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?

 

Why not ring 999?

water blue ocean
Photo by Jaymantri on Pexels.com

 

 

 

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

Gödel proved that there are ALWAYS more things that are true than you can prove.

img_20191122_203051https://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.

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

 

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

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

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

How to discriminate

The language of the unheard

 

Extract:

religious wall art inside building
Photo by Emre Can on Pexels.com

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.

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?

Watercolour love

Gethyum-atropurpureum-2020

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

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

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

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

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?

 

 

 

Am I wrong?

I thought I’d write another villanelle
I like  repeated lines as in a song
The music seems to permeate my cells
Inside my entire being music dwells
Would I write another villanelle?
A triolet is shorter, love is long
Musing, I decided villanelle.
I like  repeated lines but am I wrong?

The sun was very hot

I  have lost  my lingerie,oh dear
I dried it on a shrub, the sky was clear
The sun was very hot, my washing dried
I put in a bag which I can’t find

So now I wait for Amazon to bring
A parcel of white cotton underthings
I also have an ulcer on my toe
I thought it  only fair to let you know

Where are all the clothes that I have lost
While in my poetry I am engrossed?
Once my home had order and restraint
If a man came near me, he would faint

Maybe all this loss  is a defence
Keeps my mind  from wondering where he went

The change is come

The tender glance, the heart, the love displayed
Where will I find a home  now you are gone
Where in the abyss is such a place?
Where the eyes which will contain my gaze?
The voice that spoke to me can’t be replaced
At this turning point , the change will come
The tender glance, the heart, the love displayed
Where will I find a home,my love is gone?

He is no more

The heart that touched my heart I feel no more
Alone in this great space. I feel afraid
Like a conductor who has lost the Score
The soul that touched my soul I feel no more
As other orders  that soul did obey
The heart that touched my heart I feel no more
Alone in the abyss. I feel afraid

He is alive again

 

 

 

 

barn owl perched on tree
Photo by DSD on Pexels.com

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triolet#:~:text=A%20triolet%20(UK%3A%20%2F%CB%88,have%20appeared%20in%20its%20history.

 

 

The face that was familiar is no more
Yet in my dreams ,he is alive again
If ,by a fluke, his life could be restored
It would affect me like the hidden chord
If played, my own life force would go.
That one must live and one must die is plain
The face that was familiar is no more.
Yet in my dreams ,he is alive again

The baby sees but cannot speak

They tore the blanket in my pram in two
I could not sit up but I could see
Is this what older brothers often do?

I have no other memory nor a clue
I could not speak nor could I even flee
They tore the blanket in my pram in two

Ambivalent,dynamic,what’s this glue?
They fought at every chance,ignoring me
Is this what older brothers often do?

Parents were not there,that’s nothing new
Where do the feelings of the mute dwell silently?
They tore the blanket in my pram in two

Still these speech-wrecked moods descend on me
How to transform fear, indentity?
Is this what older brothers have to do?

Intense emotion feels  too sharp. though  true
The feelings push and shove inside of me
They tore my knitted blanket into two
If I’d had no brothers,I’d be who?

His absence haunts

How can it be he is no longer here?
How can it be I do not hear that voice
His presence haunts me from his battered chair

Though I have money and no needs to bare
I feel the grief, the affect of his choice.
How can it be that he has vanished here?

What is a world when loss turns to despair.
When every sheet by weeping is made moist?
His presence haunts from his beloved chair

Now we learn the symbol of the hare
Hunted, captured, killed,oh lachrymose
How can it be when love should counter fear?

Into the real, we stand and longtime stare

We’re begging, blaming, badgered, shamed and gassed

Some presence feints with ours in death’s own lairs

Now the world of man has long surpassed
The time we could blame God for what we ‘ve missed
How can it be that He is never here?
His absence haunts: symbolic, suffered, real.

What you can do when it’s pouring rain and you can’t write a poem

1.Read all the  comments in your Spam folder

Unfortantely for me, there were 428 but they were all the same and written in Spanish.I can’t see any sense in that

2.Put a comment on the blogs of all your followers  over a few days but make them genuine or don’t bother

3.Learn a new poetic form and use it
Different forms evoke different thoughts and ideas

4 Watch a still life drawing class on YouTube
Try it out

5.Find out how much cats cost in your town and fantasise about how you’d enjoy  one

6.Cook a complicated meal and  phone a neighbour who lives alone promising to leave half in a covered dish on their step if they would like that

7.Write an advice column on your blog.Subject….. what are you good at? What  do you know?

8 Invent a new joke

9 Find out why X is the unknown in al-gebra

10.Really feel that the world is not flat

 

Turn off that light

I’m in deep now,never been this deep before
The world’s hollow like a shell and I’m out its door.~
In so deep, the ocean has its own startled floor.
I’m down,down.down.never been so dark , so more
I can’t rightly tell how I got where I am
I think I had an accident,fell over, then I swam.
Sometimes it’s a loss, be times it’s a man.
I guess I only do it ‘cos I know some folk can.
I don’t know if the joy is worth the pain
Would I choose to relive it if I was born again?
The deep joy is the amazing gain.
But the sorrow is damn sad, let’s admit it plain.
I’m in deep and it’s over my head
What was I thinking of,when I fell out of that bed?
I look up and the sea’s so turquoise like that mist is red
When we get good and mad and wish some loon was dead.

