https://theconversation.com/anger-sadness-boredom-anxiety-emotions-that-feel-bad-can-be-useful-217654

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/commentisfree/2017/dec/18/the-price-of-driving-down-care-home-costs-staff-who-quit-after-a-few-weeks?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

The results of the experiment = the insults of the compliment

I failed my degree = I wailed by a tree

Panic attack=.Paris is sacked

Last year in Marienbad = Last beers, don’t carry on lad

An evil sinner =seaweed for dinner

Do you repent = Who are you to dissent?

Hold my hand cos I need you===Fold the sands as we seam now

You might enjoy it ===== you’re right,destroy it

What’s my name= am I insane?

Where are you going.  We’re all overflowing

Eating disorder.    Sweetening the border

You’ll never walk again… Leave off the men

No cream on the puddings… Go and dream of the flooding

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2023/nov/26/culture-labour-plan-save-the-arts-tory-cuts?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

The River Lea creeps onwards in the rain

Deep mist be-shrouds the fields,the geese complain.

I used to love the fog in Wiillows Park

Yet I was quite fearful in the dark

The River. Lea is large it carries boats

Yet on the living water  moorhens float

Even in the rain men stand and fish.

And so the child she’ll have her wanted dish

https://wp.me/p4fTq7-2Re

https://gregcartmell.com/life-is-strange/typical-day-working-professional-artist/

https://lifeloversmag.com/2023/03/01/a-day-in-the-life-of-a-writer/#:~:text=More%20Than%20Words&text=We%20do%20a%20lot%20of,landing%20pages%20and%20advertising%20copy.

24 Hours in the Creative Life https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2022/04/21/t-magazine/culture-issue-creative-life-artists.html?smid=nytcore-android-share

The creative life is one defined by insecurity, doubt and uncertainty (as well as overconfidence, arrogance and delusion). We asked 40 poets, painters, photographers, filmmakers, actors, musicians and writers to share hard-earned wisdom for every stage of an artistic career.

Winter sunshine shows the branches bare

Reveals each shape both elegant and spare

The little birds fly in and out at will

The low sun’s bright, the wind is light as well

What kind of world has human language made?

Evolution does not always pay

For language can speak love but also hate

And brings to some misfortune and black fate

Words can hurt much deeper than a knife

We may be traumatised by our own life

The bitch the witch , the charlatan, the Jew

These categories old, are ever new

Language wrote both Dante and Mein Kampf,

From ecstasy to Concentration Camp

Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
They waken up my heart from dull, dark dreams
The marvels are the poignant shapes I see
I recognise them in the grace and fear
Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
I’m branded with their shapes so known so dear
Yet how huge shadows frighten,haunt the seer
Pendle Hill , the Langdale Pikes are me
They waken up my heart to what may be