Signs may be omens

Photo by Nina Uhlu00edkovu00e1 on Pexels.com

1 Do not stop your car to read this sign.
2. If you can’t read this sign get your eyes tested~unless you are illiterate
3 This sign is not here till further notice
4.This sign is here but don’t look at it
5.This sign was paid for with your council tax
6 This sign is not an omen.Evil is already here
7 Criminals reading this sign, please call the police
8 There are no signs till the other side if Hardknott Pass.Good luck
9 Please do not touch this sign unless it is in braille
10.If you can’t read this sign, phone 999.
11 Don’t read this unless there is a traffic jam
12 Signs washed daily by hand.Do not report as garbage
13 Thank you for respecting our signs.
14 Please do not fall off the pavement

Musing about apples

The apples fly like petals in a gale.
The trees rock and I fear the trunks may break.
The weather in these months has been debauched.
I muse here on what’s Nature and what’s Fate.
An apple tree can live for many years.
Each summer brings the white complicit bloom.
Yet sometimes comes a hurricane that tears
And ends this green and gracious life too soon.
We,like trees, are wantonly destroyed.
Winds sweep in from strange and foreign seas.
The shock may bring us down whilst we still fruit.
Yet mourners one day all of us shall be.
Whilst we live, let’s open hard, closed hearts.
So in anger or in hate we shall not part

The keyhole is too small

   Sometimes I had my eye too close to the keyhole.  
  Pulled there by some force like gravity.  
  I was gazing with a sharp but narrow focus
    into what I thought was the real. 
   But the precision of my gaze
    left out the surroundings,
the other doors and rooms 
   that  I might have inhabited.
  As he came to me and opened his arms with no rancour,
so my eyes opened wider
I took in the new wide vision   
and left my crouched and aching position
    no longer attached like a magnet to your force,
    He was there with his sea eyes. 
   He knew the human condition 
   And how to inhabit a  conversation.
    Of course he’d had his wounds
but never failed to feel    for himself and others.
    In the night he went through in his mind’s eye
the faces  of his friends;holding them ,
like he’d once held fragile rose buds
    when we were married,
    and asked silently for grace.
    The keyhole no longer seemed important
   I suppose narrowing the focus can keep out knowledge of pain
..    But the pain is atill there; 
   I have always loved the word “Acknowledge.”   
And now I use it. I acknowledge this pain

Joy will return one day

Some days are sad and blue
And then we feel lonely too;
Or we cause rifts.

Some days are doldrum days.
Some days are like bad plays.
Not such a gift.

Most days have joyful parts.
Most days we lift our hearts.
They pass all too swift.

Some days love speaks to me.
Some days I feel so free.
I love my craft.

Life is a patterned weave.
Love helps us when we grieve.
Love is a raft.

See how the sun comes back.
See how light fills the gaps..
Some days we laugh.

Weep now and I’ll weep with you.
I have known sorrow too.
Yet sorrow will pass.

Joy is not far away.
Joy will return one day….
Life’s art and craft

Space to be alone

My presence gave him space to be alone
He concentrated on the world I could not see
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

We may marry but we do not own
Every spirit must feel it is free
My presence gave him space to be alone

At the end God makes his own Self known
His Word hangs like a Light upon a tree
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

I sat there in silence,overthrown
There is no need for money nor a fee
My presence gave him space to be alone

And as for the hereafter, that’s unknown
As is the port when ships cross a new sea
Dying is an art if we’re not stones

No need to pray or make a heartfelt plea
Sitting by his side,I let him be
My presence gave him space to be alone
Dying is for humans, not for stones

Who opened up the inner eye to me

Is what I make  original and new?
Can  Imagination   rise and fly for me
To   recreate the glory   this child knew?

Who lit the candle flame that brought me view?
Who opened up my inner eye to see?
Is what I make  original and new?

We birth into a culture others grew
We´ŕe part of all,  responsible and  free: ./unsure of this line
Oh,   recreate that glory children knew

We make music with our voices too
The ram ś horn  or the string/ed lute make plea
Is what we make  original and new?

The charcoal on the paper is a clue
I sail  with wonder on my  inner sea
Oh,  recreate the glory children  knew

Oh,God , oh eye,  have mercy upon me
Oh God, the voice, the hand , the touch, save me:             I l
Is what I make  of worth and pattern new?
To create , to live , must  we know Calvary?

Noah dug a grave

Eton broke up on July the Third
Theyŕe selling pieces set by William Byrd
Put one in the garden, that looks posh
Maybe we need a bottle of whitewash

State schools finish nearly 3 weeks on
Who has got the nuclear waste and bomb?
Do you want your child to be well taught?
Should we have to pay when we have naught?

