Stan looks at the ants

Stan was feeling puzzled. He stood in his front room staring at the rowan tree outside.
Do ants fall in love, he asked himself.
Are swans the most beautiful birds?
Shall I send Annie a card tomorrow?
Should I send Mary one as well?
He went outside and watched the ants running up and down the tree trunk. They seem to work so hard but they never get bored.
But is that true? We have no way of knowing. At last Stan has found a question with no answer.
Is boredom a unique quality of humans?
If that were so we ought to have a Patron Saint of Boredom though not of Bores.
Why are some people so boring?
Luckily Annie had seen Stan and rushed out in a teal coloured all wool dress made more striking by having butterfly motifs scattered on it at random.
“Why have you got those butterflies on your clothes ?” he asked her scientifically
“It’s to cover up the moth holes.”She pertly replied.
“You must have a lot of moths. Do moths fall in love? Do they get bored?”
“You seem in a funny mood today,” Annie murmured.
“Why don’t we go out for coffee?”
“I’ve just made a pot full. Please join me.”
“Thank you,” she cried mildly.
They sat down in the kitchen where Emile was sitting by the window.
“Good morning,Emile,”Annie shouted.
“No need to shout,” Emile miaowed politely.”I’m not deaf”.
“I am sorry, Emile.” she responded furtively,” I am over-excited.”
“Why is that? Stan demanded like an untrained philosopher in a maths class
“Well, I’ve already had ten Valentines.
“Already. You must have done it fast!” he teased her gently.
“No, you horrible idiot. I mean cards.
“You must be popular”
“Some look like women’s writing.”
“Let me see,” he asked swiftly.
To his surprise, one was in the handwriting of his wife Mary.
“Are you bisexual?” he asked her wonderingly.
“No, I’m just annissexual,” she replied saucily.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, it’s just one letter away from “Anti-sexual.”
“That’s a relief. You are not anti yet, then.”
“Not yet”, she whispered coyly.
“Would you make love to a woman?”
“Only if she made love to me.”
.Apparently seeing lesbian movies turns men you watch them?”
“Not bloody likely,I want to get turned off.”
“That could be boring,” she said sweetly as she combed his eyebrows with an old toothbrush.
“Well,I could do the polishing better and get the house sorted out. Fill the freezer with casseroles and defrost the oven.
Yes, though would that be so rewarding as loving another human?
“I guess not” he answered slavishly.
“Shall we go to your place and have a cuddle.
Emile was very put out as he liked to see people kissing but he had grown very philosophical over the years and at least he could get on with his book,
“Wittgenstein’s cat.”
He switched on the netbook and began to type:
“Not everyone knows how important cats were in philosophy. But now we can reveal all.
The saying,
“Of that which we cannot speak, we must miaow” was inspired by Daisy who lived in Cambridge
And,” Of that which we cannot purr we must yowl.” was inspired by Ludo, a fine male cat that lived with Wittgenstein in Ireland.
So as Emile types, we must tiptoe away for he has not much time

Let’s make the most of it

Mary and the curtains

Mary was admiring her curtains :;what a wonderful sense of colour this woman had. It was the one thing which her mother had praised her for . She had not been praised for becoming top of the class at the convent school not for getting a degree. No Mary realised that her mother has a sense of colour because it will be useful when Mary got married and had to make her own curtains.

What a nuisance Mary was no good with the sewing machine. In fact she was afraid of it. That’s one sure way of getting out of a task. Be afraid of the sewing machine clumsy with the knitting needles and when asked to make a cake always put the oven at the wrong temperature so this is either burnt or it is not ready when the visitors come.

And if people know you’re good at making cakes you will get more and more visitors and you won’t have time to read the Oxford dictionary of abstract words or the Oxford dictionary of new words. It is be very hard if we had to spend all the time making cakes and not being allowed to read a book.

