Tread right on the holy human face

The way to be successful is now clear
Deny your shame,humiliate the poor
Have no friends or mate whom you hold dear
The way to be successful is right here
Control your cronies with a hint of fear
Tread on the lowly, who can but endure
The way to be successful, shed no tears
Repress your shame,humiliate the poor

Accidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again
Make sure their features are unclear,erased
Knowingly tread on the human face
It’s not evil, it is just bad taste
The devil is a clown, we feel no strain
Incidentally tread on someone’s face
As you run for president again

Connections,maps and roads


Photo by Sebastian Palomino on

Roman roads connected in straight lines
The cities they had built in wealthy times
The remains of one  goes past my garden gate
Do ghosts of Roman legions pass at night?

I like to see connections,maps and roads
Others  love  old cities ,walls and moats
My road ran to Lincoln  near the Wash
Migrating birds and swans  go there to rest

Going South, there is the Pilgrim’s Way
Canterbury, Becket,murder, prayer
Julius Caesar, Deal,  the Roman hordes
Boudicea,  and her fighting Lords

Layers of history, meaning,love and death
Still we argue  what should be our path

Straight lines can meet.

Axes are useful, real and imaginary.Does our earth have them?
Borrow one in sums.Not nice.Arithmetic sucks
Calculus is based on non-understanding of first principles which may not be understandable like certain j
Drawing graphs is an art and a science.
Euclid has frightened some and delighted others.And a  right angle to you as well.
Flatland is a book set in an imaginary two-dimensional world.Fractions frighten
Geometry gave way to algebra.Godel studied axiomatic systems.
God was a Word not a number……. think about it.
Hard as maths is, there is a non-sensual beauty in there somewhere
It takes your mind off the pain when you try to visualise 4 dimensions.Be aware some never return.
Jokes are not often found in our textbooks except the biggest.. that God likes jigsaws, geometry and juggling.
Kurt Godel went mad.He proved maths cannot have a complete set of axioms with no contradictions.So don’t go there
Logic is not identical  with mathematics.
Multiplication tables were sung by children at school in the past.Matrices are rows and columns of numbers.
Number theory is harder than one would imagine from counting one’s digits.
Operators are imaginary concepts which have an effect on other imaginary concepts which then contribute to nuclear physics, and a few other things like the end of the world.
Probability seems to be part of the nature of the world despite Einstein’s famous words. God does not play dice.
Quantitative methods were what they called maths to stop the anxiety students felt.But it’s a bad name.
Reason is only   part of mathematics
Straight lines can meet.
Theorems can be interesting if you know why you are learning them
Why? Why indeed.Wranglers are top mathematics students at Cambridge.
X or x is often the unknown we look for.
Y is like X  just by historical  usage
Zero as a concept with a sign is more abstract than One.Hence its late arrival on the human scene.
Nothing can be symbolised. Ain’t that  wonderfulStraight lines can meet.Straight lines can meet.Straight lines can meet.

The Words Mine

Every poem begins with a first line
After that we choose the space and time
The words float in my head till they combine
Must a poem begin with its first line?
Some are bold and some are more refined
Some are free and some have lissom rhymes
A poem begins by finding a first line
After that we search the Deep Words Mine

