Please buy a bicycle and sell your car
Please do not steal this Road Sign.
This Sign was made by mistake.We may use it eventually
The next Sign tells you where the toilets are.It’s about 50 miles down the road
Danger.Floods.Please don’t pass water on this road.
Do not take a selfie with this sign.It may create a paradox
If you want fish and chips, do NOT ring 999.
If you are psychic, are there traffic jams ahead?
I am no longer me, a treasured wife
I drop abandoned,like a dirty sheet
I crawl up this sheer mountain, it’s my life
I curse the name of God in my pained strife
All my home’s in chaos, none to greet
I am no longer me, a treasured wife
I become so still, I’m mesmerised
A soft grey creature from damp Irish peat
I can’t crawl up this mountain, where’s my life?
Loch Ness has its depth, the monsters thrive
Do not let me be their food, their meat
I am no longer me a treasured wife
A solution, what can be contrived
Every piece of anarchy will greet
Where is my former self when love has died?
Writing is an abstract form of speech
One can learn, though my mind has itd ditch
I am no longer a much treasured wife
I crawl up this mountain , this is life
Please ignore all road signs.
Danger, floods ahead
Danger,old folk bathing in puddle
Danger,lower the lifeboat
If you know sign language, please indicate.
Do not drive past or through this sign.
We told you.
Quicksands,please lie flat and do not wriggle.
Thank you for visiting Morecambe.Come again soon unless dead
Morecambe, the haunted Lancashire shore.
As if we are the pen and no ink’s left
As if we hunger yet there is no food
Sometimes sunshine makes us feel bereft
Our mind slows down and all we do is drift
Evil thoughts into the soul intrude
Like we are the warp without the weft
Let the eye and all its muscles rest
With wider focus we may cease to brood
Sometimes sunshine makes us feel bereft
Do not try with will power nor it test
Relaxing brings us knowledge of the good
We take it in like babies at the breast
We must not test the will but let it go
Trust the ocean and eternal flow
Sometimes sunshine makes us feel bereft
Sometimes sunshine brings us touching gifts
Travelling down these sentences we find
Unknown,unsought, unthought, but always real
A home where we can rest our fragile minds
The people dropped,the habits left behind.
The good, the mediocre, what we steal
While travelling with the sentences we find
The hate that frees,the love that too close binds
The heart, the soul, the body, how we feel
For homes where we can rest our fragile minds
The touch that chills, the distances unkind
Unwished for yet demanding all the soul.
Unravelling are our sentences unblind
. The freezing looks,the glories undermined
Ill timed,ill gotten, ills both new and old,
Hedge homes where we could rest our fragile minds
I have never dwelt in realms of gold;
But there are many stories never told.
Suffering our own sentences we find
A home that welcomes, our more liberal minds
Copyright © Katherine
Hello, this is my fiancee ,Amy.
How dare you get married?
It’s simple.we just say, I do.
But I’m your mother
I don’t!
What is for dinner today?
It’s on page 674 ,Fanny Farmer
Can I have a new bicycle?
It’s ” may I’
Funny name for a bike.
Where are the eggs?
We have enough children already
I am going out tonight
You sound like a candle
That’s why I am going out
Were you always rude?
No, just since I got married
That’s awful
Well, it’s worth it
Why?
I am afraid of the dark
But what about the day time?
She works 12 hours a day
At what?
A hospital
I understand the stress.
She’s a psychiatrist
They are the worst
At what?
Keeping calm
1 Do not stop your car to read this sign.Thank you
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 Harald Bluetooth, please call the police.
6.This sign is due to be painted so please take a photograph of it for future use.
7.This sign is paid for by the local hospital to let you know
they have no A & E now.Please drive carefully.
8.Hollow road ahead liable to flooding
9. This water is dangerous.Please don’t drink it
10 This sign is the last one before Hardknott Pass.Look at the road.Do not panic.Very few cars have fallen off since Xmas
Oh,longhead Viking, who were my forebears
Eric Bloodaxe,Harald Bluetooth,Cnut?