Mary was no good at making her own clothes. She had to get a science degree so she could earn her own money. She was terrified of being on the dole and did not want to go on the game as ehe was a virgin. That’s her version of it

When Mary got married to Stan she told him that she did not make cakes and she did not make curtains. Fortunately they could afford to choose the fabric and then get someone else to make it into curtains,

It’s very important to learn about colour unless you go to art school it’s not often discussed in school. Colourcan help you to recover from illness…….

Wait for the next episode

My memories my only souvenir

At home by Katherine

I saw my house uprooted like a tree

Great roots were severed, how I ached to see

And all was tossed without my love and care

Bits of earth fell from the roots. now bare.

Barbaric in its mad intensity

I wept the tears of grief for you, for me.

Our home attacked,destroyed and I lie here.

Putting out the flames with profuse tears

Lamenting for my love who died within

The collapsing of my world now with no sun

The house a symbol of our marriage true

Cannot stand without a me and you

So my vision passed and I am here

My memories are my only souvenir

Remembering words

The sea of Life stilll murmurs in my ears

As I waken up I sense it near.

The rolling waves break on a pale seashore.

The deep sea dark enchants the heart’s deep core

The still small voice will whisper,who can hear?

The prophet on the mountain hid from fear.

The tempest and the storm and the great fire

Were not the voice of God,but Nature’s choir

Listen to the silent music playing

Open up and learn what it is saying

I have sifted earth


I have  walked the  silent paths of grief
Sunless,dreary,cold and all alone.
I have   slept on bed of  winter leaves.
Oh Death you are a cruel and devious thief.
Although my heart weeps and my joy has gone.
I have never felt I was deceived.

I have learned that human life is brief.
I have learned  by sorrow we’re undone.
I  have sifted earth and what’s beneath.

I felt  the dark emotions seethe
 I've  been cruelly mocked by   glaring sun.
I  have grasped the geography of grief.

I wait with patienceel for this  life to cease
Or will  a  fluttering wing  make chaos come,
Change my heart and give me a fresh lease?

Unconsoled  grief  can make   us dumb
Into  our  hearts, we drag the ice  that numbs
I have walked the silent paths of grief
I have made my bed on winter leaves.

Prayer for the demented

They are like some other beings altogether the cry more animal than human The wordless pathos, musical,disturbing They have gone back to a troubled and unimagined infancy but no mother responds to such a nightmare of overgrown voice boxes the cry of a rabbit wolf in a trap it’s the shriek in the wall cry of a baby in a psychotic nightmare. Nicholas haunts Sylvia in the evocative memory of Ariel And so it will end for you and me Trapped in this old body with its old brain on and on they cry help me, help me,help me nurse nurse I want the manager I want the manager I don’t want to be here I don’t want to be here I want to go home Help me we don’t listen because they have dementia what they say has no meaning. that’s our defence I am the norm You are abnormal but you smiled when I asked you if you would like your hair dyed pink and I know you love the music therapist. Your smell repels Alas Is this where Jesus dwells If you did this to the least of my little ones, you did it to me. We you haven’t forgotten about Eros you are still hoping to find love you are not dead yet but you can’ wait to go home Published by Katherine

age grief love Poem


Literature Remains The Highest Form Of Art – Old Gold & Black

Making fluid of something rigid, manifests in the reader as assiduous attention and detailed memory. This in no way diminishes the work done by musicians, painters, etc. Van Gogh, a tuning fork for eternity, defies this world, transcends almost everything known to man and cannot be escaped. But since the human mode is defined by its parameters, one of them being the limitation of speech, literature serves as an existentially referential and intimately human degree of expression.

Maybe it is not so much literature’s innate qualities as it is our human predictability that something using language, our own invention, appeals so deeply to us. Literature may simply be the highest form of flattery, not art — the injection of language with a musical heart, the created used to manipulate the creator. Yet the difficulty of accomplishing such a feat classifies it as something above the mundane, defying the fundamental matrix of human experience. It is inextricably bound to our ancient, desperate attempt to concretize our instinct, and therefore its achievement adheres, in perhaps the most detail, inside the mind. In using the human to transcend it, literature assumes a sort of divinity. Literature, precisely because 

Never say logic again.

