Sins of the day

Laughing at my own jokes
Drawing cats while watching a film
Eating a date.[ not human]
Cleaning my teeth with a hairbrush and my nails with a toothbrush.And leaving my hair natural.
Letting my tea go cold.
Well, it’s a bad day today because I didn’t have a chance to sin.I’ll do better tomorrow
If you see what I glean.

Don’t tell me God is Jewish

She tainted during the dinner
Do you mean taunted?
Taunted whom?
Who is Hume?
David, he is a philosopher
Is he read?
Red or dead?
He was before Marx
They had no computers.
I can’t deceive you any more.
When did you start?
When that man hit the gong
So he startled you?
Into a  life of rhyme,sorry, crime
Send for the police.
Send a letter
First class
Thank you.I am honoured
No, you are a fool
Well,I don’t fool myself.
Is that my fault?
Why build a house on  a fault line?
It’s easier when you divorce.
But will the earthquake break it into equal parts?
Infinitely many.
So calculus can be handy.
More so than an incubus
We have inkwells here.
Are they in the garden?
No, we don’t want them to get wet
Put lids on
Honestly if I knew you before I’d never have misarranged our wedding.
So who did arrange it?
Leonard Cohen.
But he died.
Not because of us?
No, he was ill already
Well being a marriage broker is not easy
But the chairs are.
I chair the faculty of meet the metrics.
Is it in Decimal?
No, English.
No English! I just don’t believe it.
That makes no difference to the language
How rude!
But words have no ears.
Do they have eyes?
Only the needles
Knitting needles?
You are joking
How amusing
Not terribly but you are trying.
So are you.I divorce you.
You have to say it 3 times
Am I Jewish?
I don’t know but God is.
And Mary?
What about her?
See her  blog, “about”
Don’t tell me they’re on Twitter!
Alright,I shan’t tell you!
Now, this really is the end

Sinner parties

  • 21686445_10212312128731777_8984201909203987371_nWe often gave  sinner parties after we got our own flat.
    His eyes  showed he was far too right with wings to prove it
    We entertained all of them without even knowing it.
    I am the widow of his soul
    As Catholics we were forbidden to use crampons at any time especially at menstruation or death
    Contravention was not allowed in the marriage bed which was lucky as it was only 4 feet wide and we had  two each
    Then silence fell over me and my loved one  lost  his head
    I beg your jargon,I am a  poet
    Who’re you ruling these days?
    Did I say you were a graph?
    That’s no cliche,it’s my own intention.
    Never say  economics to me ever again
    How about austerity?
    A posteriorioriiiiiiiiiii, Eh?

Alpine supergrass


The nearer we got together,
the further we were apart
This went on for ever
And now I have no heart

He went ever higher
I went ever down
He said he was a liar
Yet he never clowned

We went on forever
Reaching for the line
Now I know we’ll never
Ever be entwined

Zero came between us
We could not get through
Infinite the problems
Zero solved for you.

I saw the line beside me
But I ran on down
You  must not deride me
Though you are a clown

Frozen in equations
Beauty is entrapped
Icy are the regions
Where my heart was mapped

Cold and austere presence
Alpine supergrass
No-one calls it pleasant
But the beauty lasts.

I’m getting buried in the morning

I’m getting buried in the morning.

Ding,dong the bells will surely rhyme.
I am in no hurry
So do not make a flurry
And do not let me get there quite on time.

I’m get buried in the morning
I’m puzzled as I am not yet fully dead.
There must be an error,
But never mind the terror.
I am thinking of those books I’ve never read
Put them in my coffin
And please stop that sinful laughing…
I’d like to die   beside you in this bed.

I’m getting buried in the morning…
We had to book it ten years in advance.
We are running out of space
For the human race..
But why don’t we make love again,just once?
If the exertion kills me
It will surely thrill me
And I’m sorry I am so unfit to  sing and dance.
You may die as well..
There’s no way to foretell.
But  why not take this very last chance?


