https://www.theguardian.com/music/2024/dec/11/man-88-passes-grade-8-piano-distinction-67-years-after-grade-7?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

When Jesus rose  they asked him how it was

Being crucified upon a cross

I think it must be  trauma someone said

REM might help you sort your head

Jesus stared at them with his great eyes

It isn’t a mere trauma when God dies

Now we have new wars and children bleed

Human sacrifice, where monsters feed.

When Jesus died the sky was black as night

He will rise again and be our Light

Don’t pull me under the water with you  now

Don’t take me to the cavern of the drowned

There’s too many down there already don’t you think?

All pulling on the rope around me wound.

Don’t pull me under the water with you yet.

I’m not ready for another world today

But yes I feel the force of all those hands

And by this family yearning I’m beset

Don’t pull me under the water with you all

Leave me here alone I’m still alive.

Take your hands away from me at once

I don’t want to swim with you much less to dive.

Don’t keep pulling at me all the night and day.

There’s one more act in this my last,my final  play

Posted on November 11, 2017
The summer heat made cobblestones like stoves
The Coronation happened, I know now
We played with melted tar, industrial bairns.

My mother’s hands were black and much beloved
The coal and coke had tattooed her, we sa
The summer heat made cobbles hot as stoves.

In the road, we played our ancient games
The older children passed the knowledge down
We played with melted tar, industrial wains.

The bully boys were cruel , did not heed love
A little boy had tried to be a clown
In summer heat, they beat him on the stones.

We were silent as they flaunted power again;
But in our hearts, we knew we’d let him down
We threw warn melted tar, industrial wains

And in our phantasy, he was alone.
No-one knew who threw the vicious stone
The summer heat made cobbles feel like flames
We played with melted tar, Christ died again

Hope and the infinite brain of being interact
Faith is for the forlorn
Faith is not scorn
Goodness is always approximate
Do bad and become bad.
Fractals made my home infinite
Kill yourself with kindness, instead of others.
Cruelty runs faster but blinder.
Armed struggles are too weighty with meaning.
To eat or not to eat when you are taking antibiotics
Pause before screeching or swearing
Always get washed before you go to breed.
Buy a big bed for when you are both sulking.
Don’t frisk I like to dance

Published by me
poetry writer

The grass was always greener on the other side of the fence where her husband needed to beat a dead horse every day

It was like her washing the clothes in cold water but she was the kettle calling the pot black.

Look at those towels on the washing line they’ve all been tarred with the same brush. And a stiff one by the looks of it

What would you like for your dinner or sorry I mean your snack

I’ve got a tin of baked beans or a can of worms

Would you like those grilled on toast or would you like to eat them straight from the tin with your fingers as it were with some olive oil dip by your side?

I like some sardines now and then but there are plenty of other fish in the sea, you know.

Look at those big clouds I think it might rain if they turned black or should not be if they are already black it will rain come they turn black when they were white to start with.

That’s a very interesting question what makes something gret and black and some white

Well it’s not the same thing as makes horses white black or Gray for sure.

Don’t touch the tiger’s tail it’s not your horse you know it’s not even the toy horse.

Is it a toy tiger? There’s one way of finding out going to its  enclosure because it by the toe and if it doesn’t eat you then it’s a toy

It might be very big

Buses is still a toy but it can’t be transitional object for a baby because it’s bigger than the babies pram

Should we get a larger pram for the baby?

With the tiger by the baby it might fall over and suffocate the child

Well your idea is as good as mine

Are you sure about that

It is what Briton’s have been saying for several hundred years.

Have you got the actual dates yet?

No I’m saving them for Christmas and are you saving anything for Advent

Who is she?

It’s a they

You don’t say anything

I’m going to have another skin coat for Christmas

What sort

Adder.

