Trials of life:jeans

funnyjeanshttps://www.theguardian.com/fashion/shortcuts/2019/sep/11/asymmetric-jeans-will-you-wear-the-trousers-that-are-flared-one-side-skinny-the-other

 

The problem unrecognised by most of us is  that to wear unusual clothing like this, you have to look very  clean,well groomed and chic.And you might need new trainersIn other words, it is meant to be ironical ,a sign of wealth.If not you just look daft!

I am not critical usually  but when cropped trousers came in many people wore them with short grey/beige old socks and mouldy shoes.Wearing long trousers would hide all that.
Similarly your hair would have to be “styled” and if it is like mine that would be hard.
I fear if I wore them I’d  look like a mad old lady and I’d rather look elegant in my long velvet coat admired by millions.Now I need a big velvet hat.

The danger of lies

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My photo

From Counterpunch:

Hannah Arendt, an émigré from Nazi Germany.

“The result of a consistent and total substitution of lies for factual truth,” Arendt wrote in her classic volume The Origins of Totalitarianism, “is not that the lie will now be accepted as truth and truth be defamed as a lie, but that the sense by which we take our bearings in the real world—and the category of truth versus falsehood is among the mental means to this end—is being 

Where force rules. love has no grounds

Once women to  a  man were bound
We could not vote nor own  nor lease
Where force rules. love has no grounds

Our menstrual blood  made us unsound
We scrubbed the linen, killed the louse
Once women to  a  man were bound

The older women passed hints down
Dealt with men who tried to pounce
Where force rules. love has no grounds

There were abortions, underground
Girls might die  without a spouse
Once women to  a  man were bound

As the world goes on its  rounds
The strong play games  like cat and mouse
Where force rules. love has no grounds

Disorder comes up from the past
In the night we feel the ghosts
If  anyone  is calm and  kind
Force rules less and love gains ground.

 

 

 

 

Parliament like cardboard fell

I could not write a villanelle
My mind is  battered by the sounds
The repetition seems too droll

The teacher said she’d pay me well
I fled into the underground
I could not  stomach villanelles

I went by bus to Camberwell
The Monument looked sadly down
Our new leader rose from  hell

Parliament like  cardboard  fell
Contempt  dripped  down Oxford gowns
He would not like a villanelle

Jesus wept and Satan yelled
No solution has been found
The  people shudder, is this hell?

By no convention  is he bound
Democracy he fines,  impounds
I could not write a villanelle
We already  sweat in hell