Month: May 2017

With love thread through its heart

I get out my sewing gear

In the quiet times of life,
When I need to mend the tears
Torn by stress and strife.

I hold my soul so carefully
And look at every part.
I hope that light will come to me.
As I wonder how to start.

I take my needle out
With love thread through its heart
I scrutinise each inch
And then I start to stitch

In the quietness of the night
You heal me all the time.
You talk to me in dreams
And I write them down in rhymes.

Keep the cocoon whole
Till the soul’s completely there,
Then through its love sewn cloth
A butterfly will flare.

Take an insult

Towards an insult, pacific one might be.
For why waste time on listening to a fool,
Unless the mocker knocked your painful knee?

Alternatively, thank her for her plea
And pay for her to go right back to school
Towards an insult, pacific one might be.

Go as far as offering a fee
Ask her if he’s heard of old George Boole
Unless the lady kicked  your painful knee?

Ask her for more detail verbally
Ask her if’s she has a log at Yule
Towards an insult, specific one can be.

I returned an insult with my eye
A dirty look, there is no final rule
Unless she picked you for your pretty knee

A well-versed tongue may be a useful tool
Take care with teachers as they’re rarely cool
Towards an insult, apathetic one might be.
Unless the cruelty  wrecked your sympathy

Where once he had imposed a love of knees

When insults and wild taunts were sent to me
It was the grace-mucked ego of the man
He  climbed the titles of my poems like trees

Where once he had imposed a love of knees
Instead, he used bad language like “foregone”
His insults and mild taunts were sent through me

He followed me in a secret up this tree
He liked to  compound  interest, just for fun
He wrote my poems and tested my gee bee.

We know that hate  can cry and love can gleam
At best, he  varnished ladies  till  they shone
He consummated love with  almost  three

And yet he had his welcome dignity
He wrote real swell as if he were a  man
He might have caught me if I charged him free.

The closeness of a bond  can overcome
The hatred  that’s engendered being twins
His interest and his haunts were  agonies
He used the titles complimentarily

How Amazon do what we’d like people to do and it is not a good thing

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If you buy books from Amazon, you have probably noticed how they frequently use your forename when giving you information or asking questions.Now with people, if you want o be friends it is nice to use their first name a lot.Amazon must do it because it will make us feel they are our best friend.Well, it is good to be able to find books we want but Amazon is a business.The more friendly they are the more we are likely to buy and return to their site.So tey are using social psychology to manipulate us/Advertisers used the work of Freud, his ideas about the Unconscious.His nephew was one of the first people in that field.
And propaganda in wartime is a similar type of activity.We are made to feel safe by someone who gets the right image across.In reality it may be a mistake.
It is hard to resist the kind of way  Amazon addresses us.

There is no past

My fate has brought me losses in excess
Since you died by your own choice at last
Control of life we do not now possess
My fate has brought me losses in excess
And  left me dwelling in the wilderness
In the deeper mind, there is no past
My fate has brought me losses in excess
You died by your hand,  the trumpet blasts

 

Who are not here

How much I long for you who are not here
I  lose myself in music and in words
Your memory so  clear , so very dear
How much I long for you who are not here
My eyes are blinded with my heavy tears
My heart unpeaceful with your image  stirred
How much I long for you who are not here
I  lose myself in music and in words

How great my grief- the triolet

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https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/triolet-poetic-form

 

 

Posted

September 29, 2004

Type

Poetic Terms/Forms
More Poetic Terms/Forms:

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The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

French in origin, and likely dating to the thirteenth century, the triolet is a close cousin of the rondeau, another French verse form emphasizing repetition and rhyme. The earliest triolets were devotionals written by Patrick Carey, a seventeenth-century Benedictine monk. British poet Robert Bridges reintroduced the triolet to the English language, where it enjoyed a brief popularity among late-nineteenth-century British poets. Though some employed the triolet as a vehicle for light or humorous themes, Thomas Hardy recognized the possibilities for melancholy and seriousness, if the repetition could be skillfully employed to mark a shift in the meaning of repeated lines.

