Doctor,doctor,I;m worried about my coughin’.
What about your coffin?
Well,it’s keeping me awake at night.
Why,are you sleeping in it
I have only one place to sleep.
If you are tired you can sleep anywhere!
is that legal?
Of course, it is.
Well, can I sleep in the Queen’s bed?
In theory,yes… but you might frighten the horses.
Why, do they sleep with her?She must have a big bed.
Don’t be so ridiculous…
Well, she has loads of money; she, could have a bed made for her.
She has a bed maid for her
Do you mean someone makes her bed every day?
well,don’t you make yours every day?
No,I bought one in a bed store and it’s well built.
But do you change the sheets daily?
No,i never use paper I write letters on my chromebook.
Which letters?
Any letters at all,except French ones.
but they use our alphabet.
it’s not ours.
Whose is it?
Possibly the Romans.Tantrum ergo!
They are all long gone into their coffins.Uno,duo tres,quattore…,decem,duodecem,duagessin’..
I knew coughin’ was very dangerous
I think your grammar is bed.
What a posh excent you have
It’s all I have left of the old palace.
Well, never mind you can share my coffin if you like.
But is there a bed in it?
Just a bed bug as yet…
I blame the CIA.. who do you blame?
I blame God and he blames us so it’s pretty much a stalemate.
We need the Messiah…..
Not again,we’ve not got over the last one yet…
You make him sound like a hurdle…
Well,it’s one way of looking at it all.. a big hurdle.
It’s all this talkin’ keeps me awake at night…
At least it stops you coughin’

Doctor,doctor,the coughin’s keeping me up all night again
For goodness sake put the lid on it.

Paralysed by dread, my hand was still
Afraid to make a mark on that blank page.
I thought to make it move by force of will

I measured with my finger joints, [new skill]
Then with my charcoal,l I became engaged
Tormented by sheer dread, my fingers full

With charcoal, pencil, fountain pen or quill
Human down the ages have portrayed
I tried to make an image by my will

My body sweated like ten waterfalls well full
My eyes gazed and my mind became engaged
Touched by dread, my hand moved like a bull.

I’d measured, so I let it rush about unlulled
My eyes were pleased with this dramatic page
I thought I’d made it move by my own will

And so I am at one with every age
Promiscuous is my love but well arranged
Paralysed by dread, my hand was still
Until desire was stronger than my will

https://wp.me/p6JwBS-30

Come back to me, my sweetheart
Don’t leave me all alone.
Come back to me, my darling
I can’t believe you’ ve gone.
I’m crying ‘cos I’m feeling blue again.
I’m crying’cos I’m falling like a stone.

Oh, let me tempt you with my beauty
And my voice forever young.
Let me tempt you with my spirit
My laughter and my songs.
I’m crying ‘cos I never did you wrong.
I’m crying ‘cos with you I  still belong.

I thought maybe I’d follow,
To see where you have gone
But there’s a hand upon this tiller
That is not mine alone.
I’m crying ‘cos I wrote this old blue song.
I’m crying ‘cos I’ve been lonely for too long.

The hand upon my tiller
The mystery of the dark
The unknown one who lives in me
And sings like a skylark.
I’m singing ‘cos I wrote you a new song.
I’m singing ‘cos the cat ain’t got my tongue.

https://www.nationalhealthexecutive.com/articles/new-disorder-uk-PTED

My heart is like a rowing boat adrift
Whose occupant has fallen overboard

The empty vessel drifts through deep sea mist.
And in those pearl filled ears the deep sea roars.
Just as the boat drifts mapless, so do I.
My maps were drawn for quite another sea
My captain’s taken leave and now I cry
As if that drowned soul might just be me.
Yet on the sea bed mysteries abound;
Such wonders and such magic there displayed.
I wonder if it is my lot drown
And to a memory then quickly fade.
Maps are no more certainties than hints.
Between the lines hides gold from other mints

How white and blue together recollect us
to the summer sky and the imagined swallows
darting in exquisite geometry
under the great domed space of the heavens,
like the Basilica in Constantinople
containing and giving space.
And how I held you for a moment that was infinite
and then you were gone, like an angel fearing enchantment
into some finite boundaried world

