You cannot practise dying, though we want to do it well
We don’t want to appear foolish when we might be in hell
We can practise smiling and opening the door
Unless like me you’re crippled and you’re feeling very low
You can practise music, you can practise Art
You can practise hiding in the burrows of the heart
Then you get to go on stage and do it all for real
Dying ain’t for dummies but allow yourself to feel
You can practise for your wedding, your baptism and your fall
In the hall of mirrors where God lives off the wall
You can practise speaking, you can do it many ways
Then you must stop practising, and say the words today
In the little spaces in between the sounds
Let yourself be emptied, you are on Holy Ground

The natural state of being is the mess
The dust builds up and turns into new soil
Tidiness won’t reproduce  love’s bliss

I am fighting my own corner.you can guess
As piles of books around me will all  fall
The natural state of being is undressed

I get my  best ideas sent express
Just like electric kettles  quickly  boil
But speed itself won’t reproduce  nor kiss

Excessive  chaos  causes me distress
My eyes are on the ceiling,will they roll?
The natural state of being is Degas

The  police came when some burglars made ingress
My bedroom looked intriguing, full of coal.
A  holy fire will reproduce   and bless

In Eden  if the snake had been  controlled
The apple would be poisoned for us all
The natural state of being is the mess
Too much,too tense, won’t reproduce nor bless

I am a kettle made of stainless steel
I am a saint, for tea is brewed to heal
And, unlike kettles on an old coal fire,
I am not dirty nor do I perspire.

My mirrored sides reflect you as you cook.
Look at me and read me like a book
I’m full of love and hotter than a man
Oh, dear lady, love me while you can.

Superior mother, yet inhuman I;
Even electric kettles sometimes lie.
I shall never punish you, my dear
For perfect love like mine shall wield no fear.

All I ask is that you polish me.
For, in between your hands, I yearn to be.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/mar/18/richard-milward-man-eating-typewriter-polari?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

D

• 
• On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs hhad bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously..He had OCD now and then.
• People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
• The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
• He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
• I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
• Why has God kept me so youthful?
• Surely not so I can seduce more women?
• We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
• More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
• Or is it, More paste,guests feed?
• He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
• He looked again at his image.
• His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
• His dark hair looked very full for his age.
• His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner, Weissmann#s.
• And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
• His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.
• As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
• who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
• 
• Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
• I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
• If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
• Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.At least I don’t wear make up! Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
• Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.More taste less greed.
• What does that mean?asked Stan.
• If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
• Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
• No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
• I want to go high,high.
• I want to reach the sky.
• what will I do when my love is away
• Will I be happy on my own?
• Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
• I’ll try not to sing out of tune!
• My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
• I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
• Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready
• At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbour.
• Hi,Stan,where are you going.
• I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
• I can lend her some,she shrieked.
• Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
• Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
• Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
• Who is normal?
• Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
• This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
• I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
• Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
• Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,
• Anne shouted in a fury.
• No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
• Very true,she replied, As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
• This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
• A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
• Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery.
• At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
• You both look very merry!
• Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly.
• Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
• Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
• Why? she murmured.
• I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
• Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
• Your wish is my command he muttered,
• I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere.
• He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
• Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
• As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back
• But we want to go into town,every one howled.
• There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
• Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
• Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
• He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
• Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
• Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
• I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
• Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.
• Hello! said Mary. Did you get my needles,Stan?
• I’m so sorry,Mary.I ‘ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
• And where is my supper.
• In the womb of time
• I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast. But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
• So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep.
• Like  you.
•  

