Oh, sweet my heart, let nature dissolve me. In her deep greens, I am allowed to be. While in the city politicians cry From my lips, I hear a solemn sigh. Oh, foolish world that foolish men can see.
What torment that we need society And cannot dwell like birds in winter trees. Or like the spider weaving webs defy. Release my heart, let nature dissolve me.
The rich are common in momentous fee. Unlike the insects and the fur-clad bee. For all of us, our end is sweetly nigh Enchanted as the dove that homewards flies. Be comfortless in notoriety, Oh, cease my heart, let deep green digest me
Why your vagina shrinks at menopause and what you can do about it [Don’t ask ]
How to handle things.[what sort ?}
Why or how your finger length reveals your gender [Surely easier just to look at the bosom/ chest?}
Which microwave to buy [Making unstated assumptions;some of us either have none or may have stolen one]
Why you need both metal and silicon whisks [ I thought it was breasts just for a moment; now there’s an idea]
Why you need to keep lots of frozen pasta in your kitchen [Try turning off the radiator first and checking the ovens]
Which six cookery books are the best? [Look up restaurants on your smartphone instead] I wonder how many this person has checked.I find ones written for catering colleges are better and cheaper.
Why you should never take a bath [I find a handbag is quite sufficient].
How to entertain at home. [Fall out of bed?]
How to keep your husband happy [Freeze him?]
Why you should never forget your wedding anniversary [Am I married?]
How to have the best number of children [ Yes, it’s all under our total control]
How to keep your teeth super clean [Stop eating and die?]
Are you bored of sex? [No,I’m bored of London]
How to cure loneliness. [Buy a microwave and some cookery books]
How to get your bounce back [Buy a dunlopillo mattress?]
The owl can see with wide and narrow view Focuses both poets and artists knew. The broad sweep on the canvas makes a place Where details and designs can have their space.
What God endowed the owl with such excess; When all her progeny enjoy such bliss? I think, where is the snake with frightening hiss? What startling accident created this?
Eagles,hawks and owls must kill to eat. No blandishments nor kindness make them sweet. What God could make an Eden this deceit; Where lambs are snatched up while their mothers bleat
So God himself destroys to fill his leisure; Such fearsome revelations show his measure
My polyester trench coat looks real swell But inside it, I feel as hot as hell. And when the storm hit, I found out It is no raincoat, I have no more doubts.
Which of us desires to dress for war? This is what the trench coat was made for. British soldiers on the battlefields Died in mud locked trenches for what yield?
Do we want to know the Middle East Was divided by the “conquerors ” at their feast France and Britain split the old Empire We see from that the rise of Herr Hitler.
The war to end all wars is on stage yet. Go hang these trench coats round the scapegoat’s neck
“Everybody was saying we must have more leisure. Now they are complaining they are unemployed” (during the 1981 recession).
“You are a woman, aren’t you?” (in Kenya after accepting a small gift from a local woman).
“If you stay here much longer you’ll all be slitty-eyed” (to a group of British students during a royal visit to China).
“You can’t have been here that long, you haven’t got pot belly” (to a Briton he met in Hungary).
“Aren’t most of you descended from pirates?” (to a wealthy islander in the Cayman Islands).
“How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to pass the test” (to a Scottish driving instructor).
“It looks as if it was put in by an Indian” (referring to an old-fashioned fuse box in a factory near Edinburgh).
“Still throwing spears?” (question put to an Aboriginal Australian during a visit).
“There’s a lot of your family in tonight” (after looking at the name badge of businessman Atul Patel at a Palace reception for British Indians).
“The Philippines must be half-empty as you’re all here running the NHS” (on meeting a Filipino nurse at Luton and Dunstable Hospital).
Prince Philip to European aristocracy is what Donald Trump is to American liberal democracy: an embarrassment – the men who flaunt the ugly truth from under the thin veneer of their bourgeois etiquette.
There are other even more remarkable gems that the BBC has of course not listed but others have. But these should suffice.
Priceless racism BBC’s transparent attempt at whitewashing notwithstanding, Prince Philip’s racism is actually quite priceless because it comes so naturally to him. He is not faking it. He is not trying to offend anyone. He is offensive. This is he. This is who he is – and the long panoply of his racist, sexist, elitist, misogynistic, class-privileged and unhinged prejudices is a mobile museum of European bigotry on display.
The Duke of Edinburgh has done the world an extraordinary service by being who he is, by staging generous servings of his bigoted disposition and he is retiring happily with having catalogued all or at least most of his priceless inventory for posterity to read and learn.
Our dearly beloved Duke of Edinburgh is blissfully old. He has lived a long, rich, and fulfilling life – and may he live the rest of his racist days with the dignity and poise that he has denied others. His xenophobic bigotry is pure, his sense of class entitlement undiluted, unencumbered, uncensored, liberated from any inkling of bourgeois inhibitions. He does not mean to be offensive. He just is. He is a walking embodiment of every layered lava of European racism summed up inside one royal head.
