Your face is map enough for me ,

Your gaze,your smile,your frown,your glee.

And if I want to know the rest

The shape your posture‘s made is best

For showing what your life is now.

A look,a gesture all this show.

Till who you are is then disclosed

And I am in your arms enrobed.

Love vanishes when analysed,

And thinking too

by  Love’s despised’

Choose the means to fit the end

And then you’ll learn what Love intends

How can you read road sign from a car
Do stay for tea and our cats’ seminar

I used to live in Bury but I moved
However hard you try. this can’t be proved.

I saw a shapeless form come through the door
O M G I’ve seen this form before
If it’s black if foretells of a death
If it’s white it is your frozen breath

I felt such shame I blushed inside and out
Please accept my feelings of grave doubt

I read a book of Sayings of the Wise
I may be old yet I can still surprise

The psalms are mostly works of love and hate
Civil disobedience makes me late

When we buried father we all cried
So much so, we felt someone had died

Life is brief so buy a multi-pack
Knickers are so useful in the Dock
I’m a burglar,I steal people’s clothes
Bur knickers second hand are far too gross

What Art are you accused of, asked the Judge
I dropped the brush and so my work was smudged
The troubled waters used up all my oil
A pity I forgot to make them boil
I was angry so I killed a ghost
Is that murder or a dream composed?
The Jury are divided by a lack
Love might come if it can find a crack

Doctor, where is my appendix?
I think it’s on the table.
I thought it was inside my body
Yes, so is the table.
Did you put it in?
No, it was an error
I hate those Errors coming here and getting free housing and cash
They are native.
That’s even worse.I hate natives
So where do you come from?
The Isle of Man
Well, go back and take your prejudice with you
Where can I find it?
Look within



Doctor I have a bunion
Don’t tell anyone else or they will want one
I have two
Sell one

Doctor are you Turkish?
No, but Boris Johnson is
So why is he here?
That’s what we all wonder


Doctor, did you vote Leave?
I am not a psychiatrist.
I can’t even spell it.
Well,can you spell Depart?
it sounds French
Escape?
I am no criminal
Flee?
What, I’m not an asylum seeker
We used to have a real Asylum in London
But that was only for lunatics
Well,anyone who wants to be here now seems like a lunatic
Like Boris’s great grand dad?
Where did they get their money?
From a Laundry.
I only use one to wash my clothes
You must be more inventive
I am 101, you know.
I don’t know
Well, you do now.

Good morning,Ms Brown
Gosh,you are so utterly politically correct ,doctor
In my view,it matters only for us to be medically correct,dear.And grammatically,of course.
How true, noble sire.
Now, what’s the problem today,madame?
It’s my nerves,doctor.I hate them so much I feel almost  derisory..which is totally crackers nowadays with so many street drugs to take one’s mind out of this world.
What’s wrong with your nerves to make you feel like this all of a sudden?
I think they are too big,mein herr.Can I have plastic surgery on them to replace then with plastic ones .I mean artificial like dentures are for teeth that drop out?
My dentist tells me my nerves are double the average size. for humans
But what is the standard deviation? Averages are no use alone.I wish people learned this in school
How dare you say that! I have never deviated in any way.And I’ve never been average… and surely double the average size must mean something gross is going on?
What a pity this is.You are a very charming and glamorous lady…I say that only to comfort you,not to seduce you which is illegal anyway,even if I wanted to do.Which I deny absolutely;
Well,my nerves feel like long wild grasses waving in a cold westerly breeze in a great big meadow in Hartland,North Devon where many lips have cracked.And sailors drowned off shore too…why some even drowned on the shore and their ghosts still wander below the sheer and terrifying cliffs of alabaster and silver.
Have you ever though of writing narrative or lyrical poetry or even romantic novels?
What,write poetry with nerves like this?Do you think I’m a masochist or what?
Well, you could try using a pen or a keyboard,you know. Now,God has given some of us larger nerves than others.It’s an evolutionary advantage to have some sensitive people about,like the canaries in the coal mines.They feel trouble coming before the rest of humankind
That’s hardly any use to me as I am childless and can’t pass it on.
God didn’t know that when he created you.Or if he did,he knew with nerves like this motherhood would be perilous and at least you can be a human canary
Well,is there any surgery to help me or any other amelioration to my symptoms?
Apart from removing your head there’s not much I can suggest at this moment in time,right now, if you want a verdict.Perhaps you can plant some wild flowers amid these long waving grasses and enjoy the beauty that you will perceive in summertime if you can be patient
You’re an odd doctor compared to the usual one.
Actually I’m really the computer repair man.The system has crashed and so has the doctor…temporarily
I knew you looked different but I put it down to my giant nerves disturbing my vision…
So will you come back to see the doctor later?He is just in the pub drinking blackcurrant liqueur for his nerves!
What’s it got to do with you if I come back again or not?
I love your mind,I love your body .I love your tentacles,receptacles and all your past and future particles.I love every bit of you especially your nerves.I always liked a woman with very big nerves.
Really? Well,that’s cheered me up a great deal.I like the beast in man.How about my wild grasses?
I love those too.Why,I’d like to lie down amongst them if you catch my drift.
Can you read between the lines or write between them?
Have you ever thought of taking up psychotherapy?
I prefer to help computers.Hearing sad stories from disturbed folk all day must be draining as you can’t run out when you get overwhelmed like you can at parties
Yes,but it would be horribly fascinating to hear all these stories.And now I am off to the garden centre to buy some flower seeds.
I’d give you some seeds myself but it would be wrong to sow your field here in this office and the doctor might come in any time now which would be a trifle unseemly.
Well,he could sow his wild oats as well!
What a wicked woman you are;I love your mind.You seem quite out of the orddinary… please keep your big nerves.
I am only offering this with the aim of calming those huge nerves .I am not thinking of enjoying lust or of how romantic you seem and how artistically  brilliantlu you are dressed and your golden curls and blue clothes.And your cleverness.
I quite understand.I shall keep it all under my hat. if you see what I mean
It’s an amazing red hat.Are you a Cardinal?
No,I stole it off one
I’d love to hear the whole story….who,when and where?
Well,I hope to publish it on Swindle soon.
We can’t wait.

