Unnecessary cruelness spoils our lives.
Suffering, quite avoidable, made real
Emanating from our hidden drives
Where is the self that thinks, reflects. decides,
Where the love that makes a sheltering shield?
Unnecessary cruelness spoils our lives
Where the humane feelings that should thrive?
Where the strength to contain what we feel?
Unnoticed and unnamed, the tender dies.
The stifling of humanity implies
That psychopaths have grasped the steering wheel
Unnecessary cruelness ruins lives
Before we speak or write, let’s watch our minds
Will our words bring cruelty, will they heal?
Not hearing, caring, tenderness will die.
Love must flow or kindness may congeal
Take notice of the bigot’s fearful zeal.
Unneeded cruelty spoils our lives.
How control the inner reptile’s drives?
On Saturday afternoon after luncb ,or midday dinner as we said up north Mary began to feel very nervous, as she was going to the hospital with Stan on Monday for his next appointment with Dr.Range Rover. Mary was puzzled.She felt almost happy last week about seeing this kind hearted and gracious well dressed female doctor.However she had been shunted sideways onto a male doctor who was almost totally silent.. so much so that he seemd to absorb Mary’s questions into his sponge of a brain without feeling the need to respond,just like many British husbands do… and it may be a universal trait in men world wide if theyhad a British sty education Why do I feel so apprehensive this week? Mary asked her dear black cat Emile. After all.I was happy to see her or to even have a biopsy last weekend.Why have I changed in my feelings so much in a week? Does it matter? purred Emile. Maybe your mood is affected by something else.. like fatigue or housework or the ravages of age… [he was well read] We don’t always know why we feel a certain way but I feel it’s good if we are willing to accept these negative moods.Even I have my moods when the fish you get me is not the right sort and you don’t give me my cat’s handkerchief neatly ironed. You are so wise,Emile,especially as,being a cat,you never have to endure these interviews with consultants in horrible outpatients clinics.So you must have a wonderful empathy for humans This lady doctor tomorrow is exciting me,cried Emile loudly.May I come in your Grace Kelly handbag. What’s wrong with my shopping bag?Good grammar,by the way.. Well,she wil be surprised if you take a heavy shopping bag even if it has a Mondrian design on it… she may get suspicious.. even paranoid.If I am in your handbag she will not realise. Not unless you miaow,mused Mary benignly as she smiled down at him her singular eyes gleaming like the headlamps on a Roller. I like to know the reason for things,she continued somewhat frantically.I think therefore I might be eventually.I am not yet,for sure. Does everything have a reason,shouted Stan querulously from the hall… Wel ,it does,but it might be beyond human understanding like the Burning Bush.. We can only perceive what our language permits unless we are poets,mystics or artists and even then it’s tough to venture into the unknown,unthought or unknowable;languages develop in societies and learning your language embeds you in many cultural assumptions without you ever realising it.You think it’s reality when it is just one perspective. How true,screeched Annie their neighbour from outside the open patio door.She stopped there in her teal velour tracksuit with matching eyeshadow and trainers. You seem to be overthinking,she said to Mary.Are you sickening with the heat?It’s like loving too much, which may be co-dependency. That’s a very silly pc word,said Stan rudely.We are all dependent but men can hide it until their wives run away with the milkman and they get a shock not knowing how much they’d miss her changing the sheets and buying their underpants and socks.And ironing their hankies Surely that’s not the main reason a man might miss his wife,cried Mary as she carried in the tea tray with a big white insulated teapot. Well,you can go on the web and find a virtual sex partner or even buy a dummy woman. but it’s tough to find a devoted woman who knows what you need to function. Why don’t you buy your own underwear and use tissues?,asked Emile Well,Emile,I put out the rubbish and wash the heavy Le Creuset pot.I see to the car and bikes.I paint the fence and even bake cakes. Mary washes the clothes and changes the sheets unless she has an idea to write down.She kindly does all the worrying for both of us and I remain calm like a lighthouse.We complement each other ideally.. and we love each other and a few others as well..without giving away our secrets That’s one waay of describing it,thought Mary without commenting out loud Anyway,I am still wondering why I feel nervous about Dr Range Rover…. If you accepted the nervusness it might ease,said Annie wisely in her high voice like a car siren going off at night Just then the doorbell rang.It was Dave the bisexual transvestite paramedic. Emile phoned 999 saying Mary was having kittens, he said rapidly.This really must stop;inter species sex is not allowed here like most sexual activity He was speaking metaphorically or is it metonymically,Stan groaned. Now you are here go and make us a fresh pot of tea and admire my new tea caddy.I bought it for Mary last week in that new shop in town. At your service,sir,Dave said politely,his flowered dress waving in the breeze. Do you know anything about Dr Range Rover,Dave? Annie