Smiling through your window

Please don’t pull the curtains

For I am coming by.

I want to see your underwear

Is it thermal? …Don’t be shy.

Please don’t turn your light out

For I wish to peek in.

I like to see men in their beds

Is it a big sin?

Why not sleep stark naked

For then I’ll see your chest.

Have you still got hairs on

OK. Leave on that vest.

Do not put your glasses on

To see whom I might be

I shall wear a pointed hat

Topped with a cherie

I like to see you sleeping with

a smile upon your face

I do hope you are dreaming

of a sweet embrace.

I’ll gaze in and smile at you

And then tip toe away

For if I see you smiling

I’ll be joyous all the day.

I love to see you happy

I ‘ll be with you when you’re sad.

Sharing deeper feelings

Stops us from going mad.

So please don’t pull the curtains.

I am real, I’m not a ghost

I met many people

And I love you the most.

whisky and tea | “Yes, of course we were pretentious — what else is youth for?” – Julian Barnes

whisky and tea | “Yes, of course we were pretentious — what else is youth for?” – Julian Barnes.

I have found this blog which is giving me pleasure and knowledge … the Sylvia Plath post is very touching…I can’t see anywhere to comment thouigh.

Take a look… wonderful post on the Anglican Church

Yeah,woe man,I’m her daughter

The good things my mother taught me

are too numerous to list

here or even on a large hoarding

I could rent for a week by the train station.

She gave me my blue eyes and my love of stories

and tolerated the fact that, I like my father,would learn

for the sake of it and not with a view to earning money.

She praised my sense of color though not my three year research scholarship

to place of higher learniing

would rather I curled my hair and smiled at boys.

But my destiny was determined by the fact that I never could master that Singer sewing machine she had

so I had to learn Theoretical Physics to make up for it.

And here I am now,thinking of her home made bread

her showing me how to read music

and the names of the keys on the piano.

I know I was a big disappointment in not marrying into money

or becoming a saint or virgin and martyr,well martyr anyway

She always believed me to be a virgin, even after marriage;

and it’s true I was a virgin with regard to common sense

getting on in society and all related issues.

Some ordinary female knowledge never penetrated me

so I’d sit in the rain wondering what tolerance was

or how Pascal got to lie in bed so much,and whether I could too

because I got creative ideas in bed—

not what you may be thinking of—–

She always changed the sheets and washed our clothes however poor we were…

And made us dresses from scraps of fabric

That’s how we learned geometry,with the trapeze dress……

Numbers we learned from the stars and excitement from playing with boys

in a disused brickfield.

Strange what makes us who we are,but

the biggest contribution comes from mothers

and just to please her I hope as well as all my academic success

one day I’ll make myself a dress out of some rare print

embodying simultaneously both male and female design and shape

And she’ll look down and say,

She always had her head in the clouds,in a book,in the smoke patterns from Dad’s cigarettes, in a dream and a whirl

but she did have a good sense of color.

Yeah,she is my daughter

Yeah,once I imagined I must be adopted but

Yeah.I’m her daughter.

She’s my mother.

Now she’s gone.

Color

Call this art? Would look o.k on a lady’s headscarf… to think it’s come to this when I imagined myself the new Picasso in female form

In my genes

Some people are genetically bad at spelling.. or should that be geneticly bad at spelling.I must admit I was born with perfect spelling and pitch….but since using a wordprocessor I have gone into reverse and become less good,or even…. bad.Like the word genetically…if I write with a pen I have no problem.

Anyway I was an infant prodigy.As soon as I could sit up I found I knew the names of all my family and after a few weeks I could talk though my vocabulary was limited…I was 22 before I knew the word Fuck, and about 42 before I said it and that was when I set the chip pan on fire,so it seemed a reasonable response. Now I recall a phrase often used by the women when I was little

Lor’ love a dick………………….. sorry.. ….duck…….

Now I realise it was possibly what we call rhyming slang though I doubt if my mother knew.Returning to spelling,it helps if you can read…so I was lucky being geneticly programmed to read by the age of two and to write after someone kindly gave me a pencil and paper when I was 17…Before that I had to write in the sand or on the wall.

I was also genetically born ticklish…I hate to be tickled… it’s not good to tickle children.. it’s as bad as hitting theAnd I hate she sound of chalk on a blackboard.Now I have lost the plot and will end on a note of boastful triumph at self esteem bigger than theself esteem of Napoleon….and believe me,I’m not conceited at all.. not in the least.why… it was all in my genes you see,so no need for praise….narcissistic…. why,thank you,sweetie..I even spelled it write

From lunacy to truth

New opinions often appear first as jokes and fancies, then as blasphemies and treason, then as questions open to discussion, and finally as established truths.

