Day: July 23, 2018

No, the cat bit me!

No,I have not had surgery.The cat bit me twice
I never had cancer  just a creeper decided to grow under my skin.It would have looked ok if it were green with flowers on…. evolution
I had no surgery, they just cut it all out for me with scissors
I had some stitches because that doctor liked doing embroidery.
They said  the injection would be painful.That was a lie, it was nothing.Just a prick.Mind you, I was tired so maybe I fell asleep.
I think it  is nice to have a date even if it is only for surgery.
Doctors love cutting us  and sewing us.They feel a sense of achievement.I don´t mind too much as long as they don´t cut my head off.
They  do biopsies but only once…. unopsy?
The bad doctors keep talking till you faint.The good ones keep quiet till you come round

I have lost the way out from the wood

I have lost the way out from the wood
I wander in damp trees and mossy ways
Till my breath is green as is my blood

I lost  my map but thought I understood
Both how to leave and how to love and play
I have lost the way out from the wood

I say that man is evil under hood
But may be it is better not to say
Till my breath  has gone and I ‘ve no  blood

Opponents must, like evil, torment good
For here’s the war and gone is the delay
We have lost the way out from the wood

In the ancient times, God sent the Flood
Now we have the drought,  hyenas bray
Soon my breath  has gone and I ‘ve no  blood

Looking out, I see a strange delay
People wrangle, tortured, cannot pray
I have lost the way out from the wood
Bury me in leaves with my green blood

Shakespeare speaks on the trauma of War on soldiers

http://www.opensourceshakespeare.org/views/plays/play_view.php?WorkID=henry4p1&Act=2&Scene=3&Scope=scene

 

  • “Hotspur (Henry Percy). ‘But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well
    contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear
    your house.’ He could be contented: why is he not, 860
    then? In respect of the love he bears our house:
    he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than
    he loves our house. Let me see some more. ‘The
    purpose you undertake is dangerous;’—why, that’s
    certain: ’tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to 865
    drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this
    nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. ‘The
    purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you
    have named uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and
    your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so 870
    great an opposition.’ Say you so, say you so? I say
    unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and
    you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord,
    our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our
    friends true and constant: a good plot, good 875
    friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot,
    very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is
    this! Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the
    general course of action. ‘Zounds, an I were now by
    this rascal, I could brain him with his lady’s fan. 880
    Is there not my father, my uncle and myself? lord
    Edmund Mortimer, My lord of York and Owen Glendower?
    is there not besides the Douglas? have I not all
    their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the
    next month? and are they not some of them set 885
    forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an
    infidel! Ha! you shall see now in very sincerity
    of fear and cold heart, will he to the king and lay
    open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself
    and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of 890
    skim milk with so honourable an action! Hang him!
    let him tell the king: we are prepared. I will set
    forward to-night.
    [Enter LADY PERCY]
    How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two hours.895
  • Lady Percy. O, my good lord, why are you thus alone?
    For what offence have I this fortnight been
    A banish’d woman from my Harry’s bed?
    Tell me, sweet lord, what is’t that takes from thee
    Thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep? 900
    Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
    And start so often when thou sit’st alone?
    Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks;
    And given my treasures and my rights of thee
    To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy? 905
    In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch’d,
    And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars;
    Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
    Cry ‘Courage! to the field!’ And thou hast talk’d
    Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, 910
    Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
    Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
    Of prisoners’ ransom and of soldiers slain,
    And all the currents of a heady fight.
    Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war 915
    And thus hath so bestirr’d thee in thy sleep,
    That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
    Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream;
    And in thy face strange motions have appear’d,
    Such as we see when men restrain their breath 920
    On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?
    Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
    And I must know it, else he loves me not.