Buying Mary’s needles

• 
• On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs hhad bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously..He had OCD now and then.
• People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
• The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
• He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
• I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
• Why has God kept me so youthful?
• Surely not so I can seduce more women?
• We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
• More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
• Or is it, More paste,guests feed?
• He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
• He looked again at his image.
• His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
• His dark hair looked very full for his age.
• His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner, Weissmann#s.
• And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
• His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.
• As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
• who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
• 
• Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
• I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
• If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
• Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.At least I don’t wear make up! Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
• Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.More taste less greed.
• What does that mean?asked Stan.
• If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
• Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
• No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
• I want to go high,high.
• I want to reach the sky.
• what will I do when my love is away
• Will I be happy on my own?
• Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
• I’ll try not to sing out of tune!
• My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
• I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
• Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready
• At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbour.
• Hi,Stan,where are you going.
• I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
• I can lend her some,she shrieked.
• Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
• Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
• Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
• Who is normal?
• Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
• This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
• I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
• Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
• Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,
• Anne shouted in a fury.
• No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
• Very true,she replied, As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
• This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
• A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
• Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery.
• At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
• You both look very merry!
• Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly.
• Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
• Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
• Why? she murmured.
• I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
• Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
• Your wish is my command he muttered,
• I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere.
• He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
• Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
• As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back
• But we want to go into town,every one howled.
• There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
• Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
• Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
• He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
• Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
• Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
• I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
• Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.
• Hello! said Mary. Did you get my needles,Stan?
• I’m so sorry,Mary.I ‘ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
• And where is my supper.
• In the womb of time
• I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast. But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
• So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep.
• Like  you.
•  

Buying Mary’s needles

• 
• On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs hhad bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously..He had OCD now and then.
• People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
• The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
• He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
• I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
• Why has God kept me so youthful?
• Surely not so I can seduce more women?
• We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
• More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
• Or is it, More paste,guests feed?
• He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
• He looked again at his image.
• His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
• His dark hair looked very full for his age.
• His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner, Weissmann#s.
• And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
• His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.
• As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
• who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
• 
• Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
• I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
• If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
• Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.At least I don’t wear make up! Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
• Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.More taste less greed.
• What does that mean?asked Stan.
• If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
• Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
• No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
• I want to go high,high.
• I want to reach the sky.
• what will I do when my love is away
• Will I be happy on my own?
• Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
• I’ll try not to sing out of tune!
• My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
• I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
• Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready
• At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbour.
• Hi,Stan,where are you going.
• I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
• I can lend her some,she shrieked.
• Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
• Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
• Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
• Who is normal?
• Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
• This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
• I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
• Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
• Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,
• Anne shouted in a fury.
• No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
• Very true,she replied, As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
• This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
• A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
• Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery.
• At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
• You both look very merry!
• Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly.
• Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
• Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
• Why? she murmured.
• I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
• Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
• Your wish is my command he muttered,
• I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere.
• He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
• Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
• As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back
• But we want to go into town,every one howled.
• There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
• Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
• Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
• He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
• Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
• Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
• I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
• Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.
• Hello! said Mary. Did you get my needles,Stan?
• I’m so sorry,Mary.I ‘ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
• And where is my supper.
• In the womb of time
• I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast. But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
• So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep.
• Like  you.
•  

Buying Mary’s needles

• 
• On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs hhad bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously..He had OCD now and then.
• People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
• The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
• He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
• I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
• Why has God kept me so youthful?
• Surely not so I can seduce more women?
• We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
• More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
• Or is it, More paste,guests feed?
• He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
• He looked again at his image.
• His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
• His dark hair looked very full for his age.
• His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner, Weissmann#s.
• And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
• His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.
• As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
• who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
• 
• Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
• I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
• If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
• Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.At least I don’t wear make up! Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
• Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.More taste less greed.
• What does that mean?asked Stan.
• If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
• Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
• No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
• I want to go high,high.
• I want to reach the sky.
• what will I do when my love is away
• Will I be happy on my own?
• Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
• I’ll try not to sing out of tune!
• My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
• I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
• Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready
• At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbour.
• Hi,Stan,where are you going.
• I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
• I can lend her some,she shrieked.
• Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
• Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
• Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
• Who is normal?
• Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
• This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
• I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
• Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
• Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,
• Anne shouted in a fury.
• No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
• Very true,she replied, As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
• This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
• A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
• Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick uncannily.Where she bought it was a mystery.
• At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
• You both look very merry!
• Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly.
• Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
• Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
• Why? she murmured.
• I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
• Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
• Your wish is my command he muttered,
• I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere.
• He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
• Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
• As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back
• But we want to go into town,every one howled.
• There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
• Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
• Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
• He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
• Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
• Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
• I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
• Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.
• Hello! said Mary. Did you get my needles,Stan?
• I’m so sorry,Mary.I ‘ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
• And where is my supper.
• In the womb of time
• I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast. But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
• So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep.
• Like  you.
•  

