Since the Christians’ God has three male parts, is he a trans-sexual? Or is at least one of them
Though if one were female he could have reproduced with himself as it were
However we would not see his children then.By having a human mother Jesus was visible to all who lived in Nazareth or Galilee.Though no photos have been seen
As Jesus was a man, it seems God might be human after all.And has not existed since before time began
I think I’d better stop before I offend everybody
I thought God was here before we were but I’m only a mathematician so what do I know?
My sister took this photo in Europe.Holland I believe.
I was at walking to the bus stop and hoping he would see me as I can’t run.When the bus got near me the driver put on the indicator light.It’s only a little bus but I felt it was like person sending me a message
“Poets are seekers and questioners. They explore the unknown and help to give it shape. The insights and wisdom in the following poems below are hard-won; more often, it is simply the naming of the fear—personal, spiritual, or political—that offers solace, reminding us that people are connected by our worries and doubts as well as our joys. By resisting closure and easy answers and sounding out the darkness, these poems remind us that poetry has always been able to cope with uncertainties, ambiguities, and shades of gray.”
The abscess then the lump of ironstone
Who is living in me with such scorn? My mouth negates my speach, the dual form
The latest self is struggling with the worms Will this goddess ever be reborn? The abscess then the lump of ironstone
Am I, myself reduced to scattered bones? I must pray, I hear the harp and horn My mouth negates my speach, the dual tones
In the distance, ancient seas still moan While I am here alone and unadorned The abscess bursts, the yellow pus is foam
A seabird sits in silence on a cone An image of the loss, a love forlorn My mouth negates my speach, the dual tones
Oh, for love’s restraint, life’s overdrawn The tiger’s teeth, its eye, its cruel claws What is worse, to die or live through storms? My mouth negates my mind,I am a stone
The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile A pale blue sky, a silver aeroplane I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled
I have no heater but the kettle boiled I made us coffee then my parcel came My face in the small mirror had a smile
My love is deep, you never were on trial If we quarrel, we both share the blame I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled
Our sorrow is, we have not made a child Jesus cursed the fig tree in its shame Yet red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
Sorrow need not madden nor make bold We do not know the purpose nor the game I’m happy,I am warm now as I toil
We need old fashioned virtues like restraint We don’t see the whole as life we paint The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
I’m happy,I am warm, the sea sings wild
The sadness of the television world Where actors have no character to share Where all is flat and perfect but unreal Where God’s in Hell, and yet it is concealed
The sadness of a toddler with a phone Eyes near focussed like he is alone Where he can see a Zoo in Montreal Or hear hyenas as they make their calls
The sadness as we toss out ancient books And never teach our children how to cook The imaged food is perfect in young eyes But when we live on that I think we die
The sadness when our neighbours have blind eyes The sadness as our culture slowly dies
Why God made me alluring I don’t know To cut my vanity he bent my toes Not far from climbing trees, my feet were hands Confined to shoes, a bunion made them bend
Thus I’m half evolved,my mind is sharp My body is still monkey in its parts Of course I have no fur so I must dress Am I proof that Darwin was remiss?
For how can head evolve but feet do not In the embryo or in a cot? I am neither beast nor am I man My face may tempt my toes are also ran
Nothing is as perfect as a smile An ugly face can swiftly men beguile
I did not know my mind was strong a sin My wickedness was choosing to be thin My ringlets seemed far wilder than cats’ screams The torture and the vividness of dreams
I picked up books and read them in an hour How could I guess the wreckage of men’s power? I made pastry, I baked cakes of wheat To honour God , my father, the elite.
In my pram I gave the neighbours shocks Electric was my verbal skill and luck They asked me how to vote and who should win I sucked my dummy as my thoughts all ran
I sit and listen by the kitchen sink For I get drunk without a single drink
God has made men suffer making me As beautiful as morning by the sea Because I’m only interested in maths I have long since left the garden path
I never look in mirrors or deep ponds Narcissus eat your heart out in ferns’ fronds I never used to wonder how I looked When my eyes were glued on a textbook
What irony that men would love me so I thought myopia would make them shy I thought they’d like to talk of Wittgenstein Over burned spaghetti and red wine
But now I’ve learned how beautiful I looked Lying on the sofa with a book Alas it is too late for any more I see the edge of Heaven by the door
God may seem ironic, it’s a test I may kiss you once if you insist
The childish jealousy, the painful heart The remnants of a past that live within Which make my skin feel pain, that make it smart
Measured feelings appear on noone’s chart We hide our knowledge of our own dark sin The childish jealousy, the painful heart
It comes too fast, takes too long to depart Before we have the words, can thought begin? Unthought knowledge,wordless, makes skin smart
Can action makes us better deal with thought? What protection helps the smarting skin, The childish jealousy, the painful heart?
