Her eyes shining like melting Danish butter on a hot croissant
Mary was sitting at her desk trying to decide whether to throw out a book called
Schrodinger ‘s equation for idiots.
The title had more than one meaning, she thought to herself.
I think that is for the recycling bin, she told her cat, Emile.What a pity you can’t read.You could have read it.
I don’t want to read stuff like that.I only like Dad’s cartoon books.
Where are they, Mary asked him, her eyes shining like melting Danish butter on a hot croissant?
They are in that plastic box in the kitchen, Emile told her.I read them at night.
How can you read if there is no light?Please don’t start sinning as I don’t want you to have to become a Catholic.
I can’t become a Catholic, said Emile.I am Jewish.
Well, St Paul was Jewish, Mary told him.Until he had an epileptic fit .
So having a fit can make you a Christian.
That is very strange, the black cat told her with a twinkle in his eyes
Well, it’s not automatic, Mary replied.You have to pay.
What, pay to become a Christian, I don’t believe Jesus would like that.
Well , he may be quite indulgent, sometimes Mary giggled.
However, the Vatican and its wealth might not be quite what he was thinking of when he gave the Sermon on the Mount.
What sort of mount was it , Emile enquired.Was it a horse?
No, it was more likely to have been a donkey as he was poor, you know
But he had things money can’t buy, the cat said philosophically.
Like women who poured oil over his feet.What sort was it,?Was it like that stuff Stan put in the car engine sometimes?
Don’t be so ridiculous.It was olive oil, Mary told him
Can we prove that, Emile murmured?
His feet were no salad
No, I am using inductive reasoningMary stated logically.
Olive trees are grown in that part of the world even now.
What is inductive reasoning, Emile mewed
Why it’s the opposite of deductive reasoning, of course, Mary stated flatly
I am glad I can’t read, Emile said.
It’s bad for you to have to learn all of that.
It was ok for the ancient Greeks.They had no televisions.
I’d rather watch Andrea Bocelli and Hayley Westenra singing Vivo per lei.Whatever that means.
She is from New Zealand by the way.
What difference does that make Mary teased him?
No need to be rude, Emile cried.I was only passing a remark
That was what Stan’s mother used to say when he told her off for saying my maple mousse was like something out of a tin.
Where was it from?
The Joy of Cookery. a big American cook book or maybe Jewish Cookery by Florence Greenberg or Marks and Spencers
Did you get that book because I am Jewish, Emile purred?
No, I didn’t even know you were.How did it happen?
My mother was living with a Rabbi in Liverpool and he told her she could not miaow on the Sabbath so she kind of assumed she was Jewish.As for my father.. nobody knows.
Emile, don’t start saying you are the Messiah.I have enough trouble already.
I don’t want you to be walking on water and helping women taken in adultery
I was not me who took them, said Emile.I don’t even know where Adultery is.
I think I’ll ring 999.We need help before we go mad.
Sometimes going mad seems the better option, Mary said sadly.
A few voices telling me what to do might be helpful
As long as they are not Michael Grovels and Horace Whatson, Emile replied.
And so say all of us
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We are watching you
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Our mood affects the colour of the sky
The park sloped to a river behind trees
The other side was a large burial ground
Where my father’s body lay, bereaved
In the flowered park we sat and grieved
We heard the thwack of tennis balls resound
The park sloped to a river behind trees
Children can’t imagine mother’s pleased
When her strong support lies underground
As my father’s body lay, bereaved
Children torment others , poisoned bees
Sensing sweet fragility inside
The park sloped down to hide behind tall trees
Now my mother lies where I ‘ve dripped tears
As if I hope a flowering shrub will shade
And father’s body lies with mother’s, pleased
Memories may well alter .don’t deny
Our mood affects the colour of the sky
The park sloped to a river. grave the trees
I once hoped that my dead could be retrieved
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Gathering up the treasures from the sands
We do not hunt for thoughts,we let them come
Gathering up the treasures from the sands
The sea shores of the world in dark,in sun
Where children play till all the day is done
The mystery of the deep, of whales and men
We do not hunt for thoughts,we let them come
Sailing in from distant foreign lands
We do not hunt for thoughts,we let them come
Gathering up the treasures till the end
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Will love last us?
The art of friendship,is it hard to master?
