Month: August 2018
Still here
I went into a coffee shop and the waitress said,
Are you still here?
I looked round all the tables and I couldn’t see myself
So I said,No!
I went to the public library and the assistant said
What are you reading now?
So I said,I’m not.
I went to church and the priest said
How are you?
I said, I wonder myself what my mother did.
I bought a book on Amazon.
It’s not PC.
I wrote it myself.
I went to work and then remembered I have no job
I was making jam in Essex
Tiptree,it is called.
How did I get here,I asked myself
So far there is no reply
Share this:
The plastic tart
So vertical ,the mouse was a biped
A feat that engineering never bred
He looked into my eyes and then away
As if in wonder what words he might say.
But no, it is a plastic object made
To stop us getting hands that wildly ache
The little wheel is not for mice’s fun
But with a little turn, the cursor runs
Touchscreens are another recent feat
But touching hearts is good and far more sweet
My heart is open to the sun and frost
What is this life and what might living cost?
No longer living mice and feeling hearts
No, sincerely we must prostitute our art
Share this:
“Patience is a superpower”
http://www.oliverburkeman.com/blog/posts/patience-is-more-than-a-virtue-it-s-a-superpower
“And it’s hard to believe this inability to endure discomfort isn’t growing worse, as technology speeds up our lives. It’s more aggravating to wait 30 seconds for a microwave than an hour for an oven – just as it’s worse when a web page takes 10 seconds to load than when the reference librarian tells you it will take three weeks to track down a book. Perhaps it’s because in a world of almost-instant gratification, truly instant gratification starts to seem like our birthright.
Historically speaking, as Roberts points out, patience was a matter of “conforming yourself to the need to wait for things”; it was a way of accepting one’s lack of control over the world. But now we don’t need to wait for most things, patience has become a form of control over the world and, as she puts it, “over the tempo of contemporary life that otherwise controls us”. In this new environment, there’s nothing remotely passive about standing in front of a painting for three hours. On the contrary, it’s a subversive act. On the other side of impatience – if you can learn to wait out that jitteriness – lies power.”
(First published in Guardian Weekend magazine. Photo by Lux & Jourik on Flickr.)
Share this:
I can’t spell phablet
1.A Christian ,a Jew And a Muslim were walking through the Mall looking for a Coffee Shop.
They found a new one with lots of seats so they went inside and sat down.The Jew went over to the counter and asked, do you serve Cappuccinos?
The waitress answered,not usually, but in your case I’ll make an exception.
And my two friends?
Are they Cappuccinos as well?
Well, they are people of the Book like me.
I’m sorry .I meant to give it back.Are you going to fine me?
No, give us free coffee and we’ll say no more.
2.You know all those Coffee Shops staffed by foreigners?
Yeah.
The Government is going to build 7 meter high walls around them.
So America is going metric at last!
3.How can you tell I am a foreigner?
I’ll just shout.Wanna see a foreigner!
4.Why do we fear Arabs?
Because they invented al-gebra.
5.Why is the Pope a man?
We just have to take his word for it.
6.My husband asked me, what is post-modernism?
I replied, you didn’t need to marry me just to find that out
7.My wife asked, why do my rock buns fly?
I said because I am trying to kill that spider on the ceiling.
8.My son asked me to lend him my car for a week.
I said, it’s alright son, you can neck right here at home.
What about my Oedipal conflicts?
Use PayPal instead.
9.My daughter has got big blue eyes.
Where did she get those from?
Her grandmother.
Is she dead?
Not yet but Jesus wants her whole heart.
Don’t tell me he does transplants now!
10.I want to go to the lavatory.
They have closed all the public ones.
I should think so.Who wants to be watched all the time?
You’ll have to go in the telephone box.
I only have a Nokia 105.
Didn’t I tell you to get a phablet?
I’m not smart enough to spell that!
Share this:
The benefit of marriage
The Bedouins, refugees from other times
The Bedouins, refugees from other times
The places were they live are still the same
But other people founded States and took
The deserts where they roamed ,ancestral nooks.