Into the wall, the grief and anger melt

Across the wall, the grief and anger grow
Neither side will benefit from war.
The  water stolen  and the olives mown

Sewage  into  deep blue seas now flows
What are we,inhuman, what’s this for?
Across the wall, the grief and anger grow

Where prophets  spoke to El   and what they saw.
The holy writing, do not let them tear
Though  water’s stolen  and  olive trees are bowed

One mirror with two faces  in its maw
The sin of Cain,oh holy land debarred.
Within the wall, the grief and anger groan

Here are the relics and the stones unthroned
How will these human peoples ,brothers,fare
The  water stolen,olive trees alone?

Around us lie the  bodies broken, sore
Did we hope to entertain God’s whores?
Into the wall, the grief and anger melt
The  water  dries up and the olives wilt


 “Yoma,” Geoffrey Hartman’s last poem.





Rain in the autumn, rain in the spring

let it rain poetry, dear God,

midrashic parables, rabbinic clichés,

or, better still, the comfort of Psalms.

I know those traps, those enemies, Lord,

help me in my old age, my distress:

this day I stand contrite before you,

eyes, broken images, ears,

dimmed by unceasing sighs.

Where is your comfort to be found?

No longer in the lai-lai-lai of prayersong.

In all your holy mountain what survives

not stained by cries for blood? Where now

the numinous Jordan, the pure Helicon?

Encompassed by my own inanities

I stumble and fade, searching… searching…

Ah, woe betide! the nymphs of memory

draw me under, into a bitter wave

that whelms and does not cleanse.


I am poured out, unrhymed, unrhythmed.



Fiction and Truth — davidjrogersftw

I was in a writer’s group some years ago, an extraordinary group because except for me it was composed entirely of women–and they were elderly, seventy, eighty, ninety years old. At first I thought, “What am I doing with this bunch of old ladies?” But I quickly changed my tune. They were tremendously talented and […]

via Fiction and Truth — davidjrogersftw

Blue glass and the  bowl of sea shells ring

Blue glass and the  bowl of sea shells bring
Memories of Dunwich and the sand
Where the marble   of drowned churches    rightly sings

Bell towers sound like underwater  gongs
Struck by sailors lost, with sea soaked hands
Blue glass and the  bowl of sea shells ring

In the sky the gulls spread pure white wings
They live in  air, on sea, and on the land
While the marble   of drowned churches    softly sings

I found your photo on the shore sea-rinsed
In Whitby  I could almost understand
How blue glass and the  bowl of sea shells ring

The sand from Yorkshire’s caught by great sea winds
Moved to Norfolk, where the shore expands
As the choir   of  long drowned sailors   softly sings

I’ll come by land, by air,by sea, by song
To find my love,my heart  has been well wrung
Blue glass and the  bowl of sea shells hint
At the marble   of drowned churches  as they sing

Scared to be alone



“A new study published in the journal Science looked at results from 11 different experiments involving over 700 subjects and found that the majority of participants reported that it was “unpleasant” to be alone in a room with their thoughts for as few as six minutes. The researchers discovered that most people would rather administer painful electric shocks to themselves than be left alone with their thoughts. This effect was particularly strong for men, who overwhelmingly preferred the shock (64 percent of male participants as compared to 15 percent of female participants).

Why do most people hate being alone with their thoughts? Pain. When you feel physical or psychological pain you instinctively move away from it. However, when you feel emotional pain there’s nowhere to go. Instead you may try to escape by distracting yourself with your cellphone.

Pain is an inevitable part of life. In fact, in many ways, pain is good for you. Plus, there is no avoiding it, and trying to escape from it can lead to other problems. Besides the obvious danger of texting while driving and the tragedy of missing out on the life that is going on outside of your three-inch screen, new evidence is emerging that avoiding being alone can hinder your capacity for empathy and creativity.

So what can you do to avoid avoiding your fear of being alone?

Cultivate Presence

The way to wean yourself fear of being alone is to gradually expose yourself to being present with yourself. You can cultivate a sense of presence in just a few minutes a day, either through meditationprayer or just taking time each day to be silent. This can also be achieved by practicing yoga a few times per week.

In order to endure and grow from pain you must be able to experience it. Avoiding it makes it worse. No one wants to be in pain, but remember that pain is also an opportunity. When you take the time to slow down and experience what is bothering you, you can grow and change from the pain so you can experience the pleasure that is out there for you as well.”