Spam

I found it very easy to recognize The Spam today. The message

Dear Dad. I have got a new phone is just click on this link it will take you to WhatsApp on my new phone.

Perhaps someone with the same name as me as identified as a trans man but even so they wouldn’t have been able to father a son.

What do you think

If love comes in a little hate may go

My heart is soft like butter left in sun.
Much more heat and it will melt and run
Oh, why do we have feelings,why engage
When friendship turns into such bitter rage?

I do not wish to live remote and stern
As if I am so perfect I can’t learn
Pain too deep can mortify the flesh
Turn us into robots fit for trash

All I need is an enormous fridge
Which will make me harder than sweet fudge
I’ll go inside and pray for peace each day
If I freeze to death,I shall not say.

Oh, be of merry heart,my friends and foes
When love comes in, a little hate will go

In process

Five poems [needs more editing but hands not good]

Pastels on brown paper then edited with art weaver software.

1.And cultivate my hatred with my tears

Shall I give home to grievance and to woe

And cultivate my hatred with my tears?

Shall I remember carefully each blow,

And add this sorrow to my anxious fear?

I thought by hating you I would have peace

And surely I had reason without doubt.

Yet rumination gave me no release..

For wisdom and compassion it did flout

I remembered then past love and shared sweet words

I gave them freedom in my anguished heart.

I did it for your sake, yet then occurred

A sweetness, joy and gladness in all parts.

To forgive,repent and let go of such grief

Helps us more than hatred’s legal briefs
2.

Silence and sadness

The cause of sadness also shows its end;

That we let go the loved one and remain.

Such comfort,aid and love we have from friends

Helps us bear the heart’s most dangerous pain.

But if our friends fear their own hidden grief.

If sorrow is never let to touch their heart;

Then friendship’s stolen by a nervous thief;

As wishing to retain our self,we part.

The friends who sit in silent company

Who look for no reward yet love us true

Who show, quite clear, desireless empathy;

They are friends who warmth and hope imbue.

Patient silence may do more than words

The utterance of the heart is not absurd.

3
.Elemental as a storm

A force far deeper than our anger
Elemental as a storm
A1111111nnihilating all before it
Terror makes man’s rage perform.
This force saying self is threatened
Runs to rise and to protect,

Most murderous when we’re most alarmed
Rage the enemy detects
Over-riding other feelings
Deprives us of the power to think

Like a nuclear tsunami

Disconnecting human links.

Reddened vision,focused,narrow;

Eyes locked onto enemy’s

All the wider context losing,

Wipes out our good memories

Like a mother tiger fighting,

And the cornered eagle’s force;

We will destroy what we think other

Without bitter,pained remorse.

Nature made such to protect us;

Yet our perception can be wrong.

Once the flood of feeling takes us

All reflections seems too long

Later, if we see our victims,

Will we know that we have erred?

For hate deceives ourselves and others

When our inmost terror’s bared.

How can we step back and ponder,

See life from a wider view?

How can we become less blinded,

So we see our world anew?

Succumb not to final despond

Succumb not black despair.

Always there are those who see.

Always there are those that care.

Tempered by reflective wisdom

Rage can change when understood.

When we find another being
Who contains our frightful flood

4.
Tempt me not

Deferential, I
Eternity await
Submit to your grace
In my patient state.

None but God can judge;
None have his pure gaze.
Write me not your wish.
Tempt me not with praise.

5.
What fearsome burning God enjoys our lives?

How gently,sweetly softly flowers pose,
Carnation,orchid ,daffodil and rose.
For their intricate petals form a shield
Yet bees with striped force do make them yield.
Appearances,natural or contrived,
Mixed with the wiles of men and women thrive.
As knowing not, we pluck the apple rare
And bite its flesh,with teeth we have to bare.
We too deceive the innocent who pass
Not seeing watchers hid behind the glass.
The windows break,the dark earth quakes;
Seized is the maid and he her virtue takes.
Beneath the surface,force and fierceness thrive.
What fearsome, burning God directs our lives?

Did you see the sparks of light within?

G-d himself was shattered, without skin
And did you see the sparks of light within
The hidden wood where dwells the holy dove
The darkness which to human soul’s akin

God himself was shattered, without skin
Each fragment though a shining light was dumb
But did you see the sparks of love within?

Around the world, the mystics then began
To seek the little jewels that once were G-d
In darkness which to human soul’s akin

Each fragment was eternal in its span
And yet was helpless as on it man trod
Though some might see the sparks of light within

Well hidden from the world of human sin
Afflicted by G-d’s death; now weeps the dove
Why is darkness where we must begin?

