Author: Katherine

Poetry writer and author

Love knows what to do

2012-01-22

Some folk are made of rubber
Some folk are made of glass
And when the stormy winds blow
Rubber lets it pass.

i

Some folk have eyes like water

Some have eyes like ice

And when we’re introduced to them

We do not look there twice.
Some folk have learned to use us;
;Some folk give us respect.
With those who cannot see us
We cannot  connect.
Some folk where born  to sunshine
Some folk were born to storm
And fears imagined in the mind
Can cause such dreadful harmOh,hold me to your bosom
Oh.hold me close to you
Some folk were made to hate and fear
But love knows what to do.

 

Oh.love knows what to do.

Love knows what to do.

A love song with a different flavour

Your skin glows like an old lemon which someone left in the fridge for two years or more.
It blossoms as rudely as the nastiest weeds in springtime.
My yearning heart rises to your thunderous voice and leaps like a pig at the whisper of your name,Ratbag.
The evening ascends like a lion on a great Kentucky Fried Chicken Wing.
I am calmed by your vests that I carry to clean  the car headlights.
And hold in my hand when I have run out of Kleenex tissues.
I am filled with dismay that I may need to dry your tears of shame.
Yet you ignore mine as ever.You forget I am a woman.

As my right eye falls on my blue shawl,alas it reminds me of our unmade blue bed once more.
I shall not forget it for my self esteem is low
and it’s a year since I changed the sheets.
In the hushed yet noisy night,I listen for the last tweets of the autumn and look forward to an icy winter of miscontent
sleeping with the cats on the internet highway
My overheated heart leaps into my  hot red mouth.
My lipstick is fading away with shock.
I wait in the faint moonlight for your secret bank check
So that we may strive as one mad being
in search of a  golden ring
Symbolic of ambivalent married love that has passed its sell by date
But still has some intrigue remaining.
I never met anyone as dreadful,sweet and ugly as you.
I love you,Loonie.You are mine forever

We hear God howl

I learned an  ‘ymn in our old kirk.
I realized then that God don’t work.
I think he  offen laughs and cries.
When one thing grows,another dies.
We went t’t  church and we all sang.
The organ played and the big bells rang.
We  heard no answer then
till a strange loud voice called out,”Ah! Men!”
I want to think  we were made to sing.
What but joy can we each bring?
The psalms will comfort us at night.
And in the dawn we see the Light.
Then we rise up and our songs float out.
The cats miaow as they run about.
The dogs join in to bark and growl.
And from the sky we hear God howl…..

Ah,men

The TV /computer screen is a window

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The TV screen is a window into another world.Unlike the window in the front room here,it does not show real people going about their affairs.No.it shows a world which has been carefully constructed.Some programs are beautiful.Some nowadays are live shows where people meet various challenges.Sometimes these can be very damaging,as can live interviews.It;s strange to see one’s PM wearing makeup.And that’s the least of it!

You can watch violence,murder or pornography if you wish or hear orchestras playing your favorite music.Extend your choice with DVD’s.Spend all your life glued to the screen….which glue is best?I’ll let you know soon.

Then there are the political aspects..I did not watch much of the grand funeral of our ex PM Maggie Thatcher but I saw enough to show it’s been used by the current government to raise their own esteem in the public eye.A politician should never have a funeral with military honors with the coffin on a gun carriage pulled by horses and the same week poor families had their welfare cut back.Ten million pounds on this event which also was very provocative to the worst off members of society.

St Francis SOS

They can construct this kind of event and by means of it manipulate our feelings.State and ceremonial funerals are for the Royal Family who are above party politics or for someone like Churchill who led us through the fight against Nazi Germany.

Windows…. like dreams…. think about whether someone is presenting you with a view for their own ulterior motives and not to enlarge your view of the world… ask yourself who you are alowing into your inner sanctum

Humour

.April 2013 – Margaret Thatcher dies.
May 2013 – Hell privatised.

Moon flowers

How to get fatter without eating your heart out.

How to come  to a dead end in your own lifetime.

