When Jesus cast his fishing line
Did he know the form
It was a neat parabola
As the sun rose up at dawn.
He knew the conic sections
The circle,the ellipse
He learned it in his mother’s womb
Not from wise men’s lips.
God must like geometry
And so do many folk.
God is in the atmosphere
He rises in the smoke
You can watch violence,murder or pornography if you wish or hear orchestras playing your favourite music.Extend your choice with DVD’s.Spend all your life glued to the screen….which glue is best?I’ll let you know soon.
Then there are the political aspects..I did not watch much of the grand funeral here last week of our ex PM Maggie Thatcher but I saw enough to show it’s being used by the current government to raise their own esteem in the public eye.A politician should never have a funeral with military honors with the coffin on a gun carriage pulled by horses and the same week poor families had their welfare cut back.Ten million pounds on this event which also was very provocative to the worst off members of society.
St Francis SOS
They can construct this kind of event and by means of it manipulate our feelings.State and ceremonial funerals are for the Royal Family who are above party politics or for someone lke Churchill who led us through the fight against Nazi Germany.
Windows…. like dreams…. think about whether someone is presenting you with a view for their own ulterior motives and not to enlarge your view of the world
Humor
.April 2013 – Margaret Thatcher dies.
May 2013 – Hell privatised.
Shares available in Hell’s kitchen soon.
http://www.humormatters.com/holidays/passover.htm
At our seder, we had whole wheat and bran matzoh, fortified with Metamucil. The brand name, of course, is “Let My People Go”.
Mary was sitting looking at the execution of Mary Queen of Scots on TV while also mending some moth holes in her skirt.The only thread she got into the eye of the easy thread ne ftedle was blue but nobody was going to examine her with a microscope, she told herself gently
She also was thinking of her winter coat.
Was raspberry really a good choice?
Would dark grey not be more useful?
After all she often sat down on garden walls while taking photos or even on old wooden benches.
What she needed was a folding cushion or a small thick towel.No wonder women have such big handbags.
Annie her neighbour came in the back door with a bag of broken biscuits.
Look at these!We used to get them in the market years ago.So for old times sake I have hit these with a hammer!
What sort of hammer,Mary asked.
Why, are there different kinds?
Yes,but I expect yours is just the usual medium size.
Actually it was Ben’s.When he ran away he left it behind.
I suppose it was too heavy to fit into his suitcase.
Where do he run to?
I don’t know,said Annie but as his sister in law went with him they might have gone to Australia.
Do men in Australia often love their sisters in law? Mary pondered
Who knows? The point is nobody would recognise them.
Although if I went on Saga holiday I might!More people travel now.
My friend Jim went to Borneo last year, said Annie in a tone of wonder
So if we became lesbian lovers we could not hide in Borneo!Where could one hide now with all this travel?
Disguise might be best,Annie whispered.You could dress as a man!
You must be joking ,at my size.
Well, there are plenty of fat men!
But would they have a shape like mine?
So the two friends while away Saturday afternoon, both now darning Mary’s other clothes.
Why don’t you just buy new clothes,Annie murmured kindly.
I can’t afford this quality.I shall have to keep combing Emile until I get enough fur to make into a thread.Then I can knit a scarf!
How ridiculous,You’d need a herd of cats to get enough,Annie informed her with pity.
What a lovely idea,Mary cried
But Emile might be jealous.Or he might enjoy meeting a lady cat… or two.
I don’t think you could have more than six cats here and with food and bills it would be cheaper to buy wool
Still,a ball of wool is not so good to sleep by as a cat,Mary pondered slowly.
And it has no loving eyes to look at when one comes in from the shops.
I suppose just holding wool in the hand might be very soothing,Annie retorted logically.
Otherwise we could join Soulmates she continued fluently.
Would men be attracted to a lady with darned moth holes in her clothing? Mary enquired humorously
Well, it would show you were economical and thrifty,Annie cried sensitively
Surely that is not the main reason men choose a woman partner, said Mary wonderingly.
I suppose they like a woman with a gentle sensitive nature.Annie screamed
Well.Denis Thatcher didn’t,Mary informed her delightedly
So true, but was she different once?
No, he wanted to be dominated.Mary decided.
I wonder if he liked being whipped,Annie thought having read 5o shades of whey
She could have used the Government Whips, Mary chortled.
Both the women burst out laughing so much that the sofa fell over and flung them onto the thick red and purple striped acrylic carpet
That sofa us unstable,Annie shouted.We could have died
Perhaps it’s us.Mary shrieked
Emile ran out into the kitchen and bit a piece out of the Xmas cake.
