Come back, live again, he said to me
Do not struggle with the darkness anymore
One more step gives hatred victory

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

While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One more thought might give hate victory

The kindness of the golden light was clear
And burned an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he said gently

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

I had never seen the Light before
Only Christ the tyger with his roar
Come back, live through fear, he asked of me

Turn from darkness find love’s victory

Copyright Katherine

kakistocracy (n.) Look up kakistocracy at Dictionary.com1829, “government by the worst element of a society,” coined on analogy of its opposite, aristocracy, from Greek kakistos “worst,” superlative of kakos “bad” (which perhaps is related to the general IE word for “defecate;” see caco-) + -cracy.

From time and place and season, I am lost,
Disorientated ,missing tracks well worn.
Do not suppose I’m unaware of cost,
Nor label me with epithets of scorn.
For usual paths lead to the usual place.
The safest way to live and perhaps to die,
But wandering through the woods I find new space
and in wild grasses with the fox I lie.
Through distant trees, I see a way to go
As narrow as a slit in pale limestone.
I pass in silence as if in deep,deep snow.
My courage rises even as I groan.
Remember when we’re lost ,we may then find
Another way,a place,another mind.

can see there is plenty of material here for me to write my next book:

Deceptive appearances and the fascination of apparent dullness.

Oh, that sounds very unusual.

Well, I’ve never believed in true dullness.There is always a story.

See, I’ve just met you a man of 98 yet you have a wife, a mistress and a crazy cat.. and I’ve only been here for one day.Imagine 

what else I may discover here.

They heard a siren.

Oh, no!We’ve not even rung 999 and here is the ambulance….

Mary will be so angry.You see Dave is bisexual

My goodness, are you having an affair with him.

No way, shouted Stan.My life is tough enough already.He can be bisexual or even trisexual but I’m not interested.

What does trisexual mean, enquired Emile.

I have no idea but I thought it sounded good, admitted Stan.

Peter stood up.

I think I’d better go home and start to see my patients.

Now Emile, put your nerve somewhere safe.We don’t want you to lose it again.

Thank you, darling cried Emile.I think I’ve formed an erotic transference with you already.

Peter rushed out.

Is it me or is it them?he wondered.

I thought it would be quiet here on the edge of Knittingham but I think now wherever you are there will always be something unexpected happening.But I hope Emile will not begin to follow me around.I shall have to buy a lady cat and then Emile might fall in love with her instead.So off Peter went whistling a Bach cello suite and wondering how to cope with life in a suburb.. clearly it was not as dull as he had imagined.

ByShare this:

https://www.england.nhs.uk/blog/amit-arora/

Now schools open, lockdown comes again
Jesus has one shepherd,one wise man
Just one beast to keep the family warm
And one black sheep to save them all from harm

Nero has one wife whom he will kill
So he may have concubines at will
The brother gone, which child will he proclaim
After he’s fired all Rome up i on great flames?

Oh, Jesus on his Cross must die alone
Except for Mary’s spirit and her bones
One Roman soldier, Pilate with his lie
The men who died with God, all crucified

Filled with joy, the demons prance around
In their septic darkness underground

None so blind as those who will not see

The suffering of the old is hidden from view

How cruel the world indifferent yet to me

My face is frozen killing any clue.

The colours of the heart are mainly blue.

Sister, sister do you not agree.?

The suffering and the dying not on cue

From the desert of the aged flee.

I wonder whether God asks who are you?

God has got dementia yet is free

The suffering of the old enrages few

A play on words amusing I shall sue

Comments

I love to go awandering around a Nursing Home

and as I go I love to sing to drown out people’s groans.

I hate to take my sleeping pills, 3 hours before the time.

Is giving patients sedatives a sin or just a crime?

I love to see Dementia,

She likes to scream and yell. She. longs to go as in the air, she’s neither ill nor well.

‘It is boring in a nursing home. there’s nothing much to do.

I think we’ll roll down in the snow, to catch a cold or. flu.

I love to go a wandering, around a little town

Now it’s just these corridors, it surely gets one down.

I love to see the old folk cry. I didn’t know they could.

I thought when we were 82 our brains would turn to wood.

I dreamed of Leonard Cohen, he was looking rather blue.

He thinks he’s going to heaven but if it’s hell there’s naught to do

He wrote a lot of melodies when in the tower of song.

I wonder when the Lord comes back, will Leonard’s be proved wrong?

We humans love to wander from our first Eden home

We got as far as Finland, South Africa and Rome.

But yeah we’re always fighting we have a cruel streak

We like to argue scream and yell, and then the weapons shriek.