O

Sometimes my hands curl up,
and other times,they open.
Then I feel the air;
My fingers relax.
I touch your hand;
uncurl it and press it to mine.
Palm on palm,it’s no secret
that palms connect to hearts.
In your face I see a hint of melancholy,
I feel it in my soul..
as if there was a secret connection..
thought how,I don’t know.
Somehow,touching, we create another soul,
Neither you nor I, but we……
Touching,need to be physical..
We know how a story can affect us that way.
What a gift to know we have touched someone…
In the heart.’s. most tender space.The place of love.
Both true and false,my palm is lonely.
Then I feel the caress of summer air..
To touch is to be touched
as one soul opens to another..
Vulnerable,human,loving,
Painful and illusory,like those dreams of childhood.
Now I go,first gripping, then loosening our hands.
Goodbye,we say,Goodbye

And musing all day sends us into a trance

A kidney infection makes oldies seem crazed
Delirium, visions and rushes of rage
It’s wonderful being so old and gay
It’s wonderful being so old.

A lack of agility means we can’t dance
And musing all day sends us into a trance
It’s wonderful being so old and gay
It’s wonderful being so old.

We seem to get shorter and fatter as well
I can’t ride my bike as my eyes are unwell
It’s wonderful being so old and gay
It’s wonderful being so old.

I’ve forgotten the topology and shape of a man
I’ve burned the front table and eight non-stick pans
It’s wonderful being so old and gay
It’s wonderful being so old.

The doctor helped me up a when I lay on the couch
He pressed on my kidneys and I gave a shout it’s wonderful being so
It’s wonderful being so old and gay
It’s wonderful being so old.

More polite than the English, more white than the Scots
They come here to help us as we need them lots
It’s wonderful being so old and gay
It’s wonderful being so old.

As poetic as Snowdon, as rhythmic as flow
The Welsh suffered so when they closed the old coal
Is it wonderful being so old and gay?
Is it wonderful being so old?

I don’t feel so well as mi Mam used to say
I can’t kneel down easy so now I can’t pray
Is it wonderful leading old fogeys astray?
Yeah, it’s wonderful being so old

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

You are smiling on the pier above the sands
The rippling waves stretch out like children’s hands
You look so strong I cannot comprehend
Your fatal illness and its grievous end
You were not a patient on dry land
You were living well and ” feeling grand”
We crossed the road ; I held your cold thin hand
I suffered so much torment,would I mend?
I saw a fluid shape as dark it pranced
Through the open door it swiftly danced
Slipped in with the wiles of Tudor kings
Hoping they can make it on the wing
I learned with grief , it came to take you back
Across the river wide ,my love, my lack

Your face is map enough for me,

Your smile, your frown, your gaze, your glee.

And if I want to know the rest

The shape your posture‘s made is best

For showing what your life is now.

A look, a gesture all this show.

Till who you are is then disclosed

And I am in your arms enrobed.

Love vanishes when analysed,

And thinking tooL by love’s despised’

Choose the means to fit the end

And then I’ll be what you intend

We must be less deferential to doctors and nurses and anybody with a small manager role like a community matron who think they can tell other people what to do which without having listened to them or empathise with a perhaps we have the unconscious fantasy that people go into medicine whether his doctor or nurses or carers as radiographers etc because they love the fellow human beings and most especially babies or young children we imagine full of loving kindness We’re all human and no one can live up to our ideals of perfection. how many people can resist the wonderful exteriences of putting down others all people the ones who can be attacked most safely are the old or disabled . for some nurses it’s babies they like to kill or injure as we are seeing with recent trials in Britain. we are too idealistic about human motives.and when we look at our own lives it’s easy to find we ourselves are guilty of this. Let’s think about it. is it trivial or is it more serious and if it is are we afraid to tell anybody? Comments

Comments

https://www.blogger.com/comment/frame/153838767986595079?po=314020600785219094&hl=en-GB&skin=contempo&blogspotRpcToken=3474418

Wittgenstein
Drank wine.
Liked cats
To pat

Alfred North Whitehead
Was very shortsighted
He worked out with Russell
Their minds used to jostle.
Principia Mathematica?
I’d rather wear a catheter