Can virtue, unlike love, be sold and bought? Turn the phones off. numb the brain-made din Unwanted knowledge peeves the soul and heart
Like the dangerous wall that cut Berlin We defend ourselves, don’t let life in The childish jealousy, the hating heart Make my very self feel pain.I want no part
How to manage your boss How to damage your boss How to savage your boss How to banish your boss How to seek for work How to leak your worth How to streak and worse How to meet your curse How to beat the curse How to bleat and shirk How to write poetry and verse How to import forty whores How to survive jail and more How to revive your faith when sore How to stop selling slaves at the door How to write a life sentence How to fight Evil and its allure How to live well and be pure How to fib and sell cures
How to tell lies and far more
How to differentiate the truth of calculus from quantu, mechanics
How to integrate panic
How to disintegrate with good manners
How to shorten your nerves [ my nerves are twice the normal size]
How to knit coats for bad nerves
Unnerving for swimmers in life’s sea
Knit yourself well
Cat is my name, what the hell?
What a day.All I wanted was some black shoe laces.I need to have some kind of fastening and I have some black patent brogues.
Can your feet lose weight when the rest of you doesn’t?
I took out the laces and wore the shoes without any but now they flop about.Ask me where I haveput the laces.I have no idea… have I got ADD or am I just not very wise?
I decided being a bit off colour I’d take a cab.The cab was £5.The shoe laces were £4 for 2 pairs.No doubt I’ll lose one soon
Of course I needed coffee and an iced bakewell tart I guess it was £4
That seems £13…. just because I needed the shoe laces.Moreover some of my other shoes are now too wide.Why have my feet shrunk while my body is the same size
Will my hands shrink soon?
Then to economise I wanted the bus.I just missed it and then entered a posh hair dressers
Yes,madam?
May I use your WC? It hurts me to walk all the way to the Mall?
Of course
When I came out the next bus was due.It was 17 minutes so one was missing
And when your knees hurt those plastic seats are hell.I mean it
So.I’ll throw those shoes out…… if I can find them!
Yesterday I staggered onto the road.I haven’t drunk alcohol since 1987
Apparently I screamed ,help me.What next?I was only getting down the kerb which is hard when you have no depth vision
An angel will come down and take me to heaven.I won’t need Visions there
Was that my life?
The gravity of loss brought me to earth Beneath the rotting leaves, I lay with worms. I wondered if I were of any worth
No more to be enchanted by love’s mirth, I with unnamed particles was turned. The weight of loss bears down the heart to earth.
The weight of love has readied us for birth The fragments moulded with the love that burns. I learned we need not wonder over worth
My sorrow brought no guilt nor fear of wrath I am both sharp eyed eagle ,twisted worm. In my little grave, I loved the earth.
Like the adder, shocked into rebirth. I from silent underworld had learned Not to judge my soul nor think of worth.
I shall not fear the flames of hell that burn. When blackness is accepted, may one learn? The weight of loss breaks down the soul to earth With dusty shredded leaves, we then convers
I suck upon this lump, this errant growth As if it were a sweet or tooth unbroke It cannot be removed but will it die Ot getting spiteful ,will it multiply?