Ther little tents of black on the hillsides
Have not changed from Mediaeval times
But now they are like flies, unwanted guests
Who will know the tremor in their breasts?
Cruel is the heart of humankind,
The Commandments spat on daily by men blind.
The Bedouins of our spirit need to be
Allowed their space, allowed their deserts free
Nomads of the desert,Jesus Christ,
Nomad of the darkness in our minds
Share this:
Self publishing guide
https://notjohnkdp.blogspot.com/2013/04/how-wide-image.html#comment-form
Share this:
Money for authors
If I make my book into a paperback printed on demand the price will be £16.99.
£9.97 is for the printing and cover.
Of the rest, I shall get 27 pence
Share this:
My time has come
The fields that once held buttercups are gone
Giant furrows pattern that long land
Made by huge machines whose time has come
Precise as old account books , now forlorn,
As moving as are waves on desert sand
The fields that once held buttercups have gone
Nothing human-sized remains untorn
Nowhere for dear lovers hand in hand
Killed by huge machines whose time has come
But young folk do not court, they hurry on
Annihilating what we elders understand
The fields that once held buttercups have gone
All too rapidly our world’s undone
To the deserts of the heart we’re sent
Dragged by by huge machines whose time has come
Can no passion change the way nor lend
Creative means to pacify and mend?
The fields that once wore buttercups have gone
Ground by huge machines,death times have come
Share this:
I’m a foreigner, kick me out
I went to bed with Eamonn.But she wasn’t
I lay down with a lion.What a lamb
I went to the Ladies.What a gent!
I went to an all female college but I’m not
I thought I was going mad but it’s only paranoia.It’s normal
I sometimes say to myself, are we still here? Then once I heard a voice saying,No!
I bought a book.It’s in invisible ink.What a relief!
The hairdresser said, is it you, again? I said , no, it’s me.
I went to the coffee shop but it was full of foreigners.People from Blackburn,Worcester,Bath,Wells and Bristol.Send them back, London is full.
As for the Irish, send us back free and then I shall kiss the Blarney Stone
What do you mean,I’m a foreigner? I’m half Viking.
I bought a pen but it has no nib.So what do I dip into the inkwell?
My Anglo Saxon roots are showing
Share this:
Doris Lessing,cats and me by Vivian Gornick
“Although it remains the lifelong need of these cats not to accommodate me, neither can they bear for me to long forget their existence. They are always with me. Wherever I am, they are. If I am working, one or the other plops herself down on the desk between me and the computer. If I lie down to read, they are both soon sprawled or curled on the bed beside me. Then again, if I’m watching television, there they are: curled on the couch or sprawled on a nearby chair. Of course, they do not remain stationary during the many hours we are together. Sooner or later, one or the other runs into the kitchen for a quick bite of dry food, or circles the room as though on the prowl, or sniffs insistently at her sister’s rear end; whereupon the attention is either accepted or rebuffed and both cats instantly fall to licking and purring or hissing and spitting. I don’t think I’ve ever in my life wondered as much about the mercurial motivation of a living creature’s behavior as I have watching the cats. It runs constantly through my mind: Why do we do what we do when we do it? Why does Cat One lick Cat Two madly for a few seconds, then sink her teeth into her sister’s neck, then raise her head looking wildly suspicious, and flounce away as though she’s been attacked? Why indeed. It’s just like sex, I sometimes think. How many times has a man said to me, ‘Why now, why not an hour ago?’ A question for which I have had as good an answer as the cats would have, should it be asked of them.
I still envy the people I know whose cats drowse in their laps and sleep in their beds, but (to quote the famous alley cat, Mehitabel) what the hell.”
*
Share this:
The holy grove
A mood of stillness like a nesting dove
A lack of wind, vast silence gives repose
Symbolises blessings from above.