How Daniel met the lion

Photo by Pixabay on

Daniel Spinnett was a newly  homeless man in a horrible  wealthy but cruel country called the Reblighted Kingdom.He had been married once but his wife often  used to hurl his hot dinner at him if he was a bit late home and she also had four lovers into the bargain.When she was made Head of Uncivil Service UK he decided he was leaving her and hoped for a second chance and maybe a child as well with a gentler woman
At first he was truly happy in his new  commodious flat and also with  meeting women on the Guardian Solemates website; all too  soon his firm was affected by the recession and he ended up with no money to pay his rent ; his ex-wife was completely unsympathetic. though she was absolutely rolling in money and men or both !
He went to the Council to seek for cheap accommodation
I have nowhere to live.The rents in Lone-don are so high.. can I get a council flat?I am on job seekers allowance of £70 per week…
A council flat?The man behind the desk laughed sarcastically like a dying flea.
There ain’t no such anymore,mi duck…didn’t you know the Trying Lady sold them off.
Did you not build more using that money,he enquired courteously and logically. as was his wont
Sorry,chum, we spent it on wine, women and bling… gold watches, golf clubs, moats, you know
Daniel felt very upset so he set out to walk to Lightwebbs Forest a couple of miles away for a time of  green beauty and quietness…He fell asleep under an old oak ; he was nervously exhausted ,no doubt
When he woke up a huge cat was standing near him staring curiously
Hello, the cat said in a kindly but loud voice
Hello,I am Daniel from down the road
Well, the cat said,I’m a lion from the circus.We have escaped and we are living here in the woods.
But what do you eat? asked Dan.
Well,we forage around and we find food left out for house cats.;we also have learned to cook leaves and grass over a fire in a double boiler.
The lion smiled down at Daniel showing a light in his amber eyes
You look very thin.Why don’t you come with me to have dinner?
Daniel was  afraid of the lion but he had no alternative in mind.
After a circuitous walk they reached the deepest,densest  most magical part of the wood.There were four lions,two tigers and four  leopards all looking happy
Is this our dinner,they cried excitedly as they gazed at Daniel.
No,this is a poor starving man with no home.
Well.lie down Dan and eat this leafy risotto..
Absolutely delicious,awesome, he cried greedily as he used his hands like a child with no table manners
Then the first lion asked Dan to come with him to his own den.
When they got there he said piteously
I have got a problem and none of the animals here  can help.I have got a piece of barbed wire stuck in my tail and I need a human with fingers to untangle it..
Daniel looked and there was about 12 inches of barbed wire which hit  and beat the old  lion as he walked or ran.Dan managed to untwist it and uuntangle it.He got some water from the stream and washed the lion’s backside where the barbs had cut into him..I have no Elastoplast, he muttered anxiously.The fresh air will heal it, said the lion gently….

And that was how Daniel came to be living in the lion’s den.
He says he prefers it to living with his dominating wife.
He certainly looks fitter than before and is considering asking for surgery to change into a lion on the NHS as there is a lady lion whom he has fallen in love with.No doubt lions don’t get married in church but they do love each other very deeply.
Just go to the forest and take a look next time you fall asleep.
Now the lions enjoy even better food because Daniel has  recipe books and unlike the lions,he can read.They found some old sauce pans at the recycling centre so he can do cheese sauce using milk from the sheep on the edge of the wood,
If you knew what went on in our many woods,you’d definitely get a big surprise..I can tell you

We are not God

How my heart sings

Poetry and lovely images

Katherine Thinkings and poems  

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Václav Havel

The relativization of all moral norms, the crisis of authority, the reduction of life to the pursuit of immediate material gain without regard for its general consequences—the very things Western democracy is most criticized for–do not originate in democracy but in that which modern man has lost: his transcendental anchor, and along with it the only genuine source of his responsibility and self-respect . . . . Given its fatal incorrigibility, humanity probably will have to go through many more Rwandas and Chernobyls before it understands how unbelievably shortsighted a human being can be who has forgotten that he is not God.

The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

The end of values, kindness, earned respect
The loss of wisdom,history and truth
The pillars of democracy are cracked.

The centre of the heart,who can protect?
Conspiracy and madness unseat proof
An end of values, kindness, earned respect

Violence is admired though lives are wrecked
The lasting triumph of the folk uncouth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

Their minds unfurnished seem bereft of tact
They tread on others words like horses’ hooves
The end of values, kindness, earned respect

How can such opponents make a pact?
The calculating crucify our youth
The pillars of the Western Mind have cracked

Yet Western Empire builders had no ruth
They tortured those they conquered group by group
On such ground just madmen earn respect
The altars of the Western Mind have cracked

Emile sings

Fish,fish wonderful fish…
Nothing so tasty gets onto my dish.
I live on Whiskas and milk and cold tea.
They don’t know I drink it to help me to pee.
Milk, milk,I love it well.
Mother’s was best,but, oh,what the hell!
I drink it at night,to send me to sleep.
I feel so nervous when Stan’s old sheep bleats.
I sleep with Stan and he’s very kind.
I lean on his legs to help me unwind.
When he’s got company, I stay outside.
I look through a mirror and blimey,I spied
Stan was cuddling a lady who was totally nude!
You would not believe the strnge sights I have viewed.
He was quite naked but I’m used to that.
He has no bosom………… are quite flat!
Mice, mice, mice are so nice!
Mince the left overs and serve with boiled rice!
Do you need puddings…we never do.
Some cats like chewing their master’s old shoe!
Drink,drink let me imbibe
Nothing quite like it for aiding  the Scribe
Bed,bed,I lie up there
I find beds are better than Mary’s new chairs
Sleep,dream, the angels will care
I do it often, so I shall go there

I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

Katherine villanelle  August 11, 2016 1 Minute

I wish that I had kissed you ten more times
I didn’t know  how soon you had to leave
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design

I tell my love in words,  which is no crime.
I didn’t show you all you might receive
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

If I had  bought you  bottles of best wine
Would you have stayed and  kept me unbereaved?
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design.

