Going on

com.google.chromeToday was the anniversary of my husband’s funeral.Someone had said she’s stay overnight.When we came home here she said
You don’t want me to stay,do you?
So I said,no
Then they went and I sat here alone,it was very hot.Everything seemed unreal  like a Play.
I kept  thinking it would revert to normal but there is no normal then
Every night my husband came, he clutched my hand and made me run
Run, run, we must find the car, he kept urging me.Unlike in real life I could run in the dream
Round every corner was  another corner,  then another
we never found the car  park
That went on for a month.
After that we spent a week cleaning the cooker together in silence
With steel scourers.
The oven is a womb, the fire that keeps life going
It can be otherwise, of course.Bring death.
Then he told me he had bought me a new house in Ealing
Draw your own conclusions

His  eyes were  silent,still, and very black

The day his mother died he’d cut his arms 
With bits of pointed glass like frosty nails
The blood  had stained his shirt, yet made him calm
He did not like to  make a scene or wail.

The day his mother died he sat alone
Wondering what  to eat or who to call
Above him was hot sky, a blue, blue dome
Below the earth where very soon she’d fall

The day his mother died he hugged his cat
She alone gave comfort without blame

His  eyes were  silent,still and very black
What hope, what help, where is the nameless Name?

The day his mother died he went to sleep
To dream and wander in the deepness deep

I realised  my feelings were absurd

We all  have got the urge to power, to kill
Better go out now and make your will

Jesus was not meek nor was he  mild
God created tigers and  the wild

Why should people fear to say  they’re wrong?
Errors can  arise or come in gangs

I’d like to go to Bournemouth but I can’t
I see the mad profusion   so I’ll skype

I learned to play the cello I loved so
But other plans were made and I let go

The strings were made of gut and they were thick
I played with a long bow, or I could pluck

I did not wish to earn by using words
I realised  my feelings were absurd

I could have written books and  gone abroad
I could have worked at Bletchely breaking codes

I did not realise I was a girl
Despite the  bearing of some golden curls

I liked boys’ games but I am not trans
I like making cakes and washing tins
I liked men to  give warmth to my bed
Although my only true love is now dead
Am I  banned from meeting any more?
They fear my mind and run out of the door.

 

That we may  injure without knowing so

Like radioactive particles ,like seeds
Dropped in error,dropped in fields of  woe
Misunderstandings grow like torturing weeds

When anyone approaches, make them bleed
Let them know they’re neighbours to a war
With radioactive elements imbued

We may need help for  inner suicide
Will kill us or the helpers  near and far
  Misunderstandings like  a bomb, can bind

We cannot see the other too has needs
That we may  injure without knowing so
With radioactive sharps that  make eyes bleed

 From Moses in his basket in the reeds
To Dayan with his patch and his cigar
Misunderstandings like  real bombs,  will  many wound


In the sky above we see how far
Our broken souls are from the  evening star
Like radioactive metaphors ,like seeds
Errors bring forth agonies that breed

 

 

 

 

I have a docile phone

I have  a  glow smile phone for dating
I  have  a  snow  wild phone for going up the Pole
I have a no aisle phone when flying
My phone   has slow smile
What’s  up Nile phone,dad?
Not smart, but beguiling: the story of a  loving lady
I’ve lost my phone again.Well, it is quite mobile you know
I’ve lost my mobility and found my senility [ with sense and sensiblility]
I don’t need no iphone.I don’t need no coke.Send me a letter,French is how i poke
Oh,dear what can the matter be, some loon threw an iphone at me
O little town of wall and phones, how we see thee fall down

We  do not want to hear their their poignant calls

Everything is whirling round my mind,
The lack of government ,  the words unkind
That the poor are  short of food and  clothes
We deny it, everybody knows

Sudden gusts of wind  mock  these old trees
Does the  lure of nature  disappear
When  the butterflies have gone away
Yet the stinging wasps are here to stay?

Once tortured  now abandoned refugees
Can’t make phone calls,  have no mental ease
We make our own defences into walls
We  do not want to hear their their poignant calls

Oh,Lord God take the beam from out my eye
I want to know the  worst before I die

 

S

 

 

I am going to the unoccupied territory

For my holiday, I am going to the unoccupied territory if there  is one

I’d rather stay in bed like Pascal waiting for my vision.

Can’t you see when you get up?

It’s what I see, the kitchen floor, the washing up

Can’t you get help?

