The fields that once held buttercups are gone

Giant furrows pattern that long land

Made by huge machines whose time has come

Precise as old account books , now forlorn.

As moving as are waves on desert sand

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

Nothing human-sized remains untorn

Nowhere for dear lovers hand in hand

Killed by huge machines whose time has come

But young folk do not court, they hurry on

Annihilating what we elders understand

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

All too rapidly our world’s undone

To the deserts of the heart we’re sent

Dragged by by huge machines whose time has come

Can no passion change the way nor lend

Creative means to pacify and mend?

The fields that once held buttercups have gone

Ground by huge machines,death times have come

1

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Remember how our breathing slows right down
When we see a small bird close at hand
We want the happy moment to expand
To feel the greenness, let ourselves be drowned

Our breathing comes much faster in the town
Our hearts will beat as fast as Previn’s hands
We lose our mind and body, their demands
We may walk in traffic like dead clowns

See the human faces as they frown
They may update their phone,a thousand pounds!
They may park and ride the underground
To Mayfair with a credit card and crown

We need to create new memories that last
In Dedham Vale with wild geese flying past

https://www.nursinghomeabusecenter.com/nursing-home-abuse/

As crops need rain,so I need loving touch

As flowers need sun, I cannot have too much

l long to be inside your arms tonigh6

To feel your breathing when there is no light.w

As birds need wings,so we need company

As birds need nests so we need privacy

Before we try to think we need to see.

Before we act we we must have learnt to be.

Do not close your heart and soul today.

If you’re alone then call on God and pray

Thinking is bad for the Brain

I’ll never do it again.

I’ll feel my way through life

I’ll be a witch, not a wife

No offence meant to most men

Talking too much is a bore.

Don’t make me stand at the door

You should have told me before

Words are like arrows

That shoot at the matador

Yet children still play on the shore

F
When marriage was a sacrament and life was lived as prayer
We lived inside a structure; we knew anatomy
The living hands of God then came to hold us from despair

Each event had its known ways when ritual was pure.
Birth was lucky, death expected, Royal poverty.
Marriage was a sacrament and life was lived as prayer

Meaning leaked like ink runs down the page that is no cure
For those who cannot read the word must live in gravity
Yet feel the living hands of God to hold them from despair

When angels dwell in gold serene and stars look far and bare
There may be cruel reckonings as boats cross the dark sea
Yet marriage was a sacrament and life was lived as prayer

But now it is the government who hear no poor man’s plea
Thus hell is made by laziness, ignited is the Tree
If marriage were a sacrament and life a piercing prayer
The living hands of God would come to hold us from despair

If your friend is hurt especially by a doctor and nurse someone in authority, the parish priest (as if)

Do not tell them that they are too sensitive.

No doubt the Jews have been told that they are too sensitive is they look sad about the Holocaust.

When Jesus his father to take away his suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane did God say to him

My son, you are too sensitive.

Maybe some others are more sensitive than others but it’s a valuable human qualiy without which many babies would have died.

Hello,Mate

Why are you so ugly ?

Why dont you get a life?

I never want to see you again in this world and I hope you can go to hell.

I’ve never met a really evil person before. Were you born like this?

So you have had plenty of practise. Is it moral?

When I see you I wish that God could see you too.You are a monster 8n a very meaningful sense.

You seem to look good on the surface put you can’t maintain it for long. Why don’t you just look mediocre so and be done with it?

Nobody is born with a face like that it’s something that they achieve through years of bullying

You look even worse when you smile. I suppose it’s because it’s artificial like the rest of your personality. Do not be yourself

What do you say to a new teapot?
We’re all going to be in hot water soon

What do you say when you are thirsty?
Show me a photo of Warren Beatty.He makes my mouth water

Why don’t we drink sea water?
Fish pee into it.Whales drown in it

What do you say to a coffee mug?
Won’t you at least try this tea?

What do you say to a rabbit?
Have you no warren of your own to go to?

What do you feel for when you get a text message at 3 am
My husband

What kind of flour do you use?
It depends on how strong the bombs need to be

Why do you like hand writing?
We can’t afford writing paper

Which pens are the best?
The ones with ink inside.

O

Is it hard to write a poem?
No, it’s only 5 letters.Maybe A should be capital?

Are you autistic?
Is it so black and white?

Why do you like maths?
It stops me going mad

Did you work on differential equations
No they were too dirty for women to sit on

How did you find the University?
We had maps then.. much cheaper than phones

I mean how did you feel?
With maths you don’t need to feel

So what does make you feel?
Love, glue and hot water

What advice would you give to a person now?
Never give advice.