Can we bear Reality or Love?
Can we live, survive the coming flood?
Yet we see the sparks of love within
The darkness which to human soul’s akin

Loves victory

Turn back, live again, he asked of me
Do not wander in the darkness anymore
One false move might give death victory

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

While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One more lie will give sin victory

The kindness of the golden light was clear
And left sweet feelings in my heart’s deep core
Come back, live your life, he then soothed me

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 pain, he asked of me
That first step will give love victory

Sulk in a box

A new invention may transform your life.A group of scientists have invented a Sulking Box.
If you feel sulky,you get inside and press a button.You will then be subjected to some Mozart Quintets or music by the Beatles… or maybe a Lullaby… you can choose
Some soft rubber hands will reach out and hug you for up to 15 minutes.
If you feel no better some soapy water will be poured over you and then a heater will come on and dry you.
Because only you can stop yourself sulking but at least you will be clean.
The device can also be used to wash your hair as “Bad Hair Days”
are a well known cause of sulking and even depression,
Do you hate your hair?Is it driving you crazy?
Then consider a wig… you can just cut your own hair short and turn into a redhead or a brunette in a flash.
At least it will stop you sulking…
Sulking.. let’s start to end it now!
Come out of the closet,confess and soon you’ll feel much better.
Well that’s my view but I must admit I have 50% share in the firm that makes sulking boxes so I do have financial gain in my mind.
The interest in my bank is only 0.2% so I need to invent something quickly!
All donations welcome.19:21

In the silence, trembling

Freed from her trap
Bird soared into air,and hovered
And floated, resting;
And flew higher, singing as she flew,
And higher again,
Till there was only her song,
Left in the silence,
Trembling.

Up on the wide,stump topped hill,
I felt the lark inside my heart
And heard her singing.
And flying up with her,
I saw gold sun and silver moon,
Moors of heather ,and sheep grazing
Green hills,
And shimmering lakes,
Clouds ,sun and sky in watery mirrors.
And sang ,and dipped,and dropped,
And curled
Up the blue
Bright heaven, and rested
On the wind.
All that day
I was a lark singing.

I shall always have a vision of
A bird
That flew upwards,
Rejoicing and free
Into a deep blue sky, and high
And higher
Beyond high
Into a place, beyond eye even,
But music still sending.

I wish I were back on that heathery moor,
With the nibbling sheep and the bees sweetly humming,
Hearing again
The poignant song
Of the skylark,
A prisoner,freed by a magician,
From her trap,
So happy to be free,
So wonderful to see.
Do it again,
For me.

Into the eye of love itself


The roses by your gate
Revealed my sweet fate:
That I would love you in summertime,
That my poetry would always rhyme,
That a dream of petals falling from above
Would drench us both with sunshine’s golden love;
That we would fall into deep grassy meadows
Full of daisies,lie on our backs.Swallows
Darting across the sky would see
Our shapes intertwined with bright buttercups.
Who knows when love will erupt
And carry us on its flowing waters
To places unreachable in summer saunters?
Into the eye of love itself

Love it’s you I lack

The piercing grief, the dagget in the throat

The feel of choking hands, the ruptured heart

Every part is hum inrting in such pain

The waves roll in again, again, again

There is a layer of grief trapped in the skin.

We need a soothing touch it is no sin.

I close my eyes against the demon pain

Touch me, darling, touch me once again.

I do not see the key for this door’s lock.

My inner wrists sigh; love, it’s you I lack

Measurable

We must keep things in proportion

Size is a relative concept

Most numbers are irrational how the same thing is true of human beings.

He spoke in measured tones

As they say comparison is odious.

You can only compare lik with like

In my opinion love is the sweetest thing

Evocation and music

SuttonCourtenay3

Photograph by Mike Flemming copyright
Trying to understand
Or are we stuck
in this information culture,
evocation is more important;
explicit saying  counts against us.
People need to be fuly
into believing
being educated is more
than information:
the incoherencies and
what they’re saying,
the musicality
of people’s voices
and intonations;
would get more
from them.
To be effective,listening is
something other, not the coherences;
we  hope to listen for words
that are saying more,
It’s got something to do with  being;
it’s a form of listening,
not distracted by incoherence
but evoked by it.
Evocation, the task of the artist
The way to heaven
Purged of noise,numbness,notoriety.
Loving the music of life.
The agent who speaks
And the one who learns to hear
Slowness,unknowingness,silence.

Is it easy to stick to your own point of view?

Why do  some people find it easy to stick to their own point of view whereas others are like chameleons who change to fit in with whoever they are with?I don’t know the full answer.It may depend on their background and in some countries women have to be subservient to men.Some people are just being diplomatic and some are wishing to avoid an argument to find our unique viewpoint and not go along with the crowd.i am not advocating breaking the law by doing/saying offensive things for pleasure.I believe  sometimes I have been lazy and not given thought to a topic and so I agree with another person whom I respect but really that is wrong.Since each of us is unique I believe we need to express our point of  iew the best things about artists is that they  look or hear   at the world differently and help us to see the validity of different ways of seeing or listening

.But when a new artist or composer appears people often believe they are mad at first.This is what happened to Igor Stravinsky at the first performance of some of his music.Yet compared to composers who followed he was quite similar to  those  preceded him.Mahler wrote this music  a  year before the Stravinsky was composed and it is very different

