Underneath the Marches and the Speech
What is the new meaning, do they preach?
Seven MPs resigned from  New Labour
Corbyn is too old and  rather grey.

Yet he won two contests , took some seats
Good News for  the Socialist on heat
What  has he not done for everyone?
Given them no butter for their scone

It seems they need a scapegoat,sacrifice
They have kept him on some  fragrant ice
Theresa May has got away  again
Doodling   in her Bible with a pen

I wonder if a makeover will do?
Buy J Corbyn  proper coats and shoes
Give him an old film of Tony Benn
Send him to a school for gentlemen

Make him do degrees in Politics
Make him a Magician with new tricks
Make him cleaner than a Vicar’s bun
Do not let him enjoy any fun

Underneath the Arches lie the lost
Homeless,human, what does living cost?
Into the Thames  men tumble  as and when
The struggle for  success has been and gone

Hold my hand,I feel the river’s pull
My heart has  its  own limits.I am full
Someone must stand up and say,Oh,No.
We shall  offer mercy to the low

I found myself in bed with an old man
He showed me where my soul dwelt and its light
He thinks we can be holy, and we can
Especially when we  love  with all our might

I found myself at a loose end today
Walking in the rain in  my wool coat
I didn’t know what else  to do but pray
There was  holy water but no boat

I found my self and knew I was a poet
For I had a pen  behind my ear
Useful for the  images I wrought
Out of words  and into sentence dear

Nowadays it’s harder for the young
No tablet fits behind the ear  or on the tongue
I guess one might well  sing it like a song
When we hear the bells of heaven ring

I found myself in photos on the news
I look like the terrorist  who schemed
Ah ahah,they’d need  me like a bruise
I am I, a figment of their dreams

On the whole I’d rather lose myself
In a novel or in tender arms
What about our spiritual  health
Let us feel the  holy love that calms

Losing, finding, what is it we seek?
If we are a self, are we  unique?
I read Latin,Hebrew,even Greek
I  forgot that human beings want to speak

https://electricliterature.com/what-can-poetry-do-that-politics-cant-89fce5a6dc41

 

Extract:

 Zapruder wants to have it both ways — to preserve poetry as a place for intellectual and creative freedom and also for the outcome of this unlimited freedom to be automatically ethical. “Following our internal sense of music leads us to revealing who we really are,” he continues. But what if “who we really are” is white supremacist or fascist or authoritarian? History is filled with examples of excellent artists who subscribed to odious systems of thought, not least of whom was Wallace Stevens, who serves as the kind of patron saint of Zapruder’s book. Stevens, it must be remembered, once wrote a poem called, “Like Decorations in a N****r Cemetery.” Beyond this more obvious example of historical villainy are the more mundane and widespread instances of contemporary white poets who write unconsciously white supremacist poems, contemporary male poets who write unconsciously male supremacist poems, contemporary capitalist poets who write unconsciously capitalist poems, and so on. To say that if a poet writes something that aligns with her own standards of truth and beauty the result will automatically be ethical is pure magical thinking. Poets are no more ethical than anyone else, nor are our inner lives any less poisoned by the political systems we inhabit.

Could it be despair  that held me tight

in the wintry evening and the night

I could not see a way to  carry on

Everything  was wrong and I was done

 

I saw great blackness all around myself

I could not be restored, I had no health

I   had reached the end of seeking aid

God alone  knew all the coins were paid

 

  Inexplicable, the  golden light

That made a sweet shawl round me on that night

Impressing me with kindness and goodwill

Holding me until I had had my fill

 

Most sensuous, most tangled with love’s  grace

Surrounding me,  protecting my lost face

As if the arms of love were something real

That anyone  who knew this  must reveal

 

Only when we reach the very end

May the force of love on  us descend

 

Be creative when you go to bed
Wear  four  layers  of dresses and red socks
Wear pyjamas when you go in town
Wear your suit at night but  keep it locked

Nightdresses are  pretty   when demure
Covered in wild flowers and  ancient lace
Wear them to a party  with new shoes
Wear a little something on your face

In the bath, do wear a bathing suit
Maybe a bikini and red shoes
Someone stole the lock from off the door
It’s not  just me, the entire home’s bereaved

Wear a hat, a kippa or a veil
Wear suspenders, tights and bralets chaste
Wear ten nylon petticoats all blue
Wear a belt around your little waist

The rule we must remember is, do not
Wear appropriate clothing for the day
Wear it different.wear it with big spots
Make  your  others give you your own way

Spend your earnings at the betting shop
Win a race and then lose all you got
Drink red wine till alphabets  take writs
Shouting “Aleph Null” will hit the spot

If you are   prophet, take great care
Jeremiah spoke in mountain air
Why are you not here with angels fair?
Be creative, do it if you dare!

https://www.patheos.com/blogs/formerlyfundie/10-signs-youre-actually-following-trumpianity-instead-of-christianity/

 

“10. You spent 8 years criticizing every move of Obama, but the minute Trump was sworn in you started telling everyone that “Christians should respect the president” and that being “divisive” is a sin.

Remember the you of two years ago? That’s okay, because I do– and you certainly didn’t seem to believe that Christians should “respect the president” or that being politically divisive was any sort of sin.

Here I am recalling you taught me that, “sin is always sin” and doesn’t change just because culture changes. Huh!”

As we women get older and especially if we have thyroid problems our  body hair gets less.So throw out razors for body hair, rollers for your head hair.

Throw out those   powder compacts and magnifying mirrors.

