewery…bottled alcoholic tea for a low price

    T.Brood.Hear,
    .
    My daughter is engaged to a Tebrew,

    Are they that lost tribe of Israel we used to hear about in the past?

    No, they are just normal Jewish British folk who love tea even more than other Brits do.

    All my Jewish friends at Uni liked tea.

    There you are,you’re already a Tebrew lover.

    Well, that’s slight exaggeration…

    Oh please tell me everything right down to the last detail
    like what you were wearing when you met,
    where were his hands good at caressing.

    Yes, he was keen on caressing , yeah,
    but we never went all the way…
    and now forty years later I’m still a virgin.What is all the way:
    I went all the way in my heart
    Anyway, he was very sweet like honey.
    His lips were divine… well,you know what I mean,
    God has no lips but, it’s just an expression..
    if God did have lips, how would we know?

    What a shame he left you.. what happened to him, not God…?

    He decided to brew his tea with another..

    Another what, teapot?

    Another woman.

    Did you know her at all?

    Not in the biblical sense.I saw her walking down my street looking pleased

    Well, I know you’re not a lesbian… or am I making a category error?

    No and I’m not heterosexual either.

    Why is that, do you think? Are you otherly sexed?

    Or are you non-sexed?

    I always felt I had something missing,like perhaps a body.

    Are you a virtual spirit?

    Well, would a spirit drink tea?

    Not if it was Wholly Spirit.

    Or what if it were a Holey Spirit… the tea would drip out.Aha.

    O layee,.O layeeooo. O layee..Oh, oh oh oh!

    Are you yodelling or was it just wind emerging?

    I think you need to be Swiss to yodel.

    Is it genetically transmitted?

    No ,generically .They give you a licence… the freedom.

    What we need is more licentiousness.

    Bring back sin.

    Bring back the love of the body.

    Bring back the language of flowers.

    Bring it all back ,now!

    And that brings to an end this addition of Many Fancies for tonight.

    I fancy a meringue now…how about you?

    Visit our website

    Http://www.t.hee.hee.com

    Or email me at

    Tea4.2@ bteainthepot.orgy

    or Wait4me@theteashop.mail

do you think war ends at one moment

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so much music to listen to
there’s this and there’s that
a path to the forest with snakes in the grass
Hansel and Gretl don’t linger don’t laugh
there’s a man digging a grave near the birches
he lies down in it sometimes
but they’ve not shot him yet
so much  music waiting
and songs we used to hear as children
and nobody could know then
who taught us to be obedient
who hit us with a cane
who made us sing when force was not needed
that they  made no distinctions
that they  understood how god appeared
that they wanted to destroy everything of his
and the war goes on
do you think it ends at one moment?
how can the broken make a jigsaw  so fast
how can the memories be bypassed?
so much music played by the orchestra
doing their best
did anyone confess
did they follow the dead  dissolved into the earth
where your potatoes grow; what , a curse?
and we should forget of course
that they ate the house
and gnawed on bones
an insult to god
hear his death groans
they rubbed him out
but we can see the shape there
and his hands floating in water
despair
despair
despair
arise, for the children are waking
and it’s a good day to hear a snake hiss
to feel a mother’s kiss
we must do it again better
the play’s the thing
i will sing
i will lift up mine eyes to the hills
i will wait  till the last bell rings

Floating like seaweed on the tide

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    Floating like seaweed on the tide,
    The final leaves of summer die.
    The birds ride on the wind’s broad back,
    They know no fear and know no lack.
    The air is filled  with  such great treasure,
    My female heart its wonder measures.
    The clouds are deep and dark and grey
    What rainstorms may they fetch our way?
    The sun appears and gives a glow
    Of yellow to bare branches low.
    Red berries  bright, like summer flowers,
    Decorate the holly’s pointed tower.
    Sharp thorns protect the smaller birds,
    And from inside , their cheeps are heard.
    As dusk arrives the blackbird sings,
    So much sweetness nature brings.
    As I turn my mind from in to out,
    I feel salvation for my doubts.
    I know that I’m part of the whole,
    And with all life, I share my soul.
    In this peaceful place, I rest,
    As with love’s eloquence I’m blessed.
    There’s singing in my inner heart.
    Like bees to flowers, my fears depart

I got Joseph nice coats so he’s now gay

I bought Adam some drugs, just one a day!
A dozen pans for Eve’s deduction hob.
Until I had a fantasy  to lay

Once I got  psychotic on E bay,
For tennis racquets and new balls to lob
I bought Esau a Hi Fi yesterday

I had my garden wall struck,  by the way.
To have it fixed Cain planned to charm and rob
Unless it was a fantasy at play

The bricks were once bright red but mourned till  grey.
Like the ones in Lyme upon the Cob
I   got Joseph  nice  coats   so he’s now gay

I have a free range cooker  full of hay
The hob is grand and glistens, glob by glob.
By it is a tin for  prophets  play

Why aye, man, I am Hi and Wi today
What’s that sticking outa yon man’s gob?
I bought  an old man  ale  on Justice day

I  feel  an old cigar  should not be snubbed
I  have  a magic lamp that can’t be rubbed
I bought Moses a   Hi-Fi  with his pay
He had a fit and now he looks like J.

