Try for a sort of controlled uncontrol,then,my dear, he murmured

And here are Pandora’s locks, Professor Smith, quipped, as the female student in the front row fell asleep whilst sitting upright in a large armchair covered in chintz
And I also have Achilles’ cows heel here.
Now for your project, I want you all to say Three Hail Mary’s.
A large bee stung my ass and I awoke and coughed up my soul onto the bed.
Get back inside, I cried. Keep me whole, give me oil, keep me churning.
Alright, it muttered calmly. Don’t lose your head.
I have it well screwed on, I responded.
This is a surprise to see you.

Well, since Pandora lost her locks all the souls have been getting loose from their bodies.Women…why do they lose their locks so much?
After that, the doctor called.
Hi, he screamed.
For God’s sake, don’t do that, I  murmured
I’m not dead you know..even though my blood pressure is zero.
He smiled and handed me a blood sugar monitor.
Here you are, this will cure your pneumonia.
What about my new mania?

What is that?
I am interested in spirals…
Keep it under control.
The whole point of mania is to be out of control
Try for a sort of controlled uncontrol, dear, he murmured.
What a clever idea, I told him. Goodbye

I swallowed the test kit and it cured my pneumonia immediatel


I saw York Minster, felt its cloak of grace
The memory of God who was a Word
The Bible where there is a feeble trac

If we love, we may wish to embrace
The spirits and heart both gently stirred
I saw York Minster, felt its cloak of grace

Do not befriend another in great haste
Love may launch itself like a small bird
From the Ark where there is still a trace

These symbols are mostl potent in their space
The holy spirit alters as it’s heard
In Cathedrals in their cloaks of grace

I am become a cynic, bitter taste.
Death is the religion of these years
We need an Ark to save the human race

To be alive for many’s bleak and hard
Once we see the remnants of the charred
Compare the Minster, and its manmade grace
With the Bible’s golden and pure space

Stan has a family quarrel

Three Short-fur Assorted-color Cats

Stan and Mary were sitting on the patio in the damp heat of August.Emile was draped round Stan’s shoulders looking like a stole.Suddenly the door bell rang.It is aways sudden to the old
Mary got up and hoped her voile summer dress was not transparent as she walked the door nervously
There on the new Porch stood Stan’s cousin Arthur who had disappeared 30 years earlier
I thought you were in the USA, she cried in amazement and shock
I came back last summer,he told her informatively
Come in, she told him and they both appeared on the patio giving Stan a shock, though it was not electric
I’ll make some tea, she told the men,even though I am a woman.
Stan spoke briefly to Arthur, as if he were speaking through the window of the Flying
Scotsman departing from its home country
Hi,Art, I’ve got to go out in few minutes
Art stared at him before shouting
I don’t believe it, a fox fur was bad enough but to wear a dead cat
as an accessory is beyond the Pale.
Stan went red with anger
Emile is still alive,he cried
That makes it even worse, said Art
But he likes to sleep there if he can
Oh,I am sorry.I have got a UTI and it’s making me demented.Art answered nastily
I thought he was tied round your neck, he continued merrily
He would bite me if he were tied there,Stan said wisely
That’s possible,Arthut murmured nervously.I have had a breakdown and I am not very calm
In future, think for longer before attacking someone,Stan said insensitively
Alright, said Art.But at my age I might forget to remember and I could break down again
Mary cut the lemon sponge cake with a pair of barbers’ scissors, ignoring Art’s plea for help
Try this, she muttered,as she poured the tea from a coffee pot of china
What are those scissors for,Art enquired.We used a cake knife at home till Brenda died
I can cut my hair with them but they are good for other things
Is it legal,her cousin in law asked?
Do you think we need to ask for legal advice?Is there a law about scissors?
Stan stood up,I’ve had enough
What of,Mary asked.
I’ve not seen Art for 29 years and we are quarreling already
Old habits die hard, said Mary calmly
Monks’ habits, said Art in wonder?
All sorts of habits like chewing your nails and smoking
Are they alive?
I suppose it’s a metaphor,Mary said ponderously.
It means change is hard, on the whole
Yes, people are cracking up at the thought of Lockdown ending,
Stan sighed.
Everything that happens now is a trauma or is abuse, his cousin said
Well, maybe it was before but we weren’t allowed to mention it
Emile woke up and stretched
It’s Twitter and FB, he mewed.People with no knowledge of an issue write as if they are experts and then other people believe it
Like already people are saying they don’t believe Meghan Markle
could be depressed when pregnant.Yet there is evidence that pre-natal depression exists or at least anxiety about looking after a baby can worry many people
A woman drowned herself recently in the reservoir as she was terrified of giving birth and the pain
Well said,Emile,shouted Art.I think we can be friends
No, you can’t,Stan told him in a cruel tone
I never want to see Art ever again.
Shall I take all the pictures down, said Mary
What are you talking about?
Well, they are Art!
Women, why are they so clever?
And so say all of us

By Katherine from a photograph