What to say to spam phone calls

walk- mary walsh - fairy steps 1 2 3 4 5.jpg1
You have been in an accident,haven’t you?
Yes,last week
So were you injured?
Yes
How?
I was killed.
2.

Hello, this is  the Insurance company
Hi, this is the Police Station.
3.
Someone in Hong Kong who has your surname  has died.You may  be able to get their money

OK.It was me.

3

Your husband is in Spain and has lost his passport.He needs money quickly
That’s odd.Has he risen from the dead?

Or, since when  have I been married?

4.Your mother is ill  and has no insurance cover.

Can  they get flu in heaven?

Did you say in Devon?

No,I said An Iron in Bevin

Does poetry matter?

_101571452_gaza6https://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2014/07/18/does-poetry-matter/poems-hold-the-mysteries-of-the-present-dreams-of-the-future

 

Extract

We know that human beings are intrinsically connected to one another in how we assert our being. When we read a poem, we are in the presence of this link. We are open to the metaphors of our shared natures. 

Because poets have the highest faith that every word in a poem has value and implication and suggestion, a poem orients us in both our inner and outer existence. No matter what language we speak, we follow the guidance of poetry to better perceive sorrow and radiance, love and hatred, violence and wonder. No matter what continent we call home, we read poetry to restrict us in time and to aspire toward timelessness — whether we are in our most vibrant cities or in the remote woods. 

Does poetry matter? Yes. Can poetry be more relevant? No. It is the song of song, the language of language, the utterance of utterance and the spirit of spirit.

Leaves

bay beach clouds coast
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The  trembling leaves hid  sparrows as they sang
We were silent,drowning in the sun
Reminding me of Cartmel and Grange sands

I turned the phone off. so no idler rang
In winter we forget that bright light  comes
The  shining leaves hid  sparrows as they sang

My parents had no garden and no land
But judging by fertility,some fun!
I wish we were all down  on Grange’s sands

I remember holding Dad’s thin hand
He put me on his shoulders and we ran
He  knew  the words to all old Irish songs

He was tall and  made of smoke a friend
Then he went away to be God’s son
I wish we  still  were playing on the sands

In theology ,I have no hand
Do we need to know  where God has gone?
Can even experts  hear what angels sing?

The theologians   meanly note  their ends
Bishops in their robes  are  tried and stand
The   pure white  flowers  are scented as birds sing
Haunting me with  childhood,Grange O’ Sands

seaport during daytime
Photo by Pok Rie on Pexels.com

 

 

The coup

Rebecca Solnit: The Coup Has Already Happened

 

“We already had the coup.

It happened on November 8, 2016, when an unqualified candidate won a minority victory in a corrupted election thanks in part to foreign intervention. Any time is the right time to pour into the streets and demand that it all grinds to a halt and the country change direction. The evidence that the candidate and his goons were aided by and enthusiastically collaborating with a foreign power was pretty clear before that election, and at this point, they are so entangled there isn’t really a reason to regard the born-again alt-right Republican Party and the Putin Regime as separate entities.”

Happenstance

The crane will mate for life, unlike a man
For some it’s rarer than the hope of Spring
Was it so when life on earth began?

Post modern love is months, not years, in span
Loss and  separation our love rend
The crane will mate for life, unlike humans

Over us the  fickle moon has shone
The cranes rise in a flock,away they wing
So  they have since life on earth began

With peace, these rare white cranes will long go on.
When will we  reach  the  nadir of the wrong?
The cranes dance for their partners, one to one.

Love is a true process, not a thing.
Engagement  with the other,that’s  our song
The crane will mate for life,may they have span..
Happenstance  brings love  but who knows when?