What do you think of the Corona virus?
It makes no difference what I think.It’s what we do that matt

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/jun/03/ocean-vuong-i-dont-believe-writer-should-just-keep-writing-as-long-as-theyre-alive-time-is-a-mother-paperback?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

He emits a sin daily
Can sin be mortal and where do I die after it?
Convenient sin is not as bad as Borstal
Menial sin is lowering to the pride of the sinner
Agreeable sin list free
Undeniable sin is public
Unreliable sin is when the other person won’t join you in bed
You are liable for sin tax if you are of working age.
Do not omit a sin on Sundays before Mass
Confirmation bias is worrying the Bishop
He sexually abused the mop in the kitchen as its head reminded him of women’s hair.Is it legal?Should I buy a different type?
He never watches porn as he can fantasise, you see.Well, you can’t actually see it as such.Isn’t it hard to write sensibly?
Isn’t the alphabet great? It helps us to come on FB and sin gaily,daily and freely.Then we can go to Confession if we have no date!

I got up in the morning at quarter to four.

My watch did not speak, I put a spell on the floor.

I thought it was humid,nobody laughed.

I saw the headteacher kill one of the staff.

There is never a time to do what is right

Dogs will start barking, they are aching to fight

It is dark every morning and it’s sunny all night.

I put the cat in a basket and took care 8n the church.

The parish priest told me, I was left in the lurch.

I confess all my sins, I suffer from guilt

My husband is dead so I’ve thrown out the quilt.

The sound is insouciant the moon it looks vague.

The stars can’t be counted, I know there’s a plague

I was over in Ireland, the air was on fire.

The church is demonic the Pope is a liar

The British were armed and they tortured young men.

It seems that the world was much simpler back then.

The babies took drugs, the mothers went mad

They were missing some force so they called out for Dad

Now the mothers must work and the babies are farmed

The state guarantees it will do them no harm

So rock the old cradle, the baby is dead.

The end of the world is here on my bed

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20150130-the-man-who-studies-evil

Posted on June 18, 2017
Mary went into the bathroom and looked into the mirror.She no longer feared to see Satan, as compared to many living and dead human beings he seemed almost an angel.
Her hair was standing on end and she realised that it was one thing to buy a box of 24 combs from Amazon but quite another to use one.
Ah, well, Stan preferred it wild, she told herself.But that was a long time ago.It was no longer thick and wavy.That stopped men singing,”O Sole Mio” when she passed them while they were painting the outside of a neighbour’s house.They probably didn’t know what it meant and neither did she.
Why am I looking into the mirror, she wondered? Maybe I am lonesome.But who to visit?Who to invite for tea?
Emile pushed the door open.
Are you alright, mother, he mewed?
I am not your mother, Emile, she said to her little cat, being overly pedantic about every aspect of human life.
Ok,grandma,he continued.I see the Yodel van outside. He probably has something fo you or me.
Now, Emile, I’ve told you before you can call me Mary even if I am your grandmother.
Who was my mother, he asked?Did you adopt me?
Your mother was my mother’s cat “Arabella Stuart”.We called her Bella.Your father was a total mystery.
Presumably a cat, Emile pondered.
Why, did you think it was an animal of another type?
How about Stan.Was he my dad?
In a metaphorical sense, she murmured shyly.He loved you very much.And so do I.
When we watched the dreadful news on TV I was wondering if any animals had been killed by the fire.Nobody has said.I doubt if they would keep dogs up there but cats might have been allowed, he howled
Oh, dear,I admit I have not thought of that.It was so terrible seeing people waving from their windows holding their phones.Saying, I love you to their parents or children.And now the Chancellor says it is illegal here to use that aluminium cladding.
I bet he is going to try to oust Theresa May, Emile told her.
You men, you only think of one thing! Politics and fighting.And sex and hot sinners.
Do you mean dinners, that cat asked her?
No , hot sinners are harlots.
But how do we know it is a sin.To cats it is normal.Except we have no money to pay
I don’t know.The word sin is no longer heard as it is not politically correct
Whereas letting 58 people burn to death is politically correct as long as we don’t call it sinful.And all the others will be sick for years.
My God, you are getting clever, Emile, maybe you should run the country! Mary’s eyes filled with tears
You’d better make some hot tea with sugar, Emile announced.I will have 2 cubes.
They are not cubes anymore.They are spheres, she said softly.Sugrt spheres, How nice it sounds

anaclitic

/ˌanəˈklɪtɪk/

adjective

PSYCHOANALYSIS

adjective: anaclitic

1. relating to or characterized by a strong emotional dependence on another or others.”anaclitic depression”

Origin

1920s: from Greek anaklitos ‘for reclining’, from anaklinein ‘recline’.

I was unready for anything,
with no charms, like a bee.
Each fresh day is torture..
When you don’t hate me.

I was as tame as a mango,
I was outright in my mind.
Each night was  a daydream
Where you were  so kind.

