God was absent then or in some other place

When he went away
He said,”Lehitraot,mama.”
Do vstrechi.
He died, but I’m still here
Yes,in my heart I feel his love.
But why did I live,
And he did not?
Auf wiedersehen
Yes,darling,I’ll see you later
,When the sky turns black and all the stars blaze bright
I’ll see you shining in the night.
I’ll see you in my dreams alas.
Do vstrechi.
But why you and not me too?
I can’t understand
A plus tard
Some where in this world,you fell
But no-one,not even God, can tell.
God was absent then or in some other place
He’s gone again
.They said He’s died too
,But He didn’t have a mother like you.
Do vstrechi.
My breasts ache and my heart and soul,
My breasts were made to make you whole.
To feed, give love and to console.
A plus tard
And now they ache with grief as my tears fall
.A bientot
My body trembles in the night
As dreams may bring my lost ones to my sight.
A plus
I’d walk across the roughest bleak terrain
If l I could find my loves and hold your hands again.
Do vstrechi
.The bell rings on the ancient clock
As time goes on as normal,  never stops.
I wish the hands of time could be reversed,
And I was not living with this curse.
People forget that I once had a son.
They think my grieving has been done.
Araka.But grief and loss and pain will never end
Until the curtain of my death descends
Auf wiedersehen.
Meantime I look at flowers and birds and trees
,But it’s really you my deepening insight sees.
The inscape of my heart is shown to few.
An artist of the lost would know this view.
I know I want to see just you.
Do vstrechi.
But for me there is noAuf wiedersehen
Never again will you say
What you said that day
A plus tard
Tot ziens.
See you later
See you ,darling
See you soon

I ache to dream of them while I’m asleep.

My own art

Tersa Rima

I was almost drowned  by deep,dark  grief
I have wept  at home and wept abroad.
I lost my early childhood to these deaths

I have  known grief  spread like rivers wide
I ‘ve been  wracked  by   painful spasms of  tears
I have felt the absence of  my God.

I’ve known grief for  more than sixty years
My father and his brother were the first
I have met no  being who’s been spared.

Yet we have no permission  here to weep
I long for ritual like  my writer’s pen
I ache  to dream of them  while I’m asleep.

Like a fox hides in a hole or den
I would like to hide  when day begins
Uncontained  by  his love  again

As a tree mourns for each little leaf
As God mourns his human life so brief
I have been demolished  by  wild grief
I have  seen lost ghosts, yet still believe

The only ritual

The ritual is to put the garbage out
My day begins the night before it’s due
When I recall the day, I have to count
Instead of Mass, we put the garbage out
No Confession so no sin,no horrid doubt
No neighbours and no prayer,no ancient pew
The only ritual left, toss garbage out
My mind begins to think about the clue

Liquid unmodernity

My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
I need some kind of tampon to absorb this sudden rush
Why did noone tell me this is frightful to endure?
My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
I think it’s far too late to expect a total cure
I’ll never hear the little voice nor see the burning bush
My brain has turned to liquid and it’s dripping from my ears
Where’s an alcoholic then, to drink the mighty rush

What is a continent?

I have got more and more incontinent.
Do stop admiring Europe

I don’t want to kill a virus.Jesus said: love your enemies
They had no viruses then

I love bacteria.Is that a crime?
Well, it’s hard to have sex with one but it may be a sin

Why do the government tell us to eat more fruit and veg?
To help evacuate he Common Market from our bodies

Why do the government not have enough beds in hospitals?
They can’t all go to sleep at once

Why don’t the government buy more beds?
For their castles?

Why are people upset by isolation?
They feel like lepers

Why do we eat food?
What else could we do with it?

Why are the fishing men so upset?
They thought Boris Johnson told the truth

Why do people think truth does not exist?
Soon they will stop believing even that!

Is logic better than emotion?
That is meaningless

I’d love to play the viola
And how long have you felt like this?
For years
Take these tablets and come back next week
Shall I bring the viola.doctor?