How to flow round the bends and up the hills

How to grow into a bitch.

How to become mentally elastic.

How to grow alma maters in pots or gro- bags.

How to grow moon flowers on earth without magic

How to distract the opposite wrecks.

How to enjoy tracks in bed.

How to make new bases for your sorrows

The dangers of meditation

Swans color abstr

http://masteringeft.com/masteringblog/about-meditation/meditation-articles/2247-2/

This is on Patricia Carrington’s website and she is the only expert person who has drawn attention to this aspect of meditation…A few years ago I read an article by the Welsh poet Gwyneth Lewis who went to a long 2 day meditation course in a convent.She became distressed but was persuaded to stay.
She became severely depressed not long after that…. the nuns didn’t know it could be bad.
Basically, clichedly I say to myself:
Don’t do too much of anything except being kind to yourself and then to others if possible

Human self deception

 

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I sit on a man’s back, choking him and making him carry me, and yet assure myself and others that I am very sorry for him and wish to ease his lot by all possible means – except by getting off his back.

Leo Tolstoy  [not checked]

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/l/leotolstoy153953.html#p5FqFhPMic2aBUvI.99

Don’t meditate just yet nor for too long

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Silver-birch

http://thoughtbrick.com/meditation/dangers-meditation-10-things-look/
Very few books or articles on meditation mention that it has risks… and now it’s being pushed as the answer to all our health problems.
In the past meditation was within a religious tradition so that you had a priest or a rabbi to turn to.Now the religious aspect is stripped away and it is taught as a method of relaxation without any connection to a community of knowledge and experience.The Church has many flaws but it does have many advantages too.. and ..similarly for religions other than Christian.
If you meditate for too long in one session it can bring up material from your Unconscious.This may be dangerous for depressives and other folk with afflictions more dangerous
Patricia Carrington’s Freedom in Meditation has a chapter on this.
And it is not meant to be a retreat from life…
For some people any form of relaxation is a problem…
sometimes taking walks is a better idea.I know one person who found having massage emotionally distressing… yes,she was anxious but she didn’t feel able to deal with it.
Listening to music is good.Sitting by a tree is good

Some men have gathered followers to their meditation readings and methods and then I read about how awful these men were to their own families… cruel even…We have rushed into spiritual  techniques without the protection of a larger community to hold us and guide us.

Sex and ethics

Sex and health

Sex and wealth

Sex by stealth.

Sex alone

Sex with others.

Sex and the Bible

Sex and Ethics

Sex  in metrics.

Sex for the scared or scarred

Sex and fitness.

Sex, it it worth it?

Sex and sin

Sex and Virtue

Sex with love.

Sex and your heart.

Sex as art.

Sex and goodness.

Sex for the   sensitive

The Stan saga.. a letter from Mary,author of “Wittgenstein’s cats”

Source: Kathryn

A letter

The Pilchards.

23,Sweetnames Avenue

Knittingham

Near Nottingham.

England

Dear Jane

Hope you are keeping well in this unusually cold spring weather.

Stan has had flu.It made him so bad tempered and waspish

that I took up the Duraglit polish and got him to polish all the brass,

except the front door knob, as that doesn’t come off.

Mind you,it made the bedroom smell odd… a mistake,perhaps.. so I sprinkled lavender oil around.

He seems to get thinner and I seem to get fatter.

So our average w eight remains constant.

What a relief.I’d like to be weighed as a married woman.Can you believe this..

I’ve got chilblains! It’s those dratted blood vessels of mine.

Still,I polished some old plum colored leather boots  and wear them in the house.

We seem to be doing polishing frequently here.. boots,furniture,apples.

How is your new book “Nonsense:A.N.Whitehead and Lewis Carroll” coming on?

Hope it’s progressing….to a nonsensical but true ending

I’ve got a new book of poetry coming out in April [from Polar bears publishers]

It’s called,”An unpolished performance.”

My fourth book on Wittgenstein‘s cats is almost finished.

And the publishers can’t wait for the photographs…I’ll get a friend to do those for me!!