Today people of the privileged class have learned how to camouflage their racism in varied codes and convoluted bourgeois euphemism. The kind of bigotry that Prince Philip exudes and stages is now considered rude and vulgar, old-fashioned and outmoded, presumed classed and pointed at the lower social strata. The precious advantage of Prince Philip is that he is a royal from the heart of British (and European) aristocracy. He tells it as he sees it fit.
In our double bed, mi dad had died
Mammy slept w’t baby, a release
Now I slept, mi sister by mi side
A wooden frame, flock mattress where I lied
Making up long stories for mi sis. In the double bed, owa dad had died
Up the stairs, we smelled the bacon fried
All the food was cloaked with grief and grease And I slept mi sister by mi side
I was trapped by guilt don’t you deride
I disobeyed mi daddy, now deceased In the double bed, he thought to die
He punished me, I never even cried
We had no phone to send for the police Did I sleep mi sister by mi side?
He wore a green tweed jacket and a tie
While his overalls dried hanging underline
In our double bed where daddy died
We kids both slept, my sister, oh my child
I Know That My Vindicator Lives: Job 19:1, 23-27
A reading from the book of Job
Then Job answered and said: Oh, would that my words were written down! Would that they were inscribed in a record: that with an iron chisel and with lead they were cut in the rock forever! But as for me, I know that my Vindicator lives, and that he will at last stand forth upon the dust; whom I myself shall see: my own eyes, not another’s, shall behold him, and from my flesh I shall see God; my inmost being is consumed with longing
I was angry with myself…I had been committing effrontery.
Do you mean adultery?Your main problem seems to be bad language.
No,Father I never say” Fuck”
You just did.
Well I had to do.I had no choice!
That’s what they all say…if only I heard some original sin I’d find life more interesting.
Well,it’s hard to think of anything original to do especially if it has to be a sin too.
You are just not using your creativity.
All right Father,Put your hands up.i’ve got a gun.
Where did you find that?
In my wife’s handbag.
Now we are getting somewhere.. that’s threatening a priest,interfering in your wife’s privacy and stealing a gun.Any other sins?
I could shoot you,I suppose.
No.no!That is going too far.
Shall I slap you?
No… just say something rude to me.
Your sermons are the most boring I have ever heard.
Well,that’s enough…I’ve never been so insulted in my life.
You have been very lucky then… you should hear what people say to me!
Well,you are both ugly and unintelligent.I don’t know how you had the nerve to marry.
I had no choice.She forced me.But I gave in quickly in case she changed her mind.
And you have seven children.
No, they are not all mine,And they are Jewish.
How can they be Jewish.
My wife is Jewish!
I thought she was just a lapsed Catholic.
No,she’s Jewish but not even an arranged marriage could be arranged for her so she used her imagination and decided an overweight ugly Catholic would be grateful for her love,
And are you grateful?
Yes, and so are all her lovers!
Who are they?
The curate is one of them and has two children .. they look just like him too.
And does she want them raised as Jews?
She just let’s them rise naturally and go with the flow.
Do they have to wear hats?
Only in the Synagogue!
Are you Jewish too.
Yes,it’s quite handy as we have Sabbath on Saturday and then we have Sunday on Sunday if you see what I mean.
I never met anyone who practised two religions before.;
Well,I figured it would double my chance of salvation!
Well. I must speak to the Rabbi.For your penance you must give £50 to Homeless at Xmas.
Am I absolved.
If you stay any longer you’ll be dissolved!
Thank you,Father.
And take that gun away. The police station will take it from you
I didn’t know the police were armed in this country.
My husband has a rubber face, A subspecies of the human race. Some men have faces fixed and set; My husband’s face is not like that.
He imitates our politicians, Just like Rory Bremner can. Though he has no wig or hair piece, He can look like anyone
.Some nights I waken for I am laughing While I am quite sound asleep. I am dreaming of his mobile features, Contorted to a different shape
.He is skilled at telling jokes. And he loves a good cartoon. If I am feeling flu type blueness he can get me up again
.He has a rather noble visage. He gets attention he abhors. In the bar on King’s Cross Station— I was asked was he a Lord!He’s a Lord of Fun and Humour. He’s a Lord at Listening Well. He’s unique, but so are you, And all creatures that on earth do dwell
Oh,steam iron how I love your heat And how you make my clothes so neat. A flat iron is no use to me No open fire is here,you see. And thought I liked the flickering coals I feared those faces that looked droll. They were in the flames and peered At anyone who ventured near. I wonder how the people past Kept their trousers neat and pressed. Now I’ve bought a hand steamer To keep the germs off my femurs I didn’t like to say,my crotch In case the devil is on watch. I never ever used to think My body perfume was distinct. And yet it may appeal to men I don’t want to try again. One dear husband is enough Though he did enjoy a cough He had asthma and bad eyes Looking out with wild surmise. He saw my golden hair float by As by his window it did fly All at once he fell for me And we sat by an apple tree. His clothes were wrinkled so I thought I would iron them for a start. He could darn and polish floors Cook lamb chops and apple cores. So my steam iron sees much use I wonder if it’s self abuse For as a woman feminist I’m not meant to iron vests I’m not meant to boil men;s socks Nor their pants of interlock I’m not meant to make them tea. What a naughty person,me! I must confess these wicked sins Then I’ll polish my cake tins. Satan wants me down in hell Don’t say he needs my iron as well As he was an angel proud I’ll save him into One Drive Cloud.