Mary goes to the clinic and meets David Cameron

Mary was sitting down feeling quite lonely in the waiting room outside the doctor’s office when she saw Emile hiding under a chair..
What are you doing,she whispered.I’m glad of your company though.
I jumped into your cab, the cheeky cat informed her proudly
I want to be there when he examines you in case he makes vulgar remarks
Don’t worry,she answered,they always have a chaperone nowadays.
Just then a pretty young black nurse took Mary into a room and said to her
Take off your underpants!
I don’t wear underpants,said Mary,but I can go home and get my husband’s if you want me to.
We use underpants as a generic term,the nurse informed her in a kindly yet menacing voice.
Wow,they are so intelligent nowadays,I don’t think I knew what generic meant till recently Mary told herself stupidly
I have no underpants,Emile meowed. crossly
No and I am not making you any.I have quite enough washing to do already.Mary responded like a mother.
It’s not fair, said Emile.All my friends have underpants and T shirts too.
Soon the doctor came in and looked nervously at Mary and then at her female parts.
Mary was used to this but all of a sudden she got a nasty pain
Ow,ow,ow,she shrieked,what is that?
It’s ok,said the nurse,just older ladies are not used to this sort of thing.
I’ll have you know many older ladies are very used to it but not when they are unaroused.Besides men’s organs are kinder than metal or plastic if the lady is willing.Can’t you put more lubricant on the damned thing
The doctor tried to remove the speculum but was clearly somewhat agitated.
Ouch,cried Mary.Ouch.
Thank goodness I didn’t know it would hurt.Do you think we should be shown a romantic mildly arousing film in the waiting room to make it easier?
We can’t do that,said the nurse.We might be accused of running a brothel.Still ,we could use more money in here.
But the doctor is not paying me,said Mary.I am paying him, in a sense,as a taxpayer.And you too,dear.
You are too clever for me,said the nurse sharply as she admired Mary’s tan leather handbag from TKMaxx stuffed with set squares and cameras
I shall bring a vibrator next time,Mary told her,though she had never even seen a vibrator except in a picture.Still.she had to say something.And why should she not benefit from modern science?Boots sell them,she seemed to recall…
You can’t bring a vibrator in here or the doctor will be angry ,as he might be accused of misconduct if you enjoyed yourself, the nurse whispered, though why should you not enjoy it,she said in a puzzled tone ;as if she had never thought like this before.
I thought it was only misconduct if the doctor enjoyed himself,Mary cried loudly.
He has seen so many ladies, it is just like seeing into a mouth for him,said the nurse churlishly thus taking away Mary’s pride in her unique anatomy.
I expect one gets used to anything in time,Mary murmured,but I hope he will not need to do that again to me.
No, you seem ok,the doctor said,but I seem to imagine I can see a cat under the table.What is he doing?
I am just keeping an eye on you,mewed Emile.I live with Mary.
No animals are allowed in here ,the doctor shouted in a paranoid manner.
A bit late now,meowed the cat.Are you sending for the cat police?
Dr.Grey picked up a very large speculum and threatened to strike Emile with it
Now then,said the nurse, he might scratch my legs.Leave him alone.He’s just protecting her.And I had just sterilised that.
Fat lot of good Emile was,Mary thought to herself.
The doctor approached Mary and told her she would be seeing a consultant soon… in the meantime should she do anything to prepare… she asked.
Well, do try to relax if you can, he told her gently.It is trying for ladies of riper years to attend hospitals but we only want to help you.
I’ll have to help myself,Mary thought wryly, laughing inside, as she got down off the table and put on her red and purple knickers or “underpants” as they are now referred to by health professionals
.Thank God,that is over,she whispered to Emile.Let’s run out and get a cab.
She hobbled to the door and phoned the taxi firm with her mobile.I just want to get home she told the driver.
Don’t we all, he said in an Eton accent.Surely it’s not David Cameron in disguise canvassing patients?Thank God he’s not conducting pelvic exams on them!That would lose him the election whether he was any good or not… in my view,but then what do I know about the British electorate?It might be the key to our future as a nation.Think about it!No,stop!