The Forest of the Amazon is done
All good things will end and we´ĺl be gone
Wisdom has been left out of our thoughts
Certain things are never sold or bought

Now we see the Eton Club are safe
Jesus wept and Noah dug a grave

In between two numbers

In between two numbers there are so many more
Uncountable and infinite this is their allure
And then there is the circle, unmatchable, unsquare.
There is stern white beauty, the air is very pure

In between two numbers, a dancing pair can kiss
The band has paused to take a breath, the space is not amiss
The music has its rhythmic beat, how different from mere noise
Listen to the humming, listen to its voice

In between two numbers,puzzled and unsure
I try to guess the one you sent, your manners are obscure
Am I thinking in straight lines, when curves would tell me more
I see the comic sanctions that down on me will pour

In between two raindrops, in between two tears
In between our words and songs, love displaces fear

A picky person

KatherineThinkings and poems  May 9, 2015 

He was a picky person with a penchant for piss artistry
He liked to excite women with his studied impropriety.
He often went to bed with a woman of society
Then she would be troubled by her sudden notoriety.

As demanding as a pigeon with one eye and no stability;
Although he had been gifted with a wide range of abilities.
He always told the truth in a manner Jesuitical
It gave rise to deep wounds and to curious thoughts inimical.

He read between the lines and fantasised romantically
He knew his Greek and Latin and corrected folk pedanticly.
He liked to drink ripe brandy and practise tantric gallantry.
Until it led to arguments and words fired off too frantically.


He said he felt real lonesome even when he was in intimacy
Wished he’d never bothered to lose his youth’s virginity
He did too much for others and got stressed out accidentally
Until his control broke and he lashed out unimaginatively


So now he is in prison and finds it suits him perfectly.
He was made to be a hermit and he lives his life less jerkily.
All he misses now are sweet ladies so well loved by men…
He wonders,can they be jailed,share his cell and comfort him?

No sense

The child is father to the man
The duck is father to the swan
Inverted,tortured, where to go
The rain is frozen into snow

Once we were a little egg
Looking for a sperm with legs
The winner will enchant like God
Till both are one, in their soft bed

While we work or shock by oath
We´re unaware of inner growth
So drink a glass of cider now
Welcome,welcome, we shall bow

Every child is full of grace
Until by governement erased
When once we lived close to the earthI
In burning towers the poor give birth

Little flats far to the East
Those unemployed are shamed like beasts
Yet their children are of God
Ne´ér to Eton shall they tread

Those who rule shall be come slaves
Satan waits beside their graves
Down in hell they shovel coal
To be rebuked for all they stole

Then they see the light and pray
God forgive our wicked ways
Sin will bring its own reward
From Heaven the wicked are self-barred

The great ode by Wordsworth

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45536/ode-intimations-of-immortality-from-recollections-of-early-childhood

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
       The earth, and every common sight,
                          To me did seem
                      Apparelled in celestial light,
            The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
                      Turn wheresoe’er I may,
                          By night or day.
The things which I have seen I now can see no more

Nude feet

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

When strangers ask for photos of you nude
Or wearing clothes so scanty they’ll go blind
Let them see your feet without their shoes

Let them see your twisted toes turn blue
Let them see the bunions God designed
When strangers ask for photos rather rude

Can one solve a crossword with no clues?
Can one have no bosom and look fine?
Can they love your feet without cute shoes?

When you’re feeling sad and life is blue
When you long for love but not divine
When gentlemen want photos somewhat crude

Try to sell them on the Evening News
Take the veil or drink the Altar Wine
Let them kiss your feet without their shoes

When you’re looking for the hidden signs
Don’t read numbers settlers left behind
When strangers ask for photos, give them clues
Let them wash your feet but make them queue

If your shoes don’t fit

I will spare you an image of my feet.As a GP once said:you are deformed

You can buy shoe stretchers
You may be able to remove the insole which gices more spae

To stretch shoes pour some boiling water in, empty and put your foot inside [ if the house is warm
That will help

Alternatively, put in as many rolled up sheets of newspaper as you can and push them well down.Leave to dry

Fold the shoe in half backwards and put a heavy weight on top.This makes a difference

All of these methods may disfigure the shoes slightly but at least you can wear them

Humming in the mind

Emotions flow like music in the mind
A humming deep within the very self
Even in our sleep the patterns wind
Transformed to opera,images and health

The hum of children’s voices is benign
Two and two are four, oh Alice knows
Who has made thes minds so well designed?
Who has suffered well the pain, the blow?