The interest and the courtesy and care
Learning skills together makes love faster
Best avoid name calling, like you bastard!
Testing to destruction, do not dare
The art of friendship,is it hard to master?
If you have a friend then you must ask her
if you treat her lovingly and fair
Learning skills together brings love faster
In view of lockdown, you will not now pat her
Nor with a gimlet eye be keen to stare
The art of friendship,is it hard to master?
Be still, my friend, we are put off by chatter
But do not fret about the clothes you wear
Sewing darning, mending holes love’s better
There’s love around and much more going spare
Hope the fabric’s tough and will not wear
The art of friendship,is it hard to master?
Learning skills together love will last us
,
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Goodness, it’s 11 am
Would you like to go to bed?
Can you be more precise?
Would you like some lamb?
For what?
What do you eat for breakfast?
Mind your own business
That’s not very nice.
Exactly.
Is it time to get up?
No, come down
Shall we pray?
I think it’s too late
Goodness, it’s 11 am
Yes, we have that every day here
So from now on, we can’t hug the postman
Unless he’s in a Bubble
Shall we call a cab?
Why can’t we ring?
I forgot the bell.I gave it to the cat.
Well, get it back
Actually it was a tiger
I don’t believe that
Wait till you get home
Why?~
He’s on the bed with the bell
We may have to get the police
Do you really think the police will help?
He can eat them first while we run away
Let’s sleep rough.
OK in a holly tree
Or a bed of roses
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You’re weird!
Shall we go out?
Where is our switch?
Do you want to have a meal?
I’d rather eat it.
I saw a black shape at the door
Probably your shadow.
It followed me in
Next time, go out.
Will it let me?
Just walk through it.
When the doctor smiled at me I saw a gold fuzzy cloud
That means you don’t need LSD
No,I need a thicker skin and new glasses
I ran back and shook hands with the Consultant
I hope he wasn’t doing surgery.
He was gazing pensively at me then declared
You’re weird!
Is that ethical?
It depends on what kind of weirdness it is.
He sent me for X rays ,then wept
Was that before or after he saw them?
He cried onto my bare knees
Is that ethical?
Well, no point crying onto an X ray is there?
Is it ethical?
Well, it won’t heal them.
How unethical!
Why can’t they insert new cartilege?
A pity my knee is not a gun
You are weird.Cartridge!
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Do not grate the cheese with your false teeth
Put salt onto your scalp with your shampoo
If like the ocean you are feeling blue
When you rub, the dry skin will come off
So at the moment you must never cough
Do not grate the cheese with your false teeth
This will give your other some relief
There are great devices you can buy
Make certain yours is not a home for flies
Coffee with no milk may be a dye
Pour it on your head as alibi
Is there any warrant for arrest?
Do not send your blood until it’s blessed
If you see some tear gas in your street
Lock the door and hide beneath the sheets
The Bible as a weapon is uncouth
God does not embroider his own truth
Integration means so much to me
I learned the Calculus from A to B
I learned about geometry ,don’t tell
If Euclid comes I’m up the pole as well
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Even Alfred got puzzled
Alfred,cat ,both black and white
Do not be afraid
Alfred dearest, that was News
Before the Trump arrived
Alfred how I miss you now
I hope you’re still alive
You look quite puzzled or afraid
I’m sorry I was sad
In this world of madness now
We search for tidings glad
If you have another home
I don’t mind now you’re gone
I hope you find a warm bed place
And sleep until you’re done
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Fuzzy numbers
In calculus we find mysterious forms
Minute numbers disappear,return
Zero is not nothing, but a cloud
Of motes that dance in sun or disappear
Fuzzy logic too has mystery
The truth says nothing is mere black or white
Just more or less and these may overlap
Dissolving into clouds upon a map
Numbers have no feelings but make form
I once saw them moving, patterned, in my dreams
Golden letters telling me the way
The truth is often very hard to see
Like those tiny half alive mind dots
Flying through our minds like dust flies in the sun
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An old garden
It reminds me of an East Anglian landscape.
This garden’s flat planes of grass give the illusion
Of greater distance,the eye travels down them To the trees rising at the end.
On this scene my mind superimposes
Other ideas of summer days in hot places
In flat fields stretching on either
Side down to the sea.