Iris Murdoch
Drank dandelion and burdock
She wrote of the Good
Right where she stood!
In Oxford she dwelled
And all her thoughts jelled

Never finish a sentence without ending it
Never write too clearly to a man.
Never begin a sentence without a word
Never end one with but.
Never free associate in writing nor in speech
Never take a horse to bed.
Never mention Adam Phillips unless in the LRB
Never be over-cautious.
Never end a word with a letter.
Never give your name to the paper
Never fall in love with a duck.
Never pass water.Have a drink.
Take a random sample of your dreams to a psychoanalyst
Never cut your own hair while typing on it
Never believe anything you read in bed

https://www.verywellmind.com/what-does-it-mean-to-be-the-family-scapegoat-5187038

The garden’s now a Wood ,where dwell three wolves
The maple red is now the president
And all the laws and rules have been devolved
For the sake of other residents

This green country gives heart like mine no grief
For hidden are the houses standing near
And as the wolves dance, I watch with relief
Though ants and beetles stand around and stare

For wolves are never seen in suburbs tame
And maples are at home in foreign lands
It may be that the satyrs play new games
And smuggle in some creatures contraband.

Let explanations die their long due death.
Let’s lose our minds and dance in happiness.

No singing

Who can sing with joy hearts qare hard

Or offer comfort when our children starve

With all the entertainment we are bored

Or linger long with gin all gambling cards.

Who will cut his only cloak in half?

The devil in his hidden lait er observes

No singing

Against sadness:no-one here can weep
Nor lounge about enjoying melancholy deep.
Was Van Gogh senseless to permit his muse.
For his masterpieces ,was the price too steep?
We see the yellow chair but not his views
Nor his mind where technique made such leaps.
Nor was his journey broadcast on the news.
Against sadness.

Happiness or joy is hard to find
When we rest, the News preys on our minds
Yet some are cold towards the slaughtered priest
His nose a beak of bone in old face lined
Now Muslims go to Mass and join Christ’s feast
Against sadness.

What rages in the mind make men kill thus?
In Syrian wars the innocents fare worse.
But these are our near neighbours so we weep
And wonder how to end the frightening curse
The sins we once committed hold us deep
We hold our hands out wanting to be nursed
Against sadness

https://www.cancercenter.com/community/blog/2019/08/the-flu-and-cancer-share-many-common-symptoms

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 my 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 deep 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

The sky is stark ,the air is cool and still
The black cat’s run,the birds unflowed all day
I sit alone and with some totty pray
Ye cast o’ foolish thoughts, you raped my will.

We’ve all enraged the bureaucratic mills
Oh frigid purse, I never ought to pay!
The sky ‘s a’spark,the air is warm and shrill
The saturnine demoted found their way

With this feathered pounce, my sample quill,
I cite the cheque and date it for next May.
Oh,tit for tat, the tiger’s bed ‘s astray.
And now all’re nettled by a harlot’s will
The sky ‘s a shark, the air is sharper still.

Dear All,
I am sure you can’t wait for my next installment of news and family success stories
.I am out of breath after putting away all my groceries, brought by Ocado.At last, I have some Waitrose food.It’s 3 years since I had any.
My first son who was born when I was a student at Boxford… yes, he is illegitimate but never mind, well he is coming to see me but not his father who is a Professor Emeritus.”Embarrassed Us” would be apter!
So I have splashed out and bought some tinned leekoup and also liver and bacon instead
of the Whiskas cat food I eat with pasta most days..Alas, I forgot to get any puddings but I may well make a bitter chocolate mould or a Russian Cheesecake.I suspect it is really a Jewish recipe but why does that matter?They invented/discovered God as well as writing and ethics.
If God liked Mary that is enough to make me like their cheesecakes.And their faces.And their voices.
My son is an MP but his name is a secret.From you, I mean.Not from the voters.He is trying his best but with all those other nitwits it’s not easy.If you watched “The House of Cards” you will get the picture.He is married and has six children.Why he is almost like a brother to me.His children are all silent but gifted.One can actually read music.I never even knew you were meant to
Normally I listen to it but it takes all sorts!
Into the kitchen now
Byee
Kristy