In “How Great My Grief,” Hardy displays both his mastery of the triolet and the potency of the form:

     How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee!
—Have the slow years not brought to view
How great my grief, my joys how few,
Not memory shaped old times anew,
Nor loving-kindness helped to show thee
How great my grief, my joys how few,
Since first it was my fate to know thee?

 

Attention in the moment, that is grace

Attention in the moment gives us grace
To lose our self in seeing brings us peace.
We see the most when we are most effaced

Life is  a strong tapestry of lace
The little threads connect and never cease
Attention  to each  moment  brings us grace

A friend who never doubts, we can’t embrace.
They make  themselves more boring than a beast
We hear the most when we are most effaced

A friend who’s open gives our hearts solace.
With these, we share the wine, enjoy a feast
Attention  to each  moment  brings us grace

We will  meet our  lovers as we play;
Who notices the details, most and least.
We feel the most when we are most effaced

In our soul, we feel the spring release.
Guarded by attention, not police.
Attention in the moment, that is grace
We see the most when we are most effaced

 

The cigarette

Image

If I go I won’t tell you.
I’ll just disappear one day.
Like when a cigarette, which seemed so long,
suddenly has become smaller
and you never noticed it
because you were talking
about the meaning of life
while life was somewhere else
blown away with your smoke
into the sky
and then dispersed
never quite visible again
but still floating on the breeze
hoping to be caught
in a butterfly net
but unable to communicate
except by flying.
If I go it will not be today
but it will be an ordinary day
no one will realise
that it’s that day
that the bird flies
from her nest
to go to a new place
only seeing the deserted nest
he realises,
my bird has flown

Love’s fare

One experience human beings share
We new born are infants, helpless, lost
We are each dependent on love’s care

If no-one helps, we howl in our despair
Society will later bear the cost
One experience human beings share.

We know the world is unjust and unfair
But we as humans hope our love  will last
We are all  dependent on its care

If we are religious, we use prayer
Admit no power as by the sea we’re  tossed
One experience human beings share.

Birth and death and loss of love we bear
If we loved  the ones we lost
Who were all  dependent on love’s care

Of your grandeur do not boast
A sin against the Holy Ghost
This  fine experience humans share
We are all  dependent on love’s fare

Why do mathematics?

000d4-scan0001Number can’t insult you nor criticise you
Numbers are not wounded if you refuse to play with them
Mathematics uses logic and reason [ and intuition], unlike politics,
Numbers  don’t shout
Numbers can’t lie except when people misuses them in statistics.
Letters in algebra are abstract but more comprehensible than modern art.
You can play with a pair of compasses  all day
You can draw graphs and learn about shape
You can understand perspective[s]
You can use money safely
You can add up your bank account.

The just world fallacy

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The Just-World Fallacy

 

” “Zick Rubin of Harvard University and Letitia Anne Peplau of UCLA have conducted surveys to examine the characteristics of people with strong beliefs in a just world. They found that people who have a strong tendency to believe in a just world also tend to be more religious, more authoritarian, more conservative, more likely to admire political leaders and existing social institutions, and more likely to have negative attitudes toward underprivileged groups. To a lesser but still significant degree, the believers in a just world tend to ‘feel less of a need to engage in activities to change society or to alleviate plight of social victims.’”

– Claire Andre and Manuel Velasquez from an essay at The Markkula Center for Applied Ethics

You’ve heard “what goes around comes around” before, or maybe you’ve seen a person get what was coming to them and thought, “that’s karma for you.” These are shades of the Just World Fallacy.”

The psychology of victim blaming

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https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2016/10/the-psychology-of-victim-blaming/502661/

 

““I think the biggest factor that promotes victim-blaming is something called the just world hypothesis,” says Sherry Hamby, a professor of psychology at the University of the South and founding editor of the APA’s Psychology of Violencejournal. “It’s this idea that people deserve what happens to them. There’s just a really strong need to believe that we all deserve our outcomes and consequences.”

Hamby explains that this desire to see the world as just and fair may be even stronger among Americans, who are raised in a culture that promotes the American Dream and the idea that we all control our own destinies.

