The joyous flood sent sailboats through the streets
Sea and land were mingled in display
The sun shone softly with its fiery heart
The joyous flood sent sailboats through the streets
What was once disparate came to meet
Then the sea ran back enriched and fleet
And children flew outside in pools to play
The joyous flood sent sailboats through the streets
Sea and land were mingled, sweet display

s mr

Onto every strife a little shame will fall
Freudian terror
Been in ark,can type
Lost shadows in hall
Traffic jams on white dea
In analysis we meet the undesirable unread unwanted desires
I have a camel bare coat
Would you like me freed?

One evening Mary got earache so bad she was anxious if her brain might be damaged
What’s wrong,mother? mewed Emile her small black cat
I’ve got earache, she told him.And I am still not your mother!
When will you be my mother?
If the law was changed we could get married,Mary said wittily
I can’t marry you, it would fee like incest,Emile whispered
I don’t expect to have a sexual life with you, but you could massage by legs and run up and down my spine
Anyone can do that.
Well, not a dog I hope,Mary giggled.No I love cats
After watching “Princess Di, the true story” on their tablets,were both happy to rest in their beds
Mary woke up to find her earache was worse, like a knife running into her head
Stan, she cried, where are you? I need you!Come home!
Emile ran in, with tears in his eyes
You know Dad is heaven,Mother
Yes,said Mary, though he could be in Purgatory
Is that because he had Annie as his lover,Emile asked
No, no, l love is not what I’m thinking of.I bought a very nice bag in Somerset as my workbag
When he left our flat to get the train to work, he had taken my bag not to mention six notebooks with unlined paper I was going to use for Art
So what did you say. Mother?
I said nothing.Wittgenstein wrote
Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must remain silent
But you could have thrown a bucket of cold water over him,Emil said angrily
I doubt Wittgenstein would like that,Mary smiled
Sometimes we just have to let things go or go into a bohemian boutique ..
I went into one and got a yellow cord skirt of unusual design and some deep red trousers
Did you not wear a top,Emile enquired jauntily?
No,I went to give a lecture on 3 dimensional calculus nude from the waist upward
Did nobody say anything?
I was so thin I looked like a boy and they were all enraptured by my words anyway
Those days we were civil to others and ignored their errors or that their trousers were ripped
and that some shirts looked crumpled.We mathematians don’t care about these things.
Then they saw DPD had a van outside. man crossed the road wth several parcels from
M&S.
Mary pulled put a long green wool coat and a cashmere hat
So who doesn’t care,Emile mewed?
I thought it would be good when I need to sit on a wall.The moss on walls is green.
Well,I can see the sense in that, he replied
In ran adulterous Annie their neighbour and Stan’s former mistress
Oh,I have bought one of those.I fear they will shut down
and it’s hard to buy a tailored wool coat these days.They have merino wool jumpers too
Perhaps I’ll buy another, she muttered.
Can I have a jumper,Emile asked?
May I
May I what?
Have a jumper
I am not human, he mewed.Don’t be rude
I will knit you a jumper,Mary told him.Let me know the colours you like
Don’t climb a tree in it or it might catch on a thorn
Oh, mother, thank you,Emile murmured as he fell asleep

Dear Katherine

I see you have left out an apostrophe on wild birds song.You should be old enough to know your grammar
You only use question marks or hyphens.You will never succeed with such carelessness or laziness
I may not be a success but at least I never make a mistake.
Unless it’s the ultimate mistake, having no creative ideas nor urges I never write anything down
I see how stupid this is, like never having any relationships in case I commit a sin by feeling desire wrongfully and I never married in case I should commit adultery or an act of violence
So I might as well have died as my fear of errors has paralysed me and Jesus mixed with sinners,I wish he were here with me now
Anyway,I hope you understand my feelings and you could learn grammar too for my sake

Yours anxiously yet sincerely

Mr Niebody

From Dover to the East there are white cliffs
The little path is bordered by wild flowers
We saw the Lighthouse looking in good shape
And lay down nearby on the grass, sweet hours

But now alone and troubled by my sight
I shall not visit cliff tops nor high towers
I stay in woods or gardens or green lawns
I hope you will not think I am a coward

Even little ladybirds or ants
Enthrall me as I watch them in their bowers
And when it’s wet I watch the clouds pass by
And sometimes in the heat we enjoy showers