1939:Last train out of Warsaw

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Elena,a baby wrapped in woollen clothes.
On the last train,Warsaw to Moscow,
[ change Niegoreloje.]
You passed through the Arctic Wastes of life.
Still as if travelling on a train
To an impossibly far destination.
As you left the German Army crashed into Warsaw
Lost,your aunts
Your cousins.
Your culture.
How does God select the damned?
You had your own baby,here in England,
Not lost like all those others.
Your father died by his own hand,
The hand of history;
The fingers twitching,
Not sure where to point.
Then settling into frozen grief
A sculpture only your mother saw.
You saw too,Elena.
You always saw,though you can’t remember;
The long journey, your mother’s breast,
Your father’s silence.
Only the dead know that silence.
Only the dead weep
With the rocks and stones .
And the ice in each eye
Fell like snow down your cheeks
As you held your own infant.
Warsaw to Moscow,
Moscow to Jerusalem.
Always journeying
Looking for what they can never find:
The home they left behind
The presence of the dead
Lying in gaunt heaps
Like rubbish
Your aunts, Elena.
Your cousins.
You never knew them.
But there’s a hole in your mind
Through which the Polish wind forever blow

Christ,we’re underwhelmed in feelings

There are no hours and minutes in a day
Whatever Nokia Lumias  might display
Babylonian  clocktowers hover;
Cracked a wall , now built in Dover,
There are     sixty cuckoos to gainsay.

Day and night, or hey, what black and white
People range in hues of  fruits delight
I like  olive  and    Greenpeacers
Wearing  hats  from crowns off steeples
Day and night,oh  shall we take a  flight?

I see the Berlin Wall is coming back
Mexico   has  ordered   ten sick    plaques
Trump has  promised work forever:
Dangerous walls  from Hell to Dover
Even God has  been electro-shocked

No ,these demons cannot get across
They’re stuck in an inferno; what is worse……….
God  now  can’t  be  omnipresent.
He has  high  walls   around Grace Crescent.
Holy Moses,who  can take this flak?

If you miss yer dinner,don’t it hurt?
Same as if yer finger gets a cut
Refugees with their  feet   bleeding–
Christ,we’re underwhelmed in feelings
Get a barbed wire fence, and kick them back.

The Lord’s THEIR shepherd, so we’re gonna pay.
He  watches  US  like  NEVER  from today
We’re   ex-colonial looters
We’re Self-esteem Unlimited.
Now the Devil’s comin’ out as grey.

Oh,someone jumped the Central Line today
Could not take this life so  full  of play
Oxford Street was blocked by walls
Of vehicles  sent to the Call.
What is my vocation,what my Play?

The churchyard wall

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The bricks of the old wall, while crumbling, live
Five hundred years of history passed them by
While plants grew in the cracks below, above
Apart from people, this is what I love
That ancient structures stand and do not die
The bricks of this old wall while crumbling live
A little beauty will do well enough
This cheers my heart and lifts my spirits high
Wild flowers grow in cracks below, above
We fill our minds and homes with shop bought stuff
Gaze on bricks and cracks, what will we spy?
The bricks of this old wall while crumbling live
Like old complexions, older bricks are rough
The Vicar cannot smooth them though they try
Holes for plants inscribe these cracks with love
From generations past, ghosts wander. shy.
Looking for their graves, they whisper,sighT
he bricks of the old wall still crumbling live
Tenacious weeds shall wave below, aboveShare

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Are you gods?

My hand Katherine

Oh,transcendental numbers, are you gods
You show the complex world that drives us nuts
If only the circumference could be
The radius squared, then multiplied by three.

How simple Science would be because straight lines
Could wrap round the “circles” well defined
All the world would be a different shape
The Earth itself would crumble as we gaped

Come to that we would not be alive
For women would have bosoms like road signs
The womb would be a cube and not a sphere
The corners would endanger life obscure

Our heads would be like Rubik’s cube in shape
Our minds would be aghast and emigrate
So here would lie the ruins of the West
No devious politicians could invest

Men and women could not join in sex
That would make the adults feel quite vexed
Procreation would be IVF
Look it up, it’s no fun for the guest

We would need no hats upon flat heads
A dinner plate would sit up there instead
But if we bring back pi, will all be well?
I cannot say while living in this hell

