Poetry and war

pexels-photo-404995.jpeghttps://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57421/war-and-peace-56d23aeecfe57

 

War and Peace

In sodden trenches I have heard men speak,
Though numb and wretched, wise and witty things;
And loved them for the stubbornness that clings
Longest to laughter when Death’s pulleys creak;
And seeing cool nurses move on tireless feet
To do abominable things with grace,
Deemed them sweet sisters in that haunted place
Where, with child’s voices, strong men howl or bleat.
Yet now those men lay stubborn courage by,
Riding dull-eyed and silent in the train
To old men’s stools; or sell gay-coloured socks
And listen fearfully for Death; so I
Love the low-laughing girls, who now again
Go daintily, in thin and flowery frocks.
Source: Behind the Eyes (1921)

 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/57421/war-and-peace-56d23aeecfe57

Delusions caused by UTI’s

Photo0738.jpgMy husband suffered from delusions for a few days but they made him very happy.I wonder if our temperament and way of life can influence us  should we ever get delusions?
He was very frail.I was in the kitchen and he came to me and said
It’s so wonderful  being with you.
This was not something he said very often!
I replied, but you are with me always
No, he said,I am usually with Katherine
I realised then he was seeing his mother.
Since he looked so happy I didn’t  contradict him despite one of his close friends telling me I should.I have known people with odd minds and I am ok with it.
The only problem was that he began to ask questions

Where is Dad?
Why have you not remarried [ looking at me with glowing affection and admiration
Where did you go for your honeymoon?
Why did your boss have a wooden leg [I worked out it must   have been WW1
Anyway for about 3 days he remained like this until the antibiotics worked
I was glad to know how much  he had loved his mother.And if he was happy why should I argue?He might  have suffered distress and was already very ill

 

Mercurial… the meaning

14390935_773509069455640_1261235951452000019_n.jpghttps://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/mercuria

Definition of mercurial in English:

mercurial

ADJECTIVE

  • 1Subject to sudden or unpredictable changes of mood or mind.

    ‘his mercurial temperament’
    More example sentences
    • ‘Okada projected the mercurial shift of moods in Beethoven’s Fantasie Op 77 with resonant sonority.’
    • ‘He is mercurial, unpredictable and headstrong.’
    • ‘Could it be my mercurial temper, causing many rash actions or hurtful, wicked comments?’
    • ‘One of the most talented and versatile Scottish performers, McKidd is mesmerising as Frankie, capturing all the mercurial moods of a man who can switch from sentimentality to aggression at the flick of a switchblade.’
    • ‘To blow off those dear friends who’ve put up with your mercurial moods for long is just plain cruel and thoughtless, so start returning those calls and those emails.’
    • ‘Their awkwardness, overextended maturity, mercurial temperaments, and easy companionship were all spot on.’
    • ‘Ms Short is notorious for her outspoken comments and her mercurial temperament.’
    • ‘Nor does she depict adolescence as a period of mental instability, characterized by mercurial moods and impulsive, self-gratifying actions.’

Mary cries

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Mary sat in her bijou but well-designed blue kitchen reading email on her Windows 13 laptop.She was feeling quite weak after a bout of pneumonia   and cystitis despite having Dave the paramedic visit  every day with chicken  soup
She found a new email from her old friend who has been away
I hate you, so much, Mary, it began ominously as love and hate are closely linked
I wonder if it is something I have done, Mary thought, or is it my essential self he hates and why now after all these years?
You are always explaining things to me as if I am  dumb
Oh, dear, Mary thought.The perils of being a keen mathematician and   also a foolish woman are many
I have got  more and more annoyed with you especially since you threw that brick through my Windows.I am not coming  tonight to be with you.You can get stuffed you crackling font.And I shall  never forgive you as I never do forgive anyone even if I made a mistake.I can’t bear the shame and humiliation
Does he mean I broke his new Dell  Windows 10 computer, she asked herself
Or a window in his apartment?
But he lives on the second floor and at my age, I can’t even carry a brick let alone hurls  one so high and so accurately
Still, he is  old so someone smashing his windows would be disturbing to him and make him angry