“In other cultures, where sometimes because of war or poverty or maybe sometimes even just because of a strong thread of fatalism in the culture, it’s a lot better recognized that sometimes bad things happen to good people,” she says. “But as a general rule, Americans have a hard time with the idea that bad things happen to good people.”

Holding victims responsible for their misfortune is partially a way to avoid admitting that something just as unthinkable could happen to you—even if you do everything “right.””

As then I could be evil without jest

Has a girl been raped, a senior person  mugged?
Has someone knocked your wall down with an axe?
Your door key pinched; your smart TV  been bugged;
Your handbag snatched, your smartphone duly hacked
Blame the victim!

Has a photo for your “lover ”  gone viral?
Have you been told you’re much too nice to live?
Have you been through a trauma or a trial?
Has a man demanded love, ungiving his?
Blame the victim

Did your mother spend the money on her clothes?
Were you sent to school in ripped old dress?
Did she “forget” when cruel insults she gave?
Did she send you to church so you’d confess?
Blame the victim

If everyone was wicked it were best
As then I could be evil without jest.

Caution

Caution’s a necessity  nowadays
Once it was the province of the shy
As everywhere our private life’s displayed

For getting information we must pay
We use search engines and their words apply
Is caution called a  virtue nowadays?

Some folk fear so freeze in their dismay
They ruminate and never can decide
But everywhere  our private life’s displayed

Others are too trusting in their ways
Fools rush in and other folks deride
Is caution a necessity today?

For politicians, eyes and ears are wide
But lips are tight, as over us they ride
Caution is the virtue of the day
Yet everywhere our private life’s displayed

 

 

Knitted by butterflies

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Rosa was looking in a very interesting clothes shop online.Here she saw an outfit totally unsuited to her new post as Head of Linguistics in the University of Unisex.
There her eye was drawn to a pair of blue trousers with a red stripe down each leg.The trousers were somewhat shorter than in the days of that pair of women, Trinny and Susanna who told all of us how to dress.Especially to wear trousers  that cleaned the pavement as we walked along as it made  our legs look longer
Rosa met her friend Mary for coffee.
What do you think of these trousers, Mary? she asked, showing them to the bewildered lady on her HP Phablet.
I don’t think Stan would have liked those, she murmured.
I see some advantages, Rosa said.
If you have nice ankles then it reveals them and if not, you can wear really fun socks with butterflies on them.
Real butterflies? Mary queried anxiously
No, embroidered or knitted, Rosa said.You see them in those catalogues that come round  before Xmas
Or you could knit your own, said Mary.
I think knitting butterflies is very hard, Rosa whispered.
Nothing is innately hard, said Mary.It all depends on what you already know and if you have a good teacher and your devotion
How does Quantum theory compare to knitting butterflies? Rosa enquired jocosely.
That makes it sound as if you will knit with actual butterflies or that butterflies themselves might knit! Mary exclaimed.That would be  a thing you might see on LSD
Is that the latest kind of TV set, Rosa asked her?
For goodness sake, Rosa.Have you never taken drugs?
I don’t believe I have.You see at Oxford I was friendly with an ex-heroin addict.He told me not to buy drugs because I saw things like other people do when they take heroin.But I see like that naturally!
Well, that is fortunate for you, Mary sighed.Was it true?
There is no way of knowing, said Rosa scientifically but it saves money.
Well ,how about these trousers?I could get some red ankle boots and a red   shirt.Noone wears dresses anymore except maybe transsexuals.
I wear them,Mary said.When I was thin I wore a knitted dress.
Not knitted by butterflies I hope,Rosa  giggled
Well, it was from M & S so I doubt it although it would be cheaper to use them as butterflies don’t know what money is!
Nor do many human beings now.Why, plastic £5 notes…. it’s like toy money
And so say all of us

All The World’s A Stage By William Shakespeare

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https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/all-the-worlds-a-stage-by-william-shakespeare

William Shakespeare (1564-1616) is regarded by many as one of the greatest poets/playwrights in history. This poem is an excerpt from his play “As you like it” The poem compares the world to a stage and life to a play, and catalogs seven stages in a man’s life: infant, schoolboy, lover, soldier, justice, pantaloon, and old age, facing imminent death. The poem suggests that each stage in a man’s life calls upon him to play another role.