Archimedes’ pocket calculator in working order
Cleopatra’s nightie [washed and ironed]
Aristotle’s chair with footstool and TV remote
Abraham’s bras [unworn]
Isaac’s laughter [ CD]
Euclid’s ruler [plastic]
Zeno’s hair [combed]
Ten live Greek tortoises with name tags.
Book of Numbers [ In Hebrew]
Fifty limericks and Wordsworth’s hair [1 only

Job’s watch (automatic)

Job’s face cloth (Machine washable)

Isaac’s belt

I once had a doctor called (Ted)

I hated the (size of his head)

But he was good at ( his job)

Unless ( ladies sobbed)

Stop now as (I’ve lost the thread)

Mathematics can be very precise

If we restrict it to statistics and dice.

But logic is fuzzy

When our brains are busy.

Are connections run swiftly like lice.

Mary had ordered all of her groceries but she forgot to put tea on the list So she sent Emile to the corner shop with a note tied to his collar
Please give the bearer your best tea.
Emile went off and managed to get into the shop after some children who were getting sweets with their pocket money or debit cards
He went up to the counter and mewed, Mother has sent you a note.
One of the children laughed
Is your mother a girlfriend of Mr. Kumar?
No, she is not, Emile growled with a loud throbbing voice
Mr. Kumar led Emile behind the counter into his living room and spoke to his wife
She asked Emile to sit down as she went into the kitchen and poured him some tea from her China teapot
.Do you want it on a saucer, she enquired thoughtfully?
Yes, please, said Emile. This is very kind.
He leaped onto the rug and began sipping the Ceylon tea. This makes a change, he murmured.
I didn’t know you could just walk in and get free tea!
After a few minutes, the shop door crashed open and he heard Mary’s voice
Oh, Mr. Kumar, I am so stupid. I sent Emile out to buy some Twinings tea and he has not come home! What shall we do? She started crying and dabbing her eyes with Stan’s hanky.
Come through, he whispered politely. Do not weep, dear. All is well
Mary came in and saw Emile drinking his tea and winking at Mrs. Kumar.
Emile, you stupid cat. I was going crazy worrying.I’ll strangle you!
Is it my fault, he replied. I only gave them that note you sent.
But is it not obvious what I intended? she said plaintively
These days you never know, the cat muttered. I try to be obedient as far as I can.
Mrs. Kumar came out and gave Mary a cup of tea.
Sit down, dear. Worry is so bad for you. Why did you not phone us?
Since it was just a packet of tea I thought Emile could carry it. He is very intelligent normally.
Yes, I am, thought Emile as he looked at Maisie, the Kumar’s lovely cat who was asleep on a chair.
I wonder if I can wake her up, he asked himself.
Does she drink tea?
Would she like to start a family? It’s not too late for me to become a parent.
Maisie opened her eyes
What’s that cat doing here?
I only came for the tea, Emile told her. But you look very beautiful. Shall we meet tonight
I’m washing my fur, she told him with a smile
How about tomorrow?
Have you got a phone?
No, he said, I’ll just caterwaul at dusk and if you are free I’ll be under the red maple tree waiting for you
Good grief thought Mary.
This cat is very cunning. Just one chance and he is making the most of it.
Mr. Kumar gave her some tea and she wandered home in a daze after asking them for a drink on Sunday.
My social life is looking up but there’s no-one who will hug me. If only Emile were bigger!
His legs are too short!I should get a donkey instead

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/blog/understanding-ptsd/202111/how-complex-ptsd-can-affect-intimate-relationships

Hello,hello¹she screams and shouts again

She wants the nurse to come she’s had bad dreams

She overdoes her calling makes them mad.

She wants to see her mother or her dad.

But now she’s 94 nobody’s left

She still looks from South to East to West.

Let’s go home she whispers to herself.

Oh,where is home when she has little wealth?

The husband’s dead her daughter sadly too.

T1he Carers have no time, what can she do ?

She thinks another lady fancies men

She envies her then envies her again

What about the man who barks and quacks?

What pointed grief what torture rushes back?

1

These modern lepers lack Lord Jesus touch

The old the blind the deaf no longer rich.

Dementia is an illness cruelly taxed.

They have to sell their houses that’s a fact.