Or is the word BRICK a metaphor? It might mean his self esteem is shattered  like shop windows in riots  often  have been
As for his language, it reminded her that religious people tend to swear more and also commit more sexual offences,  or get found out more

Mary] looked down at her once beautiful blue  tweed skirt which had a few moth holes in it
Oh, well. if he is not coming to visit  I can keep wearing this holey skirt.He doesn’t like older women in jeans as he prefers looking at young women’s bottoms despite his religion.So I would have had to wear my one remaining decent  velvet winter skirt.I am too lazy to want to change.
Suddenly   her late husband’s former mistress Annie ran in
She was wearing a magenta wool tracksuit and green stiletto heels with pink ankle socks topped by a purple velvet trench coat with matching lipstick
Good heavens, Mary cried.You look very attractive, where did you get that coat from?
I got it in a jumble sale at the church, Annie muttered.Those new people are very rich and only wear clothes twice!
I shall have to come, said Mary, look at my skirt!She burst into tears which was a rare event.
Her little cat Emile was terrified.
Don’t cry, mother he whispered
.I will sleep with you tonight if that idiot is not coming
What! Don’t tell me that Peter has broken up with you.He seems  so charming,delightful and well educated and his works of art are brilliant  and innovative.Still  it was better than a text message
Yes, he just sent me an email calling me a  crackling  font
Perhaps he is mixing you up with someone else.Anyway, if he is heterosexual he should love a nice  female organ or two
That’s too rational,Annie dear.Only the gynaecologist loves it.She took some photos again!
Good grief.Did she show you? asked Annie.
No, said Mary.I don’t want to see it but since  I’ve been going there for 3 years it seems bigger than before.Maybe  the photos to be put into a medical journal.To think  my memorial will not be my face  but my vulva.Someone said vulva  is a rude word and I should say vagina but that makes no sense to me and it is an error anyway scientifically
She’s not done anything to make it bigger?
No, it must be all the attention it gets that makes it feel bigger in my mind
Still , without a  boyfriend, it’s not even worth thinking of.
Well, you can DIY, Annie told her but  for us women it’s the lying down gazing into someone’s eyes and smiling that matters more than the rest
Emile miaowed: Look into my eyes, mother.Or can’t Annie?
I’ll be getting an Electra complex, Mary told him.You don’t  do erotic things with  your mother nor with a lady who once slept with your dead husband  while he was still alive!
Well we cats don’t  know our cat mothers s
o we might have a good time with them unknowing
If only I were a cat, Mary muttered as she wept again clutching a  box of Kleenex for  Sad Women
Ring 999, Emile.Annie said.We need help now
Hello, my mum’s boyfriend has split with her by email.Can you send an ambulance for the computer, she hit it with a shoe and broke the screen
OK, will do, the lady replied courteously.Would you like some meringues too?
My goodness, since Brexit the NHS is even better.I should have asked for a steak and kidney pie as well.And mashed carrots.

And so say all of us

 

Is it funny?

14570355_786290034844210_5134156984885843768_n.jpgCan I have a  disengagement ring?
Just don’t use the phone.

Do you like gold wedding rings?
What alternatives are there? Shackles?

i  just agreed  to a divorce
From whom?
He didn’t say but his number is on my phone.I am getting  a million pounds settlement if I send him my credit card number by text

I want a stay at home mother.
Why?
So I can go out!
Hire someone
That’s ironic

 

 

Comic poetry

pexels-photo-221433.jpeghttps://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/dear-advice-columnist

On Marriage

Epithalamion? Not too long back
I was being ironic about “wives.”
It’s very well to say, creation thrives
on contradiction, but that’s a fast track
shifted precipitately into. Tacky,
some might say, and look mildly appalled. On
the whole, it’s one I’m likely to be called on.
Explain yourself or face the music, Hack.
No law books frame terms of this covenant.
It’s choice that’s asymptotic to a goal,
which means that we must choose, and choose, and choose
momently, daily. This moment my whole
trajectory’s toward you, and it’s not losing
momentum. Call it anything we want.