I can’t help it, he mewed.They are both getting madder by the day
And so say all of us
Emlle’s a jolly good yeller
So pray for all of us.
Iris Murdoch wrote a novel
Living in her rural hovel.
I found the incest very queer.
So I drank a jug of beef.
I want to buy some mobile groans
You can hire my parrot.
Can he groan?
If you do.
Why don’t you teach him?
I taught him to laugh.
Can he giggle?
Why don’t you just do it all yourself?
It’s taking money from the poor.
They can groan alright.
But can they laugh,?
In a hollow manner.
Do you want a refugee?
I think I have a manger.
He might be grown up now
Well let’s not crucify him
I say,who is he Is,? Can he feed the 5000?
The five thousand what?
Ukrainians.
God isn’t here to do what we ought to do.
So why is he here?
We don’t know .is there always a reason?
Maybe not one we can understand.
And so say all of us.
Groan
My garden was a dandelion filled crack.
Or the little cobbles at the back
Grass and coltsfoot struggled for their life
As round the corner came a crowd of mice
Muce
E
Oh, let me tempt you with my beauty
And my voice forever young.
Let me tempt you with my spirit
My laughter and my songs.
I’m crying ‘cos I never did you wrong.
I’m crying ‘cos with you I still belong.
I thought maybe I’d follow,
To see where you have gone
But there’s a hand upon this tiller
That is not mine alon
e. I’m crying ‘cos I wrote this old blue song.
I’m crying ‘cos I’m lonely for too long.
The hand upon my tiller
The mystery of the dark
The unknown one who lives in me
And sings like a skylark.
I’m singing ‘cos I wrote you a new song.
I’m singing ‘cos the cat ain’t got my tongue.
There was a holy place made with the screens
Where lay the old man, trembling into dream.
His face was pale, his nose felt like white ice
An offering on the block for sacrifice.
The sacred place was marked by song and prayer
Made quietly so no-one else would hear.
He held my hand and whispered, please don’t go.
I held him in my heart, as his went slow.
A cocoon made in noisy A and E
A strange place for the Lady God to be.
Deep silence underneath the usual noise,
Pierced only by my child-like singing voice.
I saw his soul, my tears made stiff curtains
Hidden so, I felt the weight of pain.
I felt my heart crack, struck by loss and grief
Death had been there like a silent thief.
His pale face on the pillow seemed to smile
The kindness of strange angels did beguile
When you got a mortgage
Fancy little house
Furniture from Ercol
Dancing with your spouse
Don’t think love lasts for ever
Like life is all secure
Any moment baby
They’re knocking at your door.
First there are the Nazis
Then the Soviet gore
Don’t look for your house, love
Nothing is secure
Love is for the angels
What is living for?
Goodbye,Mrs Perebyinis.
Goodbye your children
Crossing a broken stone bridge
Shelled by Russian soldiers
See your suitcase and dog
harness on the ground.
I hear your dog barking
I hear the planes circle
The moon shines indifferently
As it does on the man who ordered the attack
God is a moon
Who is the sun?
Where nobody knows
What’s going on
Who by fire?
Who by water?
It’s all said and done
Our tomcat has eaten a bird
He is hungry so this is the third
Mother is skint
We live in a tent.
She screams all night long so I’ve heard
Dr Kumar is famed for his humour.
He goes mad when the season is lunar.
He jogs every night
The full moon is in sight
If you have a piano he will tune her.
Jack was pecked at by a
cunning bird.
It was a big blue budgie,I have heard
He kept her well fed
She slept on his head
So much for the cat and her fur
Anne once had a poor sense of humour
Until she wed a young doctor Kumar
He showed her cartoons
Bought her perfume
After that all Is heard were their murmurs
There was a young lady in Barnet
Whose garden was covered in tarmac
When I asked her why
She started to cry
I never intended to harm it
You know this experience, sometimes when you are browsing in a bookshop you come across a book with a wonderful title. This happened to me as a student when I saw a book with this title:
“The courage to be ”
by Paul Tillich
I was going through a hard time and just the title alone helped me as no one I knew had ever said it takes courage to live well.So I bought this book and dipped in. I found it interesting and thoughtful.Sometimes I would just look at the front cover and repeat the title.I had discovered mantra meditation.in a sense.
One morning I was listening to a radio programme about poetry in England and tidying up. Suddenly my old battered copy of “The Courage to Be” fell out of a shelf and into my hand.And I said, thank you. Because I had lost this companion and now it’s restored…
View original post 185 more words
How I miss the postcards you once sent
Loved your writing and the image lent
How my heart sings 