George Bernard Shaw quotes
From www.searchquotes.com

From a science joke collection

This is a very funny website e

Bottoms,tops, vision and the gorgons

As I have been talking about seeing the world anthropomorphically in an earlier post .for example I mainly mentioned as in seeing the front of a house like a face especially the windows and doors it came through my mind that the places in the body where things pass in and out are very important in Freudian thought..But he did not include the eyes or ears.After the mouth it was the sexual and excretory organs which he focused on.The back of our house did have a door into a little yard where we had a toilet…but I never thought of the house as having a bottom where unneeded stuff is eliminated…. so the analogy does not work so well

Now in some fairly recent writing there is developing more thought about the relationship of mother and child by vision which is a “distant” contact unlike sucking milk.But it’s very important and in my child’s mind the eyes of the house ,that is the windows were the most significant feature.

Gaze… the loving gaze of another,or even a loving smile in a photograph can be so heart warming..And of course,there is the gaze of the Gorgon which turns people to stone.I am sure we all know something about the horrible and harmful gaze,the glaring eyes,the judging eyes.I will put a link here later because I was reading that some people are so traumatized by such a cruel gaze in early life they become afraid of going out.to a lesser extent teenagers become very sensitive to their appearance and fear not being dressed suitably.For women this continues when they attend special events.

So the eyes of others can bring joy or woe though that may be based on fantasy… what we imagine people think.

So put on something really weird today and boldly go where no one has gone before…

into Church wearing a bearskin rug and a lampshade…take your phone too in case you need your solicitor ..

Fear gaze no more…alas people are not so interested on the whole.and try not to glare at people.Some people have very penetrating eyes so please if you have send me a photo and I shall give you a score…… with the Gorgon being 10 and a baby being 0…After that you may decide to wear sunglasses all the time

And a question…. can a house have a gaze like a Gorgon?

Gus the Theatre Cat by T.S.Eliot from Poetry Index (Link under the green rectangle)

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Gus – The Theatre Cat a poem by T S Eliot

Gus is the Cat at the Theatre Door.
His name, as I ought to have told you before,
Is really Asparagus. That’s such a fuss
To pronounce, that we usually call him just Gus.
His coat’s very shabby, he’s thin as a rake,
And he suffers from palsy that makes his paw shake.
Yet he was, in his youth, quite the smartest of Cats–
But no longer a terror to mice and to rats.
For he isn’t the Cat that he was in his prime;
Though his name was quite famous, he says, in its time.
And whenever he joins his friends at their club
(Which takes place at the back of the neighbouring pub)
He loves to regale them, if someone else pays,
With anecdotes drawn from his palmiest days.
For he once was a Star of the highest degree–
He has acted with Irving, he’s acted with Tree.
And he likes to relate his success on the Halls,
Where the Gallery once gave him seven cat-calls.
But his grandest creation, as he loves to tell,
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.

“I have played,” so he says, “every possible part,
And I used to know seventy speeches by heart.
I’d extemporize back-chat, I knew how to gag,
And I knew how to let the cat out of the bag.
I knew how to act with my back and my tail;
With an hour of rehearsal, I never could fail.
I’d a voice that would soften the hardest of hearts,
Whether I took the lead, or in character parts.
I have sat by the bedside of poor Little Nell;
When the Curfew was rung, then I swung on the bell.
In the Pantomime season I never fell flat,
And I once understudied Dick Whittington’s Cat.
But my grandest creation, as history will tell,
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.”

Then, if someone will give him a toothful of gin,
He will tell how he once played a part in East Lynne.
At a Shakespeare performance he once walked on pat,
When some actor suggested the need for a cat.
He once played a Tiger–could do it again–
Which an Indian Colonel purused down a drain.
And he thinks that he still can, much better than most,
Produce blood-curdling noises to bring on the Ghost.
And he once crossed the stage on a telegraph wire,
To rescue a child when a house was on fire.
And he says: “Now then kittens, they do not get trained
As we did in the days when Victoria reigned.
They never get drilled in a regular troupe,
And they think they are smart, just to jump through a hoop.”
And he’ll say, as he scratches himself with his claws,
“Well, the Theatre’s certainly not what it was.
These modern productions are all very well,
But there’s nothing to equal, from what I hear tell,
That moment of mystery
When I made history
As Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.”

