We see what we expect

We are not false and neither are we true.
We’re not propositions,I’m not you
We have our different selves which are displayed
In our manner  and in what we say

To the teacher we may be polite
To a shy young man we show our heart
With the priest we feel  the breath of God
Dying on his Cross misunderstood

We see what we expect not what is here
Eyes are muddled by our wish  and fear
We need each other so that we can share
Perceptions and emotions we can’t bear

Getting new ideas we can grow
Don’t think we just know it  all,t’ain’t so

I don’t like  the odour of your shoes

I am good and you are evil now
I decide and you must  just agree
I am  your superior and how!

I must be the bull and you are cows
You are blind but I can truly see
I am good and you are evil now

By  good fortune, I am well endowed
I make better cakes and better tea
I am  your superior and how!

I don’t like  the odour of your  shoes
All  I meet will  certainly agree
I  shine  bright and you are duller now

I know  that  God himself was born  anew
I will  learn his language  for a fee
I feel so superior in the  pew

I am the python  in the apple tree
The adder shedding skin, the perjury
I am good  but boring too I know
Where are the shades,  the LSD,the glow?

My cat Ben

The first cat,Ben, was tabby, with great eyes
On Sundays we took him riding in  our  car
I used to wrap him in  a woollen scart
For he was very small and very blyth

Ben grew  up so he went out all night
Hunting round the flats for  mice  or hens
Cat suck eggs and don’t care who or when
They run and hunt until the sun arrives

No doubt they  find a mate to  play with, as one might
Father kittens, scatter their seed wide
Ben followed me into the road at five
A rushing car hit my dear cat, Ben died

Soon  my husband’s father went as well
We could not cry, for dried up was the well

Give us back the seats in public space

When in pain, the world is made of seats
Where one can gain a moment of relief
Ignored are flowers however fair and pure
When pain  grows strong,we cannot  gaze,revere

But since the homeless lie on  seats at night
The council have removed them from our sight
The bus stop , seats of plastic , hurt me sore
Till I am wracked   with pain  I once ignored

I need gardens with low walls of stone
Where I  may sit and softly, clearly moan
My coat is spoiled  and now I feel  my rage
I’m no longer on the human stage.

Yet bees die if they sting us in  defence
Little in the world makes any sense

Strength needs flexibility and give

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When of the world of doctors,I am sick.
When diagnosis is not any aid
When from the choices given,
I cannot pick
Although I feel my deepest debts were paid.
Then off from thinking I must take my mind
To gaze upon the beauty of the woods
And feel the sun not fiery, even kind.
It warms and heartens even my cold blood.
The trees are calm for they have grown deep roots
Though storms may strike their trunks and branches too
Breaking off new tender green tipped shoots
They sway and take it without much to do.
Strength needs flexibility and give;
With no such, the brittle shall not live

Won’t power

Willpower is a tool, but what’s its end?
Hitler willed to make a perfect state
The Jew, the gypsy and the gays he bound

Thinking must be based on solid grounds
If that is missing,madness is  our fate
Logic is a tool, but what’s its end?

We may will an evil that resounds
With efficient railways  never late
The Jews, the gypsies and the gays were burned

Oh,crazed efficiency,oh  Hitler’s gangs
Force of will was harnessed to distaste
Willpower’s just a tool, have we not learned?

God  wrote to the people with his Word
Stammering now, reluctant   he dictates
The  postman comes, the letter must be shared

Pride and arrogance  will  soon ignite
High IQ  is useless against  hate
Willpower is a tool, but what’s its end?
When wrongly used,the evil will ascend

 

 

Their lover wants a burglar to alarm

How sad I think of washing the bed sheets
When my partner  holds me in his arms
Instead of kissing me  he   might well shout

Do I get more pleasure as I sleep
Dreaming of a Bendix  and its charms~

How sad I think of washing the bed sheets

Even grown up men are seen to weep
Their lover wants a burglar to alarm
Instead of kissing her , he  might well shriek

Even when it’s raining cats and sleet
Women  hang their washing  in the yard
How sad I think of washing all the  sheets

When we marry we  don’t know these weights
The world sits on  our backs quite unadorned
Instead of kissing  him,she  might well shriek

Now romance  cannot last, and love  lies lame
Buying houses, babies, what to blame?
Women  are still   fraying mind and  sheets
Instead of kissing lovers ,indiscreet

 

The secret self  shrinks and  the falseness blooms

Time when life divides, it has two streams
One is on the surface, one  below
The secret self, the other one assumes.