Modernism and postmodernism

pexels-photo-398257.jpegpexels-photo-401683.jpeghttp://www.textetc.com/modernist/postmodernism.html

Extract:

Groundlessness

Art, politics, public service, life in the great institutions — in none of these could be found any bedrock of unassailable probity. Serious shortcomings could be found in sciencemathematicslinguistics, sociology, philosophy — in whatever purported to be true knowledge. All involved assumptions, cultural understandings, agreements as to what counted as important, and how that importance should be assessed. Even our language was imprecise, communal and secondhand. Where did reality stop and interpretation begin? In truth there was no essential difference between art and life: both were fictions. Was psychoanalysis a myth? Very well, so then were science and the humanities. All were self-supporting and self-referencing variably coherent systems with truths that were not transportable.

No doubt history has some ticklish problems of interpretation, but few suppose that the holocaust never happened. Even admirers of Paul de Mann were suddenly aroused from their solipsist musings when damaging evidence was found for their hero’s earlier support of Nazi ideas. No one can see how the exterior world can be unmediated by our senses and understandings, but the philosophic problems of asserting that reality is entirely created by language and intellectual concepts are formidable indeed. Science has its procedures and limitations, but its supposed “myths ” work in ways other myths do not. All disciplines have their own view of the world, but they are not equivalent or equally acceptable. Postmodernism largely overlooks how reality constrains actions, language and art.

Formlessness

Whence comes this desire for autonomy, for circumscribing form, for aesthetic shape? Look clearly at art and the dissonances will appear just as prominently. The New Criticism and traditional aesthetics simply left them out of account. Deviation from the expected, foregrounding, departures from the conventional are the essence of art, as Ramon Jacobson and the Russian formalists demonstrated. Art will be much stronger for being shapeless, indefinite, even incoherent. Nor need we stick rigidly to genres, or refrain from pastiche and parody. Art is the whole world, and the more that can be included the richer the artwork.

But of course,pexels-photo-136720.jpeg no such essence of art was ever demonstrated. No doubt the New Critics did speak too glibly of aesthetic harmonies and tension resolution, and poems could always be read that way, given sufficient ingenuity. Yet there are limits. The differences between a competent and an outstanding work of art may be difficult to prove to a first-year student, but everyone attests to the increasing discrimination that comes with love of the subject and prolonged study. It is a common observation that art begins in selection, and that an etching or black and white photograph may possess powers in proportion to what they exclude. If that is denied — and it is denied by Postmodernist — then many contemporary artworks will have no appeal to the more traditionally-minded, which is indeed the case.

Like refugees, we come to love alone

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Underneath the shallow pools lies sand
Where shells are  fractured by the ocean’s blows
We  soon  learn what  being alive demands

To bare feet on sunny days beckoned
The warm wet trickles in between the toes
Underneath the shallow pools lies sand

In whose sums are human  kisses kenned
Calculation, not so bleak it shows
We learn by pain, true living makes demands

God allows the  abacus unchained
To sum us up as if we are unknown
Underneath the pools,  are these his hands?

Who will be allowed and who detained?
Like refugees, we come to love alone
We try  to be alive, despite the pain

Our hearts are fragile shells, not heavy stones
We, soft flesh, enraptured by framed bones.
Darkly on the  beach we humans stand
The fretting waves cry out with love’s demands

The shells and stones shine damply  in the wet

Crunching through the pebbles on the beach
The shells and stones shine damply  in the wet
They slip and slide beneath my  sandalled feet

Underneath, in places we can’t reach
Live tiny creatures on which humans step
Crunching through the pebbles on the beach

 

Salty air like sunshine colours bleach
The  neutered stones and shells  are lovely yet
They slip and slide beneath my  sandalled feet

