Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

You’ll get eczema there as well

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Ads:
Weetabix,weetabix
Throw it on the ceiling to see how well it sticks.

Go   smirk on an egg

Whack, keep off my leg.

Ladies, ladies:
Do you leak and fear opprobrium?
Buy our special  pads then stick ’em on your bum

Forgot to wash your dirty hair today
Spray it with  our Polywash, it’ll look like stacks of hay

Do you fear your private parts might smell?
Wash with our carbolic soap and you’ll get eczema there as well

 

Why not buy a tube of our cortisone cream today?
It cures stuff like red nettle rash and sometimes men turn grey.

Heavy menstruation gives the government much  tax
Take ibuprofen now and you won’t need damn tampax

Home office?

Short of  needed space to store your  paper stacks
Glue them to the ceiling with pre-owned, large tampax.

Running out of printer ink is an evil sin
Sign up with your provider here and meet your evil twin

Empty your inbox, forward all your mail
We can  let you hire a thousand learned snails

OLDER PESTS? Press here. HERE

COLDER PESTS? Emigrate!

What is poetry? A very good article

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http://www.poetry.org/whatis.htm

 

“What is generally accepted as “great” poetry is debatable in many cases. “Great” poetry usually follows the characteristics listed above, but it is also set apart by its complexity and sophistication. “Great” poetry generally captures images vividly and in an original, refreshing way, while weaving together an intricate combination of elements like theme tension, complex emotion, and profound reflective thought. For examples of what is considered “great” poetry, visit the Pulitzer prize and Nobel prize sections for poetry.

The Greek verb ποιεω [poiéo (= I make or create)], gave rise to three words: ποιητης [poiet?s (= the one who creates)], ποιησις [poíesis (= the act of creation)] and ποιημα [poíema (= the thing created)]. From these we get three English words: poet (the creator), poesy (the creation) and poem (the created). A poet is therefore one who creates and poetry is what the poet creates. The underlying concept of the poet as creator is not uncommon. For example, in Anglo-Saxon a poet is a scop (shaper or maker) and in Scots makar.

Sound in poetry

Perhaps the most vital element of sound in poetry is rhythm. Often the rhythm of each line is arranged in a particular meter. Different types of meter played key roles in Classical, Early European, Eastern and Modern poetry. In the case of free verse, the rhythm of lines is often organized into looser units of cadence.”

Change my ways

I am caught. a wanderer in a maze
Interminable and long my lonesome path
Shall such malign confusion end my days?

Yet worse than this, is work that’s too  low paid
The people making clothes can show no wrath
They too are caught. like wanderers in a maze

Capital has made the East our slaves.
In the stores , grown women  grab and laugh
Shall such malign intrusion fill slaves’ days?

When we shop for clothes, they say we graze
When we buy the clothes who hires the staff?
We are caught. like wanderers in a maze

The only way to make things right is war
The Asians will be coming ,no use Mass.
Shall our malign intrusion end their way?

Wait, wait, they say, the bitterness will pass
But will our exploitation not harass?
I am a lonely wanderer in a maze
Shall my feeble fear not change my ways?

 

 

Dreams, my wordless thoughts.

 I have filled my mind with dreams and thoughts
I have drawn conclusions that seem real
What’s of value’s not by effort bought.

As Ted Hughes said, his fishing was the sport
Which brought both meditation and a meal.
I have studied minds and dreams and thoughts

I see, like that, new images are caught.
In silence and in noticing the feel
What’s of value’s not by effort bought.

What we find may not be what we sought
At first it may not show its wise appeal
I have found a mind by dreams and thoughts

In the night the images take flight.
God’s lioness destroys what is congealed
What’s of value’s not by effort wrought.

Like a butterfly, a flowering dart
Of love and beauty which was once concealed
I have found my mind by dreams, my wordless thoughts.
What’s of value’s not by effort bought.