The avenue of life was made too straight
Vienna with its harshly cut off trees
No one ever had to navigate.

We saw the gravestone in the day or night
But we did not see what life we might have seized
The avenue of life was made too straight

Life is more like sailing or birds flight
Where we move according to the breeze
We deeply wish to feel and navigate.

Life is more like dance than soldiers fight
All the soldiers surreal. a clean machine
The path to God  could never be so  right

Oh,  diurnal owl,  his wants  are slant
From  Tyne to Tees we sleep his cruel dreams
He’s known by his will to navigate.

Yet God created hawk and owl and scene
No straight line will  any bird  demean
The avenue of life is not so straight
We in danger learn to navigate.

 

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke
The way the back leant curving into space
The dance and danger both are thus evoked

Like a play, a drama, fire and smoke
A dance performed so swiftly and with grace
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The heavy bull is pounding,is provoked.
A threat, a man,  intrudes into his space
The dance and danger both are still evoked

See, the  matador throws out his cloak
A   dash of black, and here we see his face
The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke

The mind needs just a hint to  see the whole
We fill the present with our past distaste
The dance and danger, mirroring dark smoke

 Acting both dramatic and displaced 

The artist may still love what she forsakes 

The vital line was drawn with one brush stroke 

he dance and danger ,life and death evoked

 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evil-deeds/201201/essential-secrets-psychotherapy-the-healing-power-clinical-wisdom-part-one

 

What we don’t know can hurt us. The “unconscious,” as Sigmund Freud professed, is the “unknown” or “not known.” That portion of subjective experience which is obscured, invisible to consciousness, at least “at the moment.” It consists largely of the parts of ourselves we deny, dissociate, despise, denigrate, dread and generally repress. What we repress comes back to haunt us with a vengeance. Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche spoke of this phenomenon as “the return of the repressed.” Denial or dissociation are repressive defense mechanisms, and serve some necessary function in terms of preserving mental health. But when some significant aspect of ourselves is chronically denied or dissociated (i.e., repressed and made unconscious), the proverbial chickens eventually come home to roost. If, for instance, someone always denies their anger, these feelings will some day resurface tenfold, especially under stress, though the reason for and intensity of their rage may be unclear  and inappropriate to the current circumstances. This dark and treacherous territory to which these repressed “chickens”–or, more descriptively, “demons” are banished–is what Jung referred to as the “shadow.” It is related also to what Rollo May called the “daimonic.” The daimonic, according to May, “is any natural function which has the power to take over the whole person. Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples.” Thedaimonic, can, by definition, be both destructive and creative. When the daimonic is habitually denied, it becomes more negative and dangerous. But when we acknowledge its presence and reality, it can be the life-giving source of energy, strength, power, spirituality and creativity. This can be said of the unconscious in general. So it is vitally important to learn to listen to one’s unconscious carefully, and to what it has to say about what’s happening in the psyche now and what needs to happen if the future, both inwardly and outwardly. Meditation,mindfulness and dream work are all methods of listening to and discerning the unconscious.The secret is to take the unconscious (and its complexes) seriously, treating it with the respect and sense of mystery, awe and wonder it deserves. And to recognize the ultimate futility of repression, rather allowing one’s self to consciously experience emotions as they arise, while at the same time learning to pause between stimulus and response rather than reflexively acting on them. We have both the freedom and responsibility to choose how we respond to our feelings. But that, like any other skill, takes practice.

