R.T is ¨Russia Today¨ and not the Radio Times

1.All flights were cancelled from Tottenham Airport owing to cats on the roof of the departure lounge and the runway has not been barnacled yet.
2.After a fire in a waste bin, the ladies´ toilets are very warm.Please sit carefully
3 A woman in Chingford has been fined for selling hot cross buns outside Marks and Spencers on Maundy Thursday when they are only legally sold on Good Friday and we should not be profiting from them or God
4. R.T is ¨Russia Today¨ and not the Radio Times.Do not expel any Russian lodgers from your house as the airport is already full and we are expecting a lot of British dipsomaniacs to be arriving tonight from Moscow and other cities.
5.Night is cancelled owing the the sun not going out when we pulled the cord.Please read your books and phones and refrain from screaming blue murder.We hope to turn the sun off tomorrow

[signed] H M ‘ s Government liars

Tell me your sins

Say,Father,may I make a confession?
No, the confessional box is broken
I want to tell you ,not a box
Are you a Catholic?
What kind of a question is that?
Fairly simple.
Well ,do Protestants have to use a box?
For what?
You are so evasive
We have to be in case you are a spy.
Who for?
That´ś what I am wondering
I might be a double agent
Oh, for goodness sake,tell me your sins
I thought you would never ask!

But God himself is killed and killed again

The wicked men might pay the price of sin
Execution by the State was law
But God himself was killed outside and in

Impersonal ,the State judged guilt and then
For its sentence, history recalled
The wicked who had paid the price of sin

No-one sees why murder had begun
Cain and Abel´ś story then evolved
But God himself was killed outside and in

Only God knew sin and act were twinned
Since someplace sacred there had been a Fall
The wicked self might pay the price of sin

Jesus loved, and learned our human pain
Good was murdered,love itself dissolved
As God was killed with cruel,cold disdain

Who was Jesus, what did he stand for
When armies took his ensign into war?
The high and wicked hide their guilt and sin
But God himself is killed and killed again

Life must go on even after Auschwitz

Elected Silence by Gerard Manley Hopkins

https://genius.com/Gerard-manley-hopkins-the-habit-of-perfection-annotated

3 The Habit of Perfection

ELECTED Silence, sing to me
And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.

Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb:
It is the shut, the curfew sent
From there where all surrenders come
Which only makes you eloquent.

Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark
And find the uncreated light:
This ruck and reel which you remark
Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight.

Palate, the hutch of tasty lust,
Desire not to be rinsed with wine:
The can must be so sweet, the crust
So fresh that come in fasts divine!

Nostrils, your careless breath that spend
Upon the stir and keep of pride,
What relish shall the censers send
Along the sanctuary side!

The Lamb by Wm Blake

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43670/the-lamb-56d222765a3e1

The Lamb

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

Little Lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Gave thee life & bid thee feed.

By the stream & o’er the mead;

Gave thee clothing of delight,

Softest clothing wooly bright;

Gave thee such a tender voice,

Making all the vales rejoice!

Little Lamb who made thee

Dost thou know who made thee

Little Lamb I’ll tell thee,

Little Lamb I’ll tell thee!

He is called by thy name,

For he calls himself a Lamb:

He is meek & he is mild,

He became a little child:

I a child & thou a lamb,

We are called by his name.

Little Lamb God bless thee.

Little Lamb God bless thee.

The Tyger by Wm Blake

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43687/the-tyger

The Tyger

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night;

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears

And water’d heaven with their tears:

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Related

God’s grandeur

Photo by Katherine

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44395/gods-grandeur

God’s Grandeur

BY GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.