Why are. doctors a topic of glee

Cutting us up and it’s free

No we pay our income tax

Try to impart the facts

We pay to ensure our new knee

The doctor told me to relax

And to stop learning so many facts

So now I write fantasy

I Joke about empathy.

My morals are getting more lax

I am going to feel very angry
Will he let you?

I feel intense hatred for my wife
That’s very kind of you

I feel very down
Is it better than goose down?

I hate my brother
I bet he does too.

I hate my untidy habits
How do they feel?

I don’t want to work nor rely on a man
Your grammar is excellent

I am getting tired of hunting for new recipes
Why not buy them?

Shall I have a cheese sandwich or a bacon one?
Have you no eggs?

Shall I take a Master’s Degree or go round the world?
I’ll be interested to see that

I hate shopping for clothes
How about stealing them?

Will I ever get better?
What do you think?

Have I got a virus as I fear?
No, you have it while you are relaxed.

Shall I take the Oxford entrance?
No, leave it.

Shall I read Medicine?
No, swallow it

I do hate the way buttons fall off my coat
I don’t like gravity either

I am afraid of topology
You are so conceited

I hate it when my thoughts circulate
Well, you can feel what you like, they are yours

I wonder if I can afford Freudian analysis
I do too

I hate clever people
Don’t come any nearer

Thank you for eroticising me so much; this is ironical maybe.

Why was I crucified so frequently as a child?

Don’t use fratricide any more to “help” me.

Please never sanctify me if you care.

He keeps practicing on me.

I thought it was real.

If you hurt me I am will not criticize you I will kill you.

(This is too aggressive to be ironical)

If you can’t stop witticising I will devour you

How many criticisms can I take?

They are free

The hero of the novel was downsizing

Keeping back only poems without rhymes in.

It took ages to decide

What words are true rhymes

A fact that to me is unsurprising not.

A

He played with patients and their documents learning about grief

He played with Nations and their Elements enlarging the bereaved

He bombed the Ukraine and it’s Monuments smiling with glee.

She was impatient re impediments wanting more thieves

In the Name of God, what can we plead?

He played with patients and their documents learning about grief

He played with Nations and their Elements increasing the bereaved

He bombed the Ukraine and it’s Monuments smiling with glee.

She was impatient re impediments wanting more thieves

In the Name of God, what can we plead?

Knock down the monuments give us some peace

Looking at the garden as a world
The overgrown becomes a rich terrain
Where myriad living forms seem uncontrolled
But make a balanced whole in shades of green

What I hear are calls from nesting birds
The sway of breeze among forsythia’s gold
The patterned snails, the slugs cannot be heard
Nor can the slow worm’s wiser words be told

The pattern is a natural life, a wood
Where Cambridge monks had ponds and fruiting trees
Ten Cedars tall were chopped till dead
But still remain their long striped bees

Small in your eyes, infinite in mine
Such marvelled worlds can’t be designed

Most of our bodily functioning is controlled by our Unconscious mind.

Our dreams are composed by some genius in there too.

Where do our ideas come from?

The much hyped power of the will is useless in many ways

We can’t go to sleep by will power for example.

So trying very hard or worrying all the time are not going to get us far

Although it does take work to produce anything

It seems that Cooperation between our conscious mind and and the Unknown is needed.

In religious times it was

Submission to the will of God.

We can create by emptying our mind of ideas and waiting

But it is very hard to wait.

And it’s not under our control as to what is produced.

Like with people cooperation may work better than force.

When soft winds blow and air strokes our bare skin.
When days are long like melodies of youth,
when light wakes up the soul from out her sin
Then shall we know when this sweet life is truth?

When flowers droop and leaves are dried and brown;
When water’s short and all plants are forlorn’
Then do not meet disaster with a frown,
For out of heartfelt sorrow new life’s born.

When winter’s here and all is quiet and still
And nothing seems to move or grow or speak
Then we shall learn the limits of our will
for through the soil the first green shoots will break.

For seasons change and actors come and go.
Yet through such changes, life is what we know

R

, 16 March), it is fair to say that prayer, so understood, doesn’t work.

I wonder if there is a study to measure the effect that prayer has on the person praying? Prayer, for many of us, is not magic, not seeking the intervention of a lofty god whose reluctant arms need to be twisted. It is, rather, a participation in and a growing in compassion. It is we who are changed, through contemplation and stillness, centred on divine love.

The remedy s not terror.

Educated at the Academy of Mirrors

Malice through the Looking Glass

The puzzled eye.

The Devil’s lie.

The hilarity of colour.

The polarity of arrows

The foolishness of follows.

The salvation of our cherries.

The fruitlessness of berries.

His eyes caressed me to like two lightbulbs

They were hot but unfeeling.

I said turn off the power.

He said,the higher power.

I didn’t know God lights our lamps

His hands were smooth as silk.

I asked him what he used

A Brillo pad, he claimed

Do you believe that?

Don’t

I am glad you like these glasses

I’d wear a plate for you

As the moment passes

You really have no clue.

i saw your eyes were narrowed

Your lips were taut with glue.

it was my wife you had borrowed

And I’ll do the same for you

She played Patience on the monument and lied through her teeth.

She was aching in her fundament after seeing ten police

She was baking her condiments to get some relief

She entered the convent while cleaning her teeth.

Wonder of wonders she laughed throughout grief

When what was pleasure turns to excess strain

We need our friends to help us through the pain

Rain falls lightly in the winter wood,
Dampening stones that make a pathway through
The overgrown, the old trees and the new.
The scent of rain on grass is always good

I see the acers coming into bud.
The daffodils are waving as I view.
The lily pond is lonely without you.
We used to feed a robin when we could

After Mass on Sunday mornings then
We’d drive to woods and walk to ease our strains.
But now I cannot write, I clutch your pen.
My inspiration gives me life again.

Without your hand in mine, I walk quite lame.
The dampness on my face is tears, not rain

In the afternoon they iron our clothes

Then the bedsheets, comfort for our toes .

They give us cups of tea and watch us drink

So we can’t complain they gave us ink.

Some days I have apple juice instead

They say it’s quite ok to wet the bed.

I wonder how they dry these cotton sheets.

We dried ours on lines in our backstreet

Now there are no back streets any more

We had a water closet by the door

I was your chosen sacrifice.your Christ.

I did not deny you even twice

Hands drenched in blood

Who could allow theirself to know

( Oh crucifix of wood.)

What the murdered faces show?

(oh crown of thorns,)

Oh sacred heart torn

The baby was born

Ukraine

Chernobyl

Babi Yar

Kyiv

Children

Shell

This is not a War this is genocide.

Babi Yar

Ravine of mass murder

Come

Come

Come

Original Sin

Psychosis

Psychopathy?

Can any explanation be meaningful

What is meaning?

Hitler was in some sense a Catholic

Evil. grinning behind the hospital

25 premature babies

Orphans

Bombs

To Putin the other is not a person

But how do we act?

Are we people to each other?

We thought our found cat was a girl

Till we went to the vet with her tail

He said she’s a boy

I was covered in awe

He could see what we never swirled

I once had a doctor called Larkin

He had a dog fond of barking

He put the dog into Care.

As she learned how to swear

.Especially when she saw him parking