My eye enjoys the shape,the flatness
The form,a symbol for so many other gardens
And summer journeys on unknown lanes
Across new landscapes ,delighting in them,
In the space extending,and the trees
A gentle contradiction to the horizontal meadows.
In summer in recent years,
what I remember Is the sun across these long,flat shapes.
Looking at this small garden,
I remember So many things,
my eye sees through
What is here,to far beyond
What has passed and what is to come
All contained here.
This garden’s flat planes of grass give the illusion
Of greater distance,the eye travels down them To the trees rising at the end.
On this scene my mind superimposes
Other ideas of summer days in hot places
In flat fields stretching on either
Side down to the sea.
My eye enjoys the shape,the flatness
The form,a symbol for so many other gardens
And summer journeys on unknown lanes
Across new landscapes ,delighting in them,
In the space extending,and the trees
A gentle contradiction to the horizontal meadows.
In summer in recent years,
what I remember Is the sun across these long,flat shapes.
Looking at this small garden,
I remember So many things,
my eye sees through
What is here,to far beyond
What has passed and what is to come
All contained here.
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The erections must go
There once was a very rich man
His statue erect is now damned
For he traded in slaves
And sent men to their graves
This stupidity is sure to be banned
He wanted to be seen after death
To be admired, unknowing of our wrath
He did not imagine
A changed reaction
Oh.Lord, let’s all take a deep breath
Britain has great evil to show
Sending many men to death row
The poor children were starving
While being disregarded
The system was as cruel as they go
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What shall I call them?
Would you mind calling the police?
What shall I call them?
Would you like to ring 999?
I’d rather ring a bell
Shall we get an ambulance?
I’d prefer a cat,myself
Shall we go to A and E?
Rather go to B C D
Do I need stitches?
No, we all have mouths
My nails are very long
Like hair, they grow
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Mother, help me,mother I can’t breathe
He went inside a shop to buy some bread
Then minutes later he was lying dead
Life is so precarious every day
Police are meant to help us on our way
United now the entire world protests
A video of a man with neck compressed
Mother, help me.mother I can’t breathe
Oh,Jesus, you were killed between two thieves.
Now, he has been buried let us note
No man is an island,John Donne wrote
We are all connected, make new laws
Ask why this man’s murder gave us pause
Who believes, the black folks,killed, oppressed
Were never by the government addressed?
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Why not ring 999?
Your kettle won’t boil
You have lost the tea bags
The water is not hot enough for you to take a bath
The TV won’t come on
You need some fish and chips
A button came off your coat
The cat is on your chair
Your phone needs charging
You want some cigarettes
Yout partner is in a bad temper
The sheets need changing
Your jeans are crumpled
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Gödel proved that there are ALWAYS more things that are true than you can prove.
https://www.perrymarshall.com/articles/religion/godels-incompleteness-theorem/
Excerpt
Godel’s Incompleteness Theorem says:
“Anything you can draw a circle around cannot explain itself without referring to something outside the circle – something you have to assume but cannot prove.”
Stated in Formal Language:
Gödel’s theorem says: “Any effectively generated theory capable of expressing elementary arithmetic cannot be both consistent and complete. In particular, for any consistent, effectively generated formal theory that proves certain basic arithmetic truths, there is an arithmetical statement that is true, but not provable in the theory.”
The Church-Turing thesis says that a physical system can express elementary arithmetic just as a human can, and that the arithmetic of a Turing Machine (computer) is not provable within the system and is likewise subject to incompleteness.
Any physical system subjected to measurement is capable of expressing elementary arithmetic. (In other words, children can do math by counting their fingers, water flowing into a bucket does integration, and physical systems always give the right answer.)
Therefore the universe is capable of expressing elementary arithmetic and like both mathematics itself and a Turing machine, is incomplete.
Syllogism:
1. All non-trivial computational systems are incomplete
2. The universe is a non-trivial computational system
3. Therefore the universe is incomplete
You can draw a circle around all of the concepts in your high school geometry book. But they’re all built on Euclid’s 5 postulates which are clearly true but cannot be proven. Those 5 postulates are outside the book, outside the circle.
You can draw a circle around a bicycle but the existence of that bicycle relies on a factory that is outside that circle. The bicycle cannot explain itself.
Gödel proved that there are ALWAYS more things that are true than you can prove. Any system of logic or numbers that mathematicians ever came up with will always rest on at least a few unprovable assumptions.
Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem applies not just to math, but to everything that is subject to the laws of logic. Incompleteness is true in math; it’s equally true in science or language or philosophy.
And: If the universe is mathematical and logical, Incompleteness also applies to the universe.
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Joan of Arc
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Guardian letter page
With the number of MPs and advisers breaking their own lockdown rules, surely it’s time to impose the wearing of ankle tags on all of them. They could be emblazoned with parliament’s portcullis logo to make them a fashion statement.
Richard Cox
Groby, Leicester
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Take your love and in your arms enfold
Did anyone believe blind rage expressed
Could benefit the agent without harm?
Did anyone read Freud and then digest?
Feelings need the heat of blacksmith’s fires
Held inside until they find their form
An image worthy of our right desire
As well as rage, we should mistrust love too
Be backward in expression till more’s known
Or risk an avalanche of cruelty.
Take care of others, they are not our fools
From sacred meetings all mankind has grown
We misuse folk to test our worth and tools
Holding in the inner fires our wish
The blackness of the heart can turn to gold
No contradiction hides such sacredness
Take your love and in your arms enfold.
The future of the world is growing cold
We liked to have the choice for rage and death
Until we found the charred remains of bliss
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Puppets
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Listen to the humming bird
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No body
Nobody has no mind, no self .no flesh
No sense, no purpose, nothing that will last
What is worse, to be trapped in a mesh
To be immoral, sinful and loveless
To stumble in a morass of distress
The sinking sands of childhood thought surpassed
Nobody has no mind, no self .no flesh
There is a body-mind retrieved from trash
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Ready to begin
What is not a sin may be a crime
Tie me up and burn me,I’m malign
Don’t they say this is the best of times
With tablets. smartphones, free verse with few lines
Though in the end you have you make your name
There is no need to hang it on a sign
What is never done may be a sin
Let me out.I’m ready to begin
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How to discriminate
Extract:
Brutal systemic racism is a vast tragedy where both complacency and resistance lead to frightening outcomes. In such a tragedy, the first duty of observers is to listen to what is said in broken glass and wailing sirens.
You’ve probably already heard the line from Martin Luther King Jr., “a riot is the language of the unheard”. The speech, delivered at Stanford in 1967, is an extraordinary example of embracing moral ambiguity. King reiterates his advocacy for nonviolent tactics, saying that acts of “violence will only create more social problems than they will solve”. Yet he insists riots are not mindless destruction; they are communicative acts, drawing attention to decades of poverty and neglect. They are reminders “that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice, equality, and humanity”.
King’s insistence on seeing beyond simple judgement is echoed in recent trends in moral theory. Traditionally, western philosophy tended to focus on theorizing what makes actions count as right or wrong. But many philosophers now see this as an overly limiting project. Elise Springer, in her recent book Communicating Moral Concern (2013), writes that “nothing bars us from framing our practical life as a chronicle of individual actions, each with a stand-alone moral status; but it is as insightful as conceiving dialogue as a chronicle of individually chosen words”. Instead, Springer focuses on the importance of attention; moral communication is first about getting others to recognize that something morally important is at stake, not simply adjudicating its place in a table of rights and wrongs.
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Grief in lockdown
Why do I weep when I am all alone?
None can see me ,none can hold me here
The heart I had was made from heavy stone
Now it has dissolved into a groan
Why do I weep when I am all alone?
My mind is muddled,all I see’s unclear
Why do I weep when I am all alone?
None can see me ,who’s my comforter?
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Watercolour love
Like watercolour pictures in the rain
Our colours mingled,yet the originals s remain.
Two watercolour paintings without frames,
Became one picture over time,
Yet two of us still there.
Our colors blended naturally,
Now all the hues are shared.
I love your colors intermixed with mine:
Together they have made a new design.
A Watercolour painted by the rain,
We may go, but our Watercolor Love will still remain
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The words I’ve read
I like to go to sleep,I feel so hot
I need an ice cold drink by my old bed
There must be something else,but I forget
Why was Albert Einstein full of smut?