Death Fugue by Paul Celan

 

 

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/death-fugue

 

 

poem

About this poet

Paul Antschel, who wrote under the pseudonym Paul Celan, was born in Czernovitz, in Romania, on November 23, 1920. The son of German-speaking Jews, Celan grew up speaking several languages, including Romanian, Russian, and French. He also understood Yiddish. He studied medicine in Paris in 1938, but returned to Romania shortly before the outbreak of World War II. His parents were deported and eventually died in Nazi labor camps; Celan himself was interned for eighteen months before escaping to the Red Army.

In 1945, he moved to Bucharest and became friends with many of the leading Romanian writers of the time. He worked as a reader in a publishing house and as a translator. He also began to publish his own poems and translations under a series of pseudonyms. In 1947 he settled on the pseudonym Celan—an anagram of Ancel, the Romanian form of his surname. He lived briefly in Vienna before settling in Paris in 1948 to study German philology and literature. He took his Licence des Lettres in 1950, and in 1952 he married the graphic artist Gisele de Lestrange. They had a son, Eric, in 1955.

Celan’s first book was published in 1947; it received very little critical attention. His second book, Mohn und Gedaechtnis (Poppy and Memory), however, garnered tremendous acclaim and helped to establish his reputation. Among his most well-known and often-anthologized poems from this time is “Fugue of Death.” The poem opens with the words “Black milk of daybreak we drink it at evening / we drink it at midday and morning we drink it at night” and it goes on to offer a stark evocation of life in the Nazi death camps.

In 1959, Celan took a job as a reader in German Language and Literature at L’École Normal Superieure of the University of Paris, a position he would hold until his death in 1970. His poems from this period grew shorter, more fragmented and broken in their syntax and perceptions. In 1960 he received a Georg Buchner Prize. During the 1960s he published more than six books of poetry and gained international fame. In addition to his own poems, he remained active as a translator, bringing out works from writers such as Henri Michaux, Osip Mandelstam, Rene Char, Paul Valéry, and Fernando Pessoa. In 1970, Celan committed suicide. He is regarded as one of the most important poets to emerge from post-World War II Europe.

 

Poetry

Glottal Stop: 101 poems (2000)
Selected Poems and Prose of Paul Celan (2000)

Death Fugue

Paul Celan, 1920 – 1970

Black milk of morning we drink you at dusktime
we drink you at noontime and dawntime we drink you at night
we drink and drink
we scoop out a grave in the sky where it’s roomy to lie
There’s a man in this house who cultivates snakes and who writes
who writes when it’s nightfall nach Deutschland your golden hair Margareta 
he writes it and walks from the house and the stars all start flashing he whistles his
     dogs to draw near
whistles his Jews to appear starts us scooping a grave out of sand
he commands us to play for the dance

Black milk of morning we drink you at night
we drink you at dawntime and noontime we drink you at dusktime
we drink and drink
There’s a man in this house who cultivates snakes and who writes
who writes when it’s nightfall nach Deutschland your golden hair Margareta
your ashen hair Shulamite we scoop out a grave in the sky where it’s roomy to lie
He calls jab it deep in the soil you lot there you other men sing and play
he tugs at the sword in his belt he swings it his eyes are blue
jab your spades deeper you men you other men you others play up again for the dance

Black milk of morning we drink you at night
we drink you at noontime and dawntime we drink you at dusktime
we drink and drink
there’s a man in this house your golden hair Margareta
your ashen hair Shulamite he cultivates snakes

He calls play that death thing more sweetly Death is a gang-boss aus Deutschland
he calls scrape that fiddle more darkly then hover like smoke in the air
then scoop out a grave in the clouds where it’s roomy to lie

Black milk of morning we drink you at night
we drink you at noontime Death is a gang-boss aus Deutschland
we drink you at dusktime and dawntime we drink and drink
Death is a gang-boss aus Deutschland his eye is blue
he shoots you with leaden bullets his aim is true
there’s a man in this house your golden hair Margareta
he sets his dogs on our trail he gives us a grave in the sky
he cultivates snakes and he dreams Death is a gang-boss aus Deutschland 

your golden hair Margareta
your ashen hair Shulamite

Heidegger was supportive of the Nazis

 

He acted badly towards his former Teacher Edmund Husserl who was sacked from his post as he was partly Jewish.

Heidegger_4_(1960)_cropped

In 1967 Heidegger met with the Jewish poet Paul Celan, a concentration camp survivor. Celan visited Heidegger at his country retreat and wrote an enigmatic poem about the meeting, which some interpret as Celan’s wish for Heidegger to apologize for his behavior during the Nazi era.[112]

A forgotten quote

“A world view quite similar to Nazism, Fascism was a pagan religion with worship of the state….main arguments…..
Like post modernism, fascism promoted the view that reality is a social construct and that all cultures determine their own values.Vieth wrote: most people do not realise

 the tenets of postmodernism have been tried before in a political system, cultural determinism… The rejection of the transcendent, the rejection of Reason and the revolutionary critique of the existing order are tenets not only of postmodernism but also of fascism.