“One thinks of Isaiah — ”Thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling” — and of Psalm 137: ”By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat, sat and wept as we thought of Zion.” The great poems remind us that grief cannot be avoided, nor forgotten, but can be incorporated into a deeper understanding of the human condition, as in Emily Dickinson’s ”After great pain, a formal feeling comes”:

This is the Hour of Lead —

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow —

First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go —

It is that union of experience, insight and the simple beauty of language that helps us to give our own grief a name, that gives us a kind of company, that extends a wise hand. Many experiencing intense, even unbearable personal loss have found redemptive meaning in the famous poem Ben Jonson wrote in 1603 at the death of his son, the one in which he declares, ”My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy.” There is no full consolation for a parent who loses a child, and indeed Jonson does not offer consolation. But he at least gives a form to what most of us only dimly understand: that the source of grief is the intensity of the hopes that have been lost, and that without the possibility of grief there would have been no joy.”

I

Now the black sheep’s back inside the fold.

The lost are found,the gate is open wide

We all eat together,timid bold

We weep for joy,our love is not denied

The years of trudging on . through mud and mire

The wounded heart the tears love wiped away

Consolation came, the saints conspired.

The children learnt in stages what to say.

Before we reach the end of earthly life

Before our minds dissolve, before the fire.

Before the husband’s dragged away from wife

Before the eye of God, beyond desire..

The final act of love is reached at last

We know so clearly now that love is just

In the bitter depths of winter night

Boil the kettle, lose your human rights

If you feel depressed then eat our bread

It will remove the skull from off your head

Are you feeling lonesome in the crowd?

Buy our lipstick then men will be cowed

Did you think ceramic hobs were best?

Come to us and have your IQ blessed

I want a pan for halogen hot plates

I’d ask the cat but he’s out on a date .

I need to boil my head and clean my feet

I guess that I ain’t smelling very sweet

Does Confession really help the damned?

God have mercy as the Devil can’t.

What did all those sermons do?
Did they say he was a Jew?
Oh, Jesus.
Did he want the First Crusade
It is his blood the priest creates
Lord Jesus.
I don’t like the way things are
I am getting tired of war
Kill Jesus.
What has human wisdom done
From Wittgenstein to Abraham?
Cripes, Jesus!
Does research improve our lives
As for grants, the scholars strive?
Ask Jesus.
We may have chemotherapy
Radiation, history.
Where’s Jesus?
You’d think that after all the years
We’d have used up all our tears
Sweet Jesus.
Love your neighbour as yourself
Give 10 % of all your wealth
Aye, Jesus
.Do what’s better, not what’s worse
I see another fragrant hearse.
It’s Jesus.
See the plastic Crucifix
See him dying with dry lips
Bend your knees, confess your sins
Otherwise, the Devil wins
Not Jesus
.We destroy the good we hate
Envy writhes and with pride mates.
The progeny will wreck the earth
Eden’s burning as drones pass.
No, Jesus.No Jesus.
Know Jesus.

They want to x-ray God to check his age

But God is here and there and everywhere.

He only had one child so he will swear

The British are annoyed in fact outraged

They think he wants to claim a child’s allowance

God was not born here ,oh refugee

God was never born can they not see ?

Send Bravermann to jail, she must do penance

Jesus died in Auschwitz more than once

Don’t let him come in here we have no room

We have no stables now, his birth is doomed.

The Stations of the Cross are undispensed.

Will they make failed immigrants wear stars

Here we’ve got bad eggs, let’s make a start

Hurl the eggs towards their bleeding hearts

Then get drunk again in some old bar.

They say the country is Christian by and large

So that they can  send religious cards.

And Satan pokes the fire, burns all x-rays

The MRI scans now are all the rage.

Scan them x-ray put them into boats

The evil fires are hot, our eyes are closed.

Wasting life when we would like to dance
Walk in ferny woods. exchange a glance
Can we have a decent person at our head?
Jesus Christ,no b*gger understood

Why be happy when you could feel mad?
Glad that Donald Trump is not your dad
Don’t let logic, reason or plain thought
Sell you something Mother never bought

Why not let the police take all control?
They know how to score a self made goal
They can kill a man and wound a child
Yet kneel down in Church along the aisle

Holding a black Bible in one hand

Will not take you to the Promised Land
Cain and Abel,Jacob and Esau
Does he hope to start another War?

As the old man fell towards his death
They offered us a handrail for the bath

Shattered by their honest,wilful lies
I could not speak, my saliva had all dried

He was walking albeit slowly when at home
When they took him off I heard the groan
Lost inside his head, no wife nearby
Even Satan would have wept that night

Gabriel and Satan, hand- in -hand
Neither one will ever understand
We humans waste so much,we’re almost blind
Full of envy,hate and so unkind

G