We murder without knowing what we teach
Human greed, dark  oceans of regret
Scrunching through the pebbles on the beach

The smallest  of all creatures cannot screech
Say humans acts  still shapeless  are a threat
Worlds  slip and slide beneath my   first world feet

The blurred edge of the sea and sand’s not set
The boundaries   make a  space for what’s not yet
Loving are my memories of the beach
They slip and slide  in  wondrous retrospect

Postmodern poetry

26166567_1051146425025235_5745933140779249866_n.jpghttp://www.eng.fju.edu.tw/Literary_Criticism/postmodernism/pm_poetry.html

Postmodern Poetry

“Superior Lake” by Lorine Niedecker as an Example

  • Conte, Joseph M. Unending Design: the Form of Postmodern Poetry. Introduction.
  • McCorkle, James. ¡§The Inscription of Postmodernism in Poetry.¡¨
Language Self Modernism Postmodernism
General concepts about serial & procedural forms Serial form Procedural form “Lake Superior”

Taiwanese Postmodern Poetry (an Outline in Chinese)

Louise Chen, 11/26/1998

Postmodern poetics respond to the condition of the world. In an age of instant telecommunications and metropolitan life, the postmodern serial and procedural forms attempt to accommodate the overwhelming diversity of messages and the lapse of a grand order that is replaced by an arbitrary personal order.

I. Language

A.  In postmodern poetics, there is a paradigmatic shift from the idea that language is
transparent to the disclosure of its physicality, its intimacy, its obdurate persistence, and its
paradoxical fragility. (M 43)

B. Reader¡Xpoem:

The reader’s position is contingent upon the poem and the poem¡¦s existence hinges upon
the reader and the varieties of knowledge the reader brings to the poem¡KThe adequation of
thing and sign has lapsed with the realization of the arbitrary condition of language. (M 43)

II. Self

A. Contemporary poetry:

1. Contemporary poetry positions its perspectives from a persona (who is often autobiographic) within a defined narrative structure.
2. Contemporary poetry avoids self-criticism and establishes itself as a singled unified voice. (M 48)

B. Postmodern poetry:

1. Postmodernist poetics suggests an ongoing reinterpretation of the self in the context of others. It specifically investigates the ethical-or self-critical capacity of language and its relationship to identity. (M 46)2. The critique of the privileged and entitled ¡§I¡¨ is central to postmodern poetics. While not a wholesale endorsement of many theoretic claims to he death of the author or the abandonment of intention, postmodern poetry nonetheless insists on a re-visioning of the authorial voice and its reception. (M 46)

Read the article

If the cat speaks, purr it

If the cat speaks, purr it
The King won’t get his horse to speak to you.
I nearly had kittens when the cat wanted to mate.
My nervous system is involuntary
I am introverted and good at yoga  based topology
i  took my final degree with a thermometer
I never could spell Schrodinger nor could I tell anyone.
I could try psycho-analysis or compromise and be a psycho.
I wanted bereavement counselling so I married a dying man.
I like reading, it’s just the words that annoy me.
My husband slept in the shed as he wanted me to get a boyfriend.Preferably bisexual.Anyway, the cat didn’t like that.He had a very yelling nature.

MATHS
I spent 9 years studying maths and I realised it’s basically notation for notions
If you estimate you can run across the road before that fast car can hit you, you are unconsciously doing calculus.The hard part is making it conscious.

 

Such marvelled worlds can’t be designed

Looking at the garden as a world
The overgrown becomes a rich terrain
Where myriad living forms seem uncontrolled
But  make a balanced whole in shades of green

What I hear are calls from nesting birds
The sway of  breeze among forsythia’s gold
The patterned  snails, the slugs cannot be heard
Nor can the slow worm’s wiser words be told

The  pattern is a natural life, a wood
Where Cambridge monks had ponds  and trees
Ten Cedars tall were chopped till dead
But still remain their long striped bees

Small in your eyes, infinite in mine
Such marvelled worlds can’t be designed

 