Why, we may not need a deodorant.Let’s go natural!

Keep a comb and any pleasant au de toilette but don’t wear Poison or Wicked Perfume

Glare at your old passport photos where your hair is like a  princess’s and think how little we knew how  beautiful we were.Never mind.God is impervious to beauty of the body.

Throw out medicines. paracetomols 10 years old, face cream 20 years old .I did and look at me ! Or maybe do not look at me!

The sun was hot, the air was soft like Spring air.I was walking down the road in the town when I  heard someone running  after me who called my name
Suddenly a beautiful ,young woman with a lively  face was standing by my side.We had met 6 months ago having coffee and  we had had a very interesting discussion about life,teaching, poetry,everything.Since then I had not seen her.
So I found it very  touching that she remembered me and wanted to talk to me.The sun shone and the birds sang and we had a good talk.What chance had brought us together again? Seems like it was a piece of good luck

 

I did this horrible piece of art myself

I am afraid I dropped a tea pot full of boiling tea last Sunday.It landed on my right foot which is very painful.So much so I went to a Walk in Centre today. The nurse says it is healing… and eventually put a dressing on it.It seems to have affected my brain.How ? I  have no ideas in my head.

And with the flare up of arthritis…. yet again….. some is there all the time and some used to go after a few weeks but it has not gone since July last year.I am sure lots of people have it or know someone who does…. why is there no cure?

However if you need something to divert you,try wathing Stephen King on youtube interviewing various authors.I like  and admire him greatly.If you read his book on how to write you will see how hard it was for him at the beginning.

I showed the nurse my  scalded foot that bled
Could she put a dressing on the wound?
I made it clear I wished to love the mad

I told her I had pain that stunned my head
Where  my husband hides and can’t be found
I showed the nurse my  scalded foot,it bled

All my clothes and earrings were bright red
I longed  to be caressed by husband’s hand
I did not say I wished to  fins his bed

I wish I were a field mouse in the shed
My husband fed the birds and mice around
I showed the nurse my  scalded heart  that bled

Maybe life is better for the dead
They soften into earth and are assumed
Where   are then the body and the blood?

So the piper plays his merry tunes
Alas we will roll mindless in our tombs
I showed the nurse my  scalded foot so red
I made it clear I must  now  live  my dread

The  huge darkness of old trees
Creates the birthplace of  flowers

E.Limbrey 2019.Copyright

 

The geometry and the art of  longtime love
Beautiful,unfeeling but still charmed
The lamp, the teapot, and the empty glove

From the soil to to clouded sky above
Nature innocent shall us disarm
The geometriy, the art of  moulding love

The horses once rode by and here’s the trough
Rusted with no diamonds  nor dried palms
The lamp, the teapot, and the empty glove

 

What we  have must last.,must be enough
Or we may be in Galilee  becalmed
The  hatred and  the art of  moulding love

Here’s a man, I think I’ll have him stuffed
Keep him  in the yard to evil warn
The lamp, the  hero, and the soulless glove

Nature ripens, lambs will soon be born
Lovers tangle in the thoughtless corn
The know how and the art of  making  love
The lamp, the teapot, and the Nazi glove

 

 

---

vr

https://www.leonardcohen.com/video/come-healing-audio

 

 

I was reading about Jonah Lehrer and his errors and this was one of them…. so  shall I be denounced in the newspapers?
Well it is all publicity!

I once had some underwear blue
Which fell off and stuck to my shoe
So now I wear red
As it matches my head
Does that give you any new clue?

I  had corduroy trousers for work~
The zip broke  but no student looked
Pascal was so riveting
They ignored my  unzippering
Since then I ‘ve converted to shirts

The heart has its  own reasons too
Not just the   mind as we knew
So  go by your feeling
And leave others reeling
These lessons are are all I shall do

I liked him as he lay down in bed
Waiting for ideas in his head
He saw visions   with meaning
Which were alsi steaming
No wonder he  wrote what I read

I went to a meeting-== I spent years heating
—– are the sheep bleating?
————————————life is so fleeting

Is it going to rain=    am I growing insane?

Is that a potato === how did you rate her?

Am I all red==========Amy drinks blood

Am I a Catholic?—– Damn all in politics

I love your wall paper——Will the viewers all caper

I am an unconscious racist——–I’m a non sponsored Fascist

Still anti=Semitic===== Shrill panties  in limerick

I felt sorry for Job—— asphalt on my robe.?

Is Satan God……… your statement was odd

I saw the light———–I saw the blight

Are  you ok————— Eeh,Dinnah poke me

I am a wicked  person======Iron the Vicar,Jason

Follow my bliss—– a hollow kiss

What a fine dish———What, God is Irish?

 

God did  not live in the cellar
God did not live on the roof
God did not sleep in the attic
But God does  remember the truth

Pray by the light of a candle
Pray by the light of the moon
Pray by the light of your nature
Sing as you compose a tune

God is a way of explaining
What logic cannot express
God is as clear as the letters
You  write when you suffer distress

Far away like the iceberg
That caused the Titanic to sink
You think God lives on the altar
He lives in the moment you blink

Bushes that burn with no trigger
Tablets that are made out  of stone
The  little voice heard in the silence
Asking that humans atone

 

 

 

Photo by Katherine

The fragile beauty of love
Fears no death but that of the imagination

The hnmour of the designer
Who needs no serving dish
The altar of selfless enjoyment
The placid receptivity of each cell

The perfection of design
Has its own humour
The comfort of unknown self belief
The laughter of the birds