It gives me a change from all that polishing.

I’ve begun to talk to myself out loud…. in the street.Just seeing if I can still do my old Lancashire accent.

I suppose it might  worry people but no one has said anything as yet.They may be afraid.

“That which is unsaid can,nevertheless,still be heard.

Stan is still involved romantically with Anne, our next door neighbor.

I can’t blame him as chilblains and Wittgenstein not very romantic.

When I think of how we used to be,it makes me smile and feel sadness too.

I wonder if I can find someone new for a romance,myself… someone with Asperger’s syndrome

possibly…as I’ve just been diagnosed.It’s quite common in mathematicians.It may be an advantage in concentrating a lot

I need a boyfriend with weak eyes as my clothes are all full of moth holes and I’m damned if I’m going to buy new ones.

I can’t see well enough to darn but I’ve sewn the holes up neatly thus giving a strange pleated effect to my clothes.

On my merino wool knitted trousers, one hole was right on the ass.It looks now as if I’ve been shot in the rear…

but I can’t see it.So it does not exist.Sometimes in the past I would iron on those motifs like

butterflies…but I think it would look odd having a butterfly just there…. or indeedanything else like wild ros

I could make a little sign saying”Keep clear,from my rear.This is a hole where a moth scored a goal.”

Still,not many people are going to look there now I hope…. I seem to have stopped knitting but am still drawing.

Meantime I’ve just ironed some of my winter clothes as it’s dank and  chilly and am planning to iron all my pink and blue knickers now as I believe it kills any germs left when you wash at 30 deg.I got those colours in case I should

change sex or is it gender?I wonder if I should iron the sheets?Could I do it while they are on the bed?

I don’t wash them much as it wears them out and me too. I am going to take up baking again because Stan is getting so thin.

I fancy a Russian cheesecake as it had a lot of protein in it.

I have a genuine Russian cookbook and also am waiting for a delivery of a

Jewish cookery book as I have lost mine..no it fell down onto my head last week

God only knows where that came from.

but I believe there were good cheesecakes as Jewish cooking has much in

common with Russian,perhaps because once many Jews lived in Russia.I just

made friends with one here….he is charming and like me he hates golf.

I have got almost all the Penguin cookery books ever printed but mislaid a

few.In fact it’s quite hard to get into the kitchen

with all these books on the shelves.And a little food.I was comforted to read that the parent’s of John Burra,the artist,

had books piled every where in their large house….and he was very untidy too.

So all I need is talent and practice and I’ll be an artist.

After all,anyone can be untidy but not everyone will practice their Art.

I’d like to practice the arts of love.They say you should love your neighbor as yourself,

but personally I prefer the neighbor or even the milkman to myself.

Meanwhile I’m happy with Emile our cat and my 500 photos of Wittgenstein. I shall make Stan a lemon sponge pudding.

That is the love he wants…Food.”If music be the food of love

I’ll cohabit with a pure white dove.

And while he coos and sings for me.
I’ll try not to :fall out of the tree,
Get stung by a bee,
Have psychotherapy
Make more enemies,
Let my thought free,
Hurt my knee.
Let moths frighten me.

 

Well,time for some tea.

Now Jane, please write to me soon.

I love to see your so strangely beautiful handwriting alluring me to open the letter and to hear about Whitehead and Cambridge and all the weird dons. I hope it’s not too damp and cold there near that river.

Keep warm and make a note of any intriguing happenings to relate to me. And anything beautiful you can see or hear.I hope Edward is writing regularly..where is he doing his research now… did you say Stanford?Maybe you should install Skype..then again,perhaps not as you would have to wash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.

Do write soon,dear one,Love always,Mary.