All The World’s A Stage

By William Shakespeare More William Shakespeare

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,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Re:love

While vestiges of life remain
I’ll meet you in that  deep domain
Where love and silence trembling  reach
Some hearts, and so to me they teach
The song that’s sung will never end
My love.

I’ll wait in quiet of  Greenwoods sane;
Feelings  will   both teach and strain;
We never  feel as free from angst
As angels in their twilight dance.
Yet there are   finer  axioms here
We may  owe others love not fear
Keep  loving

Everyone has got their heart
And souls, though hidden.  don’t desert.
We might whirl round in hope to see
The other is no fantasy
As angels sighing  float away
My feelings will as ever say
I love you

Their assessment of our hearts endures.

The fear of judgment makes life harsh with pain.
The eyes that spy, the words we spoke in vain.
When we age we have a wider  view
We’re not so strange nor so very new.

The dream of being back at school once more.
Where  teachers power extends most to that door
We’re imprisoned to make  a  safe  society;
Creation from the young makes jeopardy.

We protect ourselves from children’s  open minds
It’s we who’re frightened and we make the bind.
It is the eyes, the thoughts, the innocence we fear.
Their assessment of our hearts endures.

And they are frightened by the Judge we haul
To destroy or mould the newness of their calls.
Till ,in a mirrored palace, we display
The heads of those who wished to change our ways.

Children need protection from the strong
But we, too, need protection from their songs

But a means of flight.

I have no teeth and combless I remain
My hair once silk is now a  tangled briar.
Men gaze on me with ruthless cold disdain
My visage will no longer spark their fire.

I have no mind and so I cannot think
I cannot love nor hate now as I  feel so tired
Yet runs my nose and do my eyes not blink?
Where is that man with care and inner fires?

I have no heart , or it turns cold and hard.
Yet soul I have and spirit and my sight.
At life’s long game I fling down all my cards.
And ask for nothing but a means of flight.

For beauty withers as my wisdom grows.
And none observe the circling of the crows.

All these long meanwhiles

At first , the rage and anger make us live
The energy inside those feelings’ s strong
But when nobody else  receives or gives
We feel that to this world we don’t belong.

The numbness, the paralysis  overcomes
We see the clock but have no urge to eat
We must impel ourselves while  feeling dumb
To stagger to the kitchen with its meats.

In the morning, wakening from our dreams
Of Leonard Cohen  singing as he smiles
It’s hard to  follow any plan or scheme
What to do with all these long meanwhiles?