I suck on it though never on my thumb Being deprived by mouth will make me dumb It’s cheaper than a cigarette or sweet Next I’ll be a cannibal,my meat,
I suck it hoping I can make it die And then the world will feel much less awry I want back my own mouth as a clear space Not this horrid monster of disgrace
Yet how divert my self from its own thoughts Feeling toothless, humour can’t be bought
Ten thousand words, a million diagrams Noone can know others nor themselves Nor the errant ways, the wavering spans
Flee the fluttering of a diaphragm Blind the eyes and ears to all this wealth Ten million days, a thousand diamonds
Fifty million cells in a doll’s pram Life is touch and go and needs our stealth Not the errant ways, the wavering plans
No matter how I speak I can’t command The instant of his death,his plangent depths Ten thousand gasps, the weight about a gram
God below, with worms he understands He needs no words, no pictures, nor new hells The trains to Auschwitz, had no waving hands
By Dunwich Beach we hear submerged church bells Golden angels fly from one, Cromwell Ten mighty words show less than one diagram See the watery childrens’ little hands
The hurricane has turned into a breeze The sun shines on a squirrel leaping high The birds are hiding in the holly tree
Every human being will agree We’d better live, if soon we knew we’d die The hurricane has turned into a breeze
Soon will come the butterfly and bee And every little insect that can fly The birds are hiding in the holly tree
I like hills.my lover likes the sea….. Different people different loves arise The hurricane has shrunk into a breeze
Lilies hide, so deep, love’s mystery Then its offspring decorate our days The blackbird sings atop the holly tree
Feel the woodland beauty as in prayer Trust the unknown darkness at its core The scary wind has turned into a breeze The doves are cooing from the maple tree
I let my entire being take you in Surround you like it were second skin I made an astral cloak to give your peace Where I could share the burden and release
How hard it is to find the words that say How we live and die afresh each day When we get a foothold on the hill We must not hurry , pressed on by our will
Every instant,every time we breathe Eternal life is here, we’re not deceived God appears and disappears ,he flames The Burning Bush, the prophet and their rage.
Enlightenment comes after we have crossed The avenues of suffering and the cost
I dreamed I rode a tricycle last night Large and painted blue without a bell Then I met my doctor,what a sight
He told me he had lately seen the light And wished to be a monk inside a cell I dreamed I rode a tricycle last night
Ted Hughes had gone out fishing for a pike The army in my head was doing drill Then I met my doctor,what a sight
I see the almond blossom, what delight My sister thinks I’ve left her in my Will I dreamed I rode a tricycle last night
Yet I am weary with my oversight I am rarely mad enough to kill Unless I met a doctor out on strike
Because of such a strike I lost my sight The Eye emergency was left too late They say that if I sue I’ll feel a chill Surgeons with knives on my window sill
Everyone wants to be normal But nobody knows what it is It must be ouside of us Or we’d feel what it was So is it that we are all God?
Why do we want to be normal Instead of being ourself? We want acceptance For sure and not by chance Not to mention we all want more wealth
Maybe there is nobody normal The median, the mean or the mode We all need to deviate From eternal love and hate See here what the Greek Gods still owed
This topic will take your mind off Brexit and help you regain a sense of awe and wonder.This cartoon has an equation on it.But some numbers are never found as the answer to such an equation.And that can be proved.And some of the proofs are quite easy.
Hermite might not have succeeded nowadays as passing exams was not easy for him.I suspect he was a person who preferred to spend his time on his own interests in Mathematics and to neglect his wider studies
I have referred in some of my Stan stories to the number “e”.Hermite was the first to prove that e is not an algebraic number.
It may surprise many people that there are different kinds of numbers ,beginning with the integers 1.2.3…… and the rational numbers [fractions like 1/2 4/5 89/54 etc.]
The Babylonians discovered the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter was fixed regardless of the size of the circle.We call it pi.It is not an integer nor a raional number.The number of integers is infinite.
“The ancient Babylonians calculated the area of a circle by taking 3 times the square of its radius, which gave a value of pi = 3. One Babylonian tablet (ca. 1900–1680 BC) indicates a value of 3.125 for pi, which is a closer approximation.” [from link below]
They used 3 as an approximation and in the Hebrew Bible 400 BCE the Temple was made using 3 as an approximation. Archimedes got closer.But. like e, pi cannot be expressed as a fraction.
Some other numbers like the square root of 2 are irrational [ that is,not fractions[ but they are algebraic.As in x squared =2
Relating to Solomon’s temple.They used pi =3.It is in the Hebrew Bible
Real numbers are all numbers from integers to the transcendental and they are uncountably infinite
Pi and e are called transcendental numbers.We don’t know many other
Yet
“The set of transcendental numbers is uncountably infinite. Since the polynomials with rational coefficients are countable, and since each such polynomial has a finite number ofzeroes, the algebraic numbers must also be countable. However, Cantor’s diagonal argument proves that the real numbers (and therefore also the complex numbers) are uncountable. Since the real numbers are the union of algebraic and transcendental numbers, they cannot both be countable. This makes the transcendental numbers uncountably infinfte
Quote from article below {Euler is usually credited with this]
:In 1706 a little-known mathematics teacher named William Jones first used a symbol to represent the platonic concept of pi, an ideal that in numerical terms can be approached, but never reached.