At first, it was all just black,black pain
But from the bottom of the well,
I looked up with awed love again.
That’s when I recalled,feelings are broad and sane
Joy is much greater when we’re in the deep,deep zone.
I dunno if I’m ever comin’ out.
We can’t control it,ain’t that what life’s all about?
I’ll never love with innocence again,nor not feel doubt.
But I’m no teapot and the devil ain’t got my spout.
I’m swimming and the ocean’s so mysteriously bright
Down here we don’t have no day nor no night
Fish nudge me with big grins and teeth white
Sea flowers fondle me and whisper,turn off that light

Art in heaven

grayscale photo of woman with daisy on ear
Photo by Eben Odonkor on Pexels.com

 

I believe in God.My own father was very similar
Luckily I am a girl
Wow,Art in heaven!
Why must God’s will be done?Is the church a democracy?
What is a dictatorship? When one person has all the power without any love for others
Sounds like marriage
Why do we only get bread from God? Can’t he even give us water? I’d be better off in prison
Does everybody except me trespass and if so why?
Can’t we get into temptation without being led?
I don’t want to be delivered from, by, or to Evil
Why was it ok for Joseph to adopt Jesus.Was it legal?
He wanted to give him a good start in life

Why did God create Earth?
He wanted to grow his own fruit and befriend a snake
Why did God only want one child?
He had insomnia
Why is it wrong to lie? I can’t sit up all night
Where is Adultery?
Is it free?

Why do we not convert our neighbour’s wife?
Why do we go to church? Because they burned down the Synagogue
Did we convert?
On the face of it
But we don’t eat pork
That’s just a coincidence

Senior semi lapsed Catholics’ to do/be or not to do/be programme

img_20191201_185820489-effects

1.~Start early to prepare for Confession if you still go

Commit an interesting, but harmless to others,  sin early in the week to avoid that dumb panic on Saturday at 5 pm
You may already have done this accidentally,
Do NOT kill anything nor tempt others to sin [my, I never knew I was so attractive]
What sin is interesting without being wicked?
Do let me know
“2

Never tell a sick friend that you can’t visit because you are going to Mass,  Vespers ,lighting candles etc
3
Never talk about religion unless others  do first.In any case, it’s probably better to avoid it

4
One of  the main points of religion is to remind us we are not God and never will be.
Leave it all out if  you like, but keep this.
You don’t have to go to church to   listen to the Sermon on the Mount or to spend a short time alone with yourself and present to your self…. in that, we may find some connection we didn’t know of.Similarly you can sit with a  friend having a hard time without lecturing them on how you would cope

5.Try to ignore that desire to correct others errors including  do  help them by mis-pronoincing a word they just mis-pronounced; unless you are a teacher in school
and especially theological errors

6.Listen for the still small voice rather than shouting a list of desires godwards.He/It/She is not Father Xmas

7 Go into a wood and forget everything including this.

Read theology by people who are NOT Catholics like Martin Luther King

That’s it for now

Sins of humour

So,how are you getting on with your SoulMates choices
I’ve just met someone who disbelieves in the same God as I do
What about his job?
He’s been fired just like I was
Well,this sounds promising.Does he have a sense of humour?
Yes, he’s trying to live on Benefits
Is he in good health?
No, he’s in Godmanchester
Is he well dressed?
For an unemployed widower, yes!
Where does he take you?
To the public convenience
Why?
To save water.
Where else?
To the library
Does he read?
He read History  at Nottingham
And what does he think?
He’s still in shock
What about?
Caligula
Is he doing Ancient History?
It’s all ancient or it’s not history
Will you  marry him or  join a nunnery
It’s not all black and white, you know We might live in sin
I’ve never been,is the climate good?
Hot as hell
So it will raise your Vitamin D?
To infinity
You don’t say. can I come?
Don’t ask me.I’m annoyed
Why?
If Boris Johnson had gone to a Polytechniciv none of this
mess would exist
Just a different one
Could it be worse?
Oh, much worse.
How?
The hills would be mountains
The sea an ocean
Do you write poetry?
No,I speak it
Is it a tongue?
Who decides?

 

Doctor,I don’t feel ill- be patient

Doctor,I can’t eat my dinner
Try drinking it

Doctor I’ve got an ulcer on my bunion
Don’t keep showing off

Doctor, the cat bit me
That’s not a cat, it’s a tiger cub
Do I have to die while you carry on about names?
No,I’ll be silent

Doctor I was sick on the TV
Fame at last!
How can I get it clean?
We didn’t do that at Medical School.

Doctor, my wife is expecting a baby
Are Amazon sending it?
No,Hermes, they say between 6 and 9 pm
Well,  make her something nice to eat
I’ll show her the recipe
And she will just show you the food.
Can’t I feed the baby?
Are you transgender?
Not yet but I live in Hope
Go back where you came from
That’s what they said to the Jews and look what happened!
Has God spoken to you?
Yes,but in Yiddish
You can’t expect him to learn English
But he expects us to learn it.
Oh, stop babeling on