Cut out the music, worship reason pure
Kant the human suffered it in shock
And in his way he wandered as a cure
Konigsburg with bridges was well stocked

Freed up in our humming, glad to hear
The music of the heart, the dark, the spheres

How you make people feel

Cat by Ktaherine bought in Aldeburgh by her late loved one
Maya Angelou

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
― Maya Angelou

Blinded by the past

The old man and the seea were calm as glass
The Cafe was surrounded by mixed blooms
He was listening to a lady who described
The flowers, their colour,name all afternoon

He could not see at all yet was relaxed
Indeed he was delighted in the sun
I thought blind men were piteous,full of fear
That tells you more of me, than of the men

Below the steep cliff path, in ran the sea
I can’t imagine how our Airforce fought
Barely trained young men went out to war
Is Brexit Britain worthy of their Cause?

Now the blind man gazes out to sea
Was he one of those who kept us free?

Why do eggs crack?

Why did Jesus cross the road?

To look back with anger.

For what did Jesus  save us?

Because his  64 GB SD card was empty.

Why did Jesus curse that fig tree?

It stopped him seeing across the road.

Why did Jesus not  use a bus?

He said it was unfair to asses and donkeys.

Why did Noah leave the Ark?

Because the two animals had become twenty  two.

Did Noah read books?

No he just scrolled.

Why do roads have two sides?

Because they are flat.

What is an enigma?

Ah,if only I could explain it!

Why did ancient people believe in salvation?

Because they couldn’t cross  a palm.

Why did the Pope sell indulgencies?

Because there was a market.

When we say we repent,how do we know we mean it?

I’m stumped.

If I go to Confession,will it be private?

As long as you don’t tweet it later.

May I receive Communion?

Don’t ask me.

Let it drop

Why did Jesus have no shoes?
He had sent his soles to be heeled.

Why did Jesus not wear trousers?
Jewish tailoring had not got that far 2,000 years ag

Did Jesus go to church on Sundays?
No ,he was not a Christian



.Did Jesus drive a car?
Drive a car what?

Did Jesus write letters?
They had no Royal Mail then and soon we shan’t either.

Why did Jesus go to a comprehensive school?
He wanted to widen his appeal.

Did Jesus iron his clothes?
It was before the Iron Age when he lived

Am I sure I’ll go to heaven?
Stop going to sex shops and wearing red bras and you should be ok

How about this atom bomb here in my pocket?
Please, let it drop,I beg you

Ersatz raps

Source: K

Oh,I see the wolf listening..he’s so gentle or is he decentral?
Oh,Ah,kerbumplof.
Shrieks,calling for mate
Bang my soul up
In your bedroom
Ker pluf
Thor.War
Storms of lightning
Hail you
AAAAAAhhhhhhhhh
Me,oh,me oh,me stuck here in my groove
Give me electric shocks;the silent treatment.Sulk for me, please,Argentina.
Screech,scream,I felt you watching.
Touch me with a feather
Dust me!
Glug!
I see the wasps round your coat
They hug you and nip your neck
Bong!
Don’t come near me again
Wolves are not
Welcome!
I sigh for mein mutter
She’s a nutter,
utter
Sob
Scream
nightmare
Thud!
You hate me!
Never call again when you’re already here
You are not welcome.
I close my door
on your foot boot
Oh,yes.
Thunder and lightening
Go home now
This is a poem as likely
ill conceived
Eagle flies while I am
Falling down a mountain…
Scree burning.
I never want to see you again,babe.My duck.
Please be a love and leave me.Cheers
That’s ok.I understand you.
Asp,gasp
Per bot fly!
No thud
No dach
sounds whimper.
It’s time for my tea and biscuit
I cooked it twice
but you were
ab ab a aaab aa absent aahaa
sent!
No.No.no
I can’t believe you!
Cut this string and let it all hang out again
Oh,bogger.Go to bed
Now
How
Mein eschreitschzung
.Flightschzung.
Nachtschzung
blung.blung
blot me out
I’m an ink stain.
I like your fingers, so clean and curving
I’ll mark you and give you homework
Och,aye
It’s well come
Crooning mouse traps
See Rockefeller
drop out and
Bring a bag of sylvia plath’s
scrap paper.
did she know?
Did she know?
Did she sweat
Bang?
Thud.My sky fell in onto the millpond
Don’t smoke near me
I’ll get burned
For I hate you
Or just want your hat and an E for
flatness
Droom,droom
Dee
Bag
bug
Ted went to bed
where he spent his honeymoon
with another woman
Not with the second one
Mathilda
It’s finished us all off
Brang.Blong
EschreitchzungFleightschztungHerr Meightschrung