My trees mature now form a holy grove
The sorrow ruling me has been deposed
To give me stillness with the nesting dove
In such moods, there’s space to think, compose.
To learn the ways of energy and love
Symbolised by blessings from above.
In the crowded Mall, the shoppers shove
The special mood of peace I fear eludes
We lose the sense of silence and the dove
In public life, we quarrel and oppose
We lose the way to our loved treasure trove
We lose the symbols and the deep repose.
Give me your hand without its heavy glove
As we caress, we value human love.
A mood so stilled, oh, fluttering of the dove
No wind to destroy peace nor rain to flood
Share this:
Homes arranged by household income
A different expression
Share this:
Why does the Torah tell us to place the Holy Words on our hearts?
Apparently, there was a young man who was speaking to his rabbi and
he says, “Rabbi, why does the Torah tell us to place the Holy Words on
our hearts? Why doesn’t it tell us to
place the Holy Words in our
hearts?” The rabbi responds, “Well, because as it is, our hearts are a
little closed and we cannot place the words inside our hearts so we
place them on our hearts and there they stay until one day the heart
breaks and the word
s fall in.” That’s really what we’re doing. We’re just
placing these words on our hearts and one day, the heart will break
and the words will fall in
Share this:
Lamb of God, have mercy on us
A very moving performance
Share this:
The orchestra of Auschwitz
Share this:
Rational Calculations,O Jesu
Affect matters more than numbers do
Reason without love ,so blind to ends
Rational means were used to kill our Jews.
Searching Europe’s “haystacks” for a clue
Reason makes its wondrous, obscene blend
Affect matters more than numbers do
When Belsen was relieved, who bought the glue?
The bones of suffering dead might,did offend
Rational calculaters tortured Jews.
Was Jesus rational, what the end he knew?
See his mother Mary, weeping,kind.
Affect matters more than numbers do
By the Christians, Jesus was abused
His brothers and his sisters barred, disdained
Factories were used to gas his Jews.
How to see what matters in the end
Hate outweighed by Love, controlled not blamed
Affect matters more than numbers do
Rational calculations ,G-d, oh G-d, Jesu.
Share this:
The end of love’s despair
Her wedding ring, pure gold from tooth of Jew
On her finger bitterly did cling
As she left the altar wedded now
The ashes of the Jews in earth would sing
Oh, mother’s teeth with gold were very rich
The doctor dragged them out with pliers new
As she heaved and gave a shudder,flinched,
He hit her with his gun till her blood flew
Father was as rigid as a corpse
His mouth was opened with a butcher’s knife
His golden fillings swiftly were appraised
But Father died before his his tender wife
Not human, but mere Jews, why should we care?
Dance them to the end of love’s despair
Share this:
An Israeli for peace
A Mighty Voice for Peace Has Gone Silent: Uri Avnery, 1923-2018
A Mighty Voice for Peace Has Gone Silent: Uri Avnery, 1923-2018
“We received word early this morning that Israeli human rights activist and long-time CounterPunch contributor Uri Avnery died in Tel Aviv, following a heart attack.
Avnery, who was one of the first Israelis to call for the creation of a Palestinian state, was 94. He lived a sprawling life. He was born in Germany in 1923 and his family fled to British Palestine a few months after Hitler came to power. As a young man he was dispersed leaflets for the Irgun, a terrorist Zionist organization, and it haunted him for most of his life. Avnery would later play chess with Yasser Arafat and become one of the PLO’s most ardent Israeli defenders.
Avnery began sending us his column in 2002, only a few months after CounterPunch went online. And they came, usually on a Friday night, with a faithful regularity. The first column Avnery sent us was “The Ship is on the Way,” on the blockade of Gaza. The final one, a scathing indictment of Israel’s new “Basic Law,” was published on August 6, under the title “Who the Hell are we.”