I  walk on as the gap grows wider,screams
One shakes hands and one hides,  stamping low
The secret self, the other one assumes.

Can I  link the two or must I dream?
Times when life was gentler and more slow
The unknown self,  the outer it consumes

Now one is riding high to crash and bloom
Will death be the outcome,I don’t know
The secret self, the other they assume

The longer I go on,  the  nom de plumes,
The silent axe, the present danger grown
The unknown self,  the outer it consumes

Cannot   someone sew  me ,mend my holes
Help me, Lord,I have no place to go
Time when life divides in its two streams
The secret self  shrinks and  the falseness blooms

 

 

 

 

Aching

My skin is aching,tender, loss  has pierced
My heart needs walls, its boundary has gone
I miss the touch of love from him so dear

A belt of metal pins  brought me tears
Why suffer this till I  am quite undone?
My skin is aching,tender,  by loss pierced

We forget that grief is close to fear
Then alone, we panic, what’s to come?
I ache without the love from him so dear

Psychotic with no unity, who steers
My head  is so remote,I have no plan
My skin is aching,tender, by loss pierced

Cursed be the One who made our sphere
Since Eden went,by  so called  sin undone
I ache without the love from  someone dear

I should   get my cell, like Julian
Hide inside the church wall, will Love come?
My skin is aching,tender, loss  has pierced
Uncaressed by him  whom I held dear

 

 

 

 

 

Ye olde limerick

I once like to make apple tarts
I was never much good throwing darts
To add some confusion
I had a delusion
That life can be lived as an Art

I like making quiche  while at home
The smell of the pastry is warm
I saw a small ghost
Steal my hot  toast
Then he left, he went over to Rome

My husband would pray in the night
Until dawn came with its gentle light
He liked  my strange fiction
Without contradiction
I wish he were still in my sight

I miss his dear face and his smile
He knew  that I had little guile
How will you manage
He died feeling  anguish
The Devil was let out on bail

The kindness

Every time  I think that I will stop
That poetry is not my kind of game
The kindness of my readers picks me up

I start again and emptied is my cup
I wander through the library of names
 I feel the affect  and the unwilled stop

In the mind we know we suffer gaps
That every heart and soul has got its stains
The kindness of my readers picks me up

Each of  us can share our  homemade map
Can ask for comfort when we are in pain
All feel the affect  and the unwilled stops

Comfort me,  give charm to my black cat
He seems to have no affect, he is lame
The kindness of my readers picks us up

Would we wish the wild world to be tamed?
Were better if we could start  life again
Every time  I think that I will stop
The kindness of my readers draws me up

 

 

Faltering voice

The moment that they told me he was gone
I knew I never more would be at one.
The guilt  is bad, the shame is harder still
That I no longer am  what I would will

That I did not perceive the   your state of mind
That to your heart I seemed to have been blind
That I was not enough to keep you here
That life and death most grievous are  so near

Then  shamed by my emotions I withdrew
Into the prison cell  that no-one knew
My soul was  pierced , I could not own my grief
 Limp, submissive , blown away, a leaf.

Shame is deadly, unexposed to speech
With reddened face and   faltering voice I weep

Their own heart

Living with division in the self
Two parts that can’t be joined by any wealth
Worthlessness,  remote the place it starts
Can we heal,rejoin the broken parts?

Must we go back to  places where we failed
Or be unfree, a prisoner with no jail?
Who might knit the stitches that would join
The valued  half, the other part they scorned?

Ways to go down deep might lead to death
Earn the  anger,bait the holy wrath
The earth cracks wide, the precipice appears
Astride the split, there is  no use for tears

So easy to break up , to split ,to part
Who   will hold their self  in their own heart?

