Being alive unchosen may be worse

If you think of Auschwitz think of this

Your children will not die by means of gas

All of us will walk that final path

But we have lived our lives so on we pass

The Jews of Europe killed without a word.

The death of God no longer feels absurd

What they might have given forever lost.

Prescription murder,there will be a cost.

As we walk around in obscene dress

The rational and objective caused this mess

Be thankful that our God did not choose us.

Yet being unchosen and alive is worse.

Love’s victory

Turn back, live again, he asked of me
Do not wander in this darkness anymore
One false step might give death victory

We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, live again, he asked of me

While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One false step will give death victory

The kindness of the golden light was clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he then soothed me

Do not wonder now why you are here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What our suffering self has found so dear

I had never seen the Light before
Only Christ the Tyger with his roar
Come back, live through pain, he asked of me
One right step will give love victory

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people  had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You  gave me warmth, you  changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You  do not always show your golden Light

We do not know  when we at last arrive
We do not reach this  meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such  Gold until that night

Eden for 1-hour

I remember everything you said

As we lay together in our bed

The light of joy lit up my heart and soul

I remember everything we did

On the happy night that we were wed

Fulfilment in our very bones is bred

And from our minds the devils have all fled

As we’re taken back into the fold.

For one small hour in Eden we were glad.

The hatred and the pain for now are shed

With love and hope our lives can be more bold.

Even now when you have gone from sight

I miss

I miss the cat that slept upon my bed.

I miss my husbands presence in the night

I miss the words of Love from him who’s dead.

I miss the cat that slept upon my bed

For God is dead unless I find new light

The lonely darkness fills my soul with dread.

I missed the man that slept with me in bed

I miss his presence in the dead of night

Creating tragic plays and untold wars

In my sleep I dream my unthought thoughts

Creating tragic plays and loathsome wars

I feel the feelings which i have not sought

Healing is not created with an ought

Neither does it come from Santa Claus

In my sleep I dream my unthought thoughts

When I waken up my dreams feel short

They’re more akin to poetry than prose

I feel strange feelings which I have not sought

I feel the pain in my unclothed heart

How little children suffer loss uncaused

In my sleep I dream my unthought thoughts.

I will feel the feelings I abhorr

This is love and we must feel far more

In my dreams I think my unthought thoughts

I will feel the feelings I’ve not sought

Sailing like a flower across the sky

I spent my life on books on how to live
Then  when death was near I really did
I saw the little smile on my friend’s face
I saw the shining eyes, the lost embrace
I gathered up these books and threw them out
I wasted time in thought  and curious doubt
Let’s leave our heads alone and use our sense
To hear a bird sing to enthrall his spouse
To see  a swallow dip and fly away\
To see a  little orange butterfly

Sailing like a flower across the sky
The silken skin of children and  their glee

When father stops to  show them the cat’s flea
The smile of mother, her security
Containing all their woe  transformed and free
To  gather in sweet memories  of joy
Noone else can know what  our life ‘s for

Blythburgh thoughts

Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey
Not much contrast from the soft silk sky
No birds nor any brightness, light won’t play

The ones who act so manic are not gay
If there is no truth, there are no lies
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey

On our backs on Sutton Bank we lay
My acts outcry, my grief I shall defy
No birds nor any life. the light won’t play

Who is born a hunter.who the prey?
The lion has lost the unicorn nearby
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey

I think of brexit, oh the blush,the shame
The spirits flatten;rise up,do not die
No birds nor any life, the light won’t play

I wonder what the loss is or the gain
I wish we were in Suffolk by the Bly
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey
No birds, no life ,I’m languid, would you stay?

s

Poetry and lovely images

Choose not death

The crushing  grief when  someone chooses death
When life had shown much promise and much hope
Turns the  ones who loved to  find new paths

Some may sin, encouraged by cruel wrath
Against the  one who chose the wicked rope
The shock of grief  at such too early death

Others freeze  and cannot take a breath
Scarcely moving as their mind elopes
Making  then impossible   their path

The mountains  of  deep grief I could not pass
Until  a  warm gold light caressed  my heart
The  wounds  of grief , the sacrifice, the Mass

Do not dwell in darkness  and distress
Follow me he murmured  while we start
I will help you find a different path

The golden light  had brought for me a chart
The sea of life had ripples ,brilliant sparks
The suffering and the  grief from such a  death
Turned the  one who loved  onto this path.

 

 

 

 

 

I do not feel the love I felt before

The face that was familiar is no more.

The world we made  seems empty and remote.

I do not feel the love I felt before.

I’m homeless world-less, comfortless at core

Wandering like the Jews with torn ripped coats.

The face that was familiar is no more

Why can this man’s life not be restored?

I cannot eat, a lump has blocked my throat

I do not feel the love I felt before.

In my nightmares, I look for a door.

Or I search the lake from my small boat

That face that was familiar is no more

I beg for grace like some abandoned whore.

That time itself evaporates is gross.

I do not feel the love I felt before

The well is empty,like my husband’s clothes.

When they are gone, what can I then propose?

The face that was familiar is no  more.

The love I lost can never be restored.

God have mercy as the devil can’t

In the bitter depths of winter night
Boil the kettle, lose your human rights
If you feel depressed then eat our bread
It will remove the skull from off your head


Are you feeling lonesome in the crowd?
Buy our lipstick then men will be cowed
Did you think ceramic hobs were best?
Come to us and have your IQ blessed


I want a pan for halogen hot plates
I’d ask the cat but it’s out on a date
I need to boil my head and clean my feet
I guess that I ain’t smelling very sweet


Does Confession really help the damned?
God have mercy as the Devil can’t

On calling mathematics quantitative methods to make it sound easier!

It seems quite clear that maths should take the blame

As quantity and quality. are not the same

The Hebrew temple used the number pi.

And pi is not a quantity, I say.

So pi is not as a measurable as 10.

It’s decimal expansion never ends

There is no pattern, how God condescends.

  Don’t think about this funny stuff it drives you round the bend