Their lady wives as vicious as the men
Who will love me true or give the boot?
I blame you not for fearing my hot breath
Yet I am ancient Roman,British,Welsh
A thousand years have passed, but I am here
With Danish eyes and hair, but bones of Celt
Hence my double joints and glaring eye
My golden hair in trouble with its plaits
My legs are bowed,my feet can terrify
Why not send me home to feed the cat
Britain has succumbed to Viking blood
We’ve’conquered you again, oh men of wood
After all the wars,love still endures
Grace comes through the cracks, grace is the cure
Babies born in tents on wet cold ground
Eerie through the trees comes labour’s sound
But grace, like rain, needs openness and care
How can these refugees bear children here?
We enclose ourselves in fictive webs
Netflix,Prime , the BBC, the bed
We do not want to see the sky and stars
Downing gin and cocaine in the bar
We have plastic lawns and paper flowers
From the handmade dog to City Towers
There is a door but who can spot it now?
No poverty,no chastity no now
Joy sings now in golden light
Though after day comes black of night.
The moon is rising by gray trees
This world is where I want to be.
I want the day, I want the night
I want the day. I want the light.
I want to see and to be seen,
I want to float into my dreams.
The sun has set , gray clouds turn black,
The day just gone will not come back.
I’ll rest in quiet reverie
Until the Reapers’s scythe takes me.
And then I drop and mix with dust,
As worms and beetles sate their lust.
I fall into ten thousand motes
In sweet light ,dance music’s notes.
No more striving.no more ambition,
No more fighting,nor competition.
Every particle’s the same,
Without even a personal name.
And side by side,we all are one.
The lusts of life have been and gone.
We dwell with dirt and grain and sand
At last we’ve reached the Promised Land
There seems to be a mystery inside
That is as big as what is called outside
A world of endless depth, of vision too
As large as all the oceans green and blue
In these depths do monsters swim untamed
Or sacred angels of the nameless Name?
Is what we see a product of our needs
And what all humans have, a lonely greed?
Ethics and our values make me think
Be careful as you listen not to blink
The moment when the eye is closed is short
Yet gives a gargoyle time to make its point
Strange creations, faces that bring fear
Decorate cathedrals as they sneer
Baked beans on adders ‘ tongues
Adder baked and multiplied with loaves, no fish left.
Ten lizards doused in olive oil and brandy [flamed]
Deep fried eels in batter with chips [optional]
Bamboo and ducks’ legs in a nest {Duck dead}
Roast potatoes with gingered leaves and topside
Beans in lentils brewed with whiskey with side salad
Jellied raspberries and creme faux gay
Transparent loaf with sardines teeth filling
Nail filings on jumbo strawberries with artifical, artificial cream [ 2 negative may not make a positive]
You smiled at me and then you disappeared
Flying skyward with no hint of fear
Stunned and left behind,I wept with shock
Deprived by death of one last lingering look
No kiss, no word of love,no last embrace
No colour and no pinkness in your face
I saw you fly as fast as hawks at prey
I held you in my heart ,I felt dismay
How could you leave me when I need you so
Could you not remain till I too must go?
Death is sad,mysterious,unknown
Once lovers all complete and now alone
Silently at last we take the pain
We’re burnt by love and loss, that dual frame
Someone other guided me to act
Deep inside my voice had been unlocked
I sang the psalms and then a lullaby
Not aware in thought that you would die.
I fed you with a teaspoon the mashed fish
From a plate as good as one might wish
Like a little child you tried your best
You winked at me and gazed like one who’s blessed
You sat up with a brighter face at last
Then lay back and God knows all the rest
Oh, don’t go yet ,my darling,I am here
The floor of heaven came down among my tears
Made of sumptuous satin golden,dear.