The courage to write

IMG_0001You have to be brave to write because all you have ever felt, experienced or studied can be drawn up into your consciousness whilst you write.A friend of mine who is a writer put it like this.
“It has taken me to places I’d rather not have gone to.”
However she said she manages to live through it.At the time I had only written mathematical works so I didn’t understand what she meant.But I have now had some experiences which give me a hint of what she was trying to say.If you’ve had many fearsome experiences then these feelings may come up when you loosen the grip  of consciousness.
However I have also found a spirit of laughter in me which is new.Step into the darkness without knowing.It’s only by going there that help may come.But the fear is that it won’t.You can’t get an insurance policy beforehand.
Are you stepping into a void or will there be something there?
Also in drawing or painting, it can take courage to draw what you perceive.I found that especially when drawing buildings and studying perspective.I’ll see if I can find a drawing to illustrate it.I have the feeling,
“No, No.It can’t be this steep a gradient.It’s too much”
And in being inside a building like Westminster Abbey or Durham Cathedral trying to assimilate the vision, the huge spaces and the power and size of the shapes can create awe or even terror.One can lose one’s sense of self entirely.But it can also be revivifying when one has returned.The fear is that one will not return.
Maybe it’s the same with relating to people as well?

Dover Beach BY MATTHEW ARNOLD

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.
Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
  • Related

  The fretting waves cry out with love’s demand

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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 is our living reckoned?
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

Yeats “The Second Coming”

http://www.potw.org/archive/potw351.html39)

THE SECOND COMING

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The beast

Should an older woman with a UTI
Buy a pair of trousers which she cannot wash and dry?
Wear three pairs of knickers and a culotte underslip
Don’t run to the lavatory in case you take a trip
Falling off the stairs is not my idea of death
I’d like to be in a bed when I take my final breath.
They say to hang your trousers outside on a tree
The air will cleanse them with a breeze while watched by startled bees
Or buy a handheld steamer as it will kill the germs
But never use it when your habitat is filled with garden worms
In the long run, it’s easier to throw the trousers out
As otherwise, I’ll wonder if I smell of doubt
I  could improve my posture or train assertively
In case the men harass me when I’m on TV.
Stare at those old demons with a sharp bright eye
Tell them they are off to hell as soon as they shall die.
Jesus mixed with sinners but not those powerful apes
He is kindness incarnate to people who’ve been duped.
The fiery angels   coming carry silver swords
Apocalyptic visions can hardly be real words
Women’s boundaries violated  as if we  have no worth
The Beast  is slouching nearer, waiting to give birth.

 

Ode to a steam iron

Oh, steam iron how I love your heat
And how you make my clothes so neat.
A flat iron is no use to me
For no open fire is here, you see.
And though I liked the flickering coals
I feared those faces that looked droll.
They were in the flames and peered
At anyone who ventured near.
I wonder how the people past
Kept their trousers neat and pressed.
Now I’ve bought a hand steamer
To keep the germs off my femurs
I didn’t like to say, my crotch
In case the devil is on watch.
I never ever used to think
My body perfume was distinct.
And yet it may appeal to men
I don’t want to try again.
One old husband is enough
Though he did enjoy a cough
He had asthma and bad eyes
Looking out with wild surmise.
He saw my golden hair float by
As by his window, it did fly
All at once he fell for me
And we sat by an apple tree.
His clothes were wrinkled so I thought
I would iron them for a start.
He could darn and polish floors
Cook lamb chops and apple cores.
So my steam iron sees much use
I wonder if it’s self-abuse.
For as a woman feminist
I’m not meant to iron vests
I’m not meant to boil men’s socks
Nor underpants of interlock
I’m not meant to make them tea.
What a naughty person, me!
I must confess these wicked sins
Then I’ll polish my cake tins.
Satan wants me down in hell
Don’t say he needs work as well!
As he was an angel proud
I’ll save him into One Drive Cloud.