Stupid, evil men are on the loose
The air is nauseaous with a smell diffuse

A is not aggression

A is for the axioms we use
B for Brownian motion in a glass
C is for the circle that found pi
D is for the dots that we combine
E is the ellipse that I adore
F is for the fraction I deplore
G is for geometry and art
H is for the hidden and unknown
I was once for inkwells filled each day
J is a close relation here of G
K is my own name, I do declare
L is for the loops that string can make
M is mathematics as an art
N is for the numbers that transcend
O might be for zero or the mind
P is for the problems we all meet
Q is for the quantity of life
R is for the random numbers here
S must be statistics, I declare,
T is for topology, that’s clear
U is understanding what we read
V is for the vacuum in the heart~
W is the will power to succeed
X is still unknown but we’ll give in
Y is Yes we understand the game
Z I’ll leave to you
to make or maim

Tread right on the holy human face

The way to be successful is now clear
Deny your shame,humiliate the poor
Have no friends or mate whom you hold dear
The way to be successful is right here
Control your cronies with a hint of fear
Tread on the lowly, who can but endure
The way to be successful, shed no tears
Repress your shame,humiliate the poor

Accidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again
Make sure their features are unclear,erased
Knowingly tread on the human face
It’s not evil, it is just bad taste
The devil is a clown, we feel no strain
Incidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again

Connections,maps and roads


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Roman roads connected in straight lines
The cities they had built in wealthy times
The remains of one  goes past my garden gate
Do ghosts of Roman legions pass at night?

I like to see connections,maps and roads
Others  love  old cities ,walls and moats
My road ran to Lincoln  near the Wash
Migrating birds and swans  go there to rest

Going South, there is the Pilgrim’s Way
Canterbury, Becket,murder, prayer
Julius Caesar, Deal,  the Roman hordes
Boudicea,  and her fighting Lords

Layers of history, meaning,love and death
Still we argue  what should be our path

Straight lines can meet.

Axes are useful, real and imaginary.Does our earth have them?
Borrow one in sums.Not nice.Arithmetic sucks
Calculus is based on non-understanding of first principles which may not be understandable like certain j
Drawing graphs is an art and a science.
Euclid has frightened some and delighted others.And a  right angle to you as well.
Flatland is a book set in an imaginary two-dimensional world.Fractions frighten
Geometry gave way to algebra.Godel studied axiomatic systems.
God was a Word not a number……. think about it.
Hard as maths is, there is a non-sensual beauty in there somewhere
It takes your mind off the pain when you try to visualise 4 dimensions.Be aware some never return.
Jokes are not often found in our textbooks except the biggest.. that God likes jigsaws, geometry and juggling.
Kurt Godel went mad.He proved maths cannot have a complete set of axioms with no contradictions.So don’t go there
Logic is not identical  with mathematics.
Multiplication tables were sung by children at school in the past.Matrices are rows and columns of numbers.
Number theory is harder than one would imagine from counting one’s digits.
Operators are imaginary concepts which have an effect on other imaginary concepts which then contribute to nuclear physics, and a few other things like the end of the world.
Probability seems to be part of the nature of the world despite Einstein’s famous words. God does not play dice.
Quantitative methods were what they called maths to stop the anxiety students felt.But it’s a bad name.
Reason is only   part of mathematics
Straight lines can meet.
Theorems can be interesting if you know why you are learning them
Why? Why indeed.Wranglers are top mathematics students at Cambridge.
X or x is often the unknown we look for.
Y is like X  just by historical  usage
Zero as a concept with a sign is more abstract than One.Hence its late arrival on the human scene.
Nothing can be symbolised. Ain’t that  wonderfulStraight lines can meet.Straight lines can meet.Straight lines can meet.

The Words Mine

Every poem begins with a first line
After that we choose the space and time
The words float in my head till they combine
Must a poem begin with its first line?
Some are bold and some are more refined
Some are free and some have lissom rhymes
A poem begins by finding a first line
After that we search the Deep Words Mine

