https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fragmentation_of_memory

 

Fragmentation of memory is a memory disorder in when an individual is unable to associate the context of the memories to their autobiographical (episodic) memory. The explicit facts and details of the events may be known to the person (semantic memory). However, the facts of the events retrieve none of the effective and somatic elements of the experience. Therefore, the emotional and personal content of the memories can’t be associated with the rest of the memory.^[1] Fragmentation of memory can occur for relatively recent events as well.

The impaired person usually suffers from physical damage to or underdevelopment of the hippocampus. This may be due to a genetic disorder or be the result of trauma, such as post-traumatic stress disorder.^[2] Brain dysfunction often has other related consequences, such as oversensitivity to some stimuli, impulsiveness, lack of direction in life, occasional aggressiveness, a distorted perception of oneself, and impaired ability to empathize with others, which is usually masked.

I saw  the sun rise over the North Sea
Accentuating coloured fishing boats.
The beauty of the dawn gave hope to me
A restful pleasure made my soft eyes dote.
The peace of this small town has caught my heart.
Scenes from ancient times  come close again
The gulls swoop down and  sketch their flying charts
Remote as ever from the realm of man.
The shingle beach, the  Church  where Britten lies
The in and out of tides  of salty sea;
An exact match of houses, hill and skies;
The amber shop, the chip shop, the oak tree.
In my mind I walk in love again;
Though of the two, a single one remains

Black against light sky
Bright flowers blown ; bare branches now
Reach  beseechingly.

Reluctant sun hangs
Sending thin light  and pinkness
To clouds sleek as  cats

Now paling, blue grey,
I see mauve dying into dark
Night sky edges in

The  blackness awaits;
Dreams dangle  like stringed balloons
A new born gurgles

How full the holly!
Forsythia large and darker,
Birds shelter  wisely

Neither hot nor cold the day came by
I admired  bright  jasmine at its  peak
Grey  the air  and darker still the sky

As warm as spring but not the time to lie
Brexit hangs above , yet who can speak?
Neither hot nor cold the day passed by

Polititicians, paranoid  or fey,
Noone trusts them , will we even look?
Grey  the air  and darker still the sky

No great man  or woman waits nearby
If Hitler came again, we´d sell his book
Neither hot nor cold,  a life passed by

At this moment there  may be tense spies
Hoping to write Putin´s alibi
Grey  the air  and darker still the sky

Is there any sense in babies’cries?
We must believe or all infants will die
Neither hot nor cold the day went by
Grey  the air  and darker  the  night sky

 

I am a kettle made of stainless steel
I am a saint,  for tea  is brewed to heal
And , unlike kettles on an old  coal fire,
I am not dirty nor do I perspire.

My mirrored sides reflect you as you cook.
Look at me and read me like a book
I’m  full of love and hotter than a man
Oh, dear lady, love me while you can. 

 

 Superior mother,  yet inhuman  I;
Even electric kettles sometimes lie.
I shall never punish you, my dear
For perfect love like mine shall wield no fear.

All I ask is that you polish me.
For  in between your handsI  yearn to be.