Write your own novel and save money because it will take you a long time to write this book and you won’t want to buy anymore while you’re doing it will you?
Buy your own books
Write your own poetry ;please do not send it to me. I don’t want a ghost writer on my blog unless it’s the holy ghost.
Pass your own water.
Make love everyday and then you can sell it if you have too much.
Identify your own flaws. Yes I am a cretin. My IQ is 67.8 recurring. That shows you don’t need a high result to do well in life. But you must be able to read and write and ideally do arithmetic.
Eat your own fish on Fridays. This is cruel if they are pets. So don’t give your fish names. Especially don’t call them Jesus
Make your own corn beef hash without the corned beef. Use heroin instead. Please do not leave potatoes in their jackets outside the men’s toilet
Create your own mental illness. You can create any number of them with a wicked imagination.
Calm your own self. I don’t want to become calm. I will wait till after death
Be obedient to your own rules.
Try yourself ,yourself. But you can’t be your own jury.
Stan was feeling puzzled. He stood in his front room staring at the rowan tree outside.
Do ants fall in love, he asked himself.
Are swans the most beautiful birds?
Shall I send Annie a card tomorrow?
Should I send Mary one as well?
He went outside and watched the ants running up and down the tree trunk. They seem to work so hard but they never get bored.
But is that true? We have no way of knowing. At last Stan has found a question with no answer.
Is boredom a unique quality of humans?
If that were so we ought to have a Patron Saint of Boredom though not of Bores.
Why are some people so boring?
Luckily Annie had seen Stan and rushed out in a teal coloured all wool dress made more striking by having butterfly motifs scattered on it at random.
“Why have you got those butterflies on your clothes ?” he asked her scientifically
“It’s to cover up the moth holes.”She pertly replied.
“You must have a lot of moths. Do moths fall in love? Do they get bored?”
“You seem in a funny mood today,” Annie murmured.
“Why don’t we go out for coffee?”
“I’ve just made a pot full. Please join me.”
“Thank you,” she cried mildly.
They sat down in the kitchen where Emile was sitting by the window.
“Good morning,Emile,”Annie shouted.
“No need to shout,” Emile miaowed politely.”I’m not deaf”.
“I am sorry, Emile.” she responded furtively,” I am over-excited.”
“Why is that? Stan demanded like an untrained philosopher in a maths class
“Well, I’ve already had ten Valentines.
“Already. You must have done it fast!” he teased her gently.
“No, you horrible idiot. I mean cards.
“You must be popular”
“Some look like women’s writing.”
“Let me see,” he asked swiftly.
To his surprise, one was in the handwriting of his wife Mary.
“Are you bisexual?” he asked her wonderingly.
“No, I’m just annissexual,” she replied saucily.
“What does that mean?”
“Well, it’s just one letter away from “Anti-sexual.”
“That’s a relief. You are not anti yet, then.”
“Not yet”, she whispered coyly.
“Would you make love to a woman?”
“Only if she made love to me.”
Mmmmmm
.Apparently seeing lesbian movies turns men on.do you watch them?”
“Not bloody likely,I want to get turned off.”
“That could be boring,” she said sweetly as she combed his eyebrows with an old toothbrush.
“Well,I could do the polishing better and get the house sorted out. Fill the freezer with casseroles and defrost the oven.
Yes, though would that be so rewarding as loving another human?
“I guess not” he answered slavishly.
“Shall we go to your place and have a cuddle.
OK
Emile was very put out as he liked to see people kissing but he had grown very philosophical over the years and at least he could get on with his book,
“Wittgenstein’s cat.”
He switched on the netbook and began to type:
“Not everyone knows how important cats were in philosophy. But now we can reveal all.
The saying,
“Of that which we cannot speak, we must miaow” was inspired by Daisy who lived in Cambridge
And,” Of that which we cannot purr we must yowl.” was inspired by Ludo, a fine male cat that lived with Wittgenstein in Ireland.
So as Emile types, we must tiptoe away for he has not much time
My man has gone to heaven on his own Now I’m down here gnawing on a bone Lamb chops bring the devil out in me That’s why I still eat them for my tea
He said he’d had enough as he was old He felt angry ,all his friends were gone He asked for cigarettes and for champagne I got it though it went against the grain
He even ate a meal before he died Mashed up fish with carrots on the side They did not bring dessert which angered me I was going to have it for my tea
I do not want to find another man For gender fluid people I shall scan
Please don’t read this it has been put behind warnings on my blogger blog even though that vlog was current in 2012 and I’ve not published for a long time
I have discovered it but why should I tell you?
Email me with your complete questions and thoughts at
How my heart speaks 