How Daniel met the lion

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Daniel Spinnett was a newly  homeless man in a horrible  wealthy but cruel country called the Reblighted Kingdom.He had been married once but his wife often  used to hurl his hot dinner at him if he was a bit late home and she also had four lovers into the bargain.When she was made Head of Uncivil Service UK he decided he was leaving her and hoped for a second chance and maybe a child as well with a gentler woman
At first he was truly happy in his new  commodious flat and also with  meeting women on the Guardian Solemates website; all too  soon his firm was affected by the recession and he ended up with no money to pay his rent ; his ex-wife was completely unsympathetic. though she was absolutely rolling in money and men or both !
He went to the Council to seek for cheap accommodation
I have nowhere to live.The rents in Lone-don are so high.. can I get a council flat?I am on job seekers allowance of £70 per week…
A council flat?The man behind the desk laughed sarcastically like a dying flea.
There ain’t no such anymore,mi duck…didn’t you know the Trying Lady sold them off.
Did you not build more using that money,he enquired courteously and logically. as was his wont
Sorry,chum, we spent it on wine, women and bling… gold watches, golf clubs, moats, you know
Daniel felt very upset so he set out to walk to Lightwebbs Forest a couple of miles away for a time of  green beauty and quietness…He fell asleep under an old oak ; he was nervously exhausted ,no doubt
When he woke up a huge cat was standing near him staring curiously
Hello, the cat said in a kindly but loud voice
Hello,I am Daniel from down the road
Well, the cat said,I’m a lion from the circus.We have escaped and we are living here in the woods.
But what do you eat? asked Dan.
Well,we forage around and we find food left out for house cats.;we also have learned to cook leaves and grass over a fire in a double boiler.
The lion smiled down at Daniel showing a light in his amber eyes
You look very thin.Why don’t you come with me to have dinner?
Daniel was  afraid of the lion but he had no alternative in mind.
After a circuitous walk they reached the deepest,densest  most magical part of the wood.There were four lions,two tigers and four  leopards all looking happy
Is this our dinner,they cried excitedly as they gazed at Daniel.
No,this is a poor starving man with no home.
Well.lie down Dan and eat this leafy risotto..
Absolutely delicious,awesome, he cried greedily as he used his hands like a child with no table manners
Then the first lion asked Dan to come with him to his own den.
When they got there he said piteously
I have got a problem and none of the animals here  can help.I have got a piece of barbed wire stuck in my tail and I need a human with fingers to untangle it..
Daniel looked and there was about 12 inches of barbed wire which hit  and beat the old  lion as he walked or ran.Dan managed to untwist it and uuntangle it.He got some water from the stream and washed the lion’s backside where the barbs had cut into him..I have no Elastoplast, he muttered anxiously.The fresh air will heal it, said the lion gently….

And that was how Daniel came to be living in the lion’s den.
He says he prefers it to living with his dominating wife.
He certainly looks fitter than before and is considering asking for surgery to change into a lion on the NHS as there is a lady lion whom he has fallen in love with.No doubt lions don’t get married in church but they do love each other very deeply.
Just go to the forest and take a look next time you fall asleep.
Now the lions enjoy even better food because Daniel has  recipe books and unlike the lions,he can read.They found some old sauce pans at the recycling centre so he can do cheese sauce using milk from the sheep on the edge of the wood,
If you knew what went on in our many woods,you’d definitely get a big surprise..I can tell you

We are not God

How my heart sings

Poetry and lovely images

Katherine Thinkings and poems  

Photo0292  2.jpg

Václav Havel

The relativization of all moral norms, the crisis of authority, the reduction of life to the pursuit of immediate material gain without regard for its general consequences—the very things Western democracy is most criticized for–do not originate in democracy but in that which modern man has lost: his transcendental anchor, and along with it the only genuine source of his responsibility and self-respect . . . . Given its fatal incorrigibility, humanity probably will have to go through many more Rwandas and Chernobyls before it understands how unbelievably shortsighted a human being can be who has forgotten that he is not God.

The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

The end of values, kindness, earned respect
The loss of wisdom,history and truth
The pillars of democracy are cracked.

The centre of the heart,who can protect?
Conspiracy and madness unseat proof
An end of values, kindness, earned respect

Violence is admired though lives are wrecked
The lasting triumph of the folk uncouth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

Their minds unfurnished seem bereft of tact
They tread on others words like horses’ hooves
The end of values, kindness, earned respect

How can such opponents make a pact?
The calculating crucify our youth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

Yet Western Empire builders had no ruth
They tortured those they conquered group by group
On such ground just madmen earn respect
The altars of the Western Mind have cracked