English: A schizophrenic patient at the Glore ...
English: A schizophrenic patient at the Glore Psychiatric Museum made this piece of cloth and it gives us a peek into her mind. Русский: Вышивка, сделанная пациентом, страдающим от шизофрении. Экспонат психиатрического музея Глор, Миссури. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Schizophrenia (Wayne Shorter album)
Schizophrenia (Wayne Shorter album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My foreign students said I was too warm to be British,so turn off your heating now or face  execution as a  traitor.

What people forget is we Brits are a mixed race… then we have the nerve to call people,wogs,dagos and foreigners.we are all foreigners here apart from the Welsh.

Some students told me their dreams;s,anything to avoid algebra!

I  personally found quantum theory helps to avoid emotional overspill…

and topology  is useful for dressmakers

Dreams and love are all very well… if you are a millionaire.Till then keep on with figures,asymmetry and words.

Friends are no use unless you are a real person.Whatever she is.

Schizophrenia is to some extent cowardliness………….keep your feet on the ground and say straight out what you mean without entering into wordplay,fey ways,being a seer and seeing how life veers.It’s all absolute bullshit.Only not all bulls are male.

Some bulls are e-male.

Depression is mainly the result of being driven.So give up the chauffeur and take your time.

Some loose women are fast  and vice versa.Isn’t logic trying?

I was so thin  when I began lecturing I got half fare on the bus and I was 25.So studying keeps you young.Never say,Dirac,again.

I was so thin then I bought children’s clothes but now I am  twice the size.Then they said I might have TB,now they say I could get diabetes.Take your pick……there’s something in me that will never take the middle way.My middle gets in the way.

We all eat too much considering how little we do.Bring back the scrubbing  board,brush and hard green soap.But if I eat less I faint…. what an ‘orrible feeling as your vision shrinks to a pinpoint and you sweat all over but more on the top of the head…. and you throw yourself onto the floor… or the ceiling.

Once we were having a meal with another couple…with one of those heated plate things on the table.I passed out and for years they talked about it.They divorced later and blamed me!Still,I gave them something to talk about so maybe I helped.

If you get disturbed stop introspecting and sweep the floor or the pavement.Do useful things with your hands and help others.Be polite even if you think they are the Devil

I gave up history for cretins


Paeonia-suffruticosaI wanted mustard not custard on the pork
I said  please write to Fred,not  he is dead
I said double cream,not devils scream
I said he wants butter not he’s a nutter
I said IOU, not loving is taboo
Her new dress is pure milk
Her collages are a fright to withold

Can I handwash my brows?
A new tooth brush is a goodbye
What’s the latest on Horace?
We studied Freaks and Nomads at school
I gave up history  for cretins
He missed out on statins

Transmigration is  hard to get  the rites for
Five million  contortions a year
He  died in the  glue athletics
It’s all academic
I failed Geography  for Dummies
All my food was poached on her
Am I a spy? Don’t tell a lie!

Where are we going?

I’ve wandered off the long known,beaten track

I did not see the warning signs commence.

Can either love or money bring me back?

I have no common sense I feel the lack.

I need support while living in suspense

I have wandered off the lonely track

I have no map or compass, life is bleak.

I have no witness for my own defense.

Can either love or money bring me back?

The sun has gone and all the world seems black

I see the signs but nothing makes much sense

I have stumbled of the beaten track.

Wave the wand and let the play commence

Spontaneous living needs no high finance

I have stumbled off the beaten track

Neither love nor money bring life back

Stigma and discrimination | Mental Health Foundation,make%20many%20people%27s%20problems%20worse.

  • how stigma and discrimination affect people with mental health problems
  • why people with mental health problems are discriminated against
  • what you can do about stigma and discrimination
  • what you can do if you are being discriminated against.

Mental health problems are 

Your face is etched upon my heart

Your face is etched upon my heart.