 

The churchyard wall

The bricks of the old wall   while crumbling  live
Five hundred years of history passed them by
While plants grew in  the  cracks below, above

Apart from  people, this is what I  love
That ancient structures stand  and  do not die
The bricks of this old wall  while crumbling  live

A little beauty will do well enough
This  cheers my heart   and lifts my spirits high
Wild  flowers grow in  the  cracks below, above

We fill  our minds and homes with shop bought stuff
Gaze on   bricks and cracks, what will we spy?
The bricks of this old wall  while crumbling  live

Like old complexions, older bricks are rough
The Vicar cannot smooth them though they try
Holes  for plants inscribe these cracks  with love

 From generations past, ghosts wander. shy.
Looking for their graves,  they whisper,sigh
The bricks of the old wall   still crumbling  live
Tenacious   weeds  shall wave  below, above

 

 

And died in peace

My husband was a very selfish man
He gave me polish in a brand new tin
That was for the furniture not  for me
Well some may lose yet others might well win

He thought that I was programmed by my genes
To bake him cakes and polish  wood and brass
To cook lamb chops and boil  potatoes new
I said we did not learn that in  the maths class

Then he grew enraged that I was bright
He told me off for playing Chess  with men
He told me off for  reading Wittgenstein
What could I do  but drink   all of his gin?

He complained  I knew the villains in a film
My brain was far to fine to make me dear
Perhaps I was a witch   in angel’s clothes
Drinking tea like  others might drink  beer

After he’d unloaded all his  grief
He thanked me for my  love   and  he died  in peace

Go well

The brother silenced by disease lies still
Like a cat lies in the hedge awaiting death
Where are his choices, where his powerful will?

Freedom’s an illusion we  distil
He  felt he had  free choices on his path
 Oh,brother  frozen by disease be still

To the strongest , losing choice is hell
But death will come despite our  crashing wrath
There are few choices, little we can will

The lowly lean on God when they are ill
Like  Jesu did, they bear their heavy cross
 Oh brother will   your frozen muscles kill?

Only rich folk ask to be fulfilled
They have  their  own  wishes as their boss
Accepting all we die.sweet animals

He’s left  it late to act , which  man can choose
To  find the  ghostly fire where burns the rose?
The  soul prepares and bears the body
  still
We  only choose  our  attitude , go well

With the people who fall through the cracks.

The child too shy to join  a little group
Or shamed by her old clothing  and her shoes
The one who feels they don’t fit in or match
The one who suffered early from the blues

The barren wife, no virgin yet unused
The girl so clever yet she was well bruised
The middle age of suffering ends and views
The loneliness  of age  with none amused

The man too nervous to make any move
The man who cannot pass  yet cannot love
The aging figure hopelessly bemused
The sperm still leaping,never to be used.

Some are in and others are outside
How few stayed with Jesus as he cried!
If we were more like him we would now mix
With the people who fall through the cracks.

A hint of suffering in the edge of eye
A hint of sadness by  the mouth denied
A hint of being tired of one’s own life
A hint that maybe someone wants to die

Amber eyes

I brought home a kitten from a friend
So tiny yet so fierce he bit my hands
We could not find him  when we came back home
He was   tucked in with the sheet  under the foam

We  had no garden so we  took him out
Wrapped in a wool cardigan,I think
He lay contented on my knee  all day
Looking at the trees and coloured sky

When mature  he roamed the night away
Sleeping in a rocking chair all day
Benjamin, we called him, was run down
In the rush hour by a speeding clown,

The amber eyes of  Benjamin would glow
He gave us  happiness,we  loved him so

The doll

They gave me a small watch on Xmas Day
But with a watch a little child can’t play
I envied both my sisters with  new dolls
As on the old settee the dolls were lulled

I stood  there uncomprehending and alone
Had I reached unknowing a milestone?
Then my sister lent  me one of hers
I broke that little  head  upon my chair

I was holding her with tenderness
Scarcely breathing in my velvet dress
So   I sat down to   rock  my babe  awhile
The horror of   her  cracking head was vile

Now I play with  numbers and with  words
And   look back sadly at that little girl

 

We broke the symbols down and we are mad

Jesus   is not in the Sacred Bread
Nothing  stays the same ,much as we hope
He drowns with refugees,  he crawls in mud