I left a pan of curry on the stove
Hot as ash combined with burning coal
Yet when I went back in a cat stood there
Eating this strong curry with no care.

It must have had thick skin inside its mouth
Before I looked ,it ran out of the house
To think it gobbled up our supper so
Leaving me with nothing but a glow

So then I made a chilli beef and beans
My heart ached as I listened to puss scream
Can cats learn that pans are out of bounds?
I’d hate to hear again its anguished sounds

Be sure to close the kitchen door or else
You too will suffer torment from cats’ yells

I’m in deep now,never been this deep before
The world’s hollow like a shell and I’m out its door.
In so deep, the ocean has its own startled floor.
I’m down,down.down.never been so dark , so more
I can’t rightly tell how I got where I am
I think I had an accident,fell over, then I swam.
Sometimes it’s a loss, be times it’s a man.
I guess I only do it ‘cos I know some folk can.
I don’t know if the joy is worth the pain
Would I choose to relive if, I was born again?
The deep joy is the amazing gain.
But the sorrow is damn sad, let’s admit it plain.
I’m in deep and it’s over my head
What was I thinking of,when I fell out of that bed?
I look up and the sea’s so turquoise like that mist is red
When we get good and mad and wish some loon was dead.
At first, it was all just black,black pain
But from the bottom of the well, I looked up with awed love again.
That’s when I recalled,feelings are sound and sane
Joy is much greater when we’re in the deep,deep zone.
I dunno if I’m ever comin’ out.
We can’t control it,ain’t that what life’s all about?
I’ll never love with innocence again,nor not feel doubt.
But I’m no teapot and the devil ain’t got my spout.
I’m swimming and the ocean’s so mysteriously bright
Down here ,we don’t have no day nor no night
Fish nudge me with big grins and teeth white.
Sea-flowers fondle me and whisper,turn off that light!

When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs  like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed
And with their carnal touch consoled be?

When my love lies and  breaks my tender heart.
When life  is grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start,
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?

When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.

For I have love’s  own child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole

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I envy shy black people because they can blush secretly

And I envy Chinese people because they don’t go yellow when they feel sick

I envy Jewish people because they enjoy arguments.Yes that is too general a statement but don’t let’s argue about it. Unless you are Jesus Christ. Did Jesus

argue? Get the Bibles out.

I envy philosophers because they know what distinguishes an argument from a quarrel

I don’t want to be a Catholic because they believe in hell. Can you still go to hell even if you don’t believe in it

Why does nobody mention limbo anymore?

Why do I have to ask questions when other people know by intuition?

Why were red Indians called red Indians?

You are going to do something creative. So how do you get ready? You are hoping for some new ideas some connections.

Well suppose you are going to bake a cake the first thing that you do is what?

You have to clear a space on your work surface or table to put you your baking bowl and you have to make sure the oven is empty

The very first thing you must do is to wash up in case the cake tin all the bowls you need all there being soaked and there’s no room for anything else so you wash up up.and put these things away and now you have a space in which you can set about creating the cake of your dreams

Supposing do you want to paint a picture or write a poem.

Our mind is full of ideas,of people we’ve just seen or a unfulfilled desires thoughts about food clothing who knows jealousy envy love

Well you can’t create when your mind is full like that.

That is what Marion Milner discovered that if she said

I am nothing I have nothing I want nothing

This freed her from the buzzing cloud of flies inside my head. And then thoughts and ideas from the deeper parts of the mind can come into the consciousness.

She calls this the gesture of

Inner Poverty.

By giving up for a time all the things that occupy our thoughts we create some space for new ideas.

I can’t guarantee that they will be any good but there’s a good chance of it if we follow up a little ideas with some hard work.

I think it might be rather like the desireless that is part of Buddhism.

Saying I am nothing is not self derogatory. Nobody is nothing o and if you believe in God you will believe that everybody has a soul equal two other people’s in the eyes and God regardless of your wealth or status. It’s it’s moving away from constant occupation with egocentric concerns which can impede perception.

Because these concerns are a barrier to our vision.