I know you were perceptive and read signs
Eyes a-crinkle   green as sun washed  leaves
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times

I’d  hold your  mind and  weave  your thoughts to rhymes
Until  the  truest love poem  arrived
I’d   draw upon your lips my best design.

I’d write  you letters ,much love I would leave
With my mind and body I perceive.
I wish that I had kissed you ten more times
I’d   draw upon your lips our own design

Happy New Tier

I wish you a low Tier
Happy New Leer
Happy, need beer
Hippy New Flair
Happy, Loo near!
Aptly New Here.
Happy New Beer
Unhappy with Lear?
Snappy New Year
Cherry Xmas
Happy Mums R Us
We kiss you and say it’s Xmas, so happy you’re dear
Very Xmas to view.
Very Xmas with flu
Make a post of it.
Flay the dust out.
Hope to flee you soon
I can’t mate to go home.
Sorry I’ve not been in clutch.
Sorry not to sweep my promises.
We must be, this year.
Be good but impure
Have emotions in the flesh
Let’s get together with a SIM
I’ll see you with the Creator.
Are you any good with tarts
Flap both your ears
.Well, we were born with no lore.
I see men gnaw more.
Happy Low Tier
I feel I am queer

I have studied and I’ve got my last degree

I started to write villanelles because after 2 years I was still suffering intensely
I decided to learn something new.I’ve written many villanelles now. I learn new things as often
as I need to.

 March 14, 2018

I have studied  and I’ve got my new degree
My heart has learned its lessons one by one.
I’m a graduate of the grief academy

I didn’t know how anguished one would be
When the man you love is here and then is gone
I’ve been studied, oh  I got the third degree

The tears I wept  could fill up the Dead Sea
Add more salt and scour the shore till done
I’m a graduate of the grief academy

I know now I must die,we cannot flee
We turn to dust and that is not much fun
I have studied  and I’ve got my last degree

It’s no  News, nothing for the BBC
Unless you’re Stephen Hawkings, that great man
We’re graduates of the grief academy

We can’t control life with a self made plan
God is gone though prayer  might well begin
I have suffered till I got my Ph.D
I’m a graduate of the grief academy

In our sleep we find the open door

The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams he is alive again
Thus his image lives inside my store

In our sleep  we find the  open door
We see   the   precious faces  of those gone
The face that was familiar is no more

A nightmare,anxious, running as before
To find our car, to bring home my dear man
Now his image  lives within my store

His voice to me sounds muffled by great doors
He wonders how I manage  all alone
The love that was  so potent is no more

An anger at the doctors made me roar
A dying man ignored by every one
Now his love  lives on in my  deep core

Death will capture all but is that fair?
We live  then die  at last of all good bare.
The face that was familiar is no more
Yet his  sweet love  still haunts  my deepest core

On the shore

The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams he  is alive again
Without his presence, I feel lost and sore

The truth of loss, no human can ignore
It tears our  heart  to pieces with its pain
The face that was familiar is no more

Yet sentimental offerings I abbhor
When parted from the love with whom I’d lain
Without his presence, I feel lost and sore

No give and take of love, the shore is bare
The tide is out  so far the waves complain
The face that was familiar is no more

On the sea’s edge, we would walk and stare
Now I walk alone is this  my shame?
Without his presence, I feel lost and  bare

By my write the inner rhythm’s regained
The art of losing well  may be attained
The face that was familiar is no more
With him I   found sweet sea shells on  the shore