Paralysed by an illness or disease
All  alone, the love inside can freeze

Mary’s Jeggings

Stan woke up feeling unusually fresh and lively on Monday morning.He gently extricated himself from the bed where his cat Emile was sleeping on a pillow beside Mary his kind and gentle yet tryingly brilliant and intellectual wife.Stan took a photo of the two with his Panasonic Lumix camera and took one of Annie , his mistress, walking past in a lemon coloured light wool tweed suit
.Lemon wool is rarely seen on sheep, Stan thought to himself, though he dreamed of lemon coloured sheep once after he got food poisoning and spent half of the night on the wc or crawling to and from his bed.
He flew down the stairs because he saw the postman coming and then he opened the door quickly in case it was a  vulgar book he was expecting.
.The postman handed him a parcel wrapped in grey plastic.As it was soft it was not a book unless it had no cover on
He opened it and to his astonishment, he found two pairs of old fashioned ladies long legged bloomers or possibly they were short leggings or jeggings as we say nowadays;
He rather hoped they were bloomers as he had always found that they turned him on more than G strings and bikini panties often worn now judging by the lingerie departments of the Department Stores where he often lingered languidly, longing for more love and romance even though he was 99 years old
.
Altogether the the bloomers were a very winsome type of garment…c. as long as they were underneath a dress, perhaps a long flowing gown embroidered with daisies or roses.Stan did not find leggings and cropped tops made him desirous as he preferred some mystery in women’s appearance which gave him a fantasy [often unreal] about the perfection and shape of the body beneath
He made Mary some tea and took it upstairs on a little tray with painted naive owls decorating it.She was awake and looking very charming in a fleece nightdress with robins and butterflies embroidered onto it by her own hands
Hello, babe, Stan said winningly.I have just opened a parcel but it is for you.
What is it, she asked tentatively.
Just some big knickers, he said tactfully.
Oh, yes.They are for the play we are putting on for Xmas,,,, the Importance of being Furnished by Kasper Milde
Furnished with what?
With clothes, she said soothingly.Like women used to wear.So I shall wear a pair of whalebone corsets and these bloomers.
What about your top half?Will your bosom be bare, he teased her jocosely.
No ,dear.Not here…I’d never live it down
As an artist, I think if your art demands a bare bosom you must bare it or die.
Well, she said, I don’t think my mother had a bare top.She had a corselet with a built in bra and then a petticoat made of rayon with lace edging.And a woollen vest too.And an underdress.
Oh, dear, Stan answered sadly.I hoped you’d be half naked…
You can see me fully naked here , she informed him in a gentle and humorous manner…
I know.dear, but it’s not the same alone here as it would be on the stage.. that excites me a lot.I guess it’s my age.
You would not be able to ravish me in public, she said grinning at his reflection in the mirror opposite the bed end…..
Well, we could pop out in the interval, he mused to himself… it’s 15 minutes or so.
That’s not enough for me, she told him firmly
How very kind dear.I am so glad you’d like me for longer than that.
I am just being practical, she murmured, we older ladies take more time to get going ,as it were.And a vibrator never excited me.Where is the romance and humanity in plastic or even in vegetables?
Years it takes them to get ready for it,Stan thought dolefully.No wonder I have a mistress.Even she is only turned on about once a month…
Still, there was always a possibility that sooner or later one of them would want him to stroke their backs and call them darling or buttercup or some other tender word.How he hoped today would be the day though the lemon tweed suit made it seem unlikely Annie would be at home.He smiled at Mary and offered to make her a bacon buttie.. who knows what might happen after that… and Emile is listening and hoping for a display of human passion as long as nobody died in bed and disturbed his cosy nest

And alone

When children are deprived of what they need
To participate in  social life and mix
Then we must wonder where such lack may lead
Can such a loss be overcome and fixed?

Children  will miscredit their own lack
They think it means that they are wicked beings
I wonder whether  pain can be rolled back
If from the  social world they end up fleeing

The silent stabs, the knife inside the heart
The wish to take the blame from parents sad
If some proceed to crime, this is the start
They were not born by nature to be bad.

We must not think entirely  of our own
But of the others poorer and alone

Reasons

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2 Reasons to learn algebra

It has lots of xxxxxx in it

It helps to pass the time

6 Reasons to spend more time naked

It saves buying clothes
It saves washing clothes.
It stops people calling.
You can discover the extent of the law by trial and terror
You can make notes on your arms.
You can  practise life drawing all day on your own body or your room mate’s

6 Reasons to write poetry

God writes poetry [See the Book of Job]
Poems are shorter than novels
You can understand it better if you write it
You can  be surprised by your own mind
You don’t need to dream at night!
You can revere the great poets more.

6 Reasons to learn to cook

Cheaper than ready meals
It tastes better usually!
Cooking like knitting can be relaxing if you are not time pressed
You can invite a friend to share a meal.
You can eat more unusual foods after studying cookery books
You can show off by making meringues and   Russian cheesecakes

Struggle in the mind

When doubts and drawbacks struggle in the mind

And certainty seems but a demon dream,
When faith to love is what  we   cannot find
For even when asleep, the mind still schemes

 

When darkness and defeat seem close at hand
And lights dim even as we pray for grace
when wrecks and ruins rile the native sands
When in this life we feel we’ve lost our place…

 

Then at the saddest depth, we see the light
Surrounding with such warmth, with love adorned
The path that seemed so wrong now leads us right
And in our hearts, warm feelings are newborn.