murmured What is her reputation etc Some people like her, Dave said,Usually men.she’s not so good with women.. Well it’s too late to change thought Mary so I shall have to willingly endure the agony of meeting her again as I cannot leave Stan on his own with her… why who knows what might happen? She might become his mistress as he likes several nowadays. despite nearly being too thin to live… God only knows, a little voice said. Hello,said Mary.I’ve not heard from you lately. Well,I am still here looking after you Thank you, Lord,I love you, Mary shouted joyfully to the surprise of Stan and Annie, not to mention the cat Emile who was unlearned in the religion of his owners. I thought you were an atheist,Annie said with horror. I am an atheist and I believe in God.It’s what we call a paradox..Mary cried graciously…. What would Wittgenstein have said? Whereof one cannot understand,therof one must be patient and tolerant,. Why does Mary need to understand all her feelings…Stan wondered When it’s raining she doesn’t spend hours wondering why and similarly if it’s raining in her heart she must take it like parched grass…she thinks too much. Too much for what? Her sanity perhaps which has at times been doubtful but that has made her very understanding to those who find life hard.Everyone has value,even oveweight nervous half blind, supersensitive, vulnerable,stout arthritic female mathematical geniuses like Mary.She enriches the tapestry of life in a very real sense as someone once said And so say all of us:she’s a jolly good Fellow of All Proles College,Oxenford..you know how famous it is in Wonderland
My husband is naughty a very naughty man He throws down the newspaper on top of his beer can He buys himself a sandwich in a nasty cardboard box And puts trash in the laundry basket with his woollen socks.
He takes off his pyjamas and chucks them on the floor He uses hankies frequently, so I have to buy lots more. He wants to have thick sauces on top of all his food. And when he has a hypo his speech is very rude.
I gave him such a shock when I learned to curse and swear But we really need to, as “eff off “is everywhere. Why even in the Bible there are some wicked words I’ve not read it all yet, except Psalm’s I have heard
I mean to finish reading it and then when I must die, I’ll come onto a cloud and shout, Oh pi is in the sky. For transcendental numbers give a hint divine. Although you can get it better with a glass of dry, white wine.
My husband drinks draught Guinness and then he falls asleep He hollers and curses when the oven timer beeps. He eats a piece of kipper and cried out,Oh, dear God! Nobody caught this b*gger with a U.K. fishing rod
He wants to move to Whitby and walk upon the sands Sit in the audience and hear the big brass bands. He wants to see the sun rise and to see it set… So please send God some gelatine in case the air’s too wet!
Love me, lov, You were angry with me ,I was much too bright You taught me to play chess, then felt regret The man must be the one who knows the rites
I didn’t know you minded my insight When I won the game, you were upset You were angry;I did not know I was too bright
I think you loved my body in the night You loved my golden hair both dry and wet The man must be the one who knows the rites
At least you did not scratch nor did you bite I am weeping, I just found that old chess set You were dying but I managed all the rites
Love me, love me, someone hold me tight I am crying for his touch, my face is wet The man might be the one who must depart
I shall live my future in your debt You gave me all you had with no regret You were angry, for an hour, then you were calm As God came down and wrapped you in his arms
Gerard’s ultimate subject, however, is genocide of the human spirit—including in Gerard’s own domain of academia. Learning, once intended to be a process of enlightenment, becomes a tool of self-blinding and a mandate of darkness. Liberation to think new thoughts is replaced by the prohibition of thinking beyond ideologically tolerable limits. Education “produces” products, product lines, productivity and repetition (as opposed to reflection) in a compliant “workforce.”
His other idea is that the key to the real-world effectiveness of poems and songs is “form.” The invocation of form is awkward, for the same reason that advanced-pop criticism itself is inherently awkward, which is that most popular music, and especially popular music categorized as rock, is magnificently and unambiguously hostile to everything associated with the word “school.” And form is a very academic concept. It’s the shell in the game teachers play to hide content.
The phrase “equipment for living” is taken from Kenneth Burke, who also wrote that form is “a public matter that symbolically enrolls us with allies who will share the burdens with us.” Robbins likes this. I think it means that the experience of poems and songs is shared with other people, even if often implicitly, and so it can be a means of achieving solidarity. Form “grounds us in a community,” Robbins says.
This might be a little wishful. Reading poems is normally a solitary pastime, and so is a lot of music listening, except at concerts, where the emotions aren’t really your own. In any case, form cuts no political ice. The Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” once an anthem of antiwar protesters, is played at Trump rallies. I assume it instills feelings of solidarity among his supporters.