Well stone the crows

I said it is the Guinness book of records that’s where I found it

Is it anything like green shield stamps? What was the first recorded stamp

Well you’ve got me puzzled alright

Pleased for you I’m so happy I’m going to put the pen down and post a letter this afternoon

The nearer peace, the more savage the acts
Abhorrent to the atheist in us all.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks

As we whites did evil to the black
With little difference, hate in glory calls.
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts

All of us can disremember facts
Israeli hands have gripped and then appalled.
History, undigested ,splits and cracks QQ aa

As ,with Bomber Harris, Dresden packed
Burned like grass the refugees to ghouls
The nearer peace, the more savage the acts

We deny the healing we have lacked
For Jews we helped destroy, psychotic fools
History, undigested ,splits and cracks

Palestine’s own Arabs are ill ruled
And in return, explode like stubborn mules
The nearer love, the more the hatred whacks
History., unconceivable, directs

https://doaj.org/article/0d8e8356a0a843478413b575b90f6704

https://www.masterclass.com/articles/writing-101-what-is-a-cliche-learn-when-to-use-cliches-in-writing-and-20-common-cliches-all-writers-should-avoid

From the mangled chaos of the lines
Emerge strange forms and all too telling tales
O life satanic and O loss divine

Faces will make then themselves, define
From the compost and the deathly rail
And the mangled chaos of the lines

There is never reason nor a rhyme
As Jonah found when sucked in by a whale
O life satanic and o loss divine

What is living but a life of crime?
Whether trained in Borstal or at Yale
Feel the mangled chaos of the lines

We wander, having leaders well outgrown
Some days it is hell and we just crawl
O life satanic and o loss divine

I believe, in bitterness and gall,
We must hold our spirits as they fall
Dark the mangled chaos of our lives
O love satanic and O loss divine

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The way the back leant curving into space
The dance and danger both are thus evoked

Like a play, a drama, fire and smoke
A dance performed so swiftly and with grace
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The heavy bull is pounding,is provoked.
A threat, a man,  intrudes into his space
The dance and danger both are still evoked

See, the  matador throws out his cloak
A   dash of black, and here we see his face
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The mind needs just a hint to  see the whole
We fill the present with our past distaste
The dance and danger, mirroring dark smoke

 Acting both dramatic and displaced 

The artist may still love what she forsakes 

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke 

he dance and danger ,life and death evoked

The sun leapt like a   glamorous leopard
Crashing  through the mysteries of the  clouds
The  frost and icy air both  shaken,shattered

The Lord to children  seems  like  a good shepherd
King David writes his poetry profound
The sun leapt like a  god, a graceful leopard

Faith  grown  in the dark is what will matter
Belief that love may rise or may descend
Our frost and icy ways are  shaken,shattered

As  the poet’s bruised heart was knocked and battered
God did not console, he was no friend
But a majestic and  devouring  golden leopard

How locked his heart,how might was done and flattered
On his knees he prayed with  head down, bowed
His frost and icy ways were  shaken,shattered

And thus it is salvation is endowed
With fearsome beasts, with golden lions proud
The Son of God, a jewelled ,flying leopard,
In the   Arctic air,  a symbol of our rapture

To write a poem I dreamed an undreamed dream
The woods in France deformed by dead young men
A nightmare complex in its perplexed themes

In our dream the narrative has means
To make those killed communicate again
To write a poem I dream an undreamed dream

Later, in another war, trains steam
To take the “insect” Jew, no longer “man.”
A nightmare simple in its evil themes

The little pearls we half see, as we scheme
The evasions we ignored but which remained.
We read a poem, we dream an undreamed dream

Who we are and who we might have been
At 4 am in isolated pain
The Nightmare Complex, come to share your screams

Can any see the world as poets aimed
To recreate the moment where we change?
To write a poem embodies sufferers’ dreams
Nightmares dark and piercing,mobs that maim

I can’t write anything new in the moment because I am ill that I put one or two of my own poems here. I was surprised by some of them which I had completely forgotten

We can’t force birds to come into our garden we can only attract and avoid danger affecting them when they are near us.

I suppose it’s true of people too

I liked your letters in your pointed script

As if a tiger’s claw in ink was dipped.

Your mind was still and full of careful thought

Your writing was like the  barbs where sheeps’ wool caught

Excitement, eagerness and will

Joy, imagination well fulfilled.

I turn the letter backwards hold to light

I see the patterns in the inky sight.