If you’re ill where is the NHS?

Old and week be frightened, be my guest

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2021/aug/01/not-all-narcissists-are-grandiose-the-vulnerable-type-can-be-just-as-dangerous

We have to be breathing right to hear
the silence from which all song arises;
we have to be breathing slow
and gently
We have to be breathing right to feel it,
the tenderness in which we are held by nature.
We have to be breathing quiet
and soft
and to be looking receptively,
No desire for objects

We have to be breathing right to recall it
the music we heard when there was silence.
We have to be being breathed
by the world
We have to be part of the whole..

and so,we forget it as we are pounded

with the noise of radios and traffic
and people talking loudly on cell phones
walking by the green fields and river
past the secret heron
and the coots nest
past the daisies

When I am dying I shall think,
Why was I not breathing right?
Why was I scarcely breathing?
Why did I forget those moments?
Why did I not live

more deeply?
Why did i not sing more sweetly?
Why did I nor love more dearly?
Why did i not listen more carefully?

Why did I not sing more sweetly?
why did I not see more completely?

Why don’t we talk more gently?
Why don’t we look more intently?

Why were the poppies growing so wildly?
Why were the battlefields growing nightly?
Why did we murder men so lightly?
Why did we not love more rightly?
Why are the poppies covering the soil so politely?
When did the young soldiers leave so frightfully?

Why are we not here more quietly?

Mary heard a very strange sound as she came down the polished stairs of her bijou home.It was a loud two part shriek.
I wonder if that’s the new answering machine, she thought as she went to put the kettle on to make a pint of tea.She heard it again,but it was not continuous
Well it’s not the carbon monoxide detector either,she told Emile who was eating a sardine.Then she remembered hearing it before.
It’s the old phone handset with a flat battery,se murmured as she washed her hair in the kitchen sink with some Persil Silk and Wool detergent.
Annie came to the door
What’s that beep ?she cried.And why are you washing your hair here?
See if you can spot the phone.I can’t find it,Mary told her.I wash my hair sometimes just to clear my brain
Well,why not keep some shampoo here or that new wash and condition in one go I have found the phone.

It was in the waste paper basket!But you can’t put it in the bin,can you?
No I will have to pay £20 for a cab to the recycling centre,Mary said philosophically.
I’d better not leave it “by accident” on a bench given the current climate of fear.
Well if we remove the batteries it won’t shriek any more,Annie told her kindly.
How is the new phone doing ? she rambled on unthinkingly
OK.It has a special button so you can block someone after you have picked it up.There is some much fear now about WITHELD NUMBERS.At one time we only knew after we picked it up.If I use my phablet my sister hates it..Mary disclosed

She refused to have more than 2 numbers for me so it comes up as UNKNOWN
What is a phablet? Annie enquired sardonically,her little soft eyes crinkling with laughter which showed off her turquoise eye shadow which is actually a pastel stick from her art box! No longer can she goes to Wigan for divine makeup
It’s just a small tablet but you can make phone calls with it.
I didn’t know you had one of those!
Neither did Stan,Mary said with a touch of sadness.I only wish we could phone heaven from earth.
Wow,said Annie.Maybe it would spoil heaven…
How true, her friend responded.Let’s hope they have some attitude that they makes them have a different point of view from us. Now,I’ll dry my hair and you can tell me why you came.
Oh,dear,said Annie.Let me drink some tea.I can’t remember except that your wisteria has climbed up the rowan tree.
Was it shopping? Was it Dave?Let’s ring 999 and see what he has to say.
We’re all gray here,no fuss
We’ll all go play with puss,Emile,come back and.

Will Annie ever save up enough money to take the train to Wigan to buy some Eva St Laurent lipstick? This is one of the mysteries of life on which there is no point in thinking

After all she could buy some lipstick in knittingham for less than the train  fare to Wigan!

But that’s too easy because don’t you realize that we enjoy things a lot more when we have had to go to trouble to acquire them? And Wigan is near Southport which is a seaside resort so maybe it’s that which attracts the women. Oh it’s a very superior place. The sea may no longer come to the promenade. Who is interested in that?

There is an artificial lake. Need I say more?

No and so say all of us.