I knew you in the morning light

Love is wise but never smart.

We have no need of others charts

In the mornings and the night

Your face is etched upon my heart.

As we waken sleep departs

To see your face is my delight

Love is wise and sometimes smart

Intuition, craft is art

Love is silent, hatred fights

Your face is etched upon my heart

Human Love can see in part

Face to face we’ll see aright

Love is wise love is not smart

Your face is etched upon my heart.

Love is wise but never smart

Is love blind? Who etched the lines?

Sacred, human, love is kind

Who is a friend?

“A close friend is honest and speaks from the heart with good intentions. They tell you what you need to hear in a way that you can hear rather than gossip behind your back. A quality friend is trustworthy, not only are your secrets safe with them, but so are your vulnerability, fear, and weirdness.16 May 2022″ Google search

I once had a very close friend from Ireland. Then I discovered she criticised my accent not directly but through other people who knew me. More Seriously she was incapable of not telling lies. For example she told us that her husband was suicidal to get us to help her in various ways

After my husband died she came to see me and said to me, men don’t go to your blog to tead your poetry. They go to pleasure themselves on your photograph.

I suppose it with a compliment since I was 70 years old with no hair ;beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I couldn’t stop laughing but I thought it was sexist And if we write books and have our photograph on cover are ee worried that that was drive people mad with lust? There are plenty of images in the media or even on marks and Spencer’s website that are a lot more attractive than my photograph.

So you can have a mixed relationship with somebody who is like that but really you can’t trust them.

Die Schwartz Katz lauft


Der Himmel ist kahl, die Luft ist kühl und still
Die schwarze Katze läuft, die Vögel entfalten sich den ganzen Tag
Ich setze mich hier hin und bete mit meinem Kleinkind
Du hast törichte Gedanken geworfen, du hast meinen Willen vergewaltigt
. Wir alle haben die bürokratische Mühle wütend gemacht.
Oh eiskalter Geldbeutel, ich wollte nie bezahlen!
Der Himmel funkelt, die Luft ist warm und schrill
Die saturnine Degradierten drängten sich ihnen in den Weg
Mit diesem gefiederten Sprung, meiner Musterfeder,
Ich zitiere den Scheck und datiere ihn auf nächsten Mai.
Oh, Meise für Katze, das Bett des Tigers ist verirrt.
Dein Leben wird bestimmt durch den Willen einer Hure
Der Himmel ist ein Hai, die Luft ist noch schärfer.

Herausgegeben von Kathrin

The black cat’s run

The sky is stark, the air is cool and still
The black cat’s run, the birds unfold all day
I sit down here and with my totty pray
Ye cast o’ foolish thoughts, you raped my will
. We’ve each enraged the bureaucratic mill.
Oh frigid purse, I never meant to pay!
The sky ‘s a-spark, the air is warm and shrill
The saturnine demoted knelled their way
With this feathered pounce, my sample quill,
I cite the cheque and date it for next May.
Oh, tit for cat, the tiger’s bed ‘s astray.
Yer life is settled by a harlot’s will
The sky ‘s a shark, the air is sharper still.

Stan enjoys Purgatory


Mary woke up on Tuesday feeling dazed.She had been dreaming of Arnold,her student sweet and shy.
I wonder where he is now, she thought.Then she recalled he was in fact a world famous cancer researcher.She hoped he had found a shy sweet partner would it be better if he had found an extraverted jelly kind of wife.
Emile was yowling on the landing despite the large bowl of Superior Cat Food he was standing next to by the bookshelf
I believe that people and animals like not just to eat, but to be fed,Mary thought.Stan used to make the dinner but he always wanted her to serve.

Emile would eat his food after she stroked him.But who would stroke, Mary?This was a hard and topical question because Mary had stopped eating.However, as she was quite large, she could live for a few weeks on water only.So she mused
Mary put on a pair of purple trousers and a lomg lavender coloured top.She gazed into the mirror wondering why three hairdressers had failed to help her style her fair hair.