Neither can I

Would you enjoy the sight of lions strong
In a new arena eating men ?
Would God say killing Leaders is quite wrong?

Well, maybe a wild beast could bite a blond
Take him in his jaws back to his den
Would you enjoy such sights of wild beasts strong?

Hitler had some theologians hanged
He killed six million Jews, before the end
Would God say killing Leaders would be wrong?

Stalin killed far more ,his reign was long
Do you still think Utopia can be planned?
Would you enjoy such sights of wild beasts strong?

In the USA are caged the young
The infant Mexicans,oh Trump is grand
Would God say killing Leaders would be wrong?

Jesus’ words are read and out are flung
In England once a green and pleasant land
Would you stand by the Cross where Jesus hung?

To me and all our kind extend your hand
Do not stick your own heart in the sand
The bells of heaven gone, the church doors clanged
Would you say to kill a Leader’s wrong

A good Latin phrase

durate et vosmet rebus servate secundis
Carry on and preserve yourselves for better times (Virgil)

“Defence secretary denies British army is scrapping tanks”

What a shock!But we can’t use horses in a nuclear war so cavalry is out.What can we use?

When I was at school we were told to take sanitary towels into the bunker.As Catholics we were forbidden to use tampons.They also told us to lie down in the hedgerows when we saw a bomb coming.We lived in an industrial mill town. Dandelions were a rare sight and buttercups did not flourish.A blade of grass sometimes grew in a crack in the pavement

After ayear or two the government realised that these talks were causing panic so we heard no more but now it would be ok to take in a tampon or even a vibrator.I have yet to see one but I can’t help wondering if they are good for backache.So we’ll enjoy out last moments of life trying to find a partner or even a philanderer.

After all an atom bomb is a climax, though of destruction not creation

Freud.. I wonder what he would think

You may not be able to play the piano but you can play on a piano or if it is grand,in a piano. or even with a piano if it is no too large
or next to a piano
even underneath a piano
On top of a piano too!
How many other objects are so versatile?
But two pianos can’t play with each other though they could be played together by 2 pianists
Rather expensive to arrange though
As for three pianos,don’t you agree I have said enough?