Only for writing

That seems odd

I’n in Luck down

I hit my bad hand on a shelf in the fridge

Get rid of it!

Which?

The shelf.

I’ll mull  it over

Goodbye

 

 

It’s the eyes, the thoughts, the innocence we fear.

The fear of judgement makes life harsh with pain.
The eyes that spy, the words we spoke in vain.
When we age we have a wider  view
We’re not so strange  and not so very new.

The dream of being stuck at school once more.
Where  teachers power extends right to that door
We’re imprisoned to maintain a  safe  society;
Creation from  the young  is jeopardy.

We protect ourselves from children’s  open minds
It’s we who’re frightened and we make the bind.
It’s the eyes, the thoughts, the innocence we fear.
Their assessment of our  very hearts endures.

And they are frightened by the Judge we haul
To destroy or mould the newness of their calls.
Till in a mirrored palace we display
The heads of those who wished to change our ways.

Children need protection from the strong
But we , too, need protection from their songs

Is that an answer or an exclamation?

Will I feel any pain after I undress?
Only shame and bitterness

I want to wear my clothes during surgery
Don’t worry we won’t look at your nude body~
Why not?

Patients  must  not text while they are unconcious in the theatre
Which theatre?

Please leave your wedding ring  with the nurse until you are in recovery
From what?

Please insure your phone before you come for treatment
What will you do  to it?

Anything on your mind?
God!
Is that an answer or an exclamation?

Will I feel better soon?
Once the bomb drops we’ll all feel nothing
You are pessimistic,
It may drop  on the other side of the mountain
Let’s hope the mountain  can take it
I can’t

More on morons

 

low angle photography of gray castle
Photo by Matt Hardy on Pexels.com

 

Can you be both a moron and an imbecile?
I can.Not sure about you

Tell me about Poincare, the famous mathematician
He was definitely an imbecile………..
He got his results in  his day dreams
How I envy him.Two for one!
Odd  how the labels are French.But they invented IQ

Alfred Binet portrait

Funny habits

No bikinis allowed on this beach
So  do we bathe nude or what?
What.

You cannot be topless in this  hotel
That is an error, is it grammatical?.We could be.But you would punish us

Please do not go out in pyjamas
OK I’ll take them off!

Please wear a dressing gown   when you  walk about at night
What strange habits you have here.Are you monks?

Breakfast is served from 8 to 10  am
Please may I leave the table?
I  do,generally.

Do you have a hot dinner?
Yes, we  have many curries
I mean hot chips etc
Go to Israel
Why?
They invented chips
I just can’t believe it.We had chips before Israel was declared
to be  a state
Oh, potato chips
Are there others?
Silicon chips
Wood chips
Fish ‘n  chips
Computer chips

Stop pulling my leg
I didn’t know it was yours

Why are you a moron?
I’m an imbecile actually
Congratulations.
For what?
Deceiving the professors and getting a Ph.D
I didn’t do it on purpose!
Try harder in future
Why?

 

 

 

 

Systems

 

 

spiral design on cloth
Photo by Frank Cone on Pexels.com

The people who bind themselves to systems are those who are unable to encompass the whole truth and try to catch it by the tail; a system is like the tail of truth, but truth is like a lizard; it leaves its tail in your fingers and runs away knowing full well that it will grow a new one in a twinkling.” /Turgenev

A very good blog to look at by Lyncrain

 

https://lyncrain.com/

 

Extract

I started Ursula K. Le Guin’s Conversations on Writing with David Naimon this morning with my coffee. Delightful read, it’s like we’re sitting down at a table discussing different thoughts on writing. I was particularly amused when I read, “Children know perfectly well that unicorns aren’t real” says Ursula K. Le Guin. “But they also know that books about unicorns, if they are good books, are true books.” My granddaughter, Olyvia (7 years old)  would agree, she’s a huge unicorn fan. I remember her telling me that if they’re in books, they’re real.

Conversations on Writing is broken down into four sections, Introduction, Fiction, Poetry and Non-Fiction. So you can read whatever section you want or in whatever order you want.

 

I hope

 

 

img_20200620_132614699Why is adultery a sin?
Because  it’s wrong to grow up

Why  worship false gods?
To annoy the real one

Why can’t the poor steal?
It’s too dangerous diam

Why would a woman want lots of diamonds?
The Gestapo might call.