Now,she recalled Arnold was a Russian Jew by inheritance though he had lived in the USA all his life until taking up research into cancer at the ancient university Mary attended.

If she had married Arnold she could have pretended to be religious,converted and then worn a wig.
Annie came running upstairs.
Whatever are you doing,she yelled.It’s 11 oclock! Her make up was melting despite being Max Doctor’s All Day Creme Mousse
I was wondering if I could find a Jewish man who would marry me, purely legally, just so I could wear a wig.
What a load of tripe,Annie retorted.No wonder you’ve had no breakfast.If the man was religious he could not marry a lapsed Christian. Or an agnostic.
If you want a wig just go online.
You have no imagination,Mary answered,I spend half my time wondering what would happen if I did A,B or C.And what I might wear
And then you do D,Annie joked merrily.Or X.
Where are you going in purple trousers,she continued.You should not wear them at your age.
Do purple trousers have a meaning,asked Mary.I got them in Windsmoor’s sale for £12.
I refrained from buying a jersey jumpsuit as it looked like a burkini and I am a bit nervous now of racists coming into the open.
Very sensible ,Annie told her.I bet the French are jealous because Muslim women and certain Jewish women don’t get skin cancer nearly as often as Christian or agnostic English women.Should we convert?
I don’t think they would like it if it were only to save ourselves from cancer,Mary mused.
True,said Annie,dully


Mary felt hot so they went into the kitchen and made some tea.Annie was wearing snakeskin pyjamas and black patent shoes.
Do you sleep in those pyjamas,Mary asked?
Oh,no.These are day pyjamas or leisure suits ,Annie smiled.They are comfy.You can get them in the market for £2.
Mary heard a strange noise

.Stan ,her late spouse ,appeared in the kitchen carrying a big leather bag,
Hello,he grinned.I’ve just come to say I have bought a detached house in Ealing.
But you are dead,Mary whispered thoughtlessly
Yes,I am a ghost but I have bought the house via Dave.I paid cash.
Why Ealing,Mary asked suspiciously
I like that song,Neasden and it’s quite near on the North Circular.And Ealing is healing!
So that’s where you’ve been while I have been grieving,Mary said.On the North Circular Road enjoying Willie Rushton’s songs as you drive
And besides, I want to re-marry and get a wig.
Well,you can get the wig,Stan told her handing her £4,000 in cash from his pocket.But don’t get married until I am in heaven
When will that be,the ladies asked.
Dunno,he cried.It’s such fun in Purgatory where the ladies are naughty but not actually evil.
And so say all the men.Ah,men

The secret path

Come with me,I know a secret path
From Windermere Train Station to the lake
We’ll run down through the trees and the green grass

Coloured boats are sailing,see them pass
And there is a ferry we might take
Come with me,I know the secret path

The wildflowers look eternal in their grace
Here we heal our hearts. compassion waits.
We’ll go down through the trees and the lush grass

On the waves I see the Sacred Face
We are not condemned by God or fate
Come with me,I know a secret place

In our time, we find the narrow gate
Open, if we marry love and hate
The sunshine makes my body feel embraced
Oh, Windermere, where birds sing sweet in praise

No mirror, no reflection

No mirror for reflection in his mind
He says whatever suits that moment’s wish
Thus he is to truth disabled, blind

Pride and power make all of us unkind.
But reflecting deeply shows us what’s amiss.
There’s no mirror for reflection in his mind

In phantasy, we get what we design.
But fancied love won’t give a fleshly kiss.
We are to truth and justice surreal,blind

To find the truth we cannot be malign
Must view with horror what we once dismissed
Who can use those mirrors in their minds?

Judging of our leaders is no crime;
For we judge our selves and that is less than bliss
When leaders lie, the world is undermined

He has no self at all, if all’s his wish.
Inevitable,catasrophic, the abyss
He has no space for mirrors in his mind
Now he is to wisdom doubly blind.