Would you like to be my friend?
No,I don’t value him highly
Would you like to fall in love?
I’d rather swim through it
Would you like a new car?
I’ve not got an old one
What is your name?
No, it’s not, it’s Nat
What shall we eat tonight?
I can chew my nails after putting mango chutney on them
I don’t like to eat snails but neccessity is the mother of invention
Will you saute them in olive oil?
No, I’ll stuff them into a tomato
You need a big one
I’ll crush them
How cruel cookery can be
But not as bad as Goering,Stalin,Hitler or Nero.
Snails won’t know that
But we know
Where are the children?
I didn’t know we had any
Why are we in bed?
Because we are married
Gosh, you’ve got dementia already
Well, we do live in a Care Home
Wow, only 29 and in a Care Home
We run it
As fragile as the sacred crystal glass
Which broken was smashed up like any cup
Till its particles invaded us at Mass
Uncontained, how will this moment pass?
Suffering breaks us down, what helps us up?
Hearts as fragile as a crystal glass
Do not climb the cliff in love’s mad rush
Height endangers, vertigo, a drop
Whose particles invade us at the Mass?
Feeling like the flower tramped underfoot
Never to be raised, true life has stopped
When fragility is measured by the glass
Did Jesus know that physics would forecast
That he could be alive mixed in, not mocked
His particles shall dance with ours at Mass
When we die, the shop is out of stock
There is no other I in any book
As fragile as the ancient crystal glass
Whose particles fly solo in the Mass
We measure walls and windows and the rain
But not the patterns painted on the pane
We measure flour and butter and the tin
But not the love with which we mix them in
There is no linear scale in human minds
Where you are up above and I’m behind
Complexity and wisdom intertwine
No measure seems quite apt for those who’re blind
There’s something Nazi in the way we rank
The industry of measurement now stinks
Every human is a unique world
Yet into the abyss , they might hurled
We do not get perfection as we kill
The Christs who stumble up their cruel hill