I’m in my cashmere hoodie
And I’m wearing cashmaere track pants
Polly Wolly Doodle, life’s a lay
I’ve got a folding Samsung
I think it has a stylus
Polly Wolly Doodle. life’s E bay
My sheets are very cotton
Like they were when slaves were pickin’
Polly Wolly Doodle’s in decay
So we lay on slaves’ productions
But we did not want to meet them
Polly Wolly Doodle, Jesus waves.
We were praying to the Devil
Dancing with the demons
Polly Wolly Doodle, we will pa
We imitate work clothing
But ours are fur and satin
Polly Wolly Doodle, who can pray?
The priests abusing children
The nuns hide babies dying
That was for Lord Jesus
They must all be unbelievers
Horror is the feeling I declare

Win them back

I saw a book called Split:how to win your husband back.I wonder if it works when they are
Hey,Lord,I want my husband back.I’m sad by myself
Help some other sad people then
But I will still be alone at night
I know the feeling only too well
Oh,Lord.I’m sorry for being so egocentric
Everybody seems to be nowadays and even in the past Eve stole that apple
Yes, you’ve seen it all
There’s a lot more to life than that.The beauty and the terror
I suppose you also have felt the terror
No doubt, I did.
So you know how people feel when they are homeless and despised
I know some of it.
I hope I didn’t interrupt you.
I have plenty of time
Good night
Good night

Ferrets are popular now

Ferrets are the latest thing in pets
They need less food than any pussy cat
But if you have a rabbit hole nearby
A ferret will run down there like a spy
Their faces look adorable and sweet
But don’t let one run up a lady’s feet
Very soon they’ll reach her private parts
That will be the end for all sweethearts
On second thoughts I’d get yourself a snake
Or why not live alone and bake a cake

My arm was paralysed

When I wrote in a poem that my arm was paralysed when I planned to write
something hurtful about someone who had hurt me,it really happened
I wrote the beginning and middle but the revenge I could not write at all
So has my conscience got control ……I didn’t think,I just felt puzzled
I could not move my hand or arm until I decided I was not going to retaliate
After that I was able to finish the poem.
Unfortunately I usually have to work it out for myself

Mute again

On Monday morning he was mad wih me
I asked him what I’d done to make him hurt
He said I thought too fast and talked too slow
Then he lay down flat and looked inert

So I try to think more slowly and talk quick
It makes me stutter ,stammer and go mute
My tongue got tied in knots I swallowed it
I can’t eat or speak,he thinks I’m cute

Best to stay with nature and your form
If men get angry that is their concern
Why does being a genius and a wife
Make men envy me until they burn?

I wonder if I should go mute again
Then my lovers will not suffer pain


With good will

At last my one ambition is fulfilled
I have a desk where I may write at will
No more the dining table or a board
A two desk family is safely moored
Men must have their study if they write
Though grandad was a coalminer at night
And Father was a writer in gold paint
Embellishing the Churches with quotes quaint
He also did The Stations of the Cross
Then he died, what torment ,oh what loss.
We went to see his grave and said a prayer
Jesus was so quiet,was hardly there.
But I believe in love and always will
Now I’ll write my poems with a quill

I hated once but that is not an end

Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on

I meant to write a poem of revenge
To hurt the one who shot out glacial words
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Through the Oxford. my sharp eyes had lunged
My vile emotions then were further stirred
I meant to write a poem of revenge

First he wooed me , showed his cultured friends
Sweet the words and soft the voice I heard
I knew how to begin but how to end?

Would retaliation my heart rend?
Down the vultures rushed ,carnivorous birds
As he wooed me with the words he wrung

My arm was disengaged by unseen hand
I could not write, impossible cruel words
I meant to write a poem of revenge

Lady of Macbeth, who’d wash in blood
When evil can be overcome by good?
I meant to write a poem of revenge
I hated once but 
Good controlled my hand

The words evoked what no-one could conceive

With the Mass in Latin,I believed.
The words evoked what no-one could conceive
The women in their hats looked like proud queens
What was, what is, and what once might have been

The men came late,hung over, full of dreams
They took no Wafer, drunk from living streams
I did not mind confessing made up sins.
Nor did I mind beans found in small tins.

Religion gives fresh themes to those obsessed
Guilt and sin,but scruples are the best
I went to church and told God I was through
He said, hang on,I’ll send my Light to you

Thus it was that I was saved from death
I had worshipped Satan in duress.
After that I took a job for health
I am rich in love, though not in wealth

To me there is a White House of the Soul
We shall meet again there when we’re whole
A place of beauty, space and coloured light

God won’t boast, and neither will the mice