Alexander Cockburn was one of Uri’s most faithful readers. Even though Cockburn disagreed with Avnery about the two-state solution and other political matters, he admired the high quality and fluidity of Avnery’s prose. Cockburn once told me that Avnery reminded him of his father Claud. Alex marveled at his ability to churn out original and compelling columns even while struggling with illness, age or the loss of his wife.”
Share this:
No dogs.. but it’s the neighbour who upsets me
I am pleased to say my little black cat has come back to sleep by my door on a cushion on a chair.No sign of any dog.You’d think if anyone had 5 pedigree dogs they would make sure the dogs were secure in the garden
We even had some sun yesterday but I still have vertigo.So I went to see a friend who lives in my street.She is so sweet and gentle I find it easy being with her.We don’t argue.We get on very well and have plenty to talk about.
I wish Doris Bonnsoon would emigrate ot go back where their grandad came from.
He or she is making life whole lot worse for us folk.Free Britain.Send Doris to Tasmania
He came, he saw, he haunted
Share this:
When life seems grey
When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head When life runs like a river to the sea Then shall I take new lovers to my bed? And with their carnal touch consoled be? When my love lies,so breaks my tender heart. When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path. Then, shall I my life of evil start? And on the world shall I bestow my wrath? When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty. When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad. Then I shall upend causality And let myself do deeds which make me glad. For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
Share this:
English irony
I went to the hospital for a check up and it was full of immigrants
The consultant was Greek
The nurse who did punch biopsies was from Mozambique.That’s not even in the EU
The man pushing wheelchairs was from Jamaica.
The junior doctor was German.Why she might have been a descendant of Hitler.
Then I got on the bus and the driver was Indian
I didn’t even know Indians could drive
When I got off the bus I met a man with a dog.
The dog was Chinese!
Why don’t people have English dogs like rottweilers and alsations or even border collies and greyhounds?
They have buses for greyhounds in the USA.Can’t they walk?
I thought that was why people had dogs… to walk them.
How about buses for Siamese cats?
Now, there’s an idea
Share this:
Stan teaches statistics and rings 999
Stan was teaching social statistics to a group of elderly neighbors.Since he was 109 it gave them all hope to see him demonstrating his prowess with various techniques.
He was planning to do some logic and philosophy too.Annie was sitting by the door so she could answer the bell if any paramedics turned up for tea.
I’m not going to calculate ” the standard deviations” he murmured.”I just want you to grasp the general purpose.”
“Deviation,they’re not normal are they?” enquired his neighbor Henry,an ex-English teacher. ”So how can they be standard.It’s confusing..”
“Are you thinking of deviants?” Stan enquired calmly yet firmly
”Certainly not,at my age I’m a bit past that!””Still it adds a bit of excitement to the class.” he thought.
How do words in ordinary language relate to those in Statistics?” asked Henry philosphically
“They are just more precisely defined in statistics.To say someone is a deviant is a rather vague term.”
“No,it’s not! My neighbor is a deviant.He always dresses entirely in yellow.”
“Well,that must be hard to do.Certainly unusual.” Stan agreed boldly.
“But in another country that might be the norm.So it’s a matter of context.In statistics it’s more boring.There’s a formula.It’s totally independent of context.Have you ever wondered why so many mathematicians have more than a touch of Asperger’s syndrome?”
“No,it’s not something that wanders through my mind much”replied Henry
A shudder passed through the room at hearing the word “formula“,which perhaps they considered something of a deviant!
Anything with letters and numbers mixed together is certainly not welcome in many people’s minds, along with their more unusual sexual tastes, desires and inclinations which were kept secret even from themselves in many cases.
“Time for tea.” called Annie,hoping to divert their attention.She carried in a platter of mouse sandwiches kindly donated by the local ambulance service and some iced Victoria sponge she and Stan had made the day before.
“Just a quick word about next week.We’ll take a look at ratios and proportions and maybe see how that relates to the concept of rationality.”
“That sounds fun!” Annie called encouragingly.Henry decided to act on a deviant desire and fell onto her lap
.”Oh,dear!” she gasped loudly as the chair collapsed under her.
