When I am talking to someone and they mispronounce a word,I do the same and do not tell them of their error [unless I am in a seminar room]
I feel it is hurtful not to.But am I right?

Stan was polishing the windows again with his blue cloth.The computer was on and as soon as he finished the sitting room windows he planned to look at a google document  he was co-writing with his girlfriend Annie.She only lived next door but they both liked sharing new techniques of various kinds. He sat down in front of his  computer and looked at his mail.
There was an email from Annie.
“Hi Stan
I didn’t really want to keep some of those remarks you made at the bottom of our documents when we were both online having a chat,so I have deleted them. They were not related to the topic we were discussing so I know you won’t be interested.
with my  love,Annie
Stan felt  angry and cross. He went very red.What was so dreadfully wicked about his remarks?He had only asked Annie if her dead husband George might have been bisexual.Stan had once seen him kissing a man round in the park.Annie didn’t seem bothered last night.She never gave the impression me she didn’t like it.
Anyway, she should not have deleted it completely without asking me first.
He sent her an email saying he was very angry with her for attacking his freedom of speech.It was unethical.It was too powerful .He must assert himself
So he was not going to work simultaneously with her on any more documents ever again nor chat on IM or Google chat
.
When Annie got the email she was stunned.She apologized to Stan immediately but he refused to accept it.Nothing she said could change his mind.So they were both feeling utterly dreadful.
Why did he want to know if George was bisexual?She wondered.Was he saying it to try to turn himself on or me?Or is he just interested in sex of all kinds like most people secretly are?
But it was not concerned with the document which was about ill-treatment of prisoners in India under the British Empire
We have so little time together, with him being so busy.I wanted to talk about us, not poor dead George.Whatever George’s sex life, he’s dead now.So leave him in peace.
Meantime.Stan was thinking about how women were always interfering in his life, correcting him and improving his grammar.Making him cups of tea when he wanted brandy.He liked talking about bisexuality.
It made him feel a sense of wonder at the differing habits and desires of humans.Why couldn’t she just go along with it or at least say something then rather than deleting his words secretly when he was off-line?
He was a man.He was not going to let a woman ride over him like a steamroller. Annie must learn her place in the scheme of things.
Where is that, asked his tom cat, Emile.
I’m not sure but it’s not above me.It’s either the same or lower.
Can’t you forgive her?She may be in another dimension, another space, another universe of discourse?
Certainly not no way.Stan answered,
But you love her, you said many times in here.I heard you
All the more reason to maintain some boundaries!Love is not the be all and end all of life
Next she’ll be cutting bits off me with her pinking shears, he cried in horror!
She’ll castrate me.She’ll turn me into a woman.
She won’t, she’s a woman, said Emile.She wouldn’t ever harm you.she’s very gentle.
She has invaded me, she has crossed my boundary.
Some people would be glad, mewed the cat.He was always hoping a lady cat would come by.
Meanwhile, Annie was sitting sobbing wetly in her bedroom.She really enjoyed co-writing documents and letters with Stan.Now he won’t do it anymore, she whispered softly to herself
She had not cut anything from the document, just the little chatty remarks they had been indulging at the end, but still, he was really mad at her.He must be feeling truly upset and aggravated beyond human endurance.She had assumed too much and now she was paying the price.She cried and sobbed loudly for a while.Her eyes were bright red and bloodshot. not attractive at all.She was so sad she had unwittingly distressed dear old Stan.Life is so tough she thought reluctantly.I wish I were somewhere else.
Still, there were those new neighbors who had just moved in across the road.Two brothers, both very handsome.I wonder if they like writing on the computer, she thought.That cheered her up a bit, though she was very fond of Stan.In fact she loved him greatly and had kissed him gently yet thoroughly many times though she had never actually gone to bed with him ; never known him in the biblical sense.Was that the problem?Too late now either way, she muttered balefully
So in her mind, she was moving from loving and adoring Stan to being puzzled by him.Was he afraid of being dominated by a woman?What would he be like as a lover?
But why try to talk about bisexuality?Could he not have thought of something else?
There was a new book by Betty Dodson teaching women how to have orgasms.Would he have enjoyed discussing female anatomy and pleasuring her naked female body and its organs of love and all the rest,[she always liked a kiss on her throat]?
Well, she would never know now.That was certain.Definitely.
Thank God I’ve found out what he’s like before things went any further.He might be a little too dominating or perhaps not enough?
In fact, she was so upset her thoughts began to turn towards women.
Would it be better all round to love a woman? Especially as I could show her how to have an orgasm having been studying this book for some weeks?Though she may already know, I guess.Still, a change is as good as a rest!
How do I find a woman who’s into other women, she thought.Can I find one on the internet?Will there be a club we can go to?How exciting!
So Annie grew more optimistic.A woman wouldn’t mind a few words deleted from a chat either.So a feeling of mild joy came over her and her sobbing died down.
Stan was sitting in his kitchen feeling superior and dominant.Except Annie had not come for coffee so it was hard being dominant all by himself.He began to feel depressed and morose.Should he change his mind?Would he lose his window of opportunity
Why is life so trying.Why are women so manipulative, why do they all turn out fakes, he asked Emile.
It’s partly one’s own character, Emile replied.
Hearing this Stan lost his temper and threw a cup at Emile.Luckily it missed but Emile stalked out and went off to the shed leaving Stan more alone than ever.
How hard life is Stan shouted. I feel like topping myself. i”ll jump off the roof.I’m going to ring the fucking Samaritans.
Just then his wife Mary walked in.
What’s up Stan?
Nothing dear.I just dropped a brick on my toe
Why have you got a brick in here, in the lounge?
I was playing with it.
With a brick?
Well, it has a certain cold masculinity, he replied.
Shall I make some drinks?
Yes, please.
Oh, look there’s Annie walking past arm in arm with a woman.
I knew George was bisexual but now I see she is also or maybe she’s gay!Were they both gay?Is that why she only kissed him and never went further?
Well,it’s not our affair, said Mary quietly.
Aha,thought Stan.That’s what you think.If only you could see inside my mind.
Inside his mind though , he was wondering if Annie would ever see him again.But I will not forgive her, I won’t.I won’t!
What he might have said more truthfully was “Can’t”
For indeed,it is hard to forgive people for trampling into one’s sacred space even if it is an accident or misjudgment not a deliberate attempt to dominate.but if not ………
Such is life, alas.
We are such fools as dreams are made of.

