https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/mar/21/the-art-of-the-straight-line-review-how-tai-chi-brought-out-lou-reeds-mild-side?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

O

Der Himmel ist kahl, die Luft ist kühl und still
Die schwarze Katze läuft, die Vögel entfalten sich den ganzen Tag
Ich setze mich hier hin und bete mit meinem Kleinkind
Du hast törichte Gedanken geworfen, du hast meinen Willen vergewaltigt
. Wir alle haben die bürokratische Mühle wütend gemacht.
Oh eiskalter Geldbeutel, ich wollte nie bezahlen!
Der Himmel funkelt, die Luft ist warm und schrill
Die saturnine Degradierten drängten sich ihnen in den Weg
Mit diesem gefiederten Sprung, meiner Musterfeder,
Ich zitiere den Scheck und datiere ihn auf nächsten Mai.
Oh, Meise für Katze, das Bett des Tigers ist verirrt.
Dein Leben wird bestimmt durch den Willen einer Hure
Der Himmel ist ein Hai, die Luft ist noch schärfer.


Herausgegeben von Kathrin

Come with me,I know a secret path
From Windermere Train Station to the lake
We’ll run down through the trees and the green grass

Coloured boats are sailing,see them pass
And there is a ferry we might take
Come with me,I know the secret path

The wildflowers look eternal in their grace
Here we heal our hearts. compassion waits.
We’ll go down through the trees and the lush grass

On the waves I see the Sacred Face
We are not condemned by God or fate
Come with me,I know a secret place

In our time, we find the narrow gate
Open, if we marry love and hate
The sunshine makes my body feel embraced
Oh, Windermere, where birds sing sweet in praise

No mirror for reflection in his mind
He says whatever suits that moment’s wish
Thus he is to truth disabled, blind

Pride and power make all of us unkind.
But reflecting deeply shows us what’s amiss.
There’s no mirror for reflection in his mind

In phantasy, we get what we design.
But fancied love won’t give a fleshly kiss.
We are to truth and justice surreal,blind

To find the truth we cannot be malign
Must view with horror what we once dismissed
Who can use those mirrors in their minds?

Judging of our leaders is no crime;
For we judge our selves and that is less than bliss
When leaders lie, the world is undermined

He has no self at all, if all’s his wish.
Inevitable,catasrophic, the abyss
He has no space for mirrors in his mind
Now he is to wisdom doubly blind.

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/mar/27/digital-loss-photos-backup-deleted-memory?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

Winter had come very early to Knittingham yet owing to the late summer and wet autumn,many trees still had their leaves,,,,,,,,,,,some were even green.Stan and Mary were sitting in their mock Tudor cottage style kitchen eating muffins and honey with Earl grey tea in mugs.
Wow,it’s so cold,Mary remarked.
Now,Mary I have told you before that Wow is not a word I expect to hear from such a highly educated person as yourself….why waste your learning?All those years climbing over wallsOxford and dating clever doctors from Harvard…

Bollocks,Mary answered in a tone not unlike the late Rose Nordloch,philosopher extraordinaire who was famed for her obscene talk.
I am thinking of buying some woollen vests,she continued loudly.
Good grief!
What is it, my darling Stan said nosily.
Mary was looking at a catalogue of ladies clothing. and lingerie which had come in the postThey are £39 each,she said wonderingly.If I get three it will be nearly £120 plus postage.Just imagine,I may be unable to afford wool vests

Can’t you just buy one and wear it all winter like the Tudors did?her loving yet irascible husband replied

I think it would get smelly,my dear,even if I wore my anti -perspirant,Mary answered benignly.We should get wool vests from the Government to save us from going to A and E with double pneumonia,she continued softly…Shall we mention it at the Labour Party meeting? I can get it on the agenda

No,no,Stan cried,I want your lingerie to be a secret…

A woollen vest is hardly lingerie,she retorted.. sounding like a character from Barbara Pym‘s novels

Everything a lady wears under her dress in lingerie he murmured gently….bras,knickers,pantaloons,petticoats,vests,corsets,suspender belts.stockings,tights,trouser liners,lace,fine silk,short underskirts,long underskirts……..nighties

But some lingerie is more sensual…Stan said wistfully,recalling the brown silk underwear Mary used to wear before feminism made most lingerie a No,No! Anyway,Mary said,we are too old for sex….we are too stiff and we are too shy now as well

But not too old to have a few fantasies,Stan thought… and woollen vests did not feature in his… he preferred lace and silk with a hint of perfume…. maybe a little embroidery….a dying art

Emile came in and asked for a vest too and some underpants… suppose I wet them? he miaowed in a panic

Well,you can’t have a nappy,Emile.Stan informed him.

I have no desire for such things,Emile mioawed angrily…where is my food?