”Why can’t you be deviant at home?”
“My wife won’t let me!” He kindly answered.
“And look,” Stan continued,”we’ll have to ring 999.This chair is in fragments.I thought for one day we’d be able to avoid calling them out!”
“Well, life is not controllable.” said a quiet but fierce looking lady with sharp green eyes.”That’s what makes it tolerable“
She then greedily consumed a very large piece of iced cake .
“I can stand the thinking if the cake is good” she whispered to her shy friend Amy.
”That’s rather a feeble argument,”Amy retorted.”You can’t really compare cake and statistics.”
“I’ll compare anything I like!” the green eyed woman snarled loudly.
“You do what you like but you must keep a sense of proportion!”
“Now then,have you rung 999?” Stan queried of Annie.
”Yes,here they are,and they’ve got a stretcher for the chair!”
“Well,that’s certainly unusual,even deviant“,Stan thought anxiously to himself.
”Where do they get their funding? Is there a fund for distributing money to help chairs which are not normal?
.To be continued.. and continued
Share this:
Poetry and humour
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poems?field_poem_themes_tid=1596
My Mother Wants to Know if I’m Dead
ARE YOU DEAD? is the subject line of her email.
The text outlines the numerous ways she thinks
I could have died: slain by an axe-murderer, lifeless
on the side of a highway, choked to death by smoke
since I’m a city girl and likely didn’t realize you needed
to open the chimney flue before making a fire (and,
if I do happen to be alive, here’s a link to a YouTube
video on fireplace safety that I should watch). Mom
muses about the point of writing this email. If I am
already dead, which is what she suspects, I wouldn’t
be able to read it. And if I’m alive, what kind of daughter
am I not to write her own mother to let her know
that I’ve arrived at my fancy residency, safe and sound,
and then to immediately send pictures of everything,
like I promised her! If this was a crime show, she posits,
the detective might accuse her of sending this email
as a cover up for murder. How could she be the murderer,
if she wrote an email to her daughter asking if she was murdered?
her defense lawyers would argue at the trial. In fact,
now that she thinks of it, this email is the perfect alibi
for murdering me. And that is something I should
definitely keep in mind, if I don’t write her back
as soon as I have a free goddamn second to spare.
Share this:
Humour
I went into a coffee shop and the waitress said,
Are you still here?
I looked round all the tables and I couldn’t see myself
So I said,No!
I went to a hairdresser and asked for a cut and blow dry
She said, what do you want me to do?
Buy some scissors
I went to the Bank and a man in the queue said to me are you married
I said, why are you asking?
He said,I lost my wife in Marks and Spencers so I am looking for another
How long since you lost her?
Over an hour!
I went to the bus stop but it didn’t
I wanted a red pepper but they only had black
The pieces are so small I can’t understand how they pick them
My fence blew away and I thought:
I bet Trump wants it.So I am building a dry stone wall.
I have got the stones so I put them in the oven to dry
iF anyone climbs on this they will get burned
.
Non verbal communicarion is good at dinner parties
Pull faces, stick your tongue out and wriggle your ears
Then they won’t mind when you leave
They might even pay for a cab
Eye contact is hard when you wear spectacles
Who ever heard of eyeballs kissing?
Feeling nervous?
Suits of armour £800
Credit available
I went to a hypnotist.He was good.I believe I am now the Queen
So where’s my palace?
I don’t go shopping.I’ve got no money.
So I might steal yours.
Thanks
Share this:
Second childhood
He got divorced as he could not bear Lynn
He could not get free to roam
He was such a rotter,damn
Some flew,Hugh trekked
Could you cope in Argon?
He stole Joanna’s berg.
He leads her by the knows
He was too loose for her.
I envy Enna.
The hamster,damn..
He kept his head in Bury.
And as glass goes, he went.
He’s done Dee already
Don’t tell Aviv.
How about we go Haifa?