With aesthetic experience in general, after a certain age, the effects are probably as much a product of what you bring to it as what you get from it. “Records are useful equipment for living, provided you don’t expect more from them …………
You know the widow’s sad and can mourn and grieve all day But the anger and the hatred,she’s not supposed to say She can cry upon the duvet, she can moan under the stairs But the rage and irritation are not to be declared She can order man size tissues in boxes multiplied But the venomous ,vindictiveness imply that love had died She can be dissociated, she can be without affect But if she says how well she hated him, everybody’s vexed Who can live so closely for forty and five years Without needing a dressmaker to sew up all the tears? Who can be accepting when money and time’s scarce There’s a war inside the heart of us everybody hears Scratched and bitten daily, struck by falling stars Who can come to help us from our warring hearts?
1.A Christian,a Jew And a Muslim were walking through the Mall looking for a Coffee Shop. They found a new one with lots of seats so they went inside and sat down.The Jew went over to the counter and asked,do you serve Cappuccinos? The waitress answered,not usually, but in your case I’ll make an exception. And my two friends? Are they Cappuccinos as well? Well, they are people of the Book like me. I’m sorry .I meant to give it back.Are you going to fine me? No, give us free coffee and we’ll say no more. 2.You know all those Coffee Shops staffed by foreigners? Yeah. The Government is going to build 7 meter high walls around them. So America is going metric at last! 3.How can you tell I am a foreigner? I’ll just shout.Wanna see a foreigner! 4.Why do we fear Arabs? Because they invented al-gebra. 5.Why is the Pope a man? We just have to take his word for it. 6.My husband asked me,what is post-modernism? I replied,you didn’t need to marry me just to find that out 7.My wife asked,why do my rock buns fly? I said, because I am trying to kill that spider on the ceiling. 8.My son asked me to lend him my car for a week. I said,it’s alright son, you can neck here at home. What about my Oedipal conflicts? Use PayPal instead. 9.My daughter has got big blue eyes. Where did she get those from? Her grandmother. Is she dead? Not yet but Jesus wants her whole heart. Don’t tell me he does transplants now! 10.I want to go to the lavatory. They have closed all the public ones. I should think so.Who wants to be watched all the time? You’ll have to go in the telephone box. I only have a Nokia 105. Didn’t I tell you to get a phablet? I’m not smart enough to spell that!
Mary was in the teal coloured kitchen of her almost detached house making a jam sponge pudding when the doorbell rang.She wiped her hands on her new purple trousers because she didn’t want to dirty a clean towel.
She found her colleague Dr Rosa Benchez standing nervously outside shivering
Come in , Mary cried.
Would you like a cup of tea? You need to sit by the fire and get warmer
I’d love that, Rosa said politely but distantly
A few minutes later they were sitting looking out of the bay window watching a blackbird sitting on the fence;they hoped it would start to sing
May I talk to you,Mary? I have got rather more agitated than ever before
.I am wondering if I need counselling or maybe shooting, she joked morosely
OK,said Mary cautiously.Has anything unusual happened ?
Yes, my sister has had her driving license taken away because of big panic attacks she had crossing the Humber Bridge …. you know how huge it is.She got out of the car and screamed,Help! Help!
That was dangerous with so much traffic about
She is furious and says we live in a Nazi state and is writing to the Times
Well, it can happen that you lose your licence,Mary said,but when she has learned to deal with the attacks she can re-apply and get her license back.Simple things like not eating and being tired can bring that on so I have heard.And fear of fear, too.
As well as that,Rosa said,my son has got a recurrence of cancer and is going onto some new drug-type chemo.My ex husband is very distressed and so am I as it was unexpected.
And even worse my new fiance Prof. Charlie Blogge has broken off our engagement with no reason.I can’t think of any at all.Shall I ever trust a man again?
He said I can keep the ring which is a blue sapphire ,supposedly, but when I had it valued they said I was mistaken and you can buy them on amazon for £57 and less.
So she took off the ring and hurled it into Mary’s coal fire where it looked very nice as it got hotter and hotter glowing like a lighthouse off Portland Bill in a sea storm or a banger about to explode
Good grief, said Mary.No wonder you are agitated.We may have to phone Dave the bisexual lovable paramedic available on the NHS 24 hours a day.Or we could have our hair permed and dyed red instead, she murmured to herself
Which of these events bothers you most,Rosa? She continued gently while hoping she would cope.
It is my own feelings that worry me most.I wake up feeling very sad and nervous;I wonder if I am having a breakdown.Then I feel worse as I turn it over in my mind trying to decide what to do.Then I get up and get food into me and think it all over and over again while drinking my tea.
Well, you know it is normal to feel sad, anxious or distraught when bad things happen,Mary told her.
But most people look happy when I see them in the town , Rosa shouted angrily
That is because being outside they put on a mask.They could be feeling worse than you.Anyway, why bother about that? We are all different.Some people think I am very calm but they don’t see me when I’m not.I go stiff like a piece of wood.Then I pass out
So what do you do? Rosa asked her nervously,twirling a golden ringlet around her finger as she watched her engagement ring melt in the fire.