Gus – The Theatre Cat ( poem) – T S Eliot

A poem can paint a thousand images in your mind’s eye. If you enjoyed this poem and appreciated the lyrics of Gus – The Theatre Cat by T S Eliot you will find even more poem lyrics by this famous author, together with their biography and picture, by simply clicking on the Poem Index link below !

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The Storyteller Online – Dr. Mike Lockett

The Storyteller Online – Dr. Mike Lockett.

This story of what happened to the frog that fell into the milk pail is so important that everyone should read it.I believe it is one of Aesop’s fables.It has an important message…never give up even if you feel hopeless.

We used to have a saying,”While there is life there is hope” and sometimes you can help yourself and achieve something of immense value to you….namely that you have persevered and worked hard and something has changed.Often we need the help of honest friends too when we are in trouble.

Why I get cross when I spell wrong

I get cross when I spell wrong because I can spell correctly so I see the errors.If I couldn’t spell then I wouldn’t notice.
Is that a bit like wishing God had not given us the ten commandments?Some things are obviously wrong like killing your neighbors.But other things are tough to decide

Knock on the windows of opportunity or break the glass

The phrase “the window of opportunity” seems not wholly satisfactory

.Admittedly you can see through a window unless you have thick net curtains but how many of us would be able to leap out of the window and seize the opportunity by the throat,if you see what I mean? And if you were in the attic you’d be dead before you got there…so what we need are “doors of opportunity”

The problem with that is you can’s see through a door unless it’s either got a window or is a glass door..So if you want success try living outside in a transparent tent where nothing will get in your way if anything passes by and your will get free publicity

I expect the phrase was made up by someone who writes speeches for politicians.

If you want a to succeed you must grasp the windows of opportunity as they go by and squeeze every last drop of rum out of them [try the tygers of wrath too]

She was only a little window but she was the window for me

Do not ask what your windows can do for you but what you can do for your windows.

Look through the windows and seize the day.Unless it’s a dark night in which case visit a brothel if they have windows

And one day all our children will be able to choose their own windows..red,yellow ,……………..mix your own…..free windows ..

Windows are the eyes of the house

Don’t be shy if opportunity peeks into your window.Peek right back at it…

Ich bin ein Window! Moi aussi.Ma femme!

Where is she now, the rich widow of my opportunity?

To look or not to look.Out of a selection

Never close the door in case someone wealthy passes by on the other side.and merely glances at your window.

Now is the Window of our discontent made gloriously plumper with our sunny walk

One good window deserves another.

I’ll be your window, if you open your door

Windows,they ought to be taxed I say.

Windows.. they give you an illusion of being in the sun but did you know we can see in…and we saw you and the mirror on your ceiling…anything to say in your pretense?

On windows,glass and mirrors

Continue reading “On windows,glass and mirrors” →

I want to go to bed

but someone’s standing on my head!

I don’t know what matters most

the butter or the toast.

I have looked into your mirror

Was it cracked across in error?

I want to go to sleep

I have counted all those sheep.

My dreams are very bland.

Swiftly flows the sand.

I wake at 6 am,

My soul cries out just then.

I like to drink espresso

and recall sweet summer colors.

I want to go to bed

But my palms have both been read

Sleep knits us together

So we won’t get married ever

My heart is made of leather

to protects me in bad weather

Why not look into your own window?

I was recalling that a few weeks ago in the dark winter I went outside.The light was on but the curtains were still open.I stood by the window and looked in,I found that exciting.The room looked more beautiful than I normally see it to be.I was more aware of the pictures on the wall which maybe I don’t always look at when in the room.I saw the bookshelves and some little objects like sea shells..and some papers and pens on the dining table.. a telephone and some coats on a stand

I think it does work best in the evening when the lights are lit.

So ,next ,I am thinking of standing on my head and looking at the room upside down.But I shall need an intrument like a periscope unless I put a table or chair outside and stand upside down on that…so if I don’t post I could be in hospital or in a police cell! Or maybe having psychiatric treatment.But surely if it’s one’s own house and garden one should be permitted to do such acrobatic stunts..? Or I could just invert a photo!

A pity we have no feet on our heads.They could be useful like those eyes in the back of the head that some people seem to have

I believe it’s important to get new perspectives on ordinary life…. which is not ordinary at all.and it’s cheaper than drink and drugs.