For us to feel we’re real it seems we need
To be original without the sin
To be embodied in our thoughts and deeds

So those who cannot write nor even read
May be ahead of scribes in origin
For us to feel we’re real , we have to bleed

God himself embodied was revealed
Some  feel they   encounter him within
We must feel embodied in our thought and deed

As we age our body’s life recedes
Yet right until the end, we drink  life in
For us to feel we’re real  we  have to need

Senses, oral,  genital  proceed
Until mature, we  hope for love  again
We must dwell embodied  for this deed

Raw  intellect can  plunge us into sin
We split into a thousand glacial  grins
For us to feel we’re real it seems we need
To  live within in our body full and green

Political correctness
Often truly vexed us
We texted for  ” men”
Now and again
I beg your jargon
You seem  very ardent
Mind my tongue?
Was it in the wrong?
These “men”  took out ads
As they wished to be lads.
Wanting new women
Who liked to go swimming.
But now the soul mates
Cannot ever state
Whether they want a man
Or a cat or a woman.
Is that really fair
Like Icelandic hair?
I guess in the end
Freud will descend.
You  have got hysteria
And you are inferior
I know it all
From the rise to the fall
Sex is the basis
For homeostasis.
Get knotted, mein herr.
Danke schon, Pa.

‘

The cauldron bubbles as the witches stir
The walls are convex, and the spoon  is steel
The population struggle without flair

There is too much heat and little air.
In such trials, our worst selves are revealed
The cauldron bubbles as the witches stir

A newcomer may see fresh ways to go
But will their new perspectives be concealed?
The population’s jangled nerves are bare

The length of  time, confusion and despair
Makes even nerves  of gold too hot to seal
The cauldron bubbles as the witches stir

The deep emotions feared cause many tears
And lonely are the sick who’ re ridiculed
We creep like frightened wolves into our lairs

The death of love, the elevated fools;
The calculations deviant of misrule.
The people stumble on the way to where?
The wild wasps sting and savage is the air.

Jam pan for sale.Pure silver lining and lovely copper exterior.Free to first socialist to make an offer.Otherwise, try TKMaxx .I did and I nearly won the  General Election.
Several high-quality women’s suits with rather short skirts.Suitable for short politician or woman who famcies herself..Apply quickly to 10 Downing Street.WC too.
A few new Apple Macs with dents or tooth marks in.Still in working order.Apply to the Daily Heil in writing.On paper.
778 pairs of leopardskin shoes with kitten heels.Some have jam stains.
£25 the lot
20  jars of face cream  for older skin [does not work  on face but good for renovating shoes]
The Sun is setting.All offers  considered

32o the lot

I have missed Alfred so much but he looks well!