Love your neighbor in her bikini:A sinful tale

Beware of getting into hot water in your bikini
A few weeks after Annie moved into the  lovely house next door to Stan,he met her when he was seeing his wife off to work.
Why does Mary not have a car? Annie enquired suspiciously.
She is trying to keep slim,Stan told her.
Well,she’s not been very successful,Annie said scientifically.
She might be much fatter than she is now if she drove a car,he stated ponderously
That’s true,muttered Annie loudly.I am your new next door neighbor.
Yes,said Stan,I have seen you sunbathing in the garden in your bikinis.
How come? she asked merrily yet sternly
There’s a big hole in the fence.He said
Is it legal to look at women through a hole in the fence?asked Annie.I know it’s illegal to look into their bedroom windows.
Is it really,asked Stan nervously,I had no idea.How about women looking at men through a round hole in a fence or square one?
Oh,they are not  very keen to do that,she lied charmingly.
Well,said Stan,clearing his throat,I think I owe it to myself to tell you that I love you.
Wow,you’re quick off the mark,the lady said saucily.What do you mean,you owe it to yourself? she continued in a puzzled tone.
Nothing,said Stan,I could not think how to word it.I mean I wish to unselfishly love you and admire your ripe body and your cute sense of color.I love your teal trouser suit.And you sing so well in the bath.I can hear you.
You didn’t mean you owe it to yourself to take advantage of me?
Not unless you want me to take advantage of you,the gallant old man informed her kindly
And you can take advantage of me, he said I make cakes and biscuits,wholemeal bread and I am training my cat Emile to do statistics on an i pad.
How extraordinary,Annie whispered.I didn’t know cats had an “I.” let alone pads.
Well,they have pads on their paws,he informed her intelligently.
True,she said,but where are their I’s?
Where are our I’s ? he responded in a manner to rejoice the heart of Mary Midgley or Susanne Langer two of Stan’s favourite writers on philosophy,logic,symbols and ethics.
Not that he practised the Ethics but he liked to know what he was doing wrong.It’s more fun that way.If you sin,sin big!
A man who seduces women merrily one after the other may have no idea it might be wrong.Neither might the women.Why is it wrong? Surely it’s better than killing people,making war  or leaving the lid off the jam all night so the wasps get into the jar?
Still,not many men get the chances that Stan got.No-one suspected this kindly,handsome practising Catholic was a womaniser despite his blue beard,green eyes,white skin and red hair.And his slim yet strong figure clad in navy trousers and white shirts all the year round.Maybe his wife did but she preferred to read Aristotle in bed and dream about mercury… those little silver balls,so cute!
Well,as we know,Stan is about to make Annie his mistress but in such a cold wet summer,where can he take her to do the deed?The shed?The public library? Cafe Nero?
I owe it to you not to tell you yet.That will give you time to think of a solution for this sweet old man and his naughty but nice neighbor. Like,how about the confessional in the local Church?
Whatever next?

I owe it to myself to keep it secret as you may come along and spoil the fun.
Stan went indoors and washed up in the boiling hot water he kept by him constantly as he owed it to himself to be ready to make a hot drink at any moment he fancied and by gum,he did fancy like no man 

I loved him so much, but he said I was the Gorgon personified.Would you say that to a woman?
Why did he not notice it at first rather than asking me to send him a photo of myself wearing red underwear or even not wearing it
Men don’t understand that red runs in the washing machine and I don’t want red shirts looling like tie dye whenI give a lecture on “The mean average and what it means to mankind ” and then get called politically incorrect when I am teaching something useful.
I like grey underwear as it stops me worrying about my whites not being white enough.Do they think I am not a vestal virgin?
I also have grey sheets on my bed as the cats like grey, in fact they are grey
On the other strand I do like a bright winter coat to make others cheerful
Yes, my thesis was published but I am no Martin Luther.Noone understood mine
which was good as one Reformation was more than enough

What do you mean, the food is burned? I was caramelising the onions.You do it or cook me a meal in bed,sorry, instead
Freud, it’s lucky he is dead.what would he call me? The hound woman
The horse frightener?
I gave my best and will give it a rest

I have a wound
From where the red blood flowed with clots that pained
Babies dead and nothing else remained
Yet I tried again and never knew
My interior a man might love to view
In childhood this place seemed so very small
Now it feels so huge, the size appalls
The envy of the plain, the vice of fools
This sacred space, a woman’s school
I have a wound

Is your glowing face a map?
are your tender ways a map?
what is not a map?
Is your open smile a map?
Is your deepest groan a map?
what is not a map?
Is my  too sharp touch a map?
Is my too quick glance a map?
what is not a map?

Is this sea green leaf a map,
Is this light red flower a map?
What sort of map is that?
Is the evening sky a map,
Is the silver moon a map?
Of what is that a map?
Is this entire world a map?
Is the sun-soaked sky a map?
Is this tiny child a map?

think I am a map.
Who can learn to read these maps?
Without love we can’t perceive;
Who can teach us how to see?

Can we look beyond the Map?
Can we look into the gap?
What can Love,now, read?
What Love now can we receive?