Vision narrow focussed may be wrong.
With mind relaxed, we know the wild birds’ song

In the July grass we lay down deep
The lighthouse painted white was by our feet
In winter gales the whole place was destroyed
The lighthouse disappeared into the storm

So life seems more uncertain,death awaits
Even what we hope will keep us safe
I shall not walk on cliffs now you are late
Your ashes in the wind gesticulate

We need our myths and narratives so words
Can keep us safe and block out the absurd
And hell is other people,not just me
The noose, the rope, the hangman and the tree

Yet I shall lie again on sun warmed grass
Reliving the psychosis of the Mass

Poetic rhythm is natural like the waves
That come and go on beaches , wet the  sand
The sea is always moving  as is love

The unconscious is a language dark engraved
We cannot read unless we can descend
To rhythms as natural  as   the  rippling waves

Rich and strange   so different from above
What we find is  not what we intend
The sea is always moving  as is love

What’s   in authentic nature  that should save
As colours interact, by brush  to  blend?
Poetic rhythm is natural like the waves

Yet ,in a poem, what  part of us  can bathe
The mind , the heart, the soul, the writing hand
The sea is always moving  as is love

The  golden seas, the oceans can command
The ships that sail, the   whale, the hidden ends
Poetic rhythm is natural like the waves
The inner sea is  moving , tender love

The Romans too were keen on building walls
To keep out Scottish immigrants and balls
But the Vikings got their genes into our pool
I am one, be careful, I am cruel

Hadrian’s Wall. the moss ,the ancient bones
Undeciphered like our old grave stones
Looking West we see the Solway Firth
Quiet and tender like the ancient earth

In the East is Berwick on the Tweed
The Tyne is further South and then the Tees
The grandeur of the Pennines makes eyes leap
Estimating sizes,watching sheep

If the Scots desire to cross the wall
We will not shoot them down nor make them crawl

I am like him.. untidy and lover of books.He brought up his children alone after his young wife dies

http://www.jgballard.ca/media/2001_literary_review.html

http://www.jgballard.ca/media/1970_sept11_guardian.html

Those evenings the sky turned pink
We were happy, lying in the grass
watching the sun set
arms around each other

.Seemed like eternal life had come
Earlier than forecast.
Those weathermen are often wrong.
They need more training

I shall remember you
in that timeless moment
in between two raindrops
in between two tears

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2021/mar/07/harry-borden-single-dads-in-their-own-words-a-photo-essay

A beautiful photo essay

Stan was standing on the patio behind his bijou home when a sudden heavy  downpour of water drenched him all over.
This is like a monsoon,he murmured to Emile who was also wet and drowned looking
A head  and neck appeared over the dark wooden fence.
I’m awfully sorry,old boy.A pipe has burst in Annie’s loft.I tried to fix it myself.
I don’t believe it.You are Stan Brown.It must be 50 years since I saw you.
Stan was hiding his surprise at seeing Rudolf Hairnet,his former logic tutor at an ancient foundation, in the garden of Annie,Stan’s beloved colourful mistress.
Why not pop in Rudolf,he said.I’ll leave the door open and go upstairs to change my clothes.Be with you in a moment.
Stan went upstairs and removed his clothes.His body was now as thin as when he reached his full height of 6 ft 6 inches but alas it had less muscle and more fat. nowadays.He gazed into his wife’s full length mirror.
To his surprise, he saw Satan looking out.Although he knew this was possible for Catholics he had never met Satan before.Not that he was keen to,exciting as it might be.
How do you get behind the mirror,he asked  Satan gently.
God only knows,said Satan morosely.
Why not ask him?
I’m too proud,the poor devil replied in a bleak voice.
Well,we all have our pride,Stan told him,though no doubt yours is the biggest in the universe.
Yes,indeed,Satan answered.It’s bigger than Everest
Are you here for any purpose,Stan enquired.
Yes,your home seems more intriguing than most and I like to watch you in bed with that flame haired woman… is she your paramour?
I see,said Stan,You are a voyeur par excellence
That’s one way of describing me,Satan said,No woman will come to bed with me so I am trapped here behind every mirror in the world.I can see it all but never take part.
You must be very lonely,said Stan
Yes,the dark spirit muttered painfully
Are there no she-devils about who might oblige you?Stan asked him thoughtfully.
I don’t seem to fancy them so much.They are all as bad a me,I want kindness and tenderness not just lust.After all,one might satisfy that with a vibrator… we have them in hell you know!We have many things but love and humility are not there.
Why,you are beginning to sound almost human,Stan told him.We want love too.If only you would apologise to God I am sure he would forgive you and let you come into the real world of others instead of being trapped in there
Stan heard a noise.He turned round displaying his bony frame and his  drooping organs to Rudolf.
Are you ok? I was worried that the drenching had knocked you off balance.I have out your kettle on the  fire to make you a hot drink and phoned 999 for aid.
But we don’t have a fire,Stan responded. loudly
Well,you do now said Rudolph
Oh,hell, cried Stan