Great quotations about the writing process

14440649_776415159165031_3908335990492769132_n.jpghttp://inventingrealityeditingservice.typepad.com/inventing_reality_editing/2015/08/five-great-quotations-about-the-writing-process.html

 

From Rob Bignell’s Blog

Undervaluing sleep,darkness and reverie

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BBC News image

http://www.vancouverobserver.com/blogs/betweenus/writer-urges-us-reclaim-our-sleep

 

At issue here is our inner life. In a chapter called “The Social Divide,” Duff describes the widening gap between sleep and waking consciousness. She briefly traces the history of the marginalization of not only our own subjective experience, but also the mythologies that once provided its context.

“I was most familiar with Greek mythology,” she explained. “[The Greeks] paid a lot of attention to sleep and dreams and how that material is worked in us. I was surprised to find out how my Eastern philosophical traditions had studied sleep. Three or four thousand years [later], we think we’ve just discovered it. But there’s so much folklore and cultural life passed down from generation to generation. Everything that mothers learn from their mothers to promote sleep [like] lullabies.

“With the Enlightenment we sort of erased our awareness. Darkness became aligned with [what] we were tying to rise above—emotions, feelings. We wanted rational control, and you can’t control sleep. Sleep is one of the ways we return to nature. By responding to alternating phases of light and darkness, we return to our natural cycles, and join with all of life.”

Sleep and health

It’s no news that regular sleep is important to our overall health.  In her work as a counsellor, Duff has found increasingly that a good night’s sleep is instrumental—even essential—to our emotional well-being. As part of her intake process, she routinely asks her clients how they are sleeping.

“Once they got more sleep,” she said, “their issues became more manageable. Even bipolar disorder and major depression are often preceded by six months of sleep problems.”

On the other hand, as she states in the book, the “effects of sleep disruption on mood, perception, and behavior are so strong” physicians sometimes misdiagnose patients as having psychiatric disorders when those patients “simply need better sleep.”

Along with diagnoses come medications. In a chapter on the commercialization of sleep, Duff notes: “The use of sleeping pills among adults between twenty and forty-five doubled between 2000 and 2004. In 2011, 60 million Americans filled prescriptions for sleep medications, up from 46 million in 2006.”

Statistics that I find deeply disturbing.

The problem is not so much the amount of sleep we get or how we get it, as it is our relationship with sleep.

“We want to commodify it,” said Duff. “[We want sleep to] help our days be better rather than offering its own vantage point. It’s about productivity. We keep going over the day’s events, but we process them with a different mind, much more associative, which works more by Gestalt. That’s why people will come up with solutions [when they’re asleep]. It’s non-conscious processing, which goes on when we’re awake as well. But we don’t pay attention to that either.”

Duff points out that the problem isn’t with science, but with “scientism”. She is glad that scientists are paying attention to sleep and making serious studies, but she worries about them “jumping on the bandwagon of making money—selling us machines and pills.”

She encourages us to take back our sleep, which she likens to a “n

And poignancy

For three years I’ve not seen the apple tree
Although it must be there, I cannot look.
It’s full of blossom in its industry

My heart  has faltered,  memories besiege
I cannot escape into  my  books
For three years I’ve not seen the apple tree

I might pray for life  or be deceived
By guests who want to sample what I cook
It’s full of butter, cream  and poignancy

When will my watch be over, when my plea?
I hate to read the papers.see the crooks
This year I shall  see my apple tree

Can I  be consoled in my deep grief
In meadows full of poppies and corn stooks?
Apple blossom  shows the trees’ belief

When he died,  the pillars  marble shook
We bent down and kissed the Holy Book
For three years I’ve not seen the apple tree
Eve is  weeping  in deep mystery

 

 

To Walberswick we went in that old boat

Th broken lamp   once lit our little night
In silent harmony, we read, or sewed and wrote
The smaller cheaper  lamp now  gives  me light

I wish the shining lamp was in my sight
Oh, your  mellow voice. I miss its notes
The broken lamp   once lit our little night