The weight of loss that crushed me has been raised
My heart is light ; my eyes glow like blue pearls
By  my dear human friends, I feel  embraced

By my caring friends, I have been praised
My heart is lifted ; I feel love  return
The weight of loss that crushed me has been raised

Now I have refound my own true face
And by  the angels, I’m no longer spurned
By dear human friends, I feel  embraced

The past three years have maimed me in their way
The knife cut out,, the flesh beneath was  burned
The weight of loss that crushed me has been raised

I foresaw, but lived through dangerous days
I paid my debts and bore the burial urn
By dear human friends, I was  embraced

And yet I weep for him who has been torn
I feel the wound, the ache, which must be borne
The weight of loss that crushed me has been raised
By beloved human friends, I feel  embraced

Which of us accept there’s been a change
An upsurge of real interest in  who rules
Since we had the Referendum mad, deranged

This England feels to me unreal and strange
With Food Banks and increased racism in  the News
Which of us accept there’s been a change?

Who will now perform upon the stage
A politician must not be amused
Since we had the Referendum mad, deranged

A hidden coven will  choose and re-arrange
They hope for a society once refused
Which of us accept there’s been a change?

At last the voters woke and were enraged
We were feeling lost,  bemused confused.
Since we had the Referendum mad, deranged

Once there was a parliament of fools
Maybe stupid people stood to lose
Which of us  can see there’s been a change
Since we had the Referendum mad, deranged

Inside an ugly rock a jewel lies
Discovered by an accident of fate
By those who have the courage and the eyes

He who is a fool cannot be wise
His character displays his flimsy traits
Inside an ugly rock a jewel lies

The powerful will steal and speak in lies
With knives, they will cut down the ones who fail
Fight for those with courage and wise eyes

Since bedroom tax and food banks, who has died?
How many poorer mothers sit and wail?
Disguised by  jewels,  the ugly croak their lies

From the heart of love  the arrows fly
Like refugees, we come to love derailed
Fight with those with courage and wise eyes

Oh, human beings, do not leave it late
Repair the evil ,  no more  desecrate

Inside an ugly rock a jewel lies
But who has got the courage and the eye?

https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2010/dec/15/poetry-protest-politics

I voted for the one who cooked the best
My gut tells me how I  relax is wrong
Because I  ate the algebraic text

I voted for the one  whose muscles flexed
My mind became a spinning wheel of song
I voted for the one I loved the best

On weekends I  dictate to men, the loony pests!
As I type the book  where sums are wrong
I concede I  flunked the algebraic test.

I see the exit polls  all  have gone West
I knew my calculations were unsound
I voted for the numbers.  cleverest

I seem to have a mind which cannot rest
I  heat pyjamas just to get unwound
I concede I  bonked Al  when he  felt depressed
I am in doubt  while seeing flaming tongues
I tamed my  plastic tiger before long
I voted for the books I loved the best

There is no abstract art. You must always start with something. Afterward you can remove all traces of reality. Pablo Picasso
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/p/pablopicas387546.html

As this era  ends, we hold our breath
Our guts and vitals shiver with suspense
Eyes protrude, face pales, whose is the death?

The forces of the media oppress
They never even  pay, less recompense
As this era  ends, we hold our breath

Blunders made, dilemmas will oppress
Too much thinking does not make more sense
Protruding eyes, pale faces whose the death?

Each of us believes we know the best
But no-one is at ease, we tremble, tense
As this era ends, we hold our breath.

I wonder how to greet this  dreaded test
My eyes drag down, opaque the   fragile  lens
Protruding eyes, pale faces whose the death?

As the tigers launch, men smile content
They have satisfied their egos in this dance
As this era  ends, we hold our breath
Eyes protrude, face pales, whose is the death?

In Bedzin and in Krakow they breathed in
What they denied in conscious thought or word.
The ashes of the Jews, the shades of skin

Penetrating lungs so deep within
The dead  unburied mixed, in air secured
In Bedzin and in Krakow, mortal sin.

The nearby people turned to burial urns.
The human dust by  breathing was allured
The ashes of the Jews, the shades of skin.

So  Europe took their human ash within.
A graveyard we became unknown, impure.
In Bedzin and in Krakow, more of sin.

And who they thought destroyed  lived on in them
Controlled their lungs, their hearts  their minds uncured,
The ashes of the Jews,borne in their skin.

Like a mass communion without words
We ate and breathed the Jews, the gays, unheard
In Bedzin and in Krakow  we walked in
The ashes of the lost, the glades of skin,

New  Jerseys cremated
Boast potatoes
Smack it potatoes
Red bunions
Sprung onions
Casserole of teeth in tears.
Chicken , hurry
Casserole of  lamb in bier.
Cheery tomatoes.
Fresh ballad daily.
Pot of wee for two.
Bring your own water to drink here,
Pot boasts of beef.
Potatoes au Marcon
Strumpets with Lure pack.
Baked jeans on toast

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-40191270