Oh, yes… it’s in the fridge,said Stan.He took a large goldfish out of the fridge
Where did you get that from? Mary asked fearfully
Oh,that tom cat down the road knocked a fish tank over and he gave Emile one
.But they are pets!She shrieked…. ring 999 now and ask for an ambulance

Dave the bisexual paramedic strode in looking merry.

It’s Frank,the gold fish,said Mary fearfully……………i he dead
He is not quite dead,Dave answered….get a bowl of rain water.He put Frank into the bowl and Frank began to swim…

Well, that’s a bloody miracle,Mary screamed. almost frightening Stan to death!

Just call him Lazy Lazarus.Dave quipped…he was in suspended animation.. fish are very clever.Would you like me to clean out the kitchen or fetch in some coal for the scuttle? he asked the old dears,

Thanks but not today,Dave.We were just discussing vests.Do you wear one?

Oh,yes.he said, and I wear a short petticoat too….I’dd love a silk one as I am a transexual too,so I believe

Very wise,Mary informed him.Underwear keeps us warm.

And it makes me hot,thought Dave…. but he said nothing.He kept his sex life almost a secret even from himself

Vests,thought Mary.

To buy or not to buy

That is my question

The water ripples in the early sun

The full dark river hurries to the sea

As powerful as s tiger on the run

As secretive as an en-cloistered nun

As poisonous as a snake out having fun

As other as a stranger is to me

As heavy as a heart when love won’t come

For the honeymoon we enjoyed the marriage bed too much to get off

The menu was homemade bones with gem for afternoon tea. And for dinner it was lamb drops on a bed of tomatoes and scullions.

When we came back to breakfast the next morning they were staring drilled bacon with eggs of the tide. As you can imagine we were very hungry but we could not co- ruminate well.

Co-rumination is quintessential in any marital situation. Please phone me for more information or email me at the following addresses one only per lesson

cellocat@strungup.org

primenumber8@cuboid.rum

marrymother@electricbill.com

If you are still a virgin after a week in this hotel please inform the manager immediately and he will try to recharge. Guests must be married but not necessarily to each other.

Funerals on request

Dear blister, thank you very much for your litter which I look forward to weekly.

I don’t have a lot of flood news this week as my teeth have been withering me a pain in the sack. My dentist is a young conman

Would you like one?

Is it earth thinking her boots gone?

She is very dutiful I’m taking the pill 3 times today

What do you think of purple incredibility?

Is it a circular tangent or cormorant?

Do you remember that one follow doesn’t make a career?

Take good bare of yourself and send one to me as soon as possible

By the way do you know what a tautology is?

If you find out anything interesting don’t let me know. I am averse to smacks

Goodbye for an hour (I did not say that)

Kathryn 

https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-android-motorola&sxsrf=APwXEdc-fCeofDSPkuk9mudQ3nHEiXtnOw:1679917544167&q=What+is+hostility&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi6hePDhPz9AhXGVMAKHcTZB78Q1QJ6BAg7EAE&biw=412&bih=764&dpr=1.75