The Messiah is a cat

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  • Stan awoke feeling very thirsty.My, this bed is much  too hard,he thought.He put out his hand and felt some wood not far away.It was his desk.
    Emile was lying on his stomach purring.
    You fell out of bed,the little cat miaowed.Luckily I clung on with my claws and I am ok sleeping down here….I can see any mice better.
    Well,it’s not ok with me,Stan informed him gently.How can I get up from here?
    He picked up the Cambridge Companion to Sylvia’ Plath and banged on his desk softly.
    Mary was awake and heard a strange sound.She got up and found Stan lying on the floor with his head by his desk.
    Emile wanted to sleep by the wall,you see.,he told her.
    Then he rolled over and I fell out.
    That is logically and scientifically unsensible,Mary told him. Surely Emile is not so big that his weight was enough to knock you out of the bed?It is against the law of gravityAnyway,why don’t you get up?
    I like it  down here,the old man lied to her.
    OK Mary said,then she picked up the phone and rang 999.
    Hello,she said.My cat is very upset as he feels guilty for pushing my husband out of bed.
    How terrible for you,the man answered.I’ll send an ambulance right away.
    Mary opened the front door and left it unlatched whilst she lit the electric lights with a match.
    How do you feel Stan,she enquired.
    I am thirsty,give me so brandy,he ordered her politely as he was very full of kindness.
    They said not to let you or Emile drink or eat.
    Blooming ridiculous,he told her in a manly fashion
    Soon the ambulance arrived and the paramedics were running up the stairs to seee the poor cat.
    Mary fainted so they laid her on the bed whilst they comforted Emile and cleaned his paws.
    Then they picked up Stan and laid him right next to Mary,his wife.
    Why don’t you have a bigger bed,one asked Stan.
    Bigger than what,he responded academically.
    Well,if you were any fatter you’d not be able to get laid with your wife.
    True,he replied but I am 96 you know.I have erectile malefaction already  and am unwilling to have more mistresses and lovers or even concubines.
    I shall make you some tea the female paramedic told them forcefully
    Well,you don’t seem to be hurt,the other one told Stan, but the cat may need therapy or counselling because of the guilt he will feel.
    He’s not  a Catholic I hope.
    No, he’s Jewish,Stan shouted  nervously.
    That’s alright then.He can have concubines if he chooses.How do cats get to be Jewish anyhow/
    It’s their souls,Mary said…they are all waiting up there for a suitable place to be reborn and some choose to be cats.
    But how can you tell? he asked wonderingly.They have no prayer shawls
    They miaow in Hebrew,Mary said loftily.And they like to sing the psalms before bed.
    But how do you  know it’s Hebrew,he replied.Do you speak it?
    No, it’s just he hates bacon and peperoni and always wears a hat so it seems he must be one of Jesus’s friends,but not Judas of course.I suppose Jesus wore a hat but it’s never been found as yet.Not even being sold as relics.
    Well,that’s intriguing.Do you think Emile might be the Messiah?
    Oh,dear.We never thought of that.Will he have to go to Galilee and catch fish and walk on water?
    No, he can go to Rome and tell the Pope that the Church is not what God planned.
    I hope they don’t kill him,Mary cried…
    God will not be very happy.
    I didn’t know God had moods,Stan said.
    He has post-creative depressive disorder….no wonder when we look round he world.
    Still they did try,I’ll say that for him or her.
    And so say all of us
    For he’s a very good yeller,he’s a very good yeller
    A cat’s life is a fuss.Miaow

Emile sings

Fish,fish wonderful fish…
Nothing so tasty gets onto my dish.
I live on Whiskas and milk and cold tea.
They don’t know I drink it to help me to pee.
Milk, milk,I love it well.
Mother’s was best,but, oh,what the hell!
I drink it at night,to send me to sleep.
I feel so nervous when Stan’s old sheep bleats.
I sleep with Stan and he’s very kind.
I lean on his legs to help me unwind.
When he’s got company, I stay outside.
I look through a mirror and blimey,I spied
Stan was cuddling a lady who was totally nude!
You would not believe the strnge sights I have viewed.
He was quite naked but I’m used to that.
He has no bosom…………..men are quite flat!
Mice, mice, mice are so nice!
Mince the left overs and serve with boiled rice!
Do you need puddings…we never do.
Some cats like chewing their master’s old shoe!
Drink,drink let me imbibe
Nothing quite like it for aiding  the Scribe
Bed,bed,I lie up there
I find beds are better than Mary’s new chairs
Sleep,dream, the angels will care
I do it often, so I shall go there

I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

Katherine villanelle  August 11, 2016 1 Minute

I wish that I had kissed you ten more times
I didn’t know  how soon you had to leave
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design

I tell my love in words,  which is no crime.
I didn’t show you all you might receive
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

If I had  bought you  bottles of best wine
Would you have stayed and  kept me unbereaved?
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design.

