Evening meal

1.Avocado pear and melon with black grapes
Chop into small pieces and pour over it some olive oil and lemon juice

2.Cover a rectangular oven dish with layers of onion,mushrooms and tomatoes all sliced
Place on top some lamb chops.Bake  for about 45 minutes at about Gas 6…. till chops are brown.New potatoes go well

3. Mix some cream cheese with honey or maple syrup and serve in  very small round or square dishes

Sit in a comfortable chair and read a novel while drinking whatever you fancy  with whom you fancy or fantasise about  the tennis star of your choice.Or watch TV

Go to bed and dream about the sands at Old Hunstanton and how you  would feel riding a horse there.

How do you charge

How much do you charge?
About half

How do you charge?
On demand

Is therapy good for  us?
Only if  you are madder than the therapist

Can I find a new partner?
Why not resurrect the old one
Jesus Christ
Well, well.Are you a  virgin?
What do you mean?
It’s  like limits in calculus
I’d say, more like the sum of an infinite geometric procession
Well, bless my soul
Thanks so clutch
Are you a virgin yet?
I’ll have to try
Try what?
What do you think?
I never do.
I can’t like others
But they like you


Or can we keep it sepia somehow?

Doctor can I have some therapy
I can’t like all these others whom I see.
I need to move to  better contexts soon
Gee, I sense  there is impending doom

Well, how much does it cost, what’s the  full fee?
Can you cure me if I work with you?
Will I need to dream in colour now
Or can we keep it sepia somehow?

I just say whatever comes to me
Free associations  cause us glee
I have been in therapy  before.
That resulted in the last World War

I still can’t like the others  but Freud said
Misery’s not quite madness when you’re dead.

I can’t like others

I can’t like others if they don’t like me
I need responses and a judgement fine
Love is transitive and may soon flee

I love to entertain  folk  having tea
Unless  some try to argue hate is fine
I can’t like others if they don’t like me

I do not wish to   savour enmity
While opening a new bottle of good wine
Love is transitive and may soon flee

There may be a gap before we see
Where we ought to draw a boundary line
I can’t like others if they don’t like me

Reflections may  change sides in harmony
Nothing  is not much until defined
Love is transitive and  so are we

Petulant and pouting, see me whine
At least my face has never caused a crime
I can’t like others if they don’t like me
Love is  here and  I may soon  agree


Could I love my neighbour very well?

I wondered if I were a cannibal
Could I eat my neighbour not a cow
As long as she was roasted really well?

With the army led by Hannibal
The Alps were crossed despite the ice and snow
I wondered if  they  ate an animal

Sheep and goats will often wear a bell
They ring melodiously as up the hill they go
As long as  they are treated really well

I guess I’d be dessert in caramel
Eaten up with cream till overflow
I wonder if   there still are cannibals


Oh, dear reader,I may say farewell
I need to see the oven is restored
So it  roasts potatoes really well

At least  consuming humans  is no bore
As long as they   like dwelling by a flower
I wondered if,  were I a cannibal,
Could I love my neighbour very well?


Just in case I might flatten a brown cow

In school they taught us how to iron men’s clothes
Handkerchiefs,shirts and even hose
I dreamed I took the iron from the nun’s grip
Then I laid her down and ironed her till quite flat.

And so it was I found my rage within
I went to school to learn and not to sin
I never told my mother of my dream
In case a flattened nun would make her scream.

I should have taken sculpture  in a class
Then made a model of this nun in glass
After she was  flattened she looked good
A piece of   clay could well  have understood

My dreams  escape as I awaken now
Just in case I might flatten a  brown cow



Stillness without dread

Half of me feels glad and half feels sad
I wonder which will take the higher place
I feel a need for stillness without dread
To let the hints of grace  in me  be read
Without obsession over what you said
Or listening to that fearful heavy  tread
I sometimes hear when I have gone to bed
Where is the essence of the love  we had?
Somewhere there must be a hint or trace
Part of me is sad and part is glad
Can  they each accept and then embrace?

It is seemly

The place where  my words live is overgrown
Despite it’s winter, freezing, and dark grey.
How did these creepers reach from their old home
The honeysuckle and the honey comb?
The Russian vine is wilder when it roams
The Ways of G-d  alone are not my ways.
The  place where my words died  is not yet shown
But   these days it is seemly should we pray.