 

Odd shoes

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  • After Mary went off to the Oxfam shop on her bikes with a bag of surplus shoes Stan decided to clean his laptop computer.He was trying to open the plastic box of Screen Cleaning Tissues and wondering if he could have used a damp microfibre cloth instead.He was feeling excited because he was going to take Mary away for the weekend to a Pie Museum on the Lincolnshire coast.
    There was a knock on the back door.He saw Lisa and Tom,two students from Knittingham University.Tom’s grandmother was a friend of Stan’s.
  • “Hello,”said Tom,”this is Lisa Stoat my girlfriend.”
  • “Hello,Lisa.How are you?And where do you come from?”
    “Hello,I’m fine, thanks.I believe my mum found me under a gooseberry bush near the A19 to Teesside.She’d been out rambling with the gypsies.Anyway she met my dad when I was 2.He’s  doctor in Middlesborough,he adopted me and several other  children my mother found from time to time out in the country.There are six of us now.There are lots of gooseberry bushes on Teesside.”
    “Thank you for that,Lisa.”Stan said
    “Please don’t mention it; you are more than welcome!” the lovely girl told him gently.
    “Would you like some gooseberry pie.”Stan asked her modestly
    “Yes,I’m ravenous.” the girl  replied shyly,her cheeks turning bright red
    “Well,you know you are a growing girl.” Stan chuntered .”I’m afraid I can’t find the cake forks”
    “That’s a pity,” replied Tom.”I’ve never seen  a  cake fork in my entire life.”
  • “Oh,goodness,”Stan called.”What did you do?”
    “Well,we used an axe to cut the pies up and then lay on the floor and grabbed bits with our teeth.!”
    “Where you raised by cats?” Stan cried querulously.
    “To a certain extent,”the boy honestly admitted.”But I can use a knife and fork now for meat and veg and also I can now use a lavatory rather than digging a hole in the soil or using a plant pot.”
    “Have you thought of writing your autobiography?”Stan demanded curiously
    “I feel I’m a bit young for that and  the cats, Lucy and Mario, might be offended.”
    “Can they read?”Stan muttered loudly.

“Not yet but I’m doing phonics with them. the government recommends that according to the News of the Failed.”
“But not  for cats,surely?” Stan replied jovially.
“Well,you win some you lose some!” Tom answered with the  unique and original turn of phrase  typical of one raised by  cats
Lisa got over. excited.”You could call it “A tale of two Kitties”” she cried hysterically.
“Oh,my God.Is she bipolar?” Stan thought nervously
“But what would Professor Fittsgenstein think?”
“I rarely think,” said a man who had crept into the kitchen through the cat flap.”And I have to confess that I too was partially raised by cats.”
“Welcome.Professor”, they all shouted
“What  a coincidence!”
“Well,”said Annie, who had been listening through the keyhole,”It’s very common in Knittinghamshire you know.The mortgages are so big,both parents have to work so they have no alternative but to leave the children at home with the cats.They all learn to mioaw which can be useful.” She then gave a loud”mioaw” and disappeared.”I’d better ring 999 ” Stan whispered.”I think she is  going crazy.
“Oh,no” Tom stated knowingly,”If you could enter into the narrative of her life and reach the place where she is you would see it all makes perfect sense.”
“What even the thick layers of makeup and the T K Maxx perfume.”Stan enquired philosophically”Yes,indeed.” the lad told him ardently

“Didn’t Schopenhauer advise against about pretending to be someone other than your true self?” Stan said thoughtlessly

“I’m sorry but we have only reached pi and the Ancient Greeks.Is Philosophy actually  meant to help you with real life problems?”
“What sort of pie did they eat?”Stan wondered anxiously.
“I guess maybe apricot or peach,”said Lisa womanly
“Well,I have the Fanni Far Mer cookery book here.I’ll look it up.”
“But she’s American? poor Lisa said peevishly
“I thought she was a Turk!” Stan informed her humorously
“What about Gud How Ski Ping?” She  debated
“Yes,I do like  Chinese. food” he informed her.”It is very popular all over the world.
I’d better brew the tea,Stan decided…the kettle was  now boiling noisily on the hot red  coal fire… frightening Emile who was sleeping on the rag rug in front of it…

So it’s goodbye from Knittingham and Nottingham too

 