I was harmed by your molars.
They were sharper than whales.
Each claw brought the moon out.
As you cut your nails.

Rolling stones gather….
Your heart is not mine.
I’ll give you what you wish for.
It ‘s a true new design .
.
As long as the clock speaks
As long as the rose.
As long as the bike pumps..
I’ll remember your nose.

As long as my patterns;
As brief as they are;
As long as my brain’s dead…
I shall parse on a star.

I love a good proverb.
I love no cliche.
When you find some Wisdom
Do not never pay.

Justice long as a ruler,
Sharpened to a screw.
When you are more kind,then
I may leak what I brew
.
As long as the flat Earth
As wise as it’s broad.
The moon in the water

Flew up my nose

Whether healthcare serial killers enter the field in order to kill – or fall into it – is difficult to say.

A “rare few” enter the profession to become “angels of death,” while many transform into killers on the job, Prof Ramsland said.

Prof Yardley said it was often a combination of the two.

“These are individuals who will have obtained a sense of power and enjoyment from harming people in the past and see opportunities to escalate this behaviour in a hospital when they become aware of the access and opportunities that this setting affords,” she said.

Apples hang low near the ground.
robins chirrup all around.
sun on glowing maple leaves
gives a red glow that deceives.

Autumn air is flowing near,
though it’s still bright summer here.
wind dismays the flowering rose
as with arrogance it blows.

Leave me one flower for my eyes.
Leave me roses,as I sigh.
Leave me not my dearest one.
Soon enough we shall be gone.

What remains is love alone.
If your heart is not of stone.
Fear not sorrow,fear not woe.
Into this earth all must go.

Stan was in his front garden polishing the wheelie bins with lavender wax polish.
He was not very happy as the garden was only 10 feet by 12. so the huge wheelie bins ruined it.When he got to the third one the lid popped open and out jumped his next door neighbour “Adulterous Annie”.
Hello, Stan” she whispered.”Where’s Mary now ?”
“Why?” Stan muttered into the back of her neck which he licked as he like her salty taste.
“I was thinking, these bins are so big, we could both get inside one.It would make a change1!”.
”What a strange idea” he replied philosophically.however , age was no obstacle where love was involved. if you catch my drift.
Soon Stan and Anne were in the big green recycling bin.Stan being 81 had shrunk somewhat so he took up less space than Annie did.He allowed her to kiss his left eyelid.What a lovely feeling.
Alas, all too soon, as they say, they heard Mary’s bicycle bell.She was getting faster and faster.As she wheeled her bike up the 30-yard long front path to the porch she heard murmurings and mutters,
She lifted up the green plastic lid and saw the two lovers covered in cuttings from the privet hedge.
“What the bleedin’ hell are you doing in there?” she shouted mellifluously.
Well , it’s hard to explain,……………but Stan was wondering about a green funeral” Anne said mischievously.
“Funeral , my hat!” Mary said coldly.”Get out at once”
“Don’t speak to me like that” Stan beseeched her brazenly.
“Well ,it’s a shock to find your husband in the bin with another woman!”
“Wouldn’t it be more of a shock if he was in the bin with a man, or even a sheep?”
“Schmann or Schwommann, sheep,it’s immaterial.
“Hurry, get out, quickly before the school exit time.what will all the mums think as they go by?”
But poor Stan could not get out.He was stuck.Oh ,my! what an odd phrase.
“Have you got your mobile on you?”
“Yes, it’s here in my bag.
“You’d better call 999”
“What a brilliant idea!”
Soon, Dave, the paramedic arrived.
Mary showed him Stan’s situation.
Ever resourceful,Dave was not bothered though the NHS budget might be getting cut.
He tied some rope around Stan’s waist and between the three of them and Emile the cat and his friend Elizabeth, they managed to haul the poor man out.
Annie stood weeping with shame.Her silvery blue eyeshadow was beginning to run mixed with tears and black water soluble mascara from Chanel of Paris and London.
Her new coral lipstick from Clinique was not as non-allergenic as she hoped.Never mind, it gave her lips that bee stung look that many men admire.It reminded Stan of his boyhood days playing near High Force Waterfalls in upper Teesdale….
Teesdale ,still an undiscovered and undervalued part of England.
Contact the English Touring Board for more information. Holiday Loans available from Thwaites of Stockton and Darlington at only 1% interest.
Mary gave Annie a large Kleenex tissue,
”Come indoors,honey, and I’ll make you some Ceylon tea.It’s been the most thrilling event of my entire life and I’ve photographed you with my new Nokia camera phone
[Prices available on request from The Cat-phone Warehouse,Teesside ,Northern England, comes in pink and pink and…pink?How I love pink!]
I’m going to send some to the local paper.
Stan staggered upstairs covered in bits of privet ,lettuce and cabbage hearts, and carrot tops ,not to mention a few dozen banana skins and potato peelings.
What an afternoon.[Please contact the society for the care and protection of vegetables if you wish to make a complaint about this story.}
“That’s the last time I climb into a wheelie bin”, he thunked
“Next time we’ll use the cardboard and newspaper wheelie bin” he proclaimed to Emile.
Well, there;s no fool like an old fool,Emile miaowed
And so say all of us