I think being curious is better than not being interested

A canal

Maybe this is a rationalization but I believe it’s a good thing to look into other people’s houses,after all that’s why windows were invented.. so people could see in.That’s what my mother told me and who am I to contradict her?

Yes,who am I?Someone who looks into windows.Once I had a boyfriend who was very handsome.. only once,but there we go.As we were out walking by a canal.. so romantic.. we passed the back of some houses and he told me it was a crime to look into a woman’s bedroom and watch her undressing.

But unless you were very tall,how could you look into her bedroom and anyway how would you know which one it was

Would you ring the bell and say,

Excuse me,.madam,which room do you sleep in?

And she might say.

Who are you,the KGB?

And pour a pan of water over his head or maybe some ink….

..come to think of it,that would explain a lot. about his appearance!

I guess,reading between the lines, he wanted to watch me undress but I kept quiet.Another time we got caught in heavy rain riding our bikes [yes,no cars thenm] When we got back to his place,he was so kind.He said,

Your trousers look wet.I don’t mind if you take them off.

. but a little bird warned me not to…I only had the one pair and maybe he wanted them for himself!

He never took me out for a meal but he was extremely good looking.. dark hair,brown eyes and pale creamy skin… on his face.. I never saw his body as we broke up before long and I was a virgin in those days although I did use Tampax which was forbidden by the Bishop..

Can you believe it?A Bishop should never have heard of Tampax.. they were all celibate then.I thought before it meant celebrate but I realised later it was nothing to celebrate.

Anyway,I guess after using those super large ones I was not a virgin and it was easier than finding another handsome boyfriend..no point sleeping with an ugly one unless you are extremely kind which I am not….I’m just fairly kind and selfish in the usual way..I want my own way.

Blimey,what was I going to say?

Oh,yes,don’t draw the curtains as I am painting them tomorrow..And then I shall draw them or was it the other way round?

Where ‘er you walk

The Handel Aria

This poor young lady looks as if a visit to the Fish and Chip shop would benefit her.. hope she’s not got anorexia nervosa.

Some write,some have rites and some have OCD

I may have put a jokey title but I know OCD is nothing to joke about…… it is hard for sufferers and their families

Yet all rites and rituals are cousins to OCD.I suppose the distinction may come if you find that you grow fearful and distraught when, by some chance, you cannot carry out your usual rites and rituals like washing your hands ten times or avoiding cracks in the sidewalk or pavement……many children fear that but most forget as they grow more confident

I certainly hate to see my early morning tea if it’s in the wrong cup but not enough to stop me from drinking 5 mugfuls of it.I am a tea lady ..one drink I cannot live without

Religion has, as one important aspect, a way of attempting to create order in a frightening world.We make offerings to placate the gods who cause storms and fires and epidemic diseases.Though by now we ourselves have created even worse darker gods, like nuclear bombs

I think the value of rellgion is the coming together and getting strength through that.

It unites people in a helpful way [ except for the other people who have different rites.]

People with OCD often have rituals which are private… and if they can’t do them they are agitated almost beyond endurance…But if they can do them they feel safer… And sometimes they can take over a life and then the person needs help or courage to face the hidden fear and outface it.

The same way,if your religion takes over your life I think you need help.Religion is to encourage you live a better life not cause you excessive misery and pain… or not too much…we all do wrong,we all make mistakes… we do penance.We are forgiven,we forgive…. some people don’t, so avoid such people if you can.They even frighten God!

Whatever God is. he accepts us…. that’s my firm belief.. and ….if He won’t accept me then I won’t accept Him or Her

Does God have a body…does he have a mind?

I guess we cannot conceive what God may be or not in discursive language at any rate

Do you mind,Lord?

No,not at all.. I am listening

Thank you,God

My pleasure.

We are here, waiting patiently, despite all the trials.and the troubles..ready to listen

No style of parenting produces happy children

Every kind of parenting produces unhappy adults.Read it here in The Onion

This could be a relief to anxious parents or a blow leaving parents confused about how to be good parents

If only

You can see this and more here

What do people most want to know about other people?

I have not carried out a survey so I shall write about what I would like to know.I’d like to know what makes you happy.I hope you are happy often.And if not what do you do.So,for me. I feel happy when I have completed some task and have a sense of achievement because then I can relax and sit staring into space because staring into space makes me feel happy.And if there is a tree there,even better.I like to sit with maybe music but no talk.I like not to talk.If I am not happy,I do whatever I need to do as slowly and carefully as I can.And think what I’d say to another person who felt like that:It’s alright to be sad.Be sad but don’t wallow in it.Then I’d make some tea and listen to Die Winterreisse which is very sad but it makes me feel happy…perhaps it expresses what I can’t express.