Even with a biro or gel pen

Yout writing was quite clearly that of Man

I see your desk the drawers your diaries kept

I cannot see your face, where feelings leapt

Concentrating energy like gold

The wrinkles in the brain could then unfold.

I wish I could have kept your brain and heart

But when you go, the whole of you departs.

And after all the mind is not just brain

The heart must play its part must not disdain.

On Saturday afternoon after luncb ,or midday dinner as we said up north Mary began to feel very nervous, as she was going to the hospital with Stan on Monday for his next appointment with Dr.Range Rover.
Mary was puzzled.She felt almost happy last week about seeing this kind hearted and gracious well dressed female doctor.However she had been shunted sideways onto a male doctor who was almost totally silent.. so much so that he seemd to absorb Mary’s questions into his sponge of a brain without feeling the need to respond,just like many British husbands do… and it may be a universal trait in men world wide if theyhad a British sty education
Why do I feel so apprehensive this week? Mary asked her dear black cat Emile.
After all.I was happy to see her or to even have a biopsy last weekend.Why have I changed in my feelings so much in a week?
Does it matter? purred Emile.
Maybe your mood is affected by something else.. like fatigue or housework or the ravages of age… [he was well read]
We don’t always know why we feel a certain way but I feel it’s good if we are willing to accept these negative moods.Even I have my moods when the fish you get me is not the right sort and you don’t give me my cat’s handkerchief neatly ironed.
You are so wise,Emile,especially as,being a cat,you never have to endure these interviews with consultants in horrible outpatients clinics.So you must have a wonderful empathy for humans
This lady doctor tomorrow is exciting me,cried Emile loudly.May I come in your Grace Kelly handbag.
What’s wrong with my shopping bag?Good grammar,by the way..
Well,she wil be surprised if you take a heavy shopping bag even if it has a Mondrian design on it… she may get suspicious.. even paranoid.If I am in your handbag she will not realise.
Not unless you miaow,mused Mary benignly as she smiled down at him her singular eyes gleaming like the headlamps on a Roller.
I like to know the reason for things,she continued somewhat frantically.I think therefore I might be eventually.I am not yet,for sure.
Does everything have a reason,shouted Stan querulously from the hall…
Wel ,it does,but it might be beyond human understanding like the Burning Bush..
We can only perceive what our language permits unless we are poets,mystics or artists and even then it’s tough to venture into the unknown,unthought or unknowable;languages develop in societies and learning your language embeds you in many cultural assumptions without you ever realising it.You think it’s reality when it is just one perspective.
How true,screeched Annie their neighbour from outside the open patio door.She stopped there in her teal velour tracksuit with matching eyeshadow and trainers.
You seem to be overthinking,she said to Mary.Are you sickening with the heat?It’s like loving too much, which may be co-dependency.
That’s a very silly pc word,said Stan rudely.We are all dependent but men can hide it until their wives run away with the milkman and they get a shock not knowing how much they’d miss her changing the sheets and buying their underpants and socks.And ironing their hankies
Surely that’s not the main reason a man might miss his wife,cried Mary as she carried in the tea tray with a big white insulated teapot.
Well,you can go on the web and find a virtual sex partner or even buy a dummy woman. but it’s tough to find a devoted woman who knows what you need to function.
Why don’t you buy your own underwear and use tissues?,asked Emile
Well,Emile,I put out the rubbish and wash the heavy Le Creuset pot.I see to the car and bikes.I paint the fence and even bake cakes.
Mary washes the clothes and changes the sheets unless she has an idea to write down.She kindly does all the worrying for both of us and I remain calm like a lighthouse.We complement each other ideally.. and we love each other and a few others as well..without giving away our secrets
That’s one waay of describing it,thought Mary without commenting out loud
Anyway,I am still wondering why I feel nervous about Dr Range Rover….
If you accepted the nervusness it might ease,said Annie wisely in her high voice like a car siren going off at night
Just then the doorbell rang.It was Dave the bisexual transvestite paramedic.
Emile phoned 999 saying Mary was having kittens, he said rapidly.This really must stop;inter species sex is not allowed here like most sexual activity
He was speaking metaphorically or is it metonymically,Stan groaned.
Now you are here go and make us a fresh pot of tea and admire my new tea caddy.I bought it for Mary last week in that new shop in town.
At your service,sir,Dave said politely,his flowered dress waving in the breeze.
Do you know anything about Dr Range Rover,Dave? Annie murmured
What is her reputation etc
Some people like her, Dave said,Usually men.she’s not so good with women..
Well it’s too late to change thought Mary so I shall have to willingly endure the agony of meeting her again as I cannot leave Stan on his own with her…
why who knows what might happen? She might become his mistress as he likes several nowadays. despite nearly being too thin to live…
God only knows, a little voice said.
Hello,said Mary.I’ve not heard from you lately.
Well,I am still here looking after you
Thank you, Lord,I love you, Mary shouted joyfully to the surprise of Stan and Annie, not to mention the cat Emile who was unlearned in the religion of his owners.
I thought you were an atheist,Annie said with horror.
I am an atheist and I believe in God.It’s what we call a paradox..Mary cried graciously….
What would Wittgenstein have said?
Whereof one cannot understand,therof one must be patient and tolerant,.
Why does Mary need to understand all her feelings…Stan wondered
When it’s raining she doesn’t spend hours wondering why and similarly if it’s raining in her heart she must take it like parched grass…she thinks too much.
Too much for what? Her sanity perhaps which has at times been doubtful but that has made her very understanding to those who find life hard.Everyone has value,even oveweight nervous half blind, supersensitive, vulnerable,stout arthritic female mathematical geniuses like Mary.She enriches the tapestry of life in a very real sense as someone once said
And so say all of us:she’s a jolly good Fellow of All Proles College,Oxenford..you know how famous it is in Wonderland