Life and God aren’t static.souls have fled
Do not deny  the loss,  nor  its great scope
Jesus   is not in the Sacred Bread

Europe cracked ,  a billion billion   dead
Unacknowledged evil  is the rope
He burned with  Europe’s Jews ,we lust in bed

The War’s not gone, it lives inside the head
We do not need a thousand microscopes
Jesus   is not in the Sacred Bread

The symbol’s done, the  bread of heaven ‘s bad
We “Christians” were not there when Jesus  spoke
Christ burned with  gypsies, queers , was shot unclad

It’s over, people,what  we  never read.
We  ruined  the world ,  destroyed the ones who fled
Jesus   is not in the Sacred Bread
He drowned  and burned was shot,he’s truly dead

 

 

 

 

 

 

We left the  old Road Atlas in a box

London is bewildered by its roads
The Circular, the North,the South,  the Codes
The Morse  and the  Enigma Turing broke
So now we have new bicycles with spokes

Once we had the A to Z  in hand
Turn it upside down and you’ll be grand
New technology has  made  great strides
Carrying us to Eden ,what a ride

The motorways are  empty  for  tonight
God decided  we had too much Light
He  taught the bare cheeked Moon   on Jesus’ mount
To turn the other side when love’s about

I liked to use a compass and a map
But now, my dear,  most everything’s on tap
I crouch  beneath my sister as she drives
In the dark on the M 25

But if it’s closed, we are completely foxed
We left the  old Road Atlas in  a box
Along with all my ex’s underpants
And naturally  his principles of Kant

We may be in Watford  or in Bucks
I  often wonder what will rhyme with luck
We may be near St Alban’s, we can’t see
The car ran up the trunk of this oak tree

We rang 999  and they are here
A fire engine filled  up with Kentish beer
A ladder  for the ladies to climb down
Now they are just women on the town

London won’t exist ,destroyed by cars
Angry men who cannot find a bar

The raspberry canes, the honesty know more

The empty canes of raspberries  hang low
Red maple leaves are mashed up in the mud
 Nature  seems to  hover by death’s door 

Animals and humans drained as whores
No feeling ,no  green sap,no  flowing blood
The crackling canes of raspberries hang low

What can we say un-cliched, metaphored?
At dawn the sun will  burn despite the Flood
Nature  did not force us through death’s door 

Can the death  of God    mean this and more,
Though love and hate are fractured, life is good?
The chuckling canes  the berries sang below

Can  a life  with heart not be restored?
End  retaliation,   understand
Nature  did not wave us through  the door 

At the edge of Europe  are no hordes
Jesus is  more small  than any  bud
The crackling canes stored laughter in their cores

The remnants of the foxgloves in the wood
Wave politely . even seem to nod
The raspberry canes, the honesty know more
Nature ,light and darkness, affect stored

 

Grave the undertones  

I ran behind you but the hills were steep
I was frightened, left  behind alone
Now you go ahead into your sleep

Can’t you ever wait, so we could meet
Without you teasing me with  broken bones?
 I ran behind you but the hills were steep

Not held back  by fog or  frost  or sleet
Now you are a husk, where is your home?
 Oh,  must you  go ahead into dark sleep?

You were King , the girls and  boys all leaped
You would not let me use the gramophone
 I  tried  to  meet you,fear and love I keep.

The green sap rose, adventure was the key
Now we’re old so grave the undertones
 Might I murmur while you sink to  sleep?

Let  your hands stretch backward as you go
Before you’re in the earth so bitter,cold
I  passed you as I entered into speech
Yet still you  go ahead  my words can’t reach

 

 

 

 

By our own ignoring we’re deranged

Our sado-masochistic people jump for joy
Taken in by ads and lies and rage
Soon enough we’ll find we are mere  toys

Johnson knows the tricks in his employ
While from each other, subjects are estranged
Our sado-masochistic people jump for joy

We think we want  the best but are destroyed
By our own ignoring we’re deranged
Soon enough we’ll find we are just toys

Too late now  for a message to convey
We chose helplessness and angst  to have their reign
Oh, sado-masochistic people jump for joy

We will be numbered  like the European Jews .
Our rulers  kept them out, oh moral stain
Soon enough we’ll find we ‘re numbered toys