A man to fit the pyjamas

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Stan was a very evil man because he winked at his wife before dying and she had no chance to respond.
That is so typical of Stan , she said to Annie, her best friend.
Well, at least he went peacefully.Annie replied in a kindly tone
And to think I had just bought him 6 new pairs of pyjamas.
You can’t blame him for that.You always buy too much, Annie murmured politely
Well, I suppose I like to be prepared, Mary muttered.I felt so helpless as he went thinner and thinner.
What are you going to do with them all, Annie whispered.
There’s only one solution.I’ll have to find a man to fit the pyjamas and marry him
That’s a strange way of choosing a new husband, Annie said in a shocked voice.
In the end however rational we try to be, life is down to luck.
Yes, didn’t Churchill say, chance favours the prepared mind?
It wasn’t Churchill,it was Blaise Pascal.Mary told her in  of voice rich with wisdom
Well, why not marry him? He sounds intriguing
He’s dead, Mary responded succinctly
Oh, what a pity.He sounded just right for you, Annie said tearfully.Are we going to the funeral?~
I am afraid he died before we were born , Mary said in  an anguished tone.
Well, he’s no use.Anyone else you fancy?How about Dante? Annie screamed
Which Dante do you mean?I thought he was Italian, Mary informed
her.
It’s not far by plane, though Brexit might be a problem, Annie said wisely.
Let’s be realistic.No dead , great genius will be revived by the Lord to marry me.Mary said as if she were lecturing to a big class on differential geometry and its use in economics.No wonder we had the Depression
That might be blasphemy, Annie informed her.After all, if God is omnipotent he can do anything at all.
To me, he sometimes seems incompetent, said Mary wildly.And of all the lonely people in the world, why should he aid me in my grief? Anway male geniuses are very demanding.I think a cook or chef might be more practical.
Oh, look, we’ve missed Mass again.
We’ve not been for 40 years and just when we decided to go we started talking  about these powerful creatures   and a husband for you
Never mind, why don’t we wait till Xmas?
And so say all of us.

Darkness

 When we have strangled virtue at her birth
And evil thoughts are all that we can find
We cannot take a draught of cheerful mirth;
Escape from this black prison in the mind.

When friendship and esteem have been foregone
And lone as buzzards circling are our hearts.
Remembrance of past joys will never come
And soon from us, the last love will depart.

When wickedness draws down our minds to die
And hatred seems to cloud the very sky
When we don’t look to see the geese fly by
When all we do is moan and weep and sigh

Then let’s remember all we have not lost;
Knot firm our souls till this dark grief has passed

Beauty and affliction

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There are only two things that pierce the human heart.
One is beauty. The other is affliction.
~Simone Weil

 

Simone Weil

“The principal value of the collection is simply that anything from Simone Weil’s pen is worth reading. It is perhaps not the book to start one’s acquaintance with this writer—Waiting for God, I think, is the best for that. The originality of her psychological insight, the passion and subtlety of her theological imagination , the fecundity of her exegetical talents are unevenly displayed here. Yet the person of Simone Weil is here as surely as in any of her other books—the person who is excruciatingly identical with her ideas, the person who is rightly regarded as one of the most uncompromising and troubling witnesses to the modern travail of the spirit.”

Resources for beginner poets

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https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetry-101-resources-beginners

 

https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/someone-reading-book-sign-order-world

 

“Is there a right time to read each book? A point of developing consciousness that corresponds with perfect ripeness to a particular poet or novel? And if that is the case, how many times in our lives did we make the match? I heard someone say, at a party, that D. H. Lawrence should be read during one’s late teens and early twenties. Since I was nearing thirty at the time, I made up my mind never to read him. And I never have. Connoisseurs of reading are very silly people. But as Thomas Merton said, one day you wake up and realize religion is ridiculous and that you will stick with it anyway. What love is ever any different?”

Stats

At Uni I got an Aegrotat   because I had a sick sense of humour
When I got married my husband didn’t even know my name.Neither did I.
I worked in a male order firm in the summer holidays.Then at Xmas, I  delivered the male myself.We only had one in stock.
I also worked in a care home for older people.One died.But soon we got another.
I have a problem.I sing like a boiling kettle.So people expect to be in hot water.
I got another Aegrotat.I was mentally sick.I didn’t like to pick up books.I was  unable to make distinctions like pens and ink….Freud said it is  copulation, you see.That’s why children have to type on computers.One day they will type on paper and then we’ll see. Meanwhile they have real sex as soon as it’s legal.Is sex legal?
Did Freud really understand the Unconscious?

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When I attained puberty I kept drumming my fingers on the sideboard and the table.I couldn’t stop until the Devil came out and asked me for my instructions.
What does he think I am, a Catholic priest?

I’ve been sorting out my books.None are horror stories except Peter Pan.

I never read maths books unless I couldn’t solve the problems.