Relatively speaking, he was shot
A photon waved and particled a dot
When you’re living you’re not really dead
I like to go to bed,I have no plot
I buy a book and eat the words I’ve read
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Fortune favours the brave
Why fortune favours courage I don’t know
But if we’re too afraid, we do not see
We hate so much that fateful heavy blow
Cringing, shrinking, with half closed eye
As if our vision’s blocked by heavy snow
We are more brave when others share our view
Fortune favours courage, yet be slow
Fear makes sight a tunnel, sadly true
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The strange world of Stan
Art by Katherine
While Mary boiled the kettle in the new greenish blue painted kitchen,Stan smacked his thick red lips.
“I thought we said, we’d have no more corporal punishment,” she murmured loudly.
Why did you smack your lips just now?”
“Well,I can hardly smack yours” he said with politeness and humour
“But we said no more smacking at all yesterday”
“I just like the noise” he confessed, turning as red as a stalk of ripe rhubarb.
“Sado-masochism may be fun, but after reading,Fifty Glades of Fray,I thought we said we’d abandon it”
“Well,why don’t we abandon ourselves to our bodies or divine providence?” he answered curiously.
“I am unsure if one can do that on purpose or if it just happens whilst doing something else.”
“Elser than what?”
“I dunno” the Oxgrudge educated woman replied sheepishly .
“The Government didn’t give you a three year research grant so you’d say, I dunno” Stan told his slender and silver haired wife and loverbird
“Well,that’s their problem.Three years studying Searat’s equation did nothing for my spoken English” the brilliantly brained brown haired and eyed bonny bosomed beauty told him shrewdly.
“Well,are there rats in the sea?
“I dunno”
“So who wrote the equation?” Stan asked her.Immediately in a peevish tone the door bell rang.
“Hello,Mary,It’s me” cried Annie their naughty neighbour and man magnet
“No,it’s not”
“What do you mean?”
“You never invented Searat’s equation”
“Pardon me for living,”Annie answered rudely.
”I prefer peeling potatoes to this noisy argument.”
“I never knew potatoes pealed”
“Yes,it’s like little bells ringing” Mary informed her kindly.
Oh,for God’s sake,”Stan shouted quietly,”that’s Emile’s bell ringing so the birds can escape from him”
The women went red all over with shame.Annie ran into the kitchen and poured a bucket of cold water over her head.
It’s this hot weather;it’s too much.I need a man now!I am mad with desire.
No,it’s just that mid life madness coming too late,she told herself gently
It’s too hot to make love anyway.
Why, you must be getting old,she remarked to herself confidently
Heat never turned you off before.Why you once said you’d lie down in the road and sleep with the next man who passed by.
Unfortunately he passed by on the other side,just like in the Bible.
But in my case no Samaritan came to my aid.
“Am I having a mental breakdown?” she shouted pensively
“No,it’s me” Stan told her,I am trying to stop Mary smacking her lips but it is hard work. and it has create a bad atmosphere.”
“Is it wrong to smack your own lips?Can you morally smack someone else’s?” Annie said wonderingly
“Why do you ask me that?”
“Well,it seems lots of things are wrong if one does them alone but are moral if you do it with someone else or to someone one else”
“I just have no idea what you are talking about,”Mary called valiantly.
“Make me some tea.My lips are parched!”she continued
“No wonder,”said Stan vivaciously
Well,thought Emile,I am glad cats have no lips.That’s one thing less to worry about.
He sat up and drank some tea from his china saucer
Stan and the ladies sat quietly on the patio watching the birds flying about.
“Do birds ever get obese?”Mary asked.But answer came there none.
Night fell and they all went to bed together.
Emile says there is safety in numbers and I find thirty is a safe number to share my bed.I write 30 on a postcard and pop it under my pillow.With my dentures and my hanky and four mobile phones
I seem to manage the night.
And so shout all of us
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Waiting
Why is it so hard for us to wait?
Why be tense and make ourselves feel ill?
Why not use the time to meditate?
Do all human beings feel this way?
Think of Jews in cattletrucks,crammed, still
Why is it so hard for us to wait?
We feel our own pain and we fear mistakes
As we live we’re ground by many mills
Could one use the time to meditate?
Life is short and tension lays it waste
I see tiny wren upon the sill
Must it so hard for me to wait?
In mind madness, I can’t see your face
I lose all feeling; body, heart are chilled
Should I waste the time , not meditate?
If a jug is empty it is full
Full of air and happy to be dull
Why is it so hard for us to wait?
Why not keep quite still, is my fate?
How my heart speaks 