Helpful ideas about poetry writing

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/9654fee1-d2ad-4da4-ad2f-e32082086f5f?shareToken=7fb47abf7b2786e25aabdb1d704b

Th is my goodbye and thank you after almost two years of writing my Times poetry column. I have loved reading the piles of poetry books – thank you to all the publishers who sent them; I have also loved reading your e-mails and letters. You demonstrated how a poem in the column could go off and have another life; comments, discussions and readers’ poems abounded. And I have loved writing about the poems, trying to relate them to our hopes and anxieties as human beings in my belief that there is a poem for everyone – even a trucker on the M1 who reads nothing more challenging than his sat-nav. Because to say “I don’t like poetry” is like saying “I don’t like music”. It’s a case

Annie and the apples

Poor Annie had fallen out of the apple tree where she saw Emile chewing some smoked haddock stolen from her basket.

Emile looked down from the highest branch

Are you alright he mewed.

I don’t know she muttered.I am in shock.

I’d better ring 999 and get Dave.

Without waiting he ran down the apple tree into the hall.

He phoned 999 and soon the ambulance will arrive.

Where will Annie be taken?

Who will look after her?

And where is Mary her best friend

Will she get better?

Find out in the next chapter if you pay £50 to The Red Cross by the time the next part is written.

Can’t wait

Chapter 2. Was their voice too loud?

Chapter 3. Are other people real or mere servants of your fantasies?

What to wear when you are dumb

.A new book by your favourite author

The light shines on the roses and the damned

You came to me but I was unprepared

No one understood and no one cared

If a man should die by his own hand

It is still a murder when it’s planned?

The force of love is turned against the self

All the world’s destroyed, and all it’s wealth.

Infinite the hatred and the rage.

Suicide’s displayed upon a stage

Yet I will not judge the love, the loss.

I will pay your bills and pay the cost

The light shines on the roses,on the damned.

Where is God, and where his bitter hand?

Wider vision

The impatience of a hunter, keen,intent
Will miss small movements at the edge of sight
Will miss the sacred spirit’s new descent

Relaxing when in danger,insolent,
Will throw a wider beam of golden light
Curb impatience, excess of intent

Slowness is a sign we can present
That’s enough for heart to speak to heart
We see the holy spirit’s new descent

Can we from our eagerness dissent
Lean back, let the other play their part
Curb impatience, excessee of intent?

For my narrow vision,I repent
How I’ve missed the whole with graphs and charts
Now I see the holy spirit’s spent

Scanning with a wider gaze unvites
Calmer ways of living with less spite,
The impatience of a hunter, keen,intent
Will miss the gold of spirit’s new descent

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The grit and then the pearls

When God came down , the rivers overflowed
Great trees were floating ,angled and exposed
The houses broke up like whole loaves 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

Limestone caves

If you are going to Settle for a holiday don’t gointo a cave because that’s where God spoke to Jeremiah and asked him

Why are you here?

I didn’t know that god lived in limestone caves but for some reason people go into them.

I suggest you go into a cathedral instead

Oh, gentle Light

I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time
You did not converse with me in words
You were simply present with your Light

Nowhere did I feel your power and might
You were no eagle, but a little bird
I ‘ll try to get it right just one more time.

Who made our language with its subtle rhymes?
The ancient people had their well trained Scribes
You were always there,oh gentle Light

You gave me warmth, you changed my too fixed sight
A comforter , a Spirit, how describe?
I ‘ll try to get it right a final time.

The agony inside me lost its bite
I wanted to go on, to be alive
You do not always show your golden Light

We do not know when we at last arrive
We do not reach this meeting place by strife
I ‘ve tried to get it right this final time
I never saw such Gold until that night

Like children’s   golden tears in a black sun

 Like children’s   gleaming tears in a  bright sun
That can be dried respectful of the source
The points of light on holly leaves  each shone

The  pink horse chesnuts’ flowering  has begun
May flows on to June  as rivers  course
As children’s   gleaming tears drop in  the sun

Nothing human should be broken,shunned
Yet evil screams till its sharp voice is hoarse
The points of light on holly leaves  still shine

When we learn of genocide , it stuns
I was  unborn, did not know of  such force
As children’s   greying tears dropped  under sun

Each  child is God,  yet such vile acts are done
Anne Frank ‘s  haunting memories now cursed
The points of light on holly leaves  will wane

Where did   our evil start,what makes it worse?
Unheld and hungry   baby needing breast?
Like children’s   golden tears in a   black sun
The points of shame, the prickling leaves may win

After the end

Before the end

Let me tell you how beautiful the roses are

How pure white attracts the bees

And the thorns pricked my fingers

As I touched the leaves.

Before the end.

Across the wide green lawn

Are two cats one white one gold

They are staring at me , the childs coffin is white.

Thyp will be buried

Before the ends