Once we had  our heads to hold our brains
Now our minds are trapped like that of Cain
Sado-masochistic people jump for joy
Yet by  ignorant  suffering  we’re destroyed

 

 

We may miss the  very clues we need

Emotional claustrophobia is widespread
We fear   our feelings,fear the sudden dread
We swing between attraction and dismay
Others have been seen to sink to prayer

Yet all alone at Xmas we are sad
Even   our other choice was dread
People who  can madden with crude noise
Feel some  one else might love their voice

Silence is  like music in  its  joy
No intrusion, no strong  words to annoy
But if we flee intrusion   at great speed
We may miss the  very clues we need

Oh, to find a lover  joyful in our space
When we long  for  touch, for wild embrace.

Between intrusion and abandonment

Between intrusion and abandonment
We  hope to find a  place  of trust and care
A place where we can  spend our loving wealth

Communion starts.our hearts enjoy love’s health
Here our bodies and our souls are bared
Between intrusion and abandonment

Walk  as does the tiger with its stealth
Treat your loved one well  as  both prepare
A place where  each can  spend this loving wealth

And if you are  alone, stay with  yourself
Do not neglect   that soul who’s always here
Without intrusion or abandonment

Quietly sings the soul  for all is meant
We’re inspired  by hope  and  not by fear
To  clear  a space , to  learn the dove’s  lament.

Take the tiller, love itself may steer
Our voyage through the  unknown ocean’s near
Between intrusion and abandonment
We  seek a   space  to share our loving wealth

 

 

When after death I lie deep in the earth

O happy worm that of  my flesh might eat
When after death I lie in deep in the earth
My bosom,hands and eyes  become your meat

You have no sun as you enjoy your feast
And none is  chosen as we were at birth
O happy worm that of  my flesh might eat

All of us are equal in defeat
None are high or low , what are we worth?
My brain,my hands,my eyes  become worms’ meat

In the soil, we rest  in comfort sweet
Let us all be blessed,God  make no curse
You made the happy worms who   will  us  eat

O  remember the deep  ash from Auschwitz’ heat
The little children killed without Kaddish
Those  hearts ,those hands, those eyes   no worm   could eat

,
Why should we  be satisfied by wish

When  people burn or starve  beside our dish
O Godly worm that of  my flesh might eat
Let my very self  become your meat

We wounded hide away

10363756_491792187620581_3914824934932227777_n (1)If I could see your heart and soul and know your feelings past 
 and if you knew mine
 we could   guess why our expectations go so wrong
 because at that moment what was said seemed right but looked at from a wider perspective 
Some  words we said were  errors
or at least not expressed in a way that communicated what we really  meant….
And how painful it is to hurt a beloved person…
Beloved…….I don’t believe you after the cruel you wrote…….
this is the confusion of the human condition…
when fear for a  time eclipses the  warm sun of love
when everything seems dark and  one can only wish to hide away.
…… to protect others from knowing……….
yet the message they get does not say that  the intention………
to protect them and it seems like a total rejection…..
I’m not good enough for you……
I don’t want to hurt you.
Don’t hurt me.
Yet the eclipse will end the sun will shine again………
 and it gives us compassion for others ……….
We don’t take an eclipse personally…………
but with people………………… it’s hard not to do so……
 yet there’s so much we don’t know……… or can’t know
so trust is all we can do….
trust what we once saw………….
and take down the barbed wire we put around our hearts………
 let ourselves be touched and touch.
 When words are not enough…………
we have a rich silence….
 the gaps between the words can say so much.
……to those gifted with understanding
When words refuse to come…….. 
we can share our silence ………
and keep it empty not full of dread or images of fear
until words begin to flow…
like tears.. welcome after a drought,,,,,,
when  our  words hide…. we will find them………….
so much is unknown…………….. we can’t know………
and past losses and rejections   haunt us………
filling the pregnant space with pain.
Yet words can comfort too…console, c
caress,
make communion possible