I got a winter coat online 3 months ago.I have never seen a coat so strangely shaped
The shoulders are extremely wide so they drop off  the ends of my own shoulders
This ensures that the sleeves are  so crazily long that my whole hands are covered
The length should be lust below the knee but  it is nearly  down to my ankles
And I could wear a dozen thick jumpers under it [ may be useful in the cold[
The only positive thing I can say,I got it half price
!Instead of  it upsetting me,I could not help being amused when I looked down at it
It’s the sort of thing a homeless  person might get for a shilling from a Jumble Sale
Can I get free soup from a Convent?

The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
A pale blue sky, a silver aeroplane
I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled
I have no heater but the kettle boiled
I made us coffee then my parcel came
My face in the small mirror had a smile
My love is deep, you never were on trial
If we quarrel, we both share the blame
I’m happy,I am warm, in your arms coiled
Our sorrow is, we have not made a child
Jesus cursed the fig tree in its shame
Yet red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
Sorrow need not madden nor make bold
We do not know the purpose nor the game
I’m happy,I am warm now as I toil
We need old fashioned virtues like restraint
We don’t see the whole as life we paint
The red leaves in the sunshine seem to smile
I’m happy,I am warm, the sea sings wild

Wittgenstein was the poet who knew it
Can’t be said without the words to say it

His hands travelled all over me like a herd of drunken fleas the size of spiders
His eyes wandered over my supine body like a surveyor estimating the price of a house
He kissed me with my permission as I was frozen
He showed me our marriage certificate in triplicate in a gold frame
He tickled me with a feather till I was maddened by rage
So I said, quit staring,I don’t like your gaze
His nails were as thick as the icing on a Xmas cake
He never scratched me even when I itched
I don’t know if it was deliberate but he missed
I said I would never get married and it was a lie in retrospect

un

It’s so cold in bed without you
And the bathroom light is bust
I need a man to hold me
Can God make a man from dust?

It’s s lonely in the evening
And the TV seems remote
I want a conversation
Where do words go when they’re spoke?

I miss the tea you brought me
Before you left for work
I miss the hands that held me
And my throat feels swollen up

I feel so sad at weekends
We went wandering in the woods
I miss you, how I miss you
Tears come in their floods

You found me and I lost you
Shall I lose myself again?
The world is full of water
The drowning and the men

I have caught a drug resistant bug
Could it be that European mug?
They drink coffee till the cows come home
As for me I’m permanently stoned
I want to go to bed, so I must eat
I take the powerful tablets as I sleep
When I waken I may well be cured
Not like bacon,I can’t see the lure
All day breakfast is a silly name
Keats would be astonished ,it’s iname
My mother tried to make me knit and sew
I can’t see but will that make me slow?

I did not know my mind was strong as sin
My wickedness was choosing to be thin
My ringlets seemed far wilder than cats’ screams
The torture and the vividness of dreams
I picked up books and read them in an hour
How could I guess the wreckage of men’s power?
I made pastry, I baked cakes of wheat
To honour God , my father, the elite
.From my pram I gave the neighbours shocks
Electric was my verbal skill and luck
They asked me how to vote and who should win
I sucked my dummy as my thoughts all ran
I sit and listen by the kitchen sink
For I get drunk without a single drink

Near sturdy cobbles rounded with tar packed
The gutter’s dirty grids held marbles drowned
Washing new hung out like rain damped macs

When the bin men came they used the back
The ash bin was full up,some on the ground
By sturdy cobbles rounded and tar packed

The sound of lorries terrified the cat
From his throat there came a frightful sound
Washing now inside, like rain damped macs

In the backyard was the privy dank
An air raid shelter full of wood we scrounged
Near sturdy cobbles rounded and tar packed