Why must we worship God?
To stop us worshipping Brent Cross Shopping Centre

Why do Catholics go to Confession?
It’s free though not easy

Why is BoJo’s hair so long?
He wants to hide behind it
Can’t  his fiance cut it?
She charges more than a barber!
I don’t believe you
Neither do I

When will our suffering end?
When we are dead,I hope

 

 

 

We call it love

I run my fingers tentatively down your cheek,

asking you a question

with my eyes.

looking at each other,

you touch me too.

This is my skin
my boundary.

Yours is thicker,
like rubber.

I run my fingers down your chin.
what is this little bone?
I like it.

I like your skin

I like your bones.

I like you.

you please me.
you are tasty.
I like your taste,

your skin,your eyelids.

I like your eye here,
and your other eye .

Nice one!

I like the hair on your head.
May I touch your hair?
do you like hair?
Hair makes me laugh.

I have a fondness for laughing.
I love to laugh.

I enjoy laughter
I love your laughter.
If not, smiling is good also.
Or a gleam in the eyes,
showing the inside smile,
the smiling heart.

I like your inside,
Outside
and possibly
your backside.
your upside and your downside.
your side sides.

I snuggle you all around with soft wool.
I knit you into my scarf.
I’ll have to wear you round my neck now!

How unusual
How flexible.
How charming.
How alarming

How creative
How interesting.

What an idea!
what a notion

but you are too big for me to knit
So I’ll just touch your hand
with my fingers.
and you touch my hand
with your fingers.

What good hands we have
with such fingers.

fingers are for touch.
fingers are keen to touch.
I like touch.

what would we do
without fingers?

I like your skin.
skin is good
We love skin
We love.

 

I want skin to be ours
and yours
is mine
and mine
is yours

where is the edge of the world?
skin has no end
it’s infinity
au naturel.
what order!
what design!
What wonder.
what awe.
where is the world’s skin?

tenderly we touch the world
as the world embraces us.

We call it love.
Love.

We call it love

We call it anguish

It’s Saturday again.
Wonder if  it’s real.
Waking up with no-one here.
Confused by ends of dream and memory.
Desires and fears;
Scanning the room for signs.
But of what?
I have no cat.
Put the kettle on.
Make a drink.
It is real
Sharpness bites the heart
We call it anguish
Like tigers fighting in a small space
Make  heart larger
Breathe
Carry on

Please wash beforehand

church-at-night-2

I made this image from a photo using Artweaver

Please wash before  playing cards
I didn’t know playing cards washed but I am happy to  obey

Pleae  be   polite to other customers  whether real or imaginary
I   think only Godel can solve this one and he went mad

Please call a cab  if you are drunk
Even if I am not going anywhere?

Don’t get overexcited about your new husband
I didn’t realise he was new.

To avoid being put in a mental hospital, do manual work every day
and always be polite even to politicians, hallucinations,mathemativians and anyone else hanging around

When you can sit down drinking tea all day and  doing nothing
that is Nirvana

Sewing is good especially mending and replacing buttons
First, take off the buttons from your cardigan
Find a needle and some matching thread
I use easy thread needles as I am limited by visions
Once they go,I thread my needle and sew the button back where I took if from
Don’t do it too tight
But, not too loose either
If unhappy,repeat this  over and over until bedtime

Knitting is good but wool is expensive
Try buying online but make sure which country you are in first
Get a friend to help you
No friends?
Try being polite  and listening to others before you speak to them
Otherwise, go to Church and pray.
But miracles don’t happen every day

Are you too picky?
Are you too excited to realise most people have not heard of quantum cookery

 

 

 

 

 

As kingfishers catch fire by G M Hopkins

Bulbophyllum-maxillariae_2020-1
Being ourself

https://www.sparknotes.com/poetry/hopkins/section5/

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves—goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came.
Í say móre: the just man justices;
Kéeps gráce: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is—
Chríst—for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

The only beauty

The shops look all the same to me.
plastic human models with no heads
are placed in the windows
showing us how we might look
if we bought the latest fashions.
People walk, by dropping paper and cans
some look at me,most don’t
I’m invisible now ,I’m a ghost.
I haunt my familiar spaces
the library green and the path by the pond
The phone shops tempt us with larg notices:
Only £39 per month for the best the latest,the new
maps and locations
faster access to email and photos
. Look here I am,another selfie.
The only beauty is a pigeon in the sun
and a black man with gentle,luminous eyes
smiling at me as he sweeps away the paper
tossed down by the blinded people
who jabber beside the coffee shop.