With no conscious plan

Why, in the stiff west wind that sends bright leaves scudding
along the dull grey pavement,
Why is it those leaves?
Why do some leaves stay still and dead
as if only a hurricane
would lift them to fly off like aged butterflies?
And how we are like that too.
Some of us are blown away by a mere puff of tobacco smoke
Others are stuck to the earth to live,to die where we were born.
And see now the patterns change
as the wind drops and the flying leaves
descend again but onto a new terrain,
resting for a while with the curmudgeonly stuck grey leaves
before another breeze takes them off flying past the chestnut trees and into the schoolyard….
where boys,mad with stiffness dash about
themselves a little like the leaves
forming shapes and patterns as they run
with no conscious plan
then the bell will ring
returning them to rows and columns
like an army platoon seated at child sized desks
Waiting for their orders.
The sky is not blue today
Yet the flowers smell so sweet they enchant me
as I tread carefully in my blue boots
across the dangerous damp flags
into the Pharmacy by the big trees

Always faintly guilty

Pass  water on a dot?
I can’t relieve you,my dear.You need a pot.
Do pass the fluck to me if  you can beware to.
You pig!I know your tart of man be off.
He passed  on the shit by letter
Uttering crap was his  pleasure.
He just couldn’t stand himself.
Still you love them,you hate them;
it passes the flame.
He passed  me with flying dolours;
once a Catholic,always faintly guilty.
In my case I  truly passed out with flying colors.
You see,the red knickers were half price
no-one else wore them.
I don’t know why they were  ever made,
and no maid should have worn them.
I was always out of the lurch of normality,if you grasp my scheming.
I had a hare brain  and no mind to speak to except my doll with no head
it fell off,unlike mine,that’s china for you.Potheads are a bad idea
Please read under each line today
To take the path of least consistency is hard for mathematicians
but post-Godel it’s just one more hurdle to leap over
Play as you go where?
His lips paid me such service,no-one since has matched his adroitness,
yet he never knew my name.
I was just one of a number of girl he loved in rotation;
we were almost a constellation
and definitely a consolation to each other,united by our  hatred of the one we love

I  just do not know  how pray through the prose.
If he were not a man,I’d call him a bitch.
He called me a deviant tart,if I recall nightly.
Peel the onion with a running tap to stop your eyes running
Can I  put a pencil in your ear
They gave us a penny for each thought we had thunken.
I remember it so mistily as I never knew thought before.
I was an intellectual virgin at that time…

I have a little lamb

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I’ll stick with Thee…fast falls the chill of night
Send me an angel,I need something bright.
I have no fear,with Thee I’ll be alright.
Why not succumb and put in electric light?

Large now or small.It matters not what size.

All that now matters…must be our Lord God’s eyes.0114- arnside 2 0006
In their sweet light,I’ll love my neighbour’s wife
As she seems unhappy with almost all her life.

I do not mean to fornicate or lust.
No,I’ll calm her gently and I’ll earn her trust.
I’ll cook their dinner,so she takes a rest…
Then when the evening comes I’ll sit my test.

Do they eat meat?I have a little lamb…
If not I think there is some well cured ham.
I’ll cook nine veggies as we are advised
That will definitely bring us to Eternal Life

The butterfly

The butterfly is like a flower
which moves its station every hour.
Oh,happy is he on the wing.
The vision makes me quick to sing.
The flower is open in the sun,
And to its heart, true love shall come.
The bees shall feast and fly replete
With nectar they are now full sweet.
I sing of color and of love,
Blessings that rain down from above.
I wish to be a flower too.
Ah,that the bee could but be you.

And studying engine ballistics

I used to like doing statistics

And studying engine ballistics.
but I saw the light.
At midnight one night.
Since when I’m enjoying the Mystics.

I read Meister Eckhart one year.
I found some little bits very clear.
I agree I am naught
In blindness am caught.
I am almost convinced I’m not here.

Doing the pruning is good.
Take off the dead bits of wood.
Oh,God prune my soul,
Help me to be whole.
I may even come into new bud.

Is God just a metaphor?
Do you really know who you are?
I was in my room
When a feeling of doom
Made me run straight into this bar!