Silence fell

The blind man was no Oedipus,no king
Around his form, peace hung,a lovely shawl
On his hand a golden wedding ring
The blind man was no Oedipus,no king
His wife had gone,his daughter comfort brings
She named the colours of the flowers like songs
So silence fell as if the sacred called
The blindman was no Oedipus,no king
Around his form peace hung like a kind shawl

I once found a blind man huddled in a shop doorway.He said the road drillimg was so loud he had lost his ability to know where he was.He held my hand and I turned back then all the men drilling stopped and silence fell.It is hard to describle how wonderful it felt.I took him over a dangerous road crossing then he said he knew where he was

If I didn’t have eye trouble I’d not have seen him

Dream like memories

Hollyhocks,delphinium and phlox
Foxgloves,cat mint, nettles,near by docks
The blind man breathed in air full of wild scent
His daughted named the colours now absent

High up on the Kentish cliffs we sat
Capel-le -Ferne I found it on a map
We listened to this girl, we did not speak
Absorbing by our senses,proud and meek

Now I recollect the details very well
In those dream like memories I dwell
Snapdragons growing just beside my chair
I smell the scent as if I were still there

I may be blinded by the tears of loss
But I remember, love, our happiness

If we are conversations

I heard your voice outside the glass front door
I  felt no shock nor worry  nor surprise.
But there a man, whose image is a blur,
Handed me a box with friendly cry.

What part of me still waits for your return?
Why don’t I know you’re gone and shan’t come home?
What  knowledge must my  puzzled heart still learn?
Why do I get an urge to search and roam?

If we are conversations ,as I read,
Then our  exchange has ended with your death;
And so I  am not she with whom you laid.
Nor she with whom you shared a common breath.

When deprived of  hearing your response.
I   am no longer she who I was once

America’s failure to impose democracy by war

In October it will be 20 years since Bush ordered the invasion.Just weeks after 9/11
What good has that War done?
The Middle East is worse than ever and it began in 1918 with france and England dividing up the Ottoman Empire.Those countres like Syria,Palestine,Lebanon etc did not exist but now they do and they keep haing serious problems
And all because of a shooting in Serbia

I know we can’t let people walk all over us but retalation can bring down more evil.

Especially if we attack the wrong people

Photo by Fariborz MP on Pexels.com

The Cabinet shuffles

Oh,where have you been ,my strangest old one
Oh, where have you been with your dim eyes so stunned?
I’ve been to the hospital, to Urgent Care
I’ve been to the dentist,I cut my own hair
Now the hard rain’s gonna fall
With thunder and lightening, torment us all
My left foot is swollen and looks rather pink
My toes are a bleeding,I need blood as ink
They only can look at one issue per visit
Because I am crying they assume I’m hysteric
It’s a hard rain and no ball
The foot ballers tremble,the nation is awed
My bladder’s inflamed and my flanks seem to ache
I can’t tell the doctor, my life is at stake
I’ll have to back with each symptom I have
I might have pneumonia, but my foot’s in their gaze
I might have two heads, they’ll ignore my strange ways
A delta infection is going to spread
Emotional language will kill us with dread
They will only use reason when their children are dead
The babe in her cot, our hearts feel like lead
The world was not made to fulfill our desires
Those who say otherwise are affluent liars
The Cabinet shuffles, the Ministers shove
We know in our hearts they are not there for love
Send Johnson to Turkey, Gove”s gone to Rome
He wants a conversion, but not of his home
Confession seems tempting to those full of guilt
How can they amend the cruel country they’ve built
Sewing us together, the needles aren’t built

A firm purpose of amendment is neccessary for Catholics to be absolved
from their sins.I should not judge others yet I wonder if Johnson hsd it when he rejoined the Church
I also wonder if we can change by will power alone.I doubt it but the first step
is knowing you have sinned..We don’t even use that terminology anymore
but in my experience we do sometimes do wrong.
But look at Germany after WW2.Most people denied they had knowledge of what
Hitler was doing to gay men,Jews,Gypsies.
We have defences which make us use denial to stop us suffering
Yet we do need to know.If you have severe chest pain and merely take pain killers
you might die.
I don’t know how I would have behaved were I there.