Rain falls lightly in the winter wood,
Dampening stones that make a pathway through
The overgrown, the old trees and the new.
The odour of the rain on grass is good

I see the acers coming into bud.
The daffodils are waving as I view.
The lily pond is lonely without you.
We used to feed a robin when we could

 

After Mass on Sunday mornings then
We’d drive to woods  and walk to lessen strain.
But now I cannot write, I clutch your pen.
My inspiration gives me life again.

 

Without your hand in mine, I walk quite lame.
The dampness on my face is tears, not rain

 

 

 

I get out my sewing gear
In the quiet times of life,
When I need to mend the tears,
Torn by stress and strife.

I hold my soul so carefully
And gaze at every part.
I hope that light will come to me
As I wonder how to start,

.I take my needle out
With love thread through its heart,
I scrutinize each inch.
And then I start to stitch.

In the quietness of the night
You heal me all the time
You talk to me in dreams
And I write them down in rhymes.

Another day will come
And more fractures form.
That’s all part of life
Strife ,and mend, and strife.

Keep that cocoon whole,
Till the soul’s completely there.
Then through its love-sewn folds
A butterfly will flare.

Shimmering light
The lily pond
The music of your eye
The touch of your arm
Your always honey smell.
I love.

Rustling trees in a row,
A wide green lawn;
People stoop to see small flowers.

A snail on the path.
The perfection of the shell.
I believe

Unusually tall dandelions
at the edge of this wood
Wave in the warm west wind.
We smile.

Sitting pen in hand
I wonder what I would have written
In all the letters I’ve not sent you.

Far away on the Ridgeway,
Cars, like ants,
Rush towards the motorway.
They make us laugh.
How green the meadows
How fresh the old trees.

I gaze at you.
I find I am.
It’s mutual.
They call it Love

About 9 months before my husband died he had operation on his nose for cancer; something called a rodent ulcer. Since he had had cancer before we were not too worried about this. After a few months he got an appointment to have this removed.

What we didn’t know was that they would do the operation in two stages. In the first size they would remove the cancer which apparently went quite deep. Then they would send him home. The next day he will be sent for an operation to fill the gap so that the wound could heal my

Is this happen to anyone you know if it’s very dangerous. Sending someone home with a hoe in their face with just a little dressing over it it is potentially dangerous. I think it’s done so that they won’t have to use a hospital bed overnight.

The next morning I heard him shouting. I went into the bathroom and it was full of blood like a butcher’s shop or fsr worse than

a butcher’s shop. Apparently he blew his nose but he had not been told that he should not do that although it seems like common sense but he was 88 years old at the time and he didn’t have dementia so they should have warnef him in writing.

I didn’t want to send for an ambulance because the hospital where he was going to have the operation did not have an a and e so he was sent to another hospital he would miss operation. So I rang a friend and ask him to come in a cab and then come in the house and get my husband the suffering from shock had no breakfast. So I kept my own when my husband covered in blood stains and looking terrified.

It had a very bad effect on my husband it’s terrifying to lose so much blood.

I had to have an operation on my face as a few weeks later and this worried him very much. He didn’t recover from his own operation and when I went back to the hospital for a check-up he was in a wheelchair. The doctor who was checking him up had done at my surgery so my husband said to him, I think you know my wife. The consultants looked at me and he said I’ve never seen her before in my life. Then the nurse who had been with him during my operation came in. She immediately recognise me and came over and started asking me how I was etc

The day after my operation my husband collapsed and was diagnosed with heart failure he must have been ill for some time and it wasn’t that bad but it rapidly got worse and worse.

Someone with severe heart failure starves because their abdomen is full of fluid. Because the heart is not processing the blood so it flows backwards into the lungs and into the abdomen.

I kept him at home until almost the end. Then she make it really surreal he was taken to the hospital as an emergency after being resuscitated They managed to keep him in A and E until he died thus he never did get a hospital bed

My own health has never become good again. Well it is not surprising is it I only had one day of restt after I had the surgery. Then they told me that I am very lucky to be alive now. Well after all that trauma it doesn’t seem fabulous trying to come to terms with it all especially when we got into lockdown.