This is just one way of looking at perception and creativity

?

https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20200827-how-self-control-can-actually-unleash-your-dark-side

https://www.psychologytoday.com/intl/blog/handy-hints-humans/201609/why-its-good-feel-sad

I burned eight pans while I daydreamed in grief
I meant to cook my dinner while I wrote
My attention was too sparse,a narrow brief
I burned eight pans while I swam in deep grief
This war on objects makes my mind a thief
Where once love lived, I see his empty coat.
I burned eight pans while knocked about by grief
I tried to cook my supper, I saw smoke

Oh,mother dear wherever have you been
To leave a cat all day is very mean
Emile,I need my freedom now and then
I can’t love Dave but I would like a man
I must go out to buy a handsome coat
Cognac is the colour I love most
Emile cried, whatever do you think
I saw some frogs a-courting in the sink
I was on the draining rack up there
They asked me to avert my amber stare

Are frogs faithful, don’t they just leave spawn?
They are cold towards tadpoles unborn
We saw them by Moss Bank in shallow pools
Mary wonders if all frogs are cruel

Stan came with his angels right behind
They are tired of heaven, they’ve resigned
Here’s a pin upon which they can dance
Mary was delighted and entranced

Do you need a dinner now you’ve died?
I wouldn’t mind a steak, the old man sighed
Some buttered new potatoes and a fool
Rhubarb or vanilla would be cool

I have done no shopping, Mary cried
I have no money for the food you like
Shall I get a pizza, fish and chips
That will put some colour in your lips

I am only joking, Stanley said
I shall merely visit you in bed
Emile wept with joy to see his Dad
What a spirit, is he going mad?

In came Annie in her long best coat
Her eyes were black and scratched was her throat
I fell into the Croal when eating chips
See the bruises on my pouting lips

Never walk on water,Mary screeched
Even when you cross that Southport Beach
Stay away from danger,I’ll ring Dave
He will dress your bruises with his gauze

Annie did not tell them the real truth
She had fallen off the sloping roof

Stan was a very naughty man because he winked at his dear wife before dying and she had no chance to respond.
That is so typical of Stan, she said to Annie, her best friend.
Well, at least he went peacefully.Annie replied in a kindly tone
And to think I had just bought him 6 new pairs of pyjamas.
You can’t blame him for that.You always buy too much, Annie murmured politely
Well, I suppose I like to be prepared, Mary muttered.I felt so helpless as he went thinner and thinner.
What are you going to do with them all, Annie whispered.
There’s only one solution.I’ll have to find a man to fit the pyjamas and marry him
That’s a strange way of choosing a new husband, Annie said in a shocked voice.
In the end however rational we try to be, life is down to luck.
Yes, didn’t Churchill say, chance favours the prepared mind?
It wasn’t Churchill, it was Blaise Pascal.Mary told her in of voice rich with wisdom
Well, why not marry him? He sounds intriguing
He’s dead, Mary responded succinctly
Oh, what a pity.He sounded just right for you, Annie said tearfully.Are we going to the funeral?
I am afraid he died before we were born, Mary said in an anguished tone.
Well, he’s no use.Anyone else you fancy?How about Dante? Annie screamed
Which Dante do you mean?I thought he was Italian, Mary informed
her.
It’s not far by plane, though Brexit might be a problem, Annie said wisely.
Let’s be realistic.No dead, great genius will be revived by the Lord to marry me.Mary said as if she were lecturing to a big class on differential geometry and its use in economics.No wonder we had the Depression
That might be blasphemy, Annie informed her.After all, if God is omnipotent he can do anything at all.
To me, he sometimes seems incompetent, said Mary wildly.And of all the lonely people in the world, why should he aid me in my grief? Anway male geniuses are very demanding.I think a cook or chef might be more practical.
Oh, look, we’ve missed Mass again.
We’ve not been for 40 years and just when we decided to go we started talking about these powerful creatures and a husband for you
Never mind, why don’t we wait till Xmas?
And so say all of us.

I knew myself in his face when he lived

But now I have no mirror,I’m alone.

I learned myself reflected in his love.

An actual mirror seems like a dull stone

I was alive when mirrored his eyes

For those who hate us do not give us life.

What’s the answer when the loved one dies?

Without a husband there can be no wife.

All alone my blood seems not to flow.

The wellspring of my heart is arid,dry.

My hands curl up protective on my heart

I have no tears and so I cannot cry.

Yet I bleed inside from every part.

So where is my reflection, where my grace?

I cannot live without his tender face

I eat my egg and chips whilst wise men frown
They give advice and rush to bring me down
An Exfridge educated woman can’t eat fries
So in McDonalds ,they have placed their spies

How else explain that man in Cohen’s suit
And on his feet, black polished Chelsea boots?
Such men would eat in foreign Restaurants
Not linger in Mc Donald’s penitent

Yes, all these people must be sent as spies
From Oxford,Cambridge, even MI 5.
Yet I do not abandon my fried bread
Despite that Quantum Theory seeping out my head

It’s probable that they are eying me
Come,thou loon , Len Cohen wants his tea

Come live with me and be my helpmeet now

I’ll share my only bed with you and how!

If you let me love you

I’ll darn your old gloves 4 you..

If you come and meet me brow to brow.