I think I’ve mislaid my soul
I was washing it in this white bowl.
So well did I rinse,
I’ve not seen it since.
So how will I ever grow whole?

I think the detergent’s too strong.
I felt in my heart it was wrong.
A soul is too fine,
For modern design,
and especially for a  very sharp tongue.

I always loved contemplation.
I can do it even while waiting.
Life goes so fast,
From the first to the last.
I’ll meditate in your arms on the Station.

New Bible Story

And it came to pass that they ate their dinner
and that she did washeth up.
And she did leave the dishes to drain
Whilst she put on the washing machine.
and the man was very pleased.

And it further came to pass
that she gave the man some pudding
and he was more pleased.
And then it came to pass the he fell asleep
By the fire.

And the Lord God,said
who is this man that sleepeth by his fire?
And He said,I shall waken him up
And the man awoke,
And God spake unto him

How is it that the woman laboureth in ye kitchen.
And that thou sleepeth here in an armchair.
And the man said,
But Thou didst order women to labour.
And the Lord God said unto the man
Why dost thou remember so selectively what I have said?
And the man said,
I knoweth not and therefore I will help this woman.
And the Lord God said,
Why dost thou not think of it thyself?
And the man said in reply,
It was Thou that made me,O God.

And the Lord God was displeased with the man.
so he called down a plague of butterflies
To prevent him from sleeping.
And when the woman came in
she was much pleased to see these butterflies
and so she fell onto the man
And he did make love unto her.
And the cat was very pleased.

For it thrilled a cat to watch humans loving
and gave him hope
That the Lord God would take his rib and make a mate for him.
And indeed it doth seem to have happened
Judging by all the cats staring in ye old window here;
And by their ecstatic yelps
That the Lord God was very generous with them
and made them many mates.
For truly there is no jealousy among them
And they mate freely and happily
and never have rows about the washing up..
as they eat straight from the can.Amen

Here endeth today’s lesson.
Be thou kind to thy mate always

Enchantment

How white and blue together recollect us
to the summer sky and the imagined swallows
darting in exquisite geometry
under the great domed space of the heavens,
like the Basilica in Constantinople
containing and giving space.
And how I held you for a moment that was infinite
and then you were gone like an angel fearing enchantment
into some finite boundaried world

My own blood

When the windows shattered
And the splinters flew in
You just made for the back door
And left me
not knowing where I could begin.

When the shards of glass hit me
And pierced my vulnerable skin
You were already going,
Leaving me
feeling you were an inhuman being.

When I fell down, covered in glass and bleeding,
And the storm raged on,
I didn’t look round because
I knew,I knew,I knew,
I knew you would be gone.
Gone.Gone.

Suddenly peace came,storm had quite
disappeared..
It was all over so quickly
Not as terrible as I feared.
My wounds were bad,I have to confess.
I had no bandage
Nothing with which to dress.

Gently I washed away the blood

Now I just have bruises

And a  dark shape

On the floor,where  you stood

Since that day,no storms have  come this way.
My wounds are healing
I have just one thing to say.
When the storm was so bad
You left me all alone…

but strangely since then
all is peace and calm.
Your absence has become
almost a balm.

But I hear stories of fierce storms rising up
In towns and villages
Not too far from here,where a dark man appears.

Seems like he’s running to get away
From some storm
But the storm’s inside him…
He gives it form.

So when the windows crashed in
And glass flew at my face
He left me all alone
In what, he thought,
was a very dangerous place.

Did he not pick me up
and carry me outside?
No,my darlings, he left me alone;
I might have died.

But since then
I lost a great burden…
And I lost a great feeling of shame.

Rise up,you women,bleeding and torn.
For on days like that,a new resolve is born.

While you live don’t accept all the blame.
Don’t live so long  in fear and in shame.
Rise up and find that calm
In the eye of the storm…
On days like this
a new woman’s soul is born.