We must refrain from violence and despair
Posted on June 2017
My appetite for news has slunk away
See people throwing babies from the tower
The only action I can take is prayer

On the ground, where many flowers are laid
Relatives of the victims stand for hours
My appetite for news has slunk away

I saw the red plume rising in the air
The smoke and smell destroy the offered flower
The only action I can take is prayer

The number of the dead increased today
Many lie reduced to ash upstairs
My appetite for news has slunk away

Over London hangs a cloud of grey
No shades but sorrow, rage shall flare
The only action I can take is prayer

Oh, has the News shocked edgy Mrs May?
We must restrain both violence and despair
My appetite for news has slunk away
The only way we can survive is prayer

Nearer My God To Tea
Over the sea to Pi
Bless my Insurance and send me a tart.[lemon]
23rd Palm Reading today…. predict your own gender
Do ride the bees ,last calls for Arctic brides
She Who Would Transexual Be— go on, make it faster
Too Good Be The Story, yet is it a Lie?
What A Blend We Have In Jesus
Onward Christian shoulders, scorched and bit by gnomes

https://squiggle-foundation.org/resources/conference-reports/winnicotts-ideas-in-turbulent-political-times/

Average savings per UK household. According to an analysis conducted by Finder, the 2022 average for funds in savings accounts is £7,509. The UK median average household savings is £2,160 annually, which means 50% save more, and 50% save less annually than the figure.13 Feb 2023

Mary was admiring her curtains :;what a wonderful sense of colour this woman had. It was the one thing which her mother had praised her for . She had not been praised for becoming top of the class at the convent school not for getting a degree. No Mary realised that her mother has a sense of colour because it will be useful when Mary got married and had to make her own curtains.

What a nuisance Mary was no good with the sewing machine. In fact she was afraid of it. That’s one sure way of getting out of a task. Be afraid of the sewing machine clumsy with the knitting needles and when asked to make a cake always put the oven at the wrong temperature so this is either burnt or it is not ready when the visitors come.

And if people know you’re good at making cakes you will get more and more visitors and you won’t have time to read the Oxford dictionary of abstract words or the Oxford dictionary of new words. It is be very hard if we had to spend all the time making cakes and not being allowed to read a book.

Mary was no good at making her own clothes. She had to get a science degree so she could earn her own money. She was terrified of being on the dole and did not want to go on the game as ehe was a virgin. That’s her version of it

When Mary got married to Stan she told him that she did not make cakes and she did not make curtains. Fortunately they could afford to choose the fabric and then get someone else to make it into curtains,

It’s very important to learn about colour unless you go to art school it’s not often discussed in school. Colourcan help you to recover from illness…….

Wait for the next episode

A fall of tears a feeling of pure loss

Unmixed with panic angst, my thoughts converse.

Is this ancient grief or something worse?

My mind is sad and all my words are terse

My thoughts have changed I’m living in reverse.

Another childhood comes and I’m not boss

My dentures are alright without the floss.

Saves a little money, yet I curse.

I’m no longer pure, I fail the test

When my organs fail which will be first?

Will it be my knees or perhaps my wrist?

I had my cake and ate it I shall burst

The velvet glove has always had a fist.

I think I’m going mad, I’m round the twist

Ancient grief a submarine precursed

A fall of tears a feeling of pure loss

The sky is distant, cold

Neither Fall not Winter

Colour light mauvy yellow

No birds àbout, full silence

hangs like a dead bell

No thoughts,no emotion stir my

mind

This does not flatter

Death hides in the shrubs

Chased out by a cat,it floats

away like a coat someone hung

there for a moment

To lie in the dead leaves

Leaving mistletoe weeping in old

jealousy

We will have to kiss

Please call back after I rise from the bed
I am not here.Well,I am now but I won’t be when you call.
When you hear the pips,squeak.
Do you want to leave a message?Annoying isn’t it?
Would you kindly email me.I am deaf.
Did you want a chat? Well,I don’t.Especially if it is UHU
If you see me,please don’t say anything.I don’t know you.
My mother said not to speak to strange men.If you are well known leave your message after the moan
If that is the doctor,i feel in the pink.If not,I am feeling numb all over.
If you are from soul mates,.go back where you came from.
If you fancy women,I am a hermaphrodite.
Don’t try selling me anything.I am very evil.It’s my eye.
Kindly tell your lies to your own answering machine.