Will you  kindly hear my Confession,Father?
Yes, I am  here.
I have committed the wrong sins.
Any sin is wrong,dear
I mean,some people break into a bank and steal millions
Yes, but they usually end up in jail
Well, in jail I wouldn’t have to boil  my husband’s hankies
But won’t you feel sorry  for him with no drawer of neatly ironed hankies?
Maybe after a few years
Get back on track.What are these sins that you call wrong?
I am fuming with rage,madness and jealousy but I don’t let them show.I act pleasant
Well, that seems very kind to me.
Not to you.To my sister and my brother
But  our minds are not our own.These feelings arise.It is not a sin unless you do something cruel because of them
I’m unsure if I believe that.Is there no way of living where we don’t have those   feelings?
I suppose if you lived on top of a pillar in the desert but your mind might wander back
I think it would.Why do minds wander?
They get frustrated by boredom.So maybe you need something stimulating to do and then you need to be contented
I thought I was contented.But clearly I am not.There’s always somebody somewhere who  has more  then I do
You seem to have a brighter mind than many.
Yes,it wears me out.
You should  just wear it lightly
How do  you wear a mind?
In or out?
When in doubt,say nowt.
And do you repent?
I am trying
I so agree.You are but never mind.God has forgiven you now.
I’m not sure about these rites.Still,It lets us reflect which is good
For your penance look in a mirror and admire yourself three times a day
Well, that’s a very  unusual penance.Can’t I whip myself and call myself a bleeding idiot?
Now, that really would be a sin.What are you ,a sado-masochist?
Oh,dear.I have fallen  into evil ways.I hope  God won’t turn me into a pillar of salt
As a child, I thought it was a pillow of salt
We all see and hear things in our own way.
May the Lord  bless you and keep you
May he let his countenance shine upon you
Amen

https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2010/dec/15/poetry-protest-politics

 

” ………the Peterloo massacre in 1819, where magistrates sent in cavalry to disperse a crowd of over 60,000 who had gathered to protest for political reform.

Shortly after the massacre, in which several were killed and several hundred injured, Thomas Love Peacock wrote of it to his friend Percy Bysshe Shelley in Italy. Shelley was so moved by Peacock’s description of the events that he responded by penning The Masque of Anarchy, a poem that advocates both radical social action and non-violent resistance: “Shake your chains to earth like dew / Which in sleep had fallen on you- / Ye are many — they are few”.

At times of upheaval and unrest, is poetry’s role to fan the flames or cool tempers? Down the centuries it has proved remarkably effective at both. Against a background of civil unrest in 1970s America, Gil Scott-Heron told the world “you will not be able to stay home, brother”. In his searing, satirical masterpiece “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” on the album Small Talk at 125th and Lennox. Scott-Heron offers a line in tightly-wrought comic surrealism; “The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.” But it is as much his delivery, his voice impassioned but not quite righteous, that electrifies the poem.

Scott-Heron’s influence is evident in a generation of young British spoken word poets and performers who have emerged with a political agenda. Scroobius Pip(the name is taken from an Edward Lear poem “The Scroobious Pip went out one day / When the grass was green, and the sky was grey”) recently offered a corrective against the commercialism of his peers with “Thou Shalt Always Kill”. Coupling Generation Y’s fascination with cultural ephemera with a strain of political invective reminiscent of alternative comedy in the 1980s, he demands; “Thou shalt not judge a book by its cover./ Thou shalt not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover. / Thou shalt not buy Coca-Cola products. / Thou shalt not buy Nestlé products.””

If we  leave the EU will it mean we can’t go to Switzerland for euthanasia? If so, we could make money by opening our own death centres? Like A & E.

If we commit a sin there won’t be many priests to confess to after the fall in men entering seminaries Oh, good, says Dawkins.Confess  on Twitter and someone is bound to  punish you.Whether God is on Twitter is unknown

We don’t hear the word sin much.Why not?

Why is there a Light programme on radio but not a Heavy one?

The suffering,  the imploring  faces lost
What Saviour could ignore their savage pain
Some are saved  but what has been the cost?

Sitting in our stylish,cosy house
We see them on the News and then again
The suffering,  the imploring  faces lost

Into a new Hell they’re  daily tossed
Are we bystanders watching full of shame?
They are sacrificed, what has it cost?

The Germans  thought Herr Hitler a good boss
As  for murdering Jews, were they to blame?
The suffering,  the imploring  faces  massed

Are we like them by our defence gross
Kept from conscious knowledge and so lamed?
They are sacrificed and we are lost?

Affectless and schizoid in the brain
We  came to be the devils in the flames
The suffering, the  imploring  faces ask
Can you see us,? You’ve destroyed our trust