My husband is naughty a very naughty man
He throws down the newspaper on top of his beer can
He buys himself a sandwich in a nasty cardboard box
And puts trash in the laundry basket with his woollen socks.

He takes off his pyjamas and chucks them on the floor
He uses hankies frequently, so I have to buy lots more.
He wants to have thick sauces on top of all his food.
And when he has a hypo his speech is very rude.

I gave him such a shock when I learned to curse and swear
But we really need to, as “eff off “is everywhere.
Why even in the Bible there are some wicked words
I’ve not read it all yet, except Psalm’s I have heard

I mean to finish reading it and then when I must die,
I’ll come onto a cloud and shout, Oh pi is in the sky.
For transcendental numbers give a hint divine.
Although you can get it better with a glass of dry, white wine.

My husband drinks draught Guinness and then he falls asleep
He hollers and curses when the oven timer beeps.
He eats a piece of kipper and cried out,Oh, dear God!
Nobody caught this b*gger with a U.K. fishing rod

He wants to move to Whitby and walk upon the sands
Sit in the audience and hear the big brass bands.
He wants to see the sun rise and to see it set…
So please send God some gelatine in case the air’s too wet!

Love me, lov,
You were angry with me ,I was much too bright
You taught me to play chess, then felt regret
The man must be the one who knows the rites

I didn’t know you minded my insight
When I won the game, you were upset
You were angry;I did not know I was too bright

I think you loved my body in the night
You loved my golden hair both dry and wet
The man must be the one who knows the rites

At least you did not scratch nor did you bite
I am weeping, I just found that old chess set
You were dying but I managed all the rites

Love me, love me, someone hold me tight
I am crying for his touch, my face is wet
The man might be the one who must depart

I shall live my future in your debt
You gave me all you had with no regret
You were angry, for an hour, then you were calm
As God came down and wrapped you in his arms

Gerard’s ultimate subject, however, is genocide of the human spirit—including in Gerard’s own domain of academia. Learning, once intended to be a process of enlightenment, becomes a tool of self-blinding and a mandate of darkness. Liberation to think new thoughts is replaced by the prohibition of thinking beyond ideologically tolerable limits. Education “produces” products, product lines, productivity and repetition (as opposed to reflection) in a compliant “workforce.”

From preface to

Nathan Gerard

Winnicott and Labor’s Eclipse of life

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/07/31/can-poetry-change-your-life

Extract