Mary woke up as she heard a strange noise.Except it was not as she had overslept.
She put her head out of the window where a young man was standing by the wall
You can leave their parcel here, she cried in her muffled shriek
I have come to collect one, he responded
But they are not at home, she informed him.They have emigrated
No wonder, the man said.I’d like to escape from Dominic Cummings
Has he captured you?
He damages my soul and God is angry
Let’s leave God to one side.I know how you feel, I think
Thank you very much.God will remember
Mary sat in bed and wondered where Stan was.Suddenly she realised he was dead.
Emile came in purring loudly
Emile, is Stan really dead?
I think so although sometimes I think I see him in the kitchen with his Robert Carrier cookbook
Tears came into Mary’s eyes remembering all the meals Stan cooked
He would be horrified if he saw her eat a frozen shepherd’s pie or macaroni cheese straight from a tin
At least I still use Earl Grey Tea, she thought intelligently
Mary drank tea from a large blue mug; in fact it was half a pint of tea. She looked at her phone to see if any emails from her friends were there but none of her friends had written to her which could hardly be surprising as they had all written to her the day before
She saw a letter from British Gas offering her help during the lockdown but she didn’t use gas anymore. if they had been more compassionate when she was having trouble with her boiler she might still be using it but she had decided that gas was a bad thing; it made her think about horrible things like Sylvia Plath and the Holocaust
On the other hand electricity has also been used to harm people and kill them in the United States ;what was the answer?
The best thing is to get up at once. she said and read The Guardian the Times, Independent newspaper The Telegraph and the London Review of Books.By the time she has read all of those who would go back to bed?
Only a sex addict and has she had no husband that was impossible
After all, who prefers a plastic vibrator to a loving man or woman?Mary decided 4 Weetabix and some milk would make a very nice breakfast
Where is my breakfast, called Emile louder?
Oh dear I am very sorry , would you like some kippers for your breakfast
Thank you, Mother
How many times do I have to tell you that I am not your mother; I am human and you are a cat
But you are my mother in a metaphorical sense :you look after me, you feed me, you bath me
On the other hand I sleep on your bed and if I was your son you would not want me to sleep on your bed would you since I’m 18 years old?
No, it might look like incest Mary replied humorously but would an 18-year old youth be attracted to an older lady
Don’t ask me, he said, I am just a cat
I would not know my own mother if I met her and if she was willing I might even mate with her without knowing that she was my mother. God is very kind to animals in some ways but on the other hand why does he let people hunt and kill for fun?
Well he would not tell Job nor his so-called comforters so I don’t know whether he’s going to tell me; if he did tell me I might not be able to understand
Why not, said the cat?
When we don’t know what language God speaks how can we talk to him?
Only by paying attention in the Silence in the middle of a wood or a cathedral as long as it was not full of tourists and and dogs
Are dogs allowed to go inside a cathedral?
I don’t know said Mary I have never thought about it before but I would imagine they are banned because they might start Barking at the wrong moment
I could go to church, Emile cried
Do you want to go to church , Mary asked him
If there is nothing else to do, I will go to church, he mewed
That is not the right attitude, she told him, God is more important than anything else at all
How do you know God is not here in the house
Yes he is; he is everywhere but we can’t see him except in the eye of a child or or the smile of an old man when he is going to die peacefully in the arms of his wife
And what about the wife? the cat pondered<Shall I have to hold you in my arms so that I can see God in your smile as you pass away
Oh dear me said Mary. I never thought of that I am too big to go into your arms. I can go on a diet and save money by only eating half a tin of Heinz macaroni cheese for my supper and half a tin of vegetable soup for my lunch
It is impossible, the cat told her, because even if I eat a lot my legs will never go any longer and as mathematician you should be able to see that you would have to become as small as a tiny baby before I could put my arms around you
The end of a wonderful dream,sighed Mary
I’ll have to ask somebody else Dr Patel maybe if I can die in his arms|
It is like the ultimate act of love to allow someone to die in your arms but one can’t do it too often as it is too emotionally and spiritually demanding
I agree, mother, the cat told her and now I’m going outside to try and catch you some frogs from the pond next door, goodbye.

https://www.gingersoftware.com/english-online/spelling-book/confusing-words/inquiry-enquiry

https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2023/mar/27/excellent-evidence-that-this-works-how-mind-experts-protect-their-brains?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other

A house divided against itself cannot land on the runway

A louse has not a hope here

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single rucksack and a re boot

A leopard cannot change its dots apres Monet.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing

A little of what you fancy gives you twins

A man who is his own lawyer has a tool for his client

A kiss is as good as a smile

A new broom sweeps a black mass under the bed

A nod’s as good as a wink to a kind fool

A penny read is a penny learned

A person is known by the company he runs

A stricture yells a thousand swear words

A place for everything and everything in the fried plaice

A poor jerk in Japan once played the fool

A problem shared is a problem spread

A prophet does not fraternize with his own hands

A rising tide lifts up all rubbish

A soft chancer turneth away from the bath

A stitch in time saves rhymes.

A swarm in May is worth a load of neighs a swarm in June is worth a silver tune; but a swarm in July is not worth an eye

A fling of beauty is a sin forever

A nude volunteer is worth twenty dressed men

A watched snake never uncoils

A woman is more than any man, but a good cigar is a joke

A woman’s place is in the foam

A woman’s work is not entirely fun

A word of advice is enough for a sentence to be passed

Absence makes the heart grow longer and the lungs go yonder

Absolute power disrupts absolute power.

Actions’re esteemed louder than winks

Adversity makes strange bedfellows keep warm

After a storm comes a calm nothingness.

All good things come to he who irradiates

All good things must come round the bend

All is grist that dumbs my new will.

Bad publicity may be good advertising

All roads lead to Joan

All that glisters is not told

All the world loves to bother me

All things come to those in state

All bling will pass but my blog will never end.I wrote it on a Mobius strip of paper,you see

All work and no play makes Jack a neurotic obsessive just like me

All you read about is love so who records the hate?