….words………….
they are all we have…… we‘ ll make them enough somehow.
…..learn their ways and how to use them to touch gently the other’s heart.
……and show, and share our love
………….not use them as a sword…………..
 use them with care….to show care,,,,to show love..
.and regret our faults and failings … but not attacking ourselves cruelly
 stop punishing ourselves….~
have mercy on ourselves 
Have mercy on others…..
We are all vulnerable
We  may miss so much because we are afraid
Wounds can heal,will heal

Have mercy
Accept the pain until we are healed
Then we start again

Stan and the angel

  • \
  • imageedit_13_4106504267Stan had eaten too much pizza because he was extremely ravenous from doing the washing. and hanging it up on the mulberry tree in his long garden Now he felt lazy and haphazardly dim and other worldly and liable to have visions..
    Now and then he saw an angel whom he called Yael in his home.But having looked up Yael on a website he realised she was not a very nice woman unlike his dear wife Mary.So he was planning a new name for the angel with her permission
  • Do you mind if I change your name,he enquired gently when Yael came in through the French window.
    Well,what to? Yael asked him familiarly
    How about Ysabel? Stan offered.It’s got just an extra b and s.
    Or how about,Sybael?
    You seem fond of b and s, the angel answered in confusion.
    It was just mere chance,said Stan somewhat defensively.
    Ok I’ll take Sybael,the angel said loudly .

    I want to change my name too, said Emile the cat of Stan.
    How about Mebiles or Melibes or Eimbles….
    I don’t know, pouted the cat haughtily.
    How about Semile,said Stan.T
    hough it has no letter b in it, he bragged.
    They all pondered quietly as the sun shone in through the window and made a lovely lacy pattern on the wall.

    In came Mary,Stan’s sweet old wife and his computer aided extension too.
    You are very quiet,she murmured.What’s going on here ?
    We are trying to find a new name for Emile,Stan told her as Sybael waved her wings about.
    It seems very draughty in here,Mary said.
    And Emile can’t change his name because it will change his personality.
    I didn’t know I had a personality,the little cat purred.
    It is what is most characteristic of you.For example, if you always hurt those you love then you have a cruel personality or you have got diabetes.Some people want love but they are too harsh and demanding.
    So true,Stan added pensively.
    Anyway,I have some awfully strange news,Mary went on.
    You just won’t believe this but Dorothy Grey who lives at the bottom of the hill has just had a heart attack.
    How come?
    She had an online love relationship with a rather peculiar but intriguing and clever elderly man who turned out to be a sadist in disguise.So when she ended the affair he flew over and attacked her with an air gun and some cat’s claws which he had bought from a cat market
    Is he a wizard,asked Emile.
    No, he flew on a stolen magic carpet from Persia.
    Persian carpets,I’d love one here said the cat greedily
    Actually it’s a kind of plane,said Stan.
    How boring ,said Mary angrily.
    Anyway Dorothy was so shocked her arteries spasmed and she is in A and E now on morphine,she added…
    What a shame that she got that instead of a spasm elsewhere….Stan muttered thinking of Freud.
    But who’d have sex with such a horrible old man? Mary asked.
    An equally horrible old woman,maybe? Stan riposted.
    Any way it all goes to show the dangers of online love, he informed the room.
    It’s not real love,is it, because in real love the other person is as important to you as yourself.Mary said theologically.
    Well. now Eros is a kind of love,too.But many old men just want their washing done and a companion.Eros has departed from their world.
    Sybael smiled and then flew out of the window.

    What was that noise, said Mary anxiously.
    Just an angel’s wings,said Stan quietly
    If only Dorothy had seen an angel instead of that harsh old man she might be much better now.Mary mused.But not everyone can see them.Their world seems full of horrible old men and beautiful young women
    Emile winked at Stan and then ran out to chase a butterfly amongst the scented tulips.. there were lots of angels there every day but only he knew.
    Angels don’t like big modern cities but they like old abbeys and cathedrals and places where such things used to be before post modernist architecture took over.
    And cat’s claws are not meant for scratching your loved ones either.And online dating should be avoided except with atheists and agnostics.They are less judgemental about women’s place and roles.It’s strange how harsh many religious people are.Harsh and unforgiving.

We’re not supposed to say

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 scream 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 ,vindictive  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 knows
Scratched and bitten daily,   struck by falling stars
Who  knows what we’re feeling . what is out too far?