I like tea more than coffee and I like home made bread made in someone else’s home.
I am no good at sewing but I like turning up hems because using my hands makes me happy too.I would like to do more with my hands.I believe that is good for the brain.

I like going out at dusk when people put on the lights and I stare into their windows to see how they have decorated their rooms.So don’t pull the curtains,please.Is it legal?I am surprised how bare some rooms are..

I like helping blind people across the road as long as that is what they want.

I don’t like it when men push me or let doors close when I am going through.At Christmas people get very aggressive shopping;

I used to like hearing people quote adages like

There’s many a true word spoken in jest

but I don’t think people say such things now…. more like

What the hell are you doing playing ball in the street?

And who says now:

I am in the doldrums [from the Ancient Mariner]

Or even,

To be or not to be., That is bad for my digestion

Is this a dagger I see before me?

No,it’s the potato peeler.

What I won’t wear

What I won't wear

What a disgraceful woman does not wear

Dr Caskett

I once had a doctor called Casket.
Who kept all his eggs in one basket.
When his house set on fire,
He put them all in the fryer.
And into the flames he then tossed it.

Another of my doctors was Fred.
He once tried to climb into my bed.
I said “je t’adore”,
As I showed him the door.
And a virtuous life I then led.

I married a doctor called Baird.
He managed to get my heart stirred.
He was as bald as a coot,
And smelled like ripe fruit.
When I talked he seemed never to have heard.

So when I was filing a suit.
His big eyes filled up with doubt.
He said “What have I done,
That now you me shun?”
I said “Nothing,yet you looked like a brute!”

I packed up my suitcase and left.
My hands signals were not very deft
So I walked straight ahead
And fell into your bed.
Now I’m not Baird, I’m called West.

I think he’s gone crazy

I love you and you love me!
Believer!
Where on earth should I be?
Whenever.
I blocked cookies all my life
If you want one,ask the wife.
I eat spam, and google then,
I begin all over again.
whatever.
I ban websites for a living
But my wife is very forgiving,
Men ever!
I eat splogs and gurgle blogs
Then I cut up all the logs.
Whenever.
I’ve been married fourteen times,
They divorce me for my rhymes,
Whatever.
I eat cookies if I can,
If I can’t I get them banned,
Forever!
I’m the God of Monster Space,
I’ll destroy this human race,
Moreover.
If you meet me you won’t know
‘Cos I look like old so and so,
Whoever.
But I am mad and I’ll get you
I eat up this human zoo;
Together.
Whenever.
Can’t forgive,erhhhh.

No comments please,we’re British.

Eat words

Set a life alight:smile at the cat
Get a free dinner:fast all day and faint with hunger and be hospitalised
Set a word in Wedgewood and eat it it yourself
Let all worked up folk breathe out then pause for a month
I get a fearful noise from her snoring but what can we do? Love is almost enough
I got back in the hearse..I am dead now I realise
He gets cleaned out every night by a woman who likes brandy and dirty men
Get crushed at work:become crumbs and let birds enjoy you
I am let down.I wish I were Romeo but I am not handsome according to my sisters
Did you wet yourself or just sit on a wet bench to cool your bottom?
Wet and lost:sit by my fire and perspire along with my cats
Get my sausage off the cat.. or from inside the cat or it will be mincemeat.
I get off the bus at the bus stop even if it doesn’t ,if you feel what I seem I set off the burglar alarm and got arrested developmentally
Get out of the hedge before I strim you level
Get out of my beer bottle and buzz in your own hive
Get away from my tears and let me seep wetly into a sheet
i get over the Hump by patience and slow breathing
Get the look again?Men.. what are they after?
Get to the bottom of him and photograph his rear end now
Get up off the cat… it’s gone flat. Please relieve me,I must go…I’m bursting for a wee wee. No I’ll never love a man again today at least. He stole my heart…how do they glue it?