All’s fair , he loves to annoy justly

All’s for the best in the best of all possible swirls

I dream at nights of my old friends
My husband and his loving hands
I dream of all the cats we had
Alfred who slept on the bed
He laid his head upon my foot
As I wrote a poem of love
Jimmy who was small and black
She bit my hand if I got up
I did not wish to wet the bed
She did not understand a word I said
The last night here she gazed at me
I think she knew she would not be
Lucky was the nervous one
Black and white , apartheid none
He liked my husband’s shoulder dear
He draped himself and lost all fear
Now the cats have all gone off
I am frightened by my cough
My husband comes to me at night
Fortunately he cannot bite
He touches me with tenderness
Smiles and wished me,God Bless.
When I waken I feel lost
So I have to wear a watch
I seem to have no solid self
I feel nervous of those elves
I don’t mind an angel fierce

He could rub my aching feet
I will have no other man
They are frightened of women
They don’t like to lose at Chess
They don’t like to wash my dress
They will brush my winter coat
Never ask me what I wrote
I do not wish to anger men
They might shout and bawl again
I think maybe I will turn gay
Ask a lady, what to say?
They may not understand my needs
Killing flowers to help the weeds
Talking all the weary night
On the whole they’re parasites
Also they may menstruate
I can’t give them seeds to take
So they will leave and get a man
This is where it all began
Eve and Adam,God and man
Cain and Abel, apple flan
Noah and his Ark so fine
I wish I had one in the rain
I wonder when the world will end?
I am old so be my friend

Let me paint my house with color soft.

Still as snowflakes lying in a drift

Let me paint my house in colours mute

That lovers die I cannot now refute.

As stark as ghosts are in an empty lift.

The end of life is startling it is swift.

Death came here and touched his unkissed lips

I am lonely are the lights go out.

I am frightened I won’t know the route

Now my heart is bleeding it is ripped

Lie beside me lover in the moss

Paint my face with colours still and soft

I see you in the mist and I am lost.

What we pay is more than any cost.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/rondeau

I saw my level path turn steep and dark
I saw a tunnel black without a light
I hesitated wondering how to stop
But seemed intent on death,on sudden flight.

No human being held out their warm hand
They left me all alone in anguished pain
Yet how should I in that state right decide
What was best for me, what made a claim?

The golden warmth like clouds from rising sun
Wrapped me all around till we were one
There was no speech ,no person and no blame
No demand, no order, love remained.

Beyond despair I found this unknown care.
A sheet of tears ran down my poor face bare.

Your face that was familiar fadee away

Where the dreams go when we are awake?

For every smile for every glance we pay

The heart aches with a numbness cold and grey

Before the day begins the day must break

The face that was familiar fades away

What would it take for atheists to pray?

The death of God is news but is it to fake=?

For every smile for every glance we pay

on the River lea ice skaters play.

As the night falls all the world looks bleak

His face that was familiar fades away

I took him to the river what to say?

We cannot die with pride we must die meek

For every smile for every glance to pay

The force of nature of god’s violence reeks

Why are you silent now, will no one speak

Sweet face that was familiar fades away

For one more smile for one more glance we pay

You cannot practise dying, though we want to do it well
We don’t want to appear foolish when we might be in hell
We can practise smiling and opening the door
Unless like me you’re crippled and you’re feeling very low
You can practise music, you can practise Art
You can practise hiding in the burrows of the heart
Then you get to go on stage and do it all for real
Dying ain’t for dummies but allow yourself to feel
You can practise for your wedding, your baptism and your fall
In the hall of mirrors where God lives off the wall
You can practise speaking, you can do it many ways
Then you must stop practising, and say the words today
In the little spaces in between the sounds
Let yourself be emptied, you are on Holy Ground

The natural state of being is the mess
The dust builds up and turns into new soil
Tidiness won’t reproduce  love’s bliss

I am fighting my own corner.you can guess
As piles of books around me will all  fall
The natural state of being is undressed

I get my  best ideas sent express
Just like electric kettles  quickly  boil
But speed itself won’t reproduce  nor kiss

Excessive  chaos  causes me distress
My eyes are on the ceiling,will they roll?
The natural state of being is Degas

The  police came when some burglars made ingress
My bedroom looked intriguing, full of coal.
A  holy fire will reproduce   and bless

In Eden  if the snake had been  controlled
The apple would be poisoned for us all
The natural state of being is the mess
Too much,too tense, won’t reproduce nor bless

I am a kettle made of stainless steel
I am a saint, for tea is brewed to heal
And, unlike kettles on an old coal fire,
I am not dirty nor do I perspire.

My mirrored sides reflect you as you cook.
Look at me and read me like a book
I’m full of love and hotter than a man
Oh, dear lady, love me while you can.

Superior mother, yet inhuman I;
Even electric kettles sometimes lie.
I shall never punish you, my dear
For perfect love like mine shall wield no fear.

All I ask is that you polish me.
For, in between your hands, I yearn to be.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2023/mar/18/richard-milward-man-eating-typewriter-polari?CMP=Share_AndroidApp_Other