I love Aegrotats, Thermostats and Acrobats.And cats on mats

Robinson Crusoe

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Digital art by Katherine

How infinitely good . . . providence is, which has provided in its government of mankind such narrow bounds to his sight and knowledge of things; and though he walks in the midst of so many thousand dangers, the sight of which, if discovered to him, would distract his mind and sink his spirits, he is kept serene and calm, by having the events of things hid from his eyes, and knowing nothing of the dangers which surround him. (Defoe, p. 163)

The hoards of hordes

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Photo from Mike Flemming’s blog.Will post link later

Personally.I hoard hordes of admirers’ letters by my bed in a big box to read when bored by what I see on the blackboard in my head.That’s the fate of beautiful maths teachers.So many admirers, but so few understood my love of pi.Actually, nobody  did. I think I was abnormal but never mind. 

Usually, I hoarded my pocket money but when Mum said that hordes of barbarians were coming to the football match.I decided to spend it all before they arrived Never did chocolate taste so good.Then I felt sickened by my greed.Then I must have died as I can’t recall anything else.

When hordes of men walked to the town hall, the Mayor took all his hoarded goodies and fled.East I think.

When I am bored I write poems on a  board.

Have you anything to declare? Yes, God is Light
How did you weigh him?
You can’t weigh light waves,
How about particles?
They move so fast!

The fishing boats at dawn

The fishing boats like seeds on morning sea
Floated at a distance  from the shore
The sun’s rise right behind them, poetry

Standing at the window where we see
Ancient practice carried out once more
From fishing boats like seeds on morning sea

In the flowers  outside the window, honey bees
Murmur with the sea  like a small choir
The sun’s rise right behind them, poetry

The scent of  many roses rises free
While rusting in the beach one sees war’s wire
While fishing boats are seeds on morning sea

This  flat coast might give ships entry free
A  place for Nazi troops  and battles  dire
The sun so bright adds  insecurity

I fear that our lost Empire made us liars
Unconscious  of the hatred we inspired
The fishing boats  are seeds on morning sea
The sun may rise  behind them warily

Alabaster  mixed with shreds of bone

Which is of  greater value to the lone,
They  suffer despite access to the web
A jewelled ring or a sea-polished stone?

Days of love when by the sea we roamed
May mean as much as love shared in a bed
Which is of greater value to the lone?

A home computer and a good smartphone
A thoughtful book forever to be read,
A jewelled ring or a sea-polished stone

Alabaster  mixed with shreds of bone
Found at Dunwich, telling as a rib
Which is of higher value to the lone

As the rounds of running tides brings poems
Let us hold  in memory  what we had
Both jewelled ring and such sea-polished stones

As I blunder, writing poems at home,
I wonder, who shall know such love again
Which can bring more comfort to the lone
A jewelled ring or a sea-polished stone?

Horde:Oxford dicitonary online

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horde

NOUN

  • 1derogatory A large group of people.

    ‘a horde of beery rugby fans’
    More example sentences
    Synonyms
    1. 1.1 An army or tribe of nomadic warriors.
      ‘Tartar hordes’
      More example sentences
      Synonyms

  • 2Anthropology 
    A small loosely knit social group typically consisting of about five families.

    Example sentences

Axes ring

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 jokes.
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  wonderful?