I will not love a man till I can sail to Gaza without asking ,Is Raoul in?
Who is Ray ‘ell?
Don’t Bask all night, we can’t leave Kat alone here.
Oh,my pyre knees.
Why not dun caster?
It’s Hull in here.
My clothes were chic long ago
The lost angels knees
He tried he could not Do it right
Like Leonard Cohen? Don’t we all?
I just can’t fill a delph here and is inium there?
She ate butter in cups
Yeah, she chewed her lip nervously in Amsterdam
You’re daffy ,Della
What is the plural of my lover?
To a lover
From a lover
In a lover
Out a lover
Get a lover
Ditch a lover
What another?
Not an other!
This is getting out of hand some ,what?
Share this:
Mary meets Tom
Mary was getting dressed on a wet October morning.The cycling shorts she had never worn alone made a warm extra layer under her green cotton trousers.On top she wore a red tunic and also some green plastic earrings were glued to her little pink ears
She saw Annie who had just rung the new door bell
My goodness,Mary, you look different.Where on earth did you get those earrings? she said enviouslyy
I made them, myself out of the tops of those plastic milk containers from the supermarket.
I say,you’re not that poor are you?Anne asked her kindly
It’s not what is real,it’s how you feel,
Mary replied poetically as she sometimes enjoyed a bit of fun and teasing a friend gently.
No,said Annie it’s It’s not what you feel,it’s what is real.
And how do we know what is real? Mary asked her with deep curiosity her eyes glowing in a deep shade of teal blue.
Well,I know you had a reasonably good job so you must have more than just your state pension.You may be giving more than a tithe to Charity.Is that wise?
No,Mary cried,but I want to…I like to do it.
Oh,dear,Annie said.By the way you will need a coat, it’s much colder.I hope you’ve not given all your coats to Oxfam like Stan once did with his shoes.
Thanks,Mary smiled with her voice.I still have twenty two coats of all colours,A bit like Joseph in the Bible.
At the bus stop Mary met Tom who lived round the corner in a semi detached villa with a an extension,conservatory and downstairs shower room.He had fallen over again and bruised his face but still looked quite handsome with his dark hair and Irish eyes.
Maybe you need to pick up your feet more,Mary whispered to him .
What a strange expression that is,.I wonder who invented it.It’s amazing how wise our ancestors were.They invented writing and cooking and philosophy.We are going backwards.
Thus Mary passed her day,talking to friends and musing on the meaning of words and sentences. and making herself jewellery from mundane objects she noticed on her walks.Not to mention cleaning the loo and putting all her old Xmas cards into bags for recycling.
Since from the natural numbers 1,2,3,4,…… we can get to the strange transcendental numbers pi and e and the fact that there are different orders of infinity does that prove God exists ?she asked Tom plaintively.
Well,not prove,but suggest, she qualified her theory
I don’t know what you are on about,hinny,he responded.
Nobody ever saw pi in a burning bush although I have seen pies burn in a halogen oven more than twice
That is a totally different order of reality,she told him sweetly.
Wow,Mary, many men don’t like extremely clever women you know.
Which men are those ? she asked wonderingly, as her peaches and cream complexion glowed with health and her eyes peeped out like a kitten’s when it just woke up
I don’t mind myself,he said,I like smart women
.it’s possible men need to feel superior otherwise they lose their confidence. and then they are in big trouble.But what about women’s confidence……Tom reflected further.
Maybe women don’t need confidence so desperately much,Mary sighed.
They looked at each other and smiled.The sun came out and the trees were glowing in red and gold as the bus came down the hill looking like some chariot from a myth as the sun hit the windows at an obtuse angle.
Some people with whom Mary had taught with were very confident even when all their students failed and their books were never published.So confidence must be misleading as many brilliant or creative people have none at all.Except Picasso!
He had both creativity and confidence and a genius forbending space to his will
But why, say all of us?
“The heart has its reasons ” Pascal
Share this:
My sister did this for me
How my heart sings 