Thank you to the Conservative Party. Without your coats to the NHS my husband would have been kept in the hospital overnight and not suffer this terrifying hemorrhage. Imagine me trying to clean the bathroom when the walls and the floor and everything was covered in blood and I could not even clean my husband’s body or and fresh pyjamas.

I couldn’t remember writing this post the hairy tales

The confusing swirl of violence broke down walls
And panic rushed in through the holes and gaps
I saw folk taking photos, checking maps,
Their phones gripped like a weapon that appals.

We see then what comprises our defence.
The connection to our family and friends.
The need to make a record of the end.
The need to look again till it makes sense.

I felt a well-known numbness cover me
My heart needs its own time to feel the pain
The world I live in is not safe, that’s plain.
From Al Jazeera to the BBC.

The many masks of innocence deceive.
Hatred of this kind is misconceived.

https://columbiametro.com/article/the-skill-of-patience/

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Learning to accept daily frustrations

By Thomas Barbian, Ph.D.

Patience is a virtue! Or, at least that is how the saying goes. But is it really? Patience is defined as “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset,” a definition with several important components. Patience is also a skill. We can work on increasing our ability to be patient and engage in practices to become a more patient person. 

Before looking at how to develop more patience, it is best to define what we are actually talking about. Patience (or the lack thereof — impatience) occurs in response to some sort of difficulty or delay in life that is not going according to expectation. A day can hardly be lived without encountering something that interferes with our plans, and so we might say that the “interferences” or “disruptions” are a normal part of life; to expect otherwise will make it difficult to be patient. 

 October 2, 2021

Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still

No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will

No help,no humour.jokes no

sharp true eye

From our old shared pram,to live, to die.

I used to do your homework

late at night

Abstract thought to you was no delight.

You wondered over X and y and z

Preferred the shapes of Nature in your head.

I shall retain the memories of the good

You who taught me speech and hate and love

Do we choose what we perceive each hour?
Or are we automata clothed in skin,
Wh see the thorns and then ignore the flower?

Can we, like grass, be grateful for a shower.
Or is our store of gratitude too thin?
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?

Can we choose to smile instead of cower?
Can we love the game played not to win?
Who sees sharp thorns but then ignores the flower?

Do we choose to love or to use power?
Can we choose the virtue, not the sin?
Do we choose what we perceive each hour?

As we struggle inside Babel’s tower
Ambivalence may torture some within
Most see the thorns and then ignore the flowers

With softened eyes ,we see the whole sweet bower
If we draw near, we see what is now dim
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?
Some see the thorns but then ignore the flowers.

If you came the shock would knot raw space

Then we could not touch, hold or umbrace

Our minds would fall to pieces in the dock

The judgement sentence alienates the flock

If you came I think that I might die

Hoping for these years death was a lie

The gap between us now deceives the eye

From these wounds small voices seem to cry p

If he comes back now, it is too late

The suffering self takes on a different shape.

Deformed by grief, I cannot fit his bed

Yet I remember every word he said

But words will fly away like swallows do

They do not join an I to any you.

A song a lyric music and a voice

We know too much, we’re overwhelmed with choice

Yet all alone our hearts flap seeking out

A bird is trapped inside me,heavy doubt.

My heart is in my throat will it fly high ?

If it leaves me I will surely die

The skeleton of bone, the muscles taut

Keep the heart inside, the danger out.

If you come oh, hold me very still.

I will weep again, until your fillef

Between the world and how we represent
The nameless by a name and  even  place,
There is a space or void in our intent.

What mother saw, what father really meant
How love and hate might intertwine in space?
In our own world, what can we represent?

In writing, there is lack and letters bent
For  ancient writing often  scholars traced
There is a space or void in our intent.

Today the sun is golden,  gods descend.
With love, for moments, we are all embraced
Of the felt, what can we represent?

Our willingness unblinds the heart so rent
And then we see the face within his face
The space or void lights for this sacrament

I cross my eyes with fingers interlaced:
The crucifix, the love, the death of Christ
Between the world and what we may attempt
There is a space or void where he was sent.