Come live with me ‘n teach me all you know

About poetic licence and Soho

I’ll mend your vacuum cleaner,

learn expressions meaner..

How cheerfully the hours to come will go,

Come live with me and be my lover true

Without one,how will we ever do?

I’ll set up model railways

And learn the Eastern weekdays

Come live with me and I will sweep your flue.

Come live with me in Norway on a fjord

I’ll mend my Canon powershot if I’m bored.

I’ll watch the flowers growing

And then we must be sowing.

How happy Wittgenstein’d be if he’d knowed.

A needle, pen or life itself have points
To sew, to write, to beautify or haunt.
Our hands and minds, creative in intent
Give our lives their point, their way. their bent.

The long hands of the clock to numbers guide
The fingers on the the gun this life deride.
The hand of fate without our will can point
The demons in the dream may rudely taunt.

Our lips may tighten when we are enraged
When others in our lives direct our page
Our words are stuck, we cannot let them out
So we never learn the truth ” about”

Fingers pull the trigger,use the switch
The world destroyed in pointless rhetoric

For so long you loved and imitated me

Then we were students at the university

Without you, I won’t feel like anyone

To whom shall I turn when you are gone?

When you’re the one who shared my infant bed

When you’re the one who treasured what I said

When you’re the one I soothed in the dark night

When you are gone there can be no more light

When the moment comes,I must believe

For trees shall weep their leaves as if bereaved

Then will my sister heart with sadness heave.

Oh do not do not ,do not ,do not leave

Do not leave me for the desolate grave.
Do not leave me here when you are gone
Do not leave me to whom love you gave
Do not leave me

My tender arms, I stroke and gently bathe
To soothe my mind , when near me there is none.
Do not leave me for the desolate grave
Do not leave me

For our humorous love ,I ever crave
A founding ground we have built upon
Do not leave me to whom love you gave
Do not leave me

A sorrow deep convulses like a wave
Washes me of hope, of memories done
Yet do not leave me for the desolate grave.
Do not leave me

I love not the charisma of men suave
I loved your voice and all the loving done
Never leave me to whom love you gave
Never leave me.

In my heart, your name shall be engraved
In my mind, you circle like the sun
Do not leave me for your desolate grave
Do not leave me for death’s dark embrace~
Do not leave me

Old man,bending over,
arched like a fallen moon
in a dark lilac November sky.
joy and pain wrestle my heart across the emptiness
and toss it up like a damp rocket
to fall in a hidden corner where mice live.
Would that not be a good ending,to be dust
to these little creatures nesting
in my chewed green twine and my tartan basket?
They have eyes and shiver in my hand when I rescue them
from the cat…
as any heart might.
Now night falls on the newspaper basket
where the damp Times and the Guardian mix into glue
and tomorrow the sun will rise
and it will just be the garbage
with no poetic undertones nor deathly hushes..
Heather and a silver light
you stand on a hill top like a god
looking over his domain.
Strong and now weak
it’s the humane condition
Everlasting life is too dangerous for humans.
Silent,motionless,home of beetles
bit by bit we fall away
into the mother soil
with cracked jugs and dropped coins
for a future academic to dig into.
Transparent hand touches me.
Whose might it be

https://www.bigissue.com/culture/books/top-5-books-write-poetry-deborah-alma/

Wordsworth’s poem is delivered by a strong speaker, but not a very intimate one by our standards. Contemporary poetry, and the poetry of twentieth-century America, shifted the footing of much poetry to the conversational and the highly mobile speech register of one ordinary person speaking confidentially to another. Here is the opening to Eleanor Lerman’s poem “Ode to Joy”: Four drinks after nine o’

The life boat crew are safely home
They’ve brought the shipwrecked sailors too.
The storm has passed, the wind has dropped
The sea is swaying softly now.

Wrapped in soft night clothes, their offspring
Are all in world of dream still lost.
Their fathers’ safely home this time.
They save wrecked ships despite the cost.

Will any lifeboat crew be there
To help less blessed ones from despair,
And lives, too many , spent in care
No fathers and no mothers near?

The sea we certainly must fear,
But more we fear the acts of those
Who try to buy our minds and wills,
for votes in the election booths.

Oh hush my baby, go to sleep,
It is your mammy’s job to weep.
I wish I knew just what to do
To empower the lives of wains like you.

Sleep well, sleep well, my little child.
The sun will rise, the air is mild.
We’ll trust that when we all set sail
Our love and courage will not fail.

Oh,hush my sweet one, I am near.
The world’s too big for bairns to bear.
We’ll do much better this time round.
We’ll not let this boat run aground

I’ve blundeted only well endowed

With stoats that sigh, more whales that kill

All at once I saw a cloud