Groans and tears

My lonely ice cold body was enwrapped
By  golden love and warmth quite unsurpassed
I saw in my mind’s eye a tunnel black
To which I sped on a deep railway track

But as the golden kindness covered me
A sheet of tears fell like a mystery
I thanked the Person  whom I could not see
And turned away from blackness ‘victory.

The struggle to return was  not serene
I lived for months in struggle and sore pain
Yet I  seemed to sense all would be well.
But of such stories who will ever tell?

The glory of the Lord is real and here.
No drugs are needed but our  groans and tears

Tears

Let the smoke not hide the fires
The guns  of shame
Educated, dumbstruck liars
Against their origins conspired
So many maimed
And in the burning darkness angels came
To  wash in mothers’ tears
Understanding the disdained
Their tortured and their fears
Why play  any game
When all we want  is calm.
Where is the  truth, the balm?
Did Jesus come?

Lambeth where sheep may safely graze

Ealing. for miracles
Lambeth where sheep may safely graze
Southwark… just  part of the Ark
Brent….a bit like a bloody stent.
Neasden….. on the NHS?
Richmond and body
Highgate… is there a stile?
Haringey…….am I deaf?
Waltham Forest… … all the trees gone West
Epping Forest… a new swear word.You  epping idiot.
Waltham Abbey as left by Henry V111th.
Barnet…….oh. darn it!
Boreham Wood… no need to be offensive.
Bushey…. well once.
Watford…. all these epping rivers.How about a bridge or two?
Stoke by Nayland…… or in Nayland  or smoke outside Nayland
Constable.. don’t arrest me,I am innocent of that murder
Essex….aye sex! Who needs Freud?
Cheshunt… what is a Ches?
Broxbourne….. any bourne for me and my broxen

What our suffering self has found so dear

Turn back, live again, he said to me
Do not wander in the darkness anymore
One wrong move might give death victory
We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, live again, he asked of me
While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One more lie will give sin victory
The kindness of the Golden Light was clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he then soothed me
Do not  ever wonder  why you’re here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What our suffering self has found so dear
I had never seen the Light before
Only Christ the tyger with his roar
Come back, live through pain, he asked of me
One right step will give love victory

Yiddish is hardly spoken, why is that?

Nearly all of the people who spoke Yiddish died in the Holocaust and Israel decided to bring back Hebrew which was used in the Liturgy.New words had to be added but it has been successful

http://www.yiddishslangdictionary.com/browse

 

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Gateshead ahead.

IMG_0009.jpgOtterburn,cauldron bubble
Osmotherly as a wet hen
Leeds men on
Leicester….A hearse,a hearse.My condom for a hearse.
Huddersfield the balls and the bats
Granchester a pardon.
Cambridge and rail.
Ware in the world are you now my dear man?
Hertford here ,bridge 1 mile,long distance thrower on holiday
Pendlebury,spindle worry.
Baden Baden,caught on
Newcastle 1 mile
Gateshead ahead.
Middlesborough, workers fight
Stockton on Toes
Billingham ICI
Tyne and Wear estuaries for all

An interview with novelist Salley Vickers

P1000133https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/features/five-minute-memoir-salley-vickers-on-first-job-hell-8269500.html

Beginning:

When I was not quite 15, my dad, who was the kindest of fathers, decided that I should learn what ‘real’ work meant. He was a trade union leader, head of what is now the PCS – the Public and Commercial Services Union – having come to that brand of socialism via a youthful commitment to communism. His particular union served that branch of the public sector which included office cleaners. Indeed, it was his proud boast that he had been responsible for unionising the public sector cleaners.

I was lucky enough to have reached secondary school age during the period that state scholarships were made available to public schools. I had won a scholarship to St Paul’s, then as now one of the top girls’ schools in the country, but my father’s egalitarian principles had been tested by this piece of good fortune. My mother finally persuaded him that I should accept the place, but he was always concerned that I keep my feet on the ground and he never let me forget how the unprivileged had to live.

So when, that year, I asked for money to go on holiday, he said it was time I learnt to work for it.