For a little moment it hung low
Then it rose and took you in its glow
I saw your soul like that of a wild bird
Taken by the Power who spoke the Word
A sheet of tears fell down from my closed eyes
It’s hard ,so hard when those you love must die
Muted colours,sienna and dark rose
Lovely mauve and lilac please my eye
Linen,silk or wool,I love my clothes
I like to complement,I don’t oppose
The colour wheel rotates as I go by
Wearing colours,sienna and dark rose
I like colour,all my neighbours know
The “take” on natural fibres makes me high
Linen,silk or wool,I love their glow
If people gossip, this is not their show
If I seem conceited, don’t make war
Wearing colours,sienna and dark rose
Now I’m in acrylic, what a blow
Wool is hard to find, the sheep cry Baaaa
I love, fabric, I love coloured clothes
It matters not if I have burned a bra
Seems a little mad, but there we are
Muted colours,umber and dark rose
Linen,silk or wool, the art of clothes
Gullivers Bubbles
There’s nowt so queer as foes
The stuffed wives of Henry the Beast
The Will of the Mass
The Mad Will
Why be a Catholic, just to lapse?
Jesus was a wafer with no icecream,I thought as I bit him tenderly
Evening class: build your own Cross [ wood £89 ono]
By a therapist:I used to suffer badly from loopholes and other stories
Clean your own blood: what dialysis means to me now
Everyone else is better than me; a neurosis lived in real time
How to make your TV smart: do not put vinegar on it yet
I see and hear things noone else does.Genius or Liar?
How to make your own foot bawl
Sir Oliver’s Rabble
The War of the Poses
Mary, been and gone
I thought maybe I’d follow,
To see where you have gone
But there’s a hand upon this tiller
That is not mine alon
I’m crying ‘cos I wrote this old blue song.
I’m crying, I’ve been lonely for too long.
The hand upon my tiller
The mystery of the dark
The unknown one who lives in me
And sings like a skylark.
I’m singing ‘cos I wrote you a new song.
I’m singing ‘cos the cat ain’t got my tongue
This was a photo of a small lake before I played with it
I am sorry I can’t come out.My distressed jacket has just arrived.
Denim,say what you like… you can beat it,distress it, rip it and some idiot will buy it
Distress it yourself.. teach it quantum mechanics.Or let the dog sleep on it if and only if you can sleep by it and sing ,O for the winds of a dove
I can’t come out either.I can’t get my jeggings off and I need to answer the call of nature.Moo mooo
What made you buy a distressed jacket?
It was half price!
Why can’t you wear it to come out?
It might cry
Are you crazy?
How would I know?
Are you unwell?
No,I’m Dutch
Like a dyke?
Are you always boring or is it just the heat?
I have no idea
You can take some of mine.i am full of the.
How much are they ?
How much what are they?Wool?
I mean the cost
Free to all daydreamers
I like that!
No goods nor gold can cross the Styx
The boat is small, by water crushed
The boatman’s ready with his hand
He has no use for such dry land
The woman wrapped in winter clothes
Hindered by the mist that rose
She weeps, she leaves her home and man
The dark mind showed her where to come
Her husband stood beside her bones
In his loss, he softly groaned
He wept and wept and did not eat
His world entranced by ice and sleet
Nothing’s quite as sad a sight
As old men crying in the dark
Like the adder,I would shed my skin
Extravagant ,new painted colours bright
Then I’d live with snakes,my new true kin
In my wavey life, emotions run
Tempting only other snakes in sight
Like the adder,I would shed my skin
No arms to hug, no bosom,but much fun
Wriggling my whole body in sunlight
Feeling one with snakes,my new true kin
Once such transformation has begun
We cannot ride the wind like children’s kites
Like the adder,we would shed our skin
All other needs must for this be foregone
Change and breed, for all must hibernate
Then dwell with snakes in burrows where sun’s dim
In the frozen winter,sleep all night
Sleep all day and live without love’s rites
Like the adder,we should shed much skin
The endings of the nerves , life’s origin
Patricia Hubbell. Black Earth, Gold Sun. Marshall Cavendish, 2001. City Kids. Marshall Cavendish, 2001.