News for Newts

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1.When do you use a colon, the teacher asked?
The girl responded: after our food is digested, until we can evacuate the remains of the prey.
2 What is a full stop, the teacher continued?
Death, answered the child
3.What’s a comma?
A coma spelt wrongly.
4.What is a question mark ?
It’s how high a grade the question gets.
5.What is a sentence?
It is what inferior criminals get.The superior ones get away with everything
6 What is syntax?
Is it a fine for adulterers or companies that evade tax? Or is it a Saint called Axe?
7.What is a paragraph?
Well, it’s got something in common with paramilitary.And with geometry.
The War in Mathematics.
8.What is the Platonic Realm?
It’s heavenly with no sex.
9.What is the Socratic Method?
Is it like the Rhythm Method but harder.Like controlling conceptions by the intellect alone?
10.What is the Solar System?
It’s Central Heating using solar panels on the roof.
11 What is the Milky Way?
Is it bottle feeding babies?
12.Am I astute?
I don’t know what a Stute is.Is it  a relative of the Newts?
13 Am I a tutor?
Amae Atuta… Is she a film star?
14 Have you done your best to pass this test?
Yes,I am building a tunnel under your desk into the garden.I’m in league with The Gaza Strip.
15 What is the Gaza Strip?
Is it going through a checkpoint into Israel?
16 What is a Bedouin?
I can’t be doing with this.
17.Where is Jerusalem?
In Shropshire near  Wenlock Edge or in South Lancashire where there are dark,satanic mills now used as Mail Order Firms or Call Centres.
19 What is a  Temple?
It’s  near your forehead.
20.What is a Cathedral?
It’s  like an Epidural but they put a catheter in so you don’t need to go to the toilet while you are having the baby.
21.What is the Vatican?
Surely you must know that at your age!
22 What does “when in Rome do as the Romans do mean?”
Don’t be original.Plagiarise like mad.
23 What was the Trojan Horse
It’s what they used in Troja instead of buses.It  pulled a carriage  or even two
24 Who was Julius Caesar?
Was he the man who worked getting the property off the bankrupt?
25 Why do people go to Oxford and Cambridge?
Is it something to do with particles in quantum mechanics where one particle can go through 2 different holes at exactly the same time.
So one person could go through Oxford and Cambridge simultaneously especially if Bletchley Station was open.
26 Will you get a place at Oxford?
No, I’m too intellectual.I’m  thinking more like, Anthrax if I get a scholarship.
27 What about Cambridge?
Is it something to do with Prince George starting school?
28.What do you think of Birmingham?
It seemed a good idea at the time.
29 Durham is an ancient university.What do you think of that?
I’ve never seen it yet.Is it behind the Cathedral? I saw that once from a train
30 What about Newcastle?
It’s still got a coal mine worked by Holy Spirits.They all speak Geordie.
31 How about Tel Aviv?
You tell them
32 And Iran?
I wish it were still called Persia.
33 Do names matter?
Only if you don’t know them.
34 Should we go to Church?
Only if we have OCD.
35 And Confession?
Always an error.
36 Am I  mad?
Probably but no worse than anyone else except the man who is on  Twitter all night.
37 Are you depressed?
Stop pressing me.
38 And Freud?
The bacon that Jews couldn’t eat
39 .Is it good to understand things?
It’s better to evoke~
40 What is penance?
The size of my pension

As it tempted us to sin.

My lover stole my comb because

My golden hair too ruly was.

He sometimes brushed it with his chin;

And so our life of  love began.

 

He swept the floor with my hairbrush.

So more tangled and more lush

My locks became and that pleased him.

As it tempted us to sin.

 

Unruly were his passions once

As on his knee  I was ensconced.

But later ,he preferred the cat.

Even as she she scratched and spat.

 

I see now  he preferred  furred beasts.

And met them on his nightly trysts.

I should not have cut off my hair.

Nor made it ruly and less fair.

 

I dyed it to a shade of red

Far too fierce for my dear head.

I dyed it green like apples fair

And I forgot that he would care.

 

Now it’s golden like a  crown

And in ringlets it does fall down.

Alas it is too late,I know.

For he is dead and lies below.

 

I should have heeded his advice

Never be too kind nor wise.

Hide your  eloquence so great.

And always make your courtiers wait.

 

Unfortunately I was entranced

Watching   numbers so advanced;

Infinities of different size

So no ruliness presides.

 

Yet our own lives are finite.

A few brief hours of gold sunlight.

A few of those  by lovers ruled;

Precious days   each full of jewels

 

When we descend into  the night

Blackness rules and we can’t fight.

So the ruly come to dust.

Even when they passed their tests.

 

And the unruly also die.

With the worms the gold locks lie.

Wedding rings and jewellery

Are of no more use to me.

 

 

Yes, the unruly also die..

Though they may have felt more joy.

Not compelled to obey all,

They don’t complain when dark night falls.

 

Oh,my apple, I still care;

I still love you,my own dear.

I think of you and never rue

The love that was twixt you and me.

 

 

In my dreams we danced again

Music played and  love outran

All the numbers in my books.

Infinite were our loving looks.

 

Aleph null and aleph one,

By the Hebrews naming done.

No doubt God knows the full gist.

How  we sang and  dance and kissed.

 

.

Lions and tigers pitied the distraught.

A lion must kill, be savage with its jaws
But only other humans desire  souls
A tiger  has no sense but  natural laws

A lion will sleep replete, his head on paws
Jews were buried live with bodies whole
A lion must kill, devour beasts with its jaws

Why do we do evil; what’s  our cause?
The earth was heaving live, what can we know?
Thee tiger  senses merely natural laws

In a strange dilemma, we are caught
How did we make murder a shared goal?
A lion must kill and eat its prey still raw

The few live Jews came home and home they sought
Yet were  murdered,  flung alive down holes
Lions and tigers pitied the distraught.