God does not assist me in my plight
Nor does he send me Joseph’s coloured coat
A smaller cheaper  lamp now  gives  me light

Remember Southwold and the river Blythe?
To Walberswick we went in that old boat
There we bought the lamp and blue bowls bright

Now memory is  of  teal green seas at Hythe
The burning  stubble, Saxon cliffs well-wrought
My smaller  world  seems withered, over scythed

Joy and sorrow twined teach  nothing’s bought
The sacred flame extinguished can’t be caught
The broken lamp   brings sorrow   to my sight
But shadowed memories  of our life  ignite

 

As we are poets


I wear my heart displayed upon my face.
Attentive readers find their meaning there..
Where feelings thought too deep to be expressed
Can shine demurely where they do not scare.

As Freud observed we're never quite disguised
Betrayal is our body's real motif
The message comes conspicuous from the eyes..
Bright sparkles or your tears of blackest grief.

The answer to a question seems to leap
 Yes or No is visibly revealed.
The blush that spreads so fast across the cheeks
Both bold and shy unable to conceal.

Your face tells me you lied when Love you wrote.
Yet let us sing our songs as we are poets.

The gold forsythia gleams like holy fire

The gold forsythia gleams like  holy fire
Deep within its heart  rest  nesting birds
Sun so bright is free and not for hire

We need new Spring when  human  tongues turn liars
As politicians  prance  with gun and sword
The gold forsythia gleams like  hellish fire

The natural world is  breath and so inspired
But where is God and where the sacred Word?
Sun so bright is free and not for hire

 

Sleeping Beauty lay within deep briars
Yet  silent bombs destroy    the heart unheard
The gold forsythia gleams like    warning fire

For the risen God, we join the choir
Singing for creation with  new words
Sun  delights, is free and  makes no pyre

Glory in the little nesting birds
Singing blackbirds, love is everywhere
The gold forsythia gleams like   undreamed fire
Sun so well endowed  makes well our eyes

Slighter than a cobweb’s weave of silk

Chiloschista-parishii_2018-2
Orchid copyright Mike Flemming published with permission
When our skin feels  vulnerable and frail
Slighter than a cobweb’s weave of silk
Then doubt may hold us back like iron rails

Fearful of bad news in our new mail
Our mood swings like a seesaw at fast tilt
Then our hearts feel vulnerable and frail

Like a frightened dog with drooping tail
Bad news  strikes like a  sword plunged to the hilt
Pain may hold us back like  prison rails

We sentence our own souls  and give no bail
Fearful of the strong, from iron built
Oh, how our hearts feel vulnerable and frail

Like a shoe encumbered with a nail
Our being harms us  through our own bad will
Pain  imprisons us like iron rails

Fear of judgement and our end term bill
Takes from us our goodness and goodwill
When our skin feels  delicate and frail
Then doubt may trap us in our self-made jails

 

 

The mirror crackles

The sun  enfolds me  in its wealth of  light
Caressing eyes and making  love seem right
Forgot,the  lonely darkness in a trance
When spring begins its equinoxal dance
Forgotten too is  how the frost can bite
And how warm lethargy  turns day to night
As we lie indoors like parasites
Into  lighted windows, I will glance
A minor crime when  brightness   draws my sight
Here’s a drying rack with clothes  mutant
Here’s a sill entirely filled with plants
Imagine you’re  a spy and see our plight
The mirror crackles, full of long-held spite

 

The politics of poetry

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https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/articles/69080/the-politics-of-poetry

 

“Many objections can be made to these assumptions, but it’s important to note first that poetry and politics are both matters of verbal persuasion—that is, both have strong connections to the art of rhetoric. Admittedly, poets and politicians are typically trying to persuade us of very different things, yet the two worlds have far more in common with each other than either does with, for instance, the world of Brazilian jujitsu. In light of that, one would think poets might get a little more respect from political speakers, and that political speakers might refrain from comparing their purely verbal existence to the decidedly non-verbal world of physical violence.