“Prose = words in their best order; Poetry = the best words in their best order”—Coleridge said it, and I believe it. Poetry IS about words—their precision, texture, beauty (and ugliness). Prose is about words, too, but not in the same way. Prose is about the bigger picture. The canvas is bigger and so are the brushstrokes. A good poem, whether narrated by a character or by the poet her/himself, uses words wonderfully, and it uses them to capture specific moments in a fresh way, a way that makes the reader exclaim with delight, “Yes, that’s it! That’s right!”
A good poem may also ask philosophical questions. In its condensed form, poetry gives these questions an immediacy, a great power to startle and grab the imagination. Poetry is great for asking—and sometimes answering—those questions that come to you just as you’re falling asleep.
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
Who owns the weapons of mass extinction?
The Queen has been raining since 1954 at least
Brtain is a mock-democracy.
We sell instruments of torture to keep the Economy entranced
Across the globe people are locked up without trial but has it made the world safer?
You can kill one Osama but there are others.Why not use the power
of reason? Why not think? Why not wonder?
It’s madmen playing games to make their names
https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-020-02009-w?
Mathematicians and public-health experts watched through their fingers in May as British Prime Minister Boris Johnson unveiled a series of charts to explain how the government would guide Britain out of coronavirus lockdown. Perhaps most prominent was a colourful dial with a needle hovering near a single digit: 1.
The dial indicated R, a now-totemic figure in the COVID-19 pandemic. The nation, said Johnson, would set a COVID-19 alert level, to be “primarily determined” by the number of coronavirus cases, and by R, the reproduction number.
To infectious-disease experts, Johnson’s focus on the reproduction number as a guiding light for policy was worryingly myopic. They worry about placing too much weight on R, the average number of people each person with a disease goes on to infect.
In this pandemic, R has leapt from the pages of academic journals into regular discussions by politicians and newspapers, framed as a number that will shape everyone’s lives. As Germany’s chancellor, Angela Merkel, explained in a widely viewed video this April, an R above one means an outbreak is growing, and below one means that it is shrinking. In many countries, it is publicly reported every week. In June, epidemiologists at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health in Boston, Massachusetts, announced a website where anyone can look up the value for any country — and for many smaller regions — in the world.
But fascination might have turned into unhealthy political and media fixation, say disease experts. R is an imprecise estimate that rests on assumptions, says Jeremy Rossman, a virologist at the University of Kent, UK. It doesn’t capture the current status of an epidemic and can spike up and down when case numbers are low. It is also an average for a population and therefore can hide local variation. Too much attention to it could obscure the importance of other measures, such as trends in numbers of new infections, deaths and hospital admissions, and cohort surveys to see how many people in a population currently have the disease, or have already had it
click the link to read more
The Enlightment brought error and despair
Science can’t give a meaning to our lives
In two World Wars we seem to make that clear
Satan looked out puzzled from his lair
The evil done by men was a surprise
The Enlightment brought error and despair
The fabric of the world is ripped and torn
The war between the wealthy never dies
In two World Wars we seem to make that clear
Evolution, accident, who cares
With the pill ,no woman can deny
The Enlightment brought error and despair
Now we shop while wearing our nightmares
Haunted faces lifted with no pride
In two World Wars we seem to have that clear
Jesus in his wooden tower sighs
Almost human, he has turned away
The Enlightment brought error and despair
After two World Wars what else is clear?
There were three of us on this motorbike,
Father Dan with me,
And he had Jesus in his bag.
That makes the total three.
Transubstantiation, oh my Lord
I looked at his black bag.
Is Jesus inside there, I thought?
Should it have a tag?
It’s a secret never told
But Father Dan gave it me to hold.
So I had Jesus in my lap,
No wonder there’s a hole, a gap.
We zoomed off up an unmade road
As fast as Dan could go.
I felt bewildered and bemused,
I loved my Daddy so.
Father Dan took back his bag,
And went inside our house.
I got my marbles out to roll,
And I ate a chocolate mouse.
So Three of had taken a ride
And after that my Dad had died.
Father Dan said Mass today
With holy Jesus,so I cried.
How my heart speaks 