Enigmatic  like a midday dream

The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean
Its liquid centre thrown up wild and bright
Enigmatic  like a midday dream

The  pinky edges shift in  sun’s bent beams
Do they convey the aura of the light?
The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean

I wonder where my haunted eyes have been
In the forests deeper than the night
Enigmatic  like a midday dream

Schizoid, lacking affect,  a  slit scream
Destroying what is left of love and sight
The fallen sun makes black the trees that lean

Here we saw wild primrose by the stream
The castle of the Tudors soft in  blight
Enigmatic  like a midday dream

Bewildered people  kill their own insight
Toss their fears , into the weak to bite
The failing sun as pure as  boiling screams
Enigmatic  are our midnight dreams

iLovephone

Some people get creative with this signature.
A few fun (if not necessarily business appropriate) examples found round the Internet include:
My parents wouldn’t buy me an iPhone so I have to manually type “Sent from my iPhone” to look cool
Sent telepathically
Sent from my laptop, so I have a good excuse for typos
Sent from my smartphone so please forgive any dumb mistakes
I am responsible for the concept of this message. Unfortunately, autocorrect is responsible for the content
Sent from a mobile. Fingers big. Keyboard small.
iPhone.
iTypos.
iApologize.
IType therefore iAm
iLoveudarlingx

I practically exist, throw me a rope

I told the doctor I’d only had sex with one man
She said, why ,you are practically a virgin
Well, it’s like my thesis.I practically got a degree
And I practically had 5 children
I practically got a job at a top University
Until they saw my engagement ring
Well it was a moonstone which is practically a diamond to the shortsighted
So when I practically died my husband pulled me back
I slipped and practically fell off the Cliffs at Dover
I think I am old,practically, and too worn out for another man
Or anyone who is practically a man.
Gosh, I am practically politically incorrect
What am I practicing for,practically speaking
At least I am not perfect, no……not again


God be with you

Bring your own God with you, you can’t help it anyway
I have heard you singing, don’t tell me you can’t pray
We’re strung like beads along a chain, we’re linked with none left out
Every time that someone dies, there opens a new mouth
Mouth brings voice, the people’s choice, there is no faking Truth
Eat and live, speak and grieve, give and so receive
Eyes to see and ears to hear,grace may be about
Still the Sirens wail and moan, leave them, they can’t count

From Susan Stebbing [first woman professor of philosophy in the UK in 1933]

Photo by Jill Burrow on Pexels.com

Be wary of emotive language

https://theconversation.com/five-lessons-on-bringing-truth-back-to-politics-from-britains-first-female-philosophy-professor-164191

Stebbing distinguishes between two types of language: “scientific” and “emotive”. Scie]ntific language is used to make objective claims. Emotive language is intended to evoke strong feelings. Often, in politics (and journalism), emotive language is disguised as scientific language –- giving words “a significance in addition to their objective meaning”. Think of the way “woke” is used by right-wing commentators. It isn’t so much describing someone, as getting you to feel a certain way about them.

Paying attention to whether politicians are trying to appeal to our emotions can help us tell a convincing argument from a cheap, emotional dog whistle. We can then decide whether to allow ourselves to be persuaded by our feelings or to turn to more objective forms of evidence.

American names

As Mary went intoAlice’s living room,she saw her five children playing cards with a cat
Hello, Mary, let me introduce my children
Tangent is 13, Radius is 11, Euclid and Leibnitz are twins aged 8
and Cyclic is 4
So what is your surname?
Blunder
Thanks.Shall I sit down?
Tangent Blunder,Mary thought, puzzled by such choices
Sit down! I thought you were my new cleaning lady
What is she called?
I never asked her
Well, you certainly need a cleaning person
Suppose they are binary?
Are you a maths teacher?
No,I hated quadratic equations
Thanks be you didn’t call a child Quadratic
That’s the dog’s name
And the cat?
Imaginary
Well, you seem a very clever family
What do you mean?
You can’t live here, you will have to emigrate to the USA
Why?
They also use unusual,chaotic names.Odd as they are so religious
Jesus Christ !
Not yet but Trump may make a second coming
Well.f*ck me
Not in front of the children, thanks
I only charge £27.
I am a woman too
I don’t mind.I am binary
Binary Blunder, you are giving me headache
Well, you know where the door is
Where?
Where you came in
I am supposed to assess you for autism
Ooh, that’s nice name.What does she want?
It’s a differently wired brain.Einstein was famed
Did he have to charge it?
No, he was born with it but noone knew
I prefer Angst.Can you test me for that?
What a blunder
Mary ran out of the door.Everything looked blurred
and too shiny
Don’t tell me this is the end,she whispered