A cat contemplates life with humans

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I’m sitting under the coffee table.As you know I am called Emile.So by  rights I should be given some cafe au lait in a traditional French style wide cup with a silver brim plus a matching saucer.I am shocked that Stan has never asked me to partake.I need a coffee break..it’s hard work spying all day!
I heard Anne talking on her mobile while Stan was looking for the graph paper.She must be talking to another woman…. she said she’s just bought some Revlon primer lotion to put under her light beige mousse foundation.Ye Gods,it sounds as if she’s painting the wall.She was moaning she can’t afford Lancome any more.Mousse foundation..that sounds tasty! She wants some heather coloured lipstick but she couldn’t find any.She’s put a new one on anyway and Stan came in to give his opinion:
Congratulations,Anne.You have found lipstick that’s exactly the same colour as your own lip .She was mortified.I could see tears in her eyes but luckily she had her waterproof mascara and purpleeyeshadow on.
Well,it makes me glad to be a cat…we have no need for skin products
and we have no lips as such.Why do humans have lips?Is it mainly for kissing?
And perfume………we like the natural odors but I’ve never seen Stan go up and sniff Anne’s netherregions…though I admit I took a sniff and she smells very intriguing… probably some musk she’s bought.
I envy Stan in a way.Because I’d like to kiss Anne but my lips are too small….I could lick hers with my little raspy tongue!
Maybe if she falls asleep i’ll have a go.i love that woman so..
A cat may look at a king,but can he lick a lady’s lips?
Well,must go and take a walk around my territory and sniff out who’s about….face primer.What next.Paint stripper? What a waste of time and money.I could be chasing dandelion clocks round the garden

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I threw my words up in the air

I threw my words up in the air
So they would fall at random.
I put some paper on the floor
For these words to land on.
They lay there like a shredded page.
I pushed them with my fingers.
Until I made a verse from them
Which suits wild drunken singers.
A Jackson Pollock of the page.
Post modern verbal mistress
As Picasso haunts Greek labyrinths
With post modern art’s distresses.

My mind unpleated

Watching Plato shining torches into blackness,
Wandering through the galleries,
Sepia paintings of pines,
Pain came to the emptiness once my heart,
I sat picturing screaming Popes and babies.
Eastward, looking for fresh instruction,
My mind unpleated,like a pair of curtains
Hung out to dry in equinoxal gales.
The bells of Satan’s cell phone
Rang again,startling in this silence.
“You had your smear done yet?”
“It’s me,hinny”
“I’m having coffee here in “Costa’s.”
Then I awoke,a man appeared.
How apposite,I need you,Ludwig!
I can’t fly my kite.

In the Science Museum,the mirror cracked
And from it stars flew out,
Adorning cars and bicycles and buses.
The building gently fell into its own reflection.
People flew out like gasping rockets,
Illuminating the blankness,
Crying

“Is today the day?

In between two tears

Some evenings,the sky turned pink
We were happy,lying in the grass
Watching the sun set.
Arms around each other.
Seemed like eternal life had come
Earlier than forecast.
Those weathermen are always wrong!
They need new training
In that timeless moment
In between two raindrops,
In between two tears.

A true story we invent

No words of mine can potently display
the anguish and the joy that touch our lives;
yet all our ghostly forebears went this way
where words may pierce our hearts like sharpened knives.

No sentient being willingly at first
Accepts the pain that true perception brings.
Yet we must not take hearts to be a curse;
we need not flee from knowledge,though it stings.

Each day demands our thoughtfulness and love
from which all better action gently stems
each day the grace we have is just enough
as through the meta narratives we thumb.