William Jones, mathematician from Wales, 1740
The history of the constant ratio of the circumference to the diameter of any circle is as old as man’s desire to measure; whereas the symbol for this ratio known today as π (pi) dates from the early 18th century. Before this the ratio had been awkwardly referred to in medieval Latin as: quantitas in quam cum multiflicetur diameter, proveniet circumferencia (the quantity which, when the diameter is multiplied by it, yields the circumference).
You’re looking well, the doctor said ironically as I stumbled into his office Don’t mention it,I replied,It’all Greek to me Are you drunk, he said solicitously No and I am not a tart either,I lied truthfully What a pity,I fancy an apple, he shared Doctor, keep you voice down.The patients will think you are a pervert. Well, one tart is as good as another to a dead man Is that a trope or a simile? What a pointed question. But not disappointed? Who was Adonis? Mrs Thatcher’s husband with a Lancashire accent No, it DIS I am thinking of You seem to be imitating a racist film Fancy that, without even knowing! Well, you are a real doctor,I hope No, but I am rational I’m afraid you can be counted But who could count an infinite set? It’s in theory That’s intellectuals for you.It can be done in Theory.But where is Theory? Where intellectuals hang out using their imaginations. Well, blow me down Why can’t you jump? I can only do it in theory Well, better get on with the surgery.Which head are we cutting off today?
The King’s Head! Well, it is his turn now….how will he take it?
Under his arm
Like a deodorant?
I can think of better alternatives
Not a pig’s head?
No, an apple in his mouth
See,apples again.Why not go to an Art Class and paint some?
Because my wife won’t eat them painted
How will she know?
Because I have no artist’s palate
Well, it’s never to late to grow your own
I have my own palate
How is that?
It’s like a bed before beds were invented
How come?
It is a bag of straw
But nowadays they don’t sell straw
In case it’s china?
How can one sleep on china?
Go to a Tea Service and ask the Vicar
Ooh, you are artful
You do look well today
Am I the doctor or not?
I don’t know Not
You know Nothing!
Metaphor is only one kind of trope. Trope is any rhetorical technique that describes something in non-literal ways.
For example, metonymy is a technique where one word is replaced with a phrase that is related but is literally different, such as “the law” for police.
Synecdoche is using a part to describe the whole: “Can you give me a hand?”.
Irony is the use of words with opposite meaning, such as saying “You’re looking well.” to someone who is clearly quite sick.
There are also some expressions that are not considered as fully fledged tropes but as sub-tropes.
(The latter website may explain the information you have been given: “The late-twentieth-centurywidespread reduction to one master trope, metaphor, especially under the influence of Lakoff and Johnson (1980), is the most radical (and absurd) of these projects.”
We saw the cows at Easter freed from barn We were on a hill beside our lane They were running in the meadow’s fresh green charm
Renting a small cottage on a farm Dorset has its literary fame We saw the beasts at Easter freed from barn
Beasts will share their feelings and their heart Not for them the clever,wordy games But dancing in the meadow’s alien charm
These images annihilate the harm Suffered by the sick and by the lame We saw the beasts at Easter freed from barn
The green of spring, the green thoughts, the great calm Thus poverty brings us emptiness for gain Running to shelter of your arms
Was it not a right to be insane Freed from prison when the summer came? We saw the cows at Easter freed from barn They were quivering in the meadow while I yearned
There is a very strange concept now in psychoanalysis called
” the unthought known”,
I think it refers to something in the patient which they experienced and so know but they had not then learned words ,so if it was too painful it constantly bothers them yet they can’t explain it or tell anyone.This is why psychoanalysis takes so long and even then I am unsure if a therapist can supply what the mother couldn’t
Perhaps if we know that we will never understand some of our feelings and worries but can accept them even if we don’t want to. then we can live with them
When God came down , the rivers overflowed Great trees were floating ,angled and exposed The houses broke up like a loaf to crumbs The hearts of humans trembled till they hummed
The winds deceived, the gusts unmeasured stung The churchbells shuddered then untimely rang The power was cut and all our screens were dark Where were the rulers, where the saving Ark?
The women giving birth were paralysed The babies in the womb took ill and died Their cradles rocked the world, they swung so fast And in a moment all of life had passed
In the void, God started his new world Rich and strange, the grit and then the pearls