I don’t do anything,Mary said.This is one of the fundamental errors in our society that action is needed for so many things and especially for negative feelings.But it’s usually part of life.Things pass.
I pretend I have a big round box inside me and I let the anxiety live in there nice and cosy until my mind has absorbed and dealt with the pain.Once my box was quite small but it has grown bigger now and so it has room for mad or bad feelings.I do little tasks and listen to music.
Then if I feel really bad I listen to Leonard Cohen and tell myself, he had it worse.But he made money out of it! Not that you can make money out of yours. though it’s worth musing about
Well,Rosa replied.Thank you,Mary.I am glad I am not the only one who feels so anxious sometimes.I shall try to get a box like yours.
You are welcome,said Mary jovially.Come round on Sunday for tea.Emile is out hunting but he loves to see you and so do I
The women hugged cautiously and Rosa went out looking less cold and nervous as she bravely carried her box away .It was invisible to the people walking nearby
I thought I’d better write to you before too long otherwise you will forget that I exist altogether and that is something I do not want to happen although I have to admit that it would not be the end of the world really since I’m not seen you for 20 years and haven’t heard your voice since I went deaf two years ago so we can’t even talk on the phone now but would it be worth doing Skype when I can’t hear you I suppose I might be able to lip read that would be one advantage of it just let me know what you think because I don’t really know what is the very best thing for us to do now as we are getting to the end of our lives and we may not always be here for each other as it were obviously was I mean in a virus speaking
Well I want to I wouldn’t even be able to hear a virus squeaking now lol et alone speaking
That was a very long sentence but was it grammatical all the way through I spoke very quickly because I was hoping that some mistakes will be made in the translation and it would come out in a glorious jumble of crazy words with in fact there were so fewer errors then I normally get when I’m speaking carefully:
what do you think about that?
I can’t sit here all day writing letters to you so I must close now and hope that you are well and I’ve got plenty of water if you run out. We’ve all got plenty of water now we’ve even had a flood.
the volume were composed in Stuart England but published after the onset of the English Civil War. Furthermore, Milton may have begun to compose one or more of his mature works—Paradise Lost, Paradise Regained, and Samson Agonistes—in the 1640s, but they were completed and revised much later and not published until after the Restoration.
This literary genius whose fame and influence are second to none, and on whose life and works more commentary is written than on any author except Shakespeare, was born at 6:30 in the morning on 9 December 1608. His parents were John Milton , Sr., and Sara Jeffrey Milton , and the place of birth was the family home, marked with the sign of the spread eagle, on Bread Street, London. Three days later, at the parish church of All Hallows, also on Bread Street, he was baptized into the Protestant faith of the Church of England. Other children of John and Sara who survived infancy included Anne, their oldest child, and Christopher, seven years younger than John. At least three others died shortly after birth, in infancy or in early childhood. Edward Phillips, Anne’s son by her first husband, was tutored by Milton and later wrote a biography of his renowned uncle, which was published in Milton’s Letters of State (1694). Christopher, in contrast to his older brother on all counts, became a Roman Catholic, a Royalist, and a lawyer.
Milton’s father was born in 1562 in Oxfordshire; his father, Richard, was a Catholic who decried the Reformation. When John Milton, Sr., expressed sympathy for what his father viewed as Protestant heresy, their disagreements resulted in the son’s disinheritance. He left home and traveled to London, where he became a scrivener and a professional composer responsible for more than twenty musical pieces. As a scrivener he performed services comparable to a present-day attorney’s assistant, law stationer, and notary. Among the documents that a scrivener executed were wills, leases, deeds, and marriage agreements. Through such endeavors and by his practice of money lending, the elder Milton accumulated a handsome estate, which enabled him to provide a splendid formal education for his son John and to maintain him during several years of private study. In “Ad Patrem” (To His Father), a Latin poem composed probably in 1637-1638, Milton celebrated his “revered father.” He compares his father’s talent at musical composition, harmonizing sounds to numbers and modulating the voices of singers, to his own dedication to the muses and to his developing artistry as a poet. The father’s “generosities” and “kindnesses” enabled the young man to study Greek, Latin, Hebrew, French, and Italian.”
Little is known of Sara Jeffrey, but in Pro Propulo Anglicano Defensio Secunda (The Second Defense of the People of England, 1654) Milton refers to the “esteem” in which his mother was held and to her reputation for almsgiving in their neighborhood. John Aubrey, in biographical notes made in 1681
and the modern word, with a weaker sense, “failure to hold, keep, or preserve what was in one’s possession; failure to gain or win,” probably evolved 14c. from lost, the past participle of lose.
The word loss comes from the Old English word lōsian, which means “to be destroyed”. It was likely formed around the 14th century as a noun from the past participle of the word losen, which
How my heart speaks 