For life’s but a true story we invent,
with passion and with purified intent

O bloggers.Go cubitum nunc quomodo

Ersatz raps

… Hoc est quod suus ‘recitari .. sana verba etiam aliquis constituitur poem.I

Source: K

 This is a sound poem so the language is not as important….it’s the sound… however Google translate is not very good as you may already know.. it’s word by word… and not all the words either

O mihi tam mitis aut sicut videt lupum listening..he scriptor decentral?
o, a, a, kerbumplof.
It clamor Vocatis feminam
Bang, anima mea, et
in secreto cubiculi tui
Ker mi eu
Thor.War
procellarum fulgur
saluto vos
AAAAAAhhhhhhhhh
Me, oh, o me, haesit hic me in mea sulcus
Da mihi electrica impulsus, tacita treatment.Sulk, amabo, Argentina.
strigibus, clamatis, sensi vos vigilo.
, Palpate pluma
me, et in pulverem;
Glug!
video per eas et tunicam tuam tollere
, amplectar et retorto ad collum tuum habebis, et
Bong!
non ad me accedas usque
lupi non
bene gaudet
, quia ingemisco ego, et meditationes et supercilium
, ipsa suus ‘a nutter,
iter
ululate
clamatis
tantibus
agendum est:
Odisti me,
et non rursum vocare ut vestri ‘ iam hic
non es exspectata.
Ego claudere ostium
in vestri tabernus
Oh, quod sic.
illustrarunt fulgura, et
ite in tabernacula vestra
, ut verisimile est, carmine
male concepit
Aquila dum venio enim ego
cadit montem …
scree ardentis.
ego nunquam volo Dulce te iterum videre, babe.My anatis.
Lorem ipsum dolor sit relinquere, et a caritate me.Cheers
Ut ok.I intellego.
Aspidem Admisit spiritu constitutus
Per bot effuge!
No thud
No dach
sunds VAGIO.
Tempus meum tea biscuit et
cocto duplum
sed vos erant
ab ab aa abest a aaab aahaa
eros
No.No.no
mihi non credo, tibi
fila, succide, et suspendite ea de iterum
O bloggers.Go cubitum
nunc
quomodo
Mein eschreitschzung.Flightschzung.Nachtschzung
blung .blung
dele me de
me atramentum maculata.
Ut inimicos tuos, ut curvum, et mundus
me, et attende tibi Duis congue
Et, immo vero
, quod suus ‘venit et bene
murem insidias Satin ‘
Vide Rockefeller
dilabantur et
Affer sacculum Plath scriptor Sylvia
exiguo charta.
faciebat scitis?
Numquid scitis?
Numquid sudor
Bang?
Thud.My in cælo ceciderunt super millpond
Non fumigant prope me
et ego adepto exuritur
enim vos odit
aut iustus volo an proni et E ad
AEQUALITAS
Droom, droom
Dee
Bag
bug
Ted ad lectum
ubi quam nuptiis ut
cum alia muliere,
non ad secundam
Mathilda
off suus ‘perfectus nostrum
Brang.Blong
Eschreitchzung
Fleightschztung
Herr Meightschrung!
P

Getting better each day

Ioulios_Palamaras_170_256_c1

Dr Ioulios Palamaras [an expert at Mohs surgery and other skilled techniques]He is not paying me BTW

World class dermatologist with a good sense of humour

Well maybe it was worth 22 injections of anaesthetic  to be cured [or is it healed ?]by God,nature and a human being with special skills

But which glasses to wear and how many pairs?

I have a fancy for teal coloured frames but I can’t go outside yet!

Meanwhile the cats seem to have no problem…wonder what they want?

images kits

photo big specs

Yes we used to wear big spectacles once upon a time… they were sometimes too big

cat-glasses-face-squint-hd-free-animals-wallpaper
It’s a cat’s life alright, they need no sunscreen nor hats..Why,I could wear the cat on my head if only she would keep still!Maybe two would be even better.cat-reading-book2_zpsac56a3ddMaking good progress here.She’ll soon have her D.Phil [Oxo] and then  her own office too.photo 3 specs

I wonder how many pairs of spectacles  I can wear at once and will they get me onto the right track in life?

p15

Life is sometimes very painful  but we forget when time passes and we are grateful for the surgeon who saves our life…but never put elastoplast over a deep incision… it took me an hour top recover from rcat-reading-a-book-with-glasses-600x384emoving this the pain was so bad…I put it on so I could wear my specs.Never again.I’ll just get a guide cat instead.She will know how to get to Cafe Nero…