 

For in all storms there is calm still eye
From which we note the fiercest clouds  rush by

The air between our faces is alive

The air between our faces is alive
A channel of the mercy of the heart
A bridge of  care and liking, not of strife

Liking  is not something  we decide
It’s recognition, knowing, it’s the start
The air between our faces is alive

Each must like themselves, never deride
For  light hides in crevasses, icy  heart
No bridge of tenderness but subtle strife

Mistaken in my vision, I denied
The charged particles had hit me like a dart.
The air between our faces was alive

Love’s illusion, friendship is for life.
Expectations pliable.no charts
A bridge of  care and liking, not of strife

Good will can be a choice, to love allied
The love of friends proceeds, despite our trials
The air between our faces is alive
A bridge of  care and liking, not of strife

The sky is pink, the trees look warm and brown

The sky is pink, the trees look warm and brown
The heat has come to London for a stay
The kitchen feels so humid, I might drown
The sky is pink, the trees look warm and brown
Unusual shades on this side of the town
But lovely pink for a kind wedding gown
If you have a credit card to pay
The sky is pink, the trees look darker brown
The heat has come to London in late May

World Bedwetting Day 2017

May 12, 2017| Nina Rios8425762_7d25612079_a | General

Tuesday 30th May -Time to Take Action

 

What is bedwetting?

Bedwetting can affect anyone although it is most common in children over the age of 5 years. There are a number of causes including the over-production of urine at night, a problem with the  bladder being able to store the urine and the inability of the child to wake up in response to full bladder signals. However, there could be other causes including an undetected problem with constipation or the bladder.

Bedwetting can also have a serious effect on a child psychologically, affecting the self-esteem, emotional well being and day time functioning. For all these reasons it is important that bedwetting is taken seriously and all affected children undergo a comprehensive assessment and are offered treatment.

It is a common childhood condition, with approximately 20% of 5 year olds and 5-10% of 7 years olds regularly wetting the bed; if this problem is not treated it can stay with them until the teenage years and adulthood.

What is World Bedwetting Day?

Bedwetting is defined as a common medical condition and World Bedwetting Day aims to raise awareness of the issue. Bedwetting is no-one fault, and the families and doctors of those who suffer should be able to openly talk about this issue. This day raises awareness of bedwetting as a common condition that can and should be treated. The slogan for World Bedwetting Day is ‘Time to Take Action’. This is to recognise that much more can be done to diagnose and treat children and teenagers with this common medical condition. World Bedwetting Day is a partnership between the team here at Bladder and Bowel UK, ERIC and Ferring.

 

When is World Bedwetting Day?

This year’s day is taking place on Tuesday, 30 May 2017

Energy

The energy that saves us from decay
Keeps the red  blood moving  in its dance
This is mystery, in its own deep way

In our body, many microbes play
Glory, glory, glory, happenstance
The energy that saves us from decay

The good and bad like dancers seem to sway
Giving health and illness a fair chance
This is mystery, in its own right way

Shall we opt for life and kneel to pray
To the one whose vital energy’is the source?
The energy that saves us from decay.

 

So movement  keeps us living every day
See the symbols and the random ways of chance
This is mystery  in its own way

See the lions and snakes as a romance
You might’ve understood that feeling once
The energy that saves us from decay
Is a mystery, in its own deep way

Nature seems to stutter on her way.

The day is hot, the air  holds heaviness
Yet golden is the light which is displayed
We stay indoors and try to take a breath

The moisture in the air seems to oppress
Nature often  stutters on  her way.
The day is hot, the air  has heaviness.

Heat disposes men to  display wrath
The car horns hoot, the rage more red  than grey
We stay indoors and try to keep our breath

But in the house I notice there is mess;
The opened books, the phones not put away
The day is hot, the air  has heaviness.

Even so our own home seems to bless
The life we lead and from which we may stray
We stay indoors and try to count our breath

But in the evening, grab a lover grey.
The lion and lamb were masculine,how gay!
The day is hot, the air  has heaviness
We stay indoors with brandy unsurpassed

The War that did not end in ’45

The War that did not end in ’45
Continued its trajectory of grief
Victorious, the people who survived
The War that did not end in ’45
On our backs ,the consequences ride
We will ignore the eyes of those who die.
While the gods of death  float through our minds  like leaves
The War that did not end in ’45
Continues its maintenance of grief