But they don’t. Instead, the relationship between American poetry and American politics is confused and confusing, with politicians sometimes describing the highest moments in political life as “poetic” (“I have a dream”), and other times offering up poetry as a symbol of empty talk. And of course, American poets are even more conflicted. Rare is the poet who doesn’t view himself as deeply invested in political life, and yet the sloppy, compromised, and frequently idiotic business of democracy—which is, for all its flaws, the way most political changes occur in this country—rarely attracts the attention of our best poets. Is this the inevitable order of things? Or are all the talkers simply talking past each other?

* * *
We might first ask: Why are they talking about each other at all? We don’t spend much time wondering what poetry has to do with neuroscience or television writing or college basketball, yet these are important areas of American life that involve assertions about truth, form, morality, and the nature of culture—all subjects regularly claimed as poetry’s turf. Yet the connection between poetry and politics interests us in ways that the arguably more obvious connection between poetry and linguistics does not. Why? ”

 

Read the article

Poignant images

23559617_1025322080941003_5487127458570330672_n.jpg14907045_803614796445067_2351021488420284915_n14955824_803614813111732_7547346713969399247_nThe lamp here has caused me pain because I loved it.My husband fell over and broke it just before he died.It snapped off and the neck is very narrow so I can’t remove the fitting to replace it

After all this time, I have decided to keep it just as a  piece of pottery  to show the fragility of life

I thought it was a disability

Chiloschista-parishii_2018.jpgI
told the teacher I was very tense so I can’t learn puncturation,She said I might be schizophrenic so I offered her my largactil but she grows her own
You get put into a psychiatric unit if you  annoy or frighten a lot of people.It’s easy to do it so how come the FB chap Zuckerman is still at large?
You have to give people what they want otherwise they put you out with the cat
For success in life , keep  dreaming
My mother took me down a peg or two but my coat has no hanger up loop.
The teacher gave me some sweets and I said,I hope it’s   contextual wrecks for both  of us
I never resented  his advances.I thought it was a disability
If men like women, why do they  trespass onto them?
Forgive us our trespasses, that’s for men only

 

Unreliable sin is when the other person won’t join you

He emits sin daily
Go to Expression
What,Amass?
Can sin be mortal and where do I die after it?
Convenient sin is not as bad as Borstal
Menial sin is lowering to the pride of the  sinner
Remedial sin classes on Fri 8 pm weekly
Agreeable sin list £5 this week
Undeniable sin is public
Unreliable sin is when the other person won’t join you.
You are liable for sin tax if you are of working age.
Did you know God permits sin so we can have  free wills
Do not omit a sin on Sundays before Mass
Confirmation bias is worrying the Bishop
We’ll confirm you  unless you use tampax,Then we will throw you out!You little bleeders
They say the Bishop is more humble than I am and after greeting him I think that is  the clue
He  sexually abused the mop in the kitchen as its head reminded  him of women’s hair.Is it legal?
He  never watches porn as  he can fantasise, you see.Well, you can’t actually see it but you do understand my dreaming?
Isn’t the alphabet great? It helps us to mate daily

A puncture in my mind

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Collage from sketches by Katherine

I saw he had a puncture in his self esteem
She was too depressed to benefit from the gifts of depression
I saw three ladies in the hall, so I said,Is this a public convenience?
Then there was a man in the kitchen with a gas mask.I said,I don’t speak Russian so how did you get in?
Secretly I believe I am so important that I am the only person here who the government are protecting,including themselves.I will feel lonely though.
He fell into the bog and learned to swim in it
“Make friends with your inner enemy.” the best book of 2018
“How to fool yourself “is a rather silly title for a novel,
I saw a sign:Please leave the grass. [But where?]
I thought Shakespeare was a sonnet
To sum up, algebra leads to  the atom bomb so what will geometry lead to?
How I married a maths-phobic and learned to love him anyway
Finally,self esteem is more easily punctured than humility