How the washing dried I cannot think
On the wooden maiden some was singed
Washing rarely dried, like rain damped macs

Five sheets, towels, the knickers, all were hanged
Waving in the drizzle like mens’ hands
Above the sturdy cobbles well tar packed
Washing in the back street, abject,pecked

Cracks in the pavement,mosquito bites
When my own blood runs,I don’t waste the sight
Ants on a tree trunk,busy all day
If you are grieving, with you I shall pray
We don’t know the future, we forget the past
For asylum seekers, we pray and we fast
For refugees starving, for the suffering lost
Give them attention, what does it cost?

t

I always think I hear you when I wake
Lying in the warmth of the front room
Memory stabs my heart,I want to wail
There’s noone near,my mind is swept by gales
I always think I hear you when I wake
Then I know it is a sad mistake
Tears like petals fall through Easter hail
I gave my heart but love grows not in tombs
I often think I see you when I wake
Smiling in the warmth of that bedroom

Stan was reading the paper at 9 pm when the front door bell rang.Emile,his delightful tomcat who was asleep,nearly jumped out of his skin.Stan opened the front door cautiously
.“Goodnight,sir.” remarked the handsome man standing there. impassively
“Goodnight?”Said Stan confusedly,
”But I’ve never seen you before.Are you the sandman who comes to put little children to sleep?”
“Good evening,sir.” the man continued,”I’m so sorry my English is so poor.I am studying David McChrystal’s Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language and I’m still a trifle mystified by it.”
“What do you want?”Stan asked him.
”What do I want? I want to study philosophy and write a novel like Iris Murdoch did ”“
No,no.” said Stan” I mean,why are you here ?”
“A good question,why are we here? Do we have a mission in life or are we here as a result of mere chance and happenstance or even serendipity or did God send us on purpose ?”
“I mean,why are you here ringing my doorbell at this time of the night?”
“Shouldn’t that be evening,sir?” The stranger enquired sardonically yet politely.“
Look.are you after something?”
“Well,I’m after getting people to go to church or other place of worship.”
“Are you partly Irish?”Stan asked him plaintively.
“What’s happening,”called Mary from her study where she was reading a critique of Principia Mathematica for the seventeenth time
.“God only knows!” said Stan.
Mary came to the front door.She wore a green silk blouse with a jade necklace, a pair of smart jeans from Per Una and some pink trainers with yellow laces.On her face she wore Lancome of Paris light beige foundation,strawberry pink lipstick and purple mascara from Clinique.Her perfume was by Beyonce.
“Goodnight,madam” said the stranger.
“I think that’s slightly rude,” said Mary.”If you’ve never met someone before it’s inappropriate to say goodnight.”
“Well,you aren’t in bed,” he replied laboriously.
“What has that got to do with it?” she asked
“Inappropriate is often used to refer to sexual behaviour.”
“Well,who are you?” she whispered politely.
“I’m the new curate!””I’m Polish and I’m here ”
“Well,I’m sorry I don’t know a single word of Polish.would you like to speak in Latin?”“Ite,missa est!”
The curate exclaimed.“Uno reductio ad absurdum”S
tan muttered seductively
.“That’s Italian,UNO” cried Mary shyly
.“Well,it’s pretty similar.” Stan said ironically;
“Well,I must go,”said the curate anxiously
“You’ve not been yet so how can you go?” Mary asked mathematically, demonstrating the futility of logic.“
I don’t know,sir.Good evening,good afternoon,good morning.”the red faced man screamed as he ran hurriedly down the garden path.
“Are we Catholics ?”Mary asked Stan
.“Oh,I can’t remember,” he said.”Do we go to any church,synagogue or mosque?”
“Well,we may be non-practising at it all, I suppose.”
“Perhaps we’d better start practising,” he murmured affectionately.
“Oh,if you insist,” she replied in an un-wifely roguish tone.
“That’s right,blame it all on the man.In my experience it’s you who is keener than me on all of that.”
“What are you talking about?”she enquired seductively.Prayer?
Suddenly the door bell rang.It was the curate.
“Goodnight” he called.”goodnight”“Goodnight, old man” they responded in their reserved English fashion.
“Mioaw” cried Emile,”Mioaw,miaow,miaow.And so pray all of us.Amen
Donations via PayaFriend.com please live generously