No rhyming allowed…

Nonsense makes the heart grow mankier
Whenever the sun rhymes,I shall chime
My face is wholier another soul Do you love my new words ?I make them up now and zen
He keeps his face up his sleeve so his glasses don’t get raindrops on
How did Hercules like my wheezes?
I like acid best.I still wrote a sssssharp will o’ the wisp
A corn doesn’t fall far from the nose unless you cut it off.
Reactions speak louder than worlds.
You are so dear my own heart feels like yours.It’s heartmony..I hope you feel the same way
Ah, to be strung out and relished…bit by bit
I am pairing dirty laundry with dirty books…read my whips..
He is all tense like a trapped snake. And his eyes look like ice on LSD.Steer the bell clear and go up a gear. No fear hurts like a cold fear. No fear hurts like an old fear If you are near,I know no fear

The wrong sin !

He’s writing the definititive book on sin.
Do people want to hear anymore about sin?
Any more? I’ve heard very little recently.The Word has vanished!
You read the wrong newspaper.
Can a newspaper be wrong in itself,intrinsically wrong?
Can a newspsper be a Sin?
Well,there’s one called the Sun!
Why don’t they just call it The Big Sin and have done with it?
You should write to Rupert.
Who’s Rupert?
You know him,Murdoch!
Now Iris Murdoch,she was a right one.
Well,she certainly wrote a few!
A few too many,in my view.
Too many for whom?
My,you talk posh don’t you?
Should it be,you talk poshly?
Me!I’m as common as ,as ,as as,aas,……….muck!
Do stop,you’ll fall down a crack in the pavement soon and then where will you be?
I’ll be in Australia with Rupert!
Suppose you came out in New Zealand?

Well,it would be a change.I’m tired of England.
You never mentioned it before.
I didn’t want to upset you.
Well,I’m not so keen myself.
You sound like a knife!
Do you mean,a wife?
No, a knife…with a blade.
Yes, it does look well made.
Shall we buy one?
But do we really need it?
Do we really need anything?
Get a move on,you’re not at college now you know.
Who’re you?
My name is Wisdom.
I’m so sorry.
Why are you sorry?

It’s hard to be called Wisdom when you are a complete idiot.
Well,better a complete idiot than a sharp tongued wasp!
Do you mind!
Not at all.Better an idiot than a mutton dressed as lamb.
Are you a vegetarian?
I do eat the odd vegetables.
And who eats the even ones?
They all go to the supermarket.
So that’s how it works.You are so clever.
Well,I’m an economist.
I believe in economy for all.
I prefer comics myself.
No,they are called graphic novels now.
A bit like those Rupert books we had as children.
I wish Rupert Murdoch was called something else.
I’m sure he will be in tomorrow’s papers.
I mean,it defiles the memory of Rupert the teddy bear.
I learned to read from those.
A pity.
Why?
If you couldn’t read,think of all the other things you could do.
Like writing?
If you coudn’t read ,it would seem to follow that you couldn’t write.
Yet there are people who can read but not write?
Yes,it’s all to do with Venn diagrams and symmetry.
Venn is a weird name.
Yes,pity he wasn’t called Diagram.
I thought he was called,Venn Diagram.
All I know is that diaphragms were a form of birth control.
I was puzzled by that because we all have diaphragms, yet some of us have no control of any kind.
If your diaphragm doesn’t move you can’t breathe so you can’t procreate.
No,you’d be dead!
A very strange form of birth control.
Maybe you just faint and you husband can have his way with you.
But would you want sex with someone unconscious?
It’s another case of a-symmetry.. a man can have relations with a faint woman but if the man faints that’s the end of it.
How about carrots?
What for?
Can they faint?
No,but they make a nice flan.
Fancy that!
I do fancy it actually.
What is it?
It’s a big carrot!
How superb.It seems a shame to eat it.
Well, would like to worship it?
Not today.
Well,it won’t last forever.
In that case I’ll stick with God:
I’ll stick with Thee
Fast falls the chill of night
Semd me an angel,I need something bright.
I have no fear,with Thee I’ll be alright.
Why not give in and have electric lights.
You are very odd.
Well,it makes a change…
Not with you,you’ve always been odd.
So,in a way I’m not odd.
You are right!
Odd. is’t it?
And yet even simultaneously.
It seems almost like quantum theory.
Those were the days.
From Schoenberg to Schrodinger: cats for all.
Enberg to Dinger.
You could call the cat Dinger.
What a good idea.

M	T	W	T	F	S	S
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2	3	4	5	6	7	8
9	10	11	12	13	14	15
16	17	18	19	20	21	22
23	24	25	26	27	28	29
30	31

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Gus – The Theatre Cat a poem by T S Eliot

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No comments please,we’re British.

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