I know you were perceptive and read signs
Eyes a-crinkle   green as sun washed  leaves
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

I’d  hold your  mind and  weave  your thoughts to rhymes
Until  the  truest love poem  arrived
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design.

I’d write  you letters ,much love I would leave
With my mind and body I perceive.
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times
I’d   draw upon your lips our own design

Happy New Tier

I wish you a low Tier
Happy New Leer
Happy, need beer
Hippy New Flair
Happy, Loo near!
Aptly New Here.
Happy New Beer
Unhappy with Lear?
Snappy New Year
Cherry Xmas
Happy Mums R Us
We kiss you and say it’s Xmas, so happy you’re dear
Very Xmas to view.
Very Xmas with flu
Make a post of it.
Flay the dust out.
Hope to flee you soon
I can’t mate to go home.
Sorry I’ve not been in clutch.
Sorry not to sweep my promises.
We must be, this year.
Be good but impure
Have emotions in the flesh
Let’s get together with a SIM
I’ll see you with the Creator.
Are you any good with tarts
Flap both your ears
.Well, we were born with no lore.
I see men gnaw more.
Happy Low Tier
I feel I am queer

I have studied and I’ve got my last degree

I started to write villanelles because after 2 years I was still suffering intensely
I decided to learn something new.I’ve written many villanelles now. I learn new things as often
as I need to.


 March 14, 2018

I have studied  and I’ve got my new degree
My heart has learned its lessons one by one.
I’m a graduate of the grief academy

I didn’t know how anguished one would be
When the man you love is here and then is gone
I’ve been studied, oh  I got the third degree

The tears I wept  could fill up the Dead Sea
Add more salt and scour the shore till done
I’m a graduate of the grief academy

I know now I must die,we cannot flee
We turn to dust and that is not much fun
I have studied  and I’ve got my last degree

It’s no  News, nothing for the BBC
Unless you’re Stephen Hawkings, that great man
We’re graduates of the grief academy

We can’t control life with a self made plan
God is gone though prayer  might well begin
I have suffered till I got my Ph.D
I’m a graduate of the grief academy

In our sleep we find the open door

The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams he is alive again
Thus his image lives inside my store

In our sleep  we find the  open door
We see   the   precious faces  of those gone
The face that was familiar is no more

A nightmare,anxious, running as before
To find our car, to bring home my dear man
Now his image  lives within my store

His voice to me sounds muffled by great doors
He wonders how I manage  all alone
The love that was  so potent is no more

An anger at the doctors made me roar
A dying man ignored by every one
Now his love  lives on in my  deep core

Death will capture all but is that fair?
We live  then die  at last of all good bare.
The face that was familiar is no more
Yet his  sweet love  still haunts  my deepest core

On the shore

The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams he  is alive again
Without his presence, I feel lost and sore

The truth of loss, no human can ignore
It tears our  heart  to pieces with its pain
The face that was familiar is no more

Yet sentimental offerings I abbhor
When parted from the love with whom I’d lain
Without his presence, I feel lost and sore

No give and take of love, the shore is bare
The tide is out  so far the waves complain
The face that was familiar is no more

On the sea’s edge, we would walk and stare
Now I walk alone is this  my shame?
Without his presence, I feel lost and  bare

By my write the inner rhythm’s regained
The art of losing well  may be attained
The face that was familiar is no more
With him I   found sweet sea shells on  the shore


I’m in my cashmere hoodie
And I’m wearing cashmaere track pants
Polly Wolly Doodle, life’s a lay
I’ve got a folding Samsung
I think it has a stylus
Polly Wolly Doodle. life’s E bay
My sheets are very cotton
Like they were when slaves were pickin’
Polly Wolly Doodle’s in decay
So we lay on slaves’ productions
But we did not want to meet them
Polly Wolly Doodle, Jesus waves.
We were praying to the Devil
Dancing with the demons
Polly Wolly Doodle, we will pa
We imitate work clothing
But ours are fur and satin
Polly Wolly Doodle, who can pray?
The priests abusing children
The nuns hide babies dying
That was for Lord Jesus
They must all be unbelievers
Horror is the feeling I declare