Now the bones of Jews  mingle with  coal
Where are they dwelling now, who raised their souls?
A lion must kill to eat with   its own jaws
A tiger  has no sense but nature’s laws

Will you got to Heaven and share with all?
The Warsaw Jews,  the European trolls
How the Ten Commandments  still annoy
The men of greed, the bankers, souls forlorn

Europe died when Europe made Great Wars
Europe did not live by any law
Staggering on, we do not know we died
When we killed the Jews, the Lord’s allies.

A letter

Dear Katherine
Your blog is very rude.After I got to the bottom of the page and by the way that was no easy task with all the stuff you write, what did I see but “Older Pests press here”
Well,I am mortally wounded.I know we disagree on much but I thought I was doing you a favour visiting you instead of preying like I used to do.
I can’t believe you have changed so much in the last five years and I am puzzled about how I ever loved you.Well, to be honest, that was a  lie.It’s  just a rapid way of getting someone to open up without spending years getting to know them in the usual way
Yet I did think you loved me true though I never deserved your patience and gentleness.To prove it I hit you with a brick and a bit if brac as well but does that mean you may demean me and call me an  Older Pest? Just  Pest is cruel enough, why add Older? We are all older but so I keep mentioning it
Did I ever give you any child maintenance? I think I forgot but as you seem fairly intelligent I imagine you have made money one way or another.There’s nothing wrong with  being a harlot as long as you keep it secret.And with your IQ I imagine you did.Now he’s at school maybe I will visit you and give you a  piece of my mind
On second thoughts,I confess I am scared of you as you might wish to castrate me like mother tried to do.What is it with women?You hug them, kiss them and then they want a new kitchen!Well I shan’t do that again
Is a Pest always a sexual Pest?From your papers I see you have lots of them/.Maybe it is to them you refer and not to me.If so,I never apologise but I did not mean to offend you for more than a year or so.
I’m in a Care Home now.They care and I moan.Just like being married really.God knows why women still love men
Lots of hate and a dash of admiration
Peter Pesky Ph.D { Oxen}
Professor Superfluous [ fired from 6  Universities ]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peter

The sacrifice of meaning, Matthew Bowker

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“Perhaps this is the absurd lesson of Job: that our choice is either to accept loss and make it meaningful or to protest it in  absurdity, which costs us our ability to mean. If we choose the former, it need not be because we are satisfied that there is a universal order or great warum that justifies our losses, but because our meaning-making power is all we have to trade, and to give it up is to sacrifice our ability to act meaningfully in the world. On the other hand, if we are to follow the example of Camus’ 1958) vaunted “fastidious assassins” who demanded self-sacrifice as the only just compensation for performing acts of terrorism, then when confronted with extraordinary inhumanity or injustice, perhaps only the sacrifice of our ability to mean is meaningful.”

How to come over better at work..for women…..what rubbish

Photo0041.jpgPhoto0040.jpgApparently standing up straight does more for you than going to Cambridge
Looking slim is better than 5 A*’s at A level.What are women for?
Being beautiful is great for career acceleration into the lap of some mad  dominating mogul.Carry some tailors’  pins and practice elbowing men in the groin with a rubber male doll.Try to look menacing now and then
Making eye contact is an error as men thin you are coming on to them but if you don’t they will say you are autistic.If you are autistic it’s big advantage should you wish to become a mathematician.We are nearly all autistic… just mildly, of course.Getting obsessed with Fermat’s Last theorem is more fun than gambling  or getting drunk
Getting obsessed with yourself is not so good.Get obsessed about infinity and the fact there are different orders of infinity,Make sure you tell your lover  about aleph null and aleph one while they are caressing you on the sofa while you watch Henning Mankel’s latest TV film.Who wants to watch TV
Carry a tennis racket to “accidentally” hit men  or omen who violate your boundaries.Or a heavy handbag full of pens and keys is often useful.
Tell  men you don’t remove your tampon so they can suck your blood.Why don’t they do it like vampires? God,I’ve never heard of such absolutely dreadful things until Weinstein got into trouble.What next? I don’t want to got there
Do men want to suck our blood because they are anaemic? Have you ever heard such things before?
I think I might be a lesbian now.I  am a lapsed heterosexual.