Who acts real?

What is real is what’s spontaneous
So we’re told by Freud and his cohorts
But is that  wise for  genuine psychopaths?

If their urges make them full of wrath
To what strategy should we resort
When what is real is what’s spontaneous?

To give them knives  would be audacious
If they  murder, what shall we report?
That they were being real as psychopaths?

Wild like starving wolves ,ferocious
They may shred the innards of our hearts
When what is real is what’s spontaneous

Some start killing young, precocious
Let them  still be childlike as they start
If murder’s  real then who are psychopaths?

Life is  played on stage, it is an art
Acting is deceptive,real in parts
If real’s defined by   what’s spontaneous
Keep well away from next door’s psychopaths

 

 

Is politeness false

Do we have a  more real self inside,
Fully grown and  smart  without  cruel wiles?
Is politeness false and not just kind?

Unlike kittens we are not born blind
Yet  we speak in only screams and smiles
Do we have a more real self inside?

If the Chapel’s Lord with me abide
Turns to gossip with the usual trials
Cruelty and  abjection are on file

Does the real self speak  and is it rude?
I don’t  like  hearing people  being vile
Do we have a hidden self inside?

We have our dispositions , it is true
But we  grow what’s  a self from mother’s  guile
Is politeness false  or  is it kind?

Can we adapt but not so much  we fail?
Be  a true friend, not feel we’re on trial?
 We don’t have a more real self inside
Courtesy’s the oil that soothes and guides

 

Inward

My eyes look inward as I concentrate
I’ve lost my glasses,camera and my mate
When I forget to mourn,I lose  far more
When I weep again,they are restored

I am not present to the world of sense
Attention will be paid, it is intense
Gathering wordless cues  to guide my mind
As  by  flame,by  fire I am refined

What I seek I cannot tell in words
It would make no sense  to those who heard
I will know it when it comes to me
The  jade and turquoise wreckage of the  sea

When the time is right I’ll tell my tale
Until then I  hide,I wear a veil

Cured in hell

My doctor diagnosed me so well
The pharmacist sent me to Hell
The heat cured my joints
Despite devilish taunts
So we’re off for a weekend in Rhyl

The doctor  has grown a new beard
He looks more mature than we feared
He asks pointed questions
And then  makes  suggestions
I feel that my pain is  less  here

Why do we need doctors today
Is it insufficient to pray?
I don’t fancy radiation
How about recreation
Just do it  and noone will pay

Like children

We once rolled  like children down a slope
We stopped the car to climb the grassy bank
As if we were reliving some lost hope

Ecstasy  is way  beyond my scope
My mind is always veering to the  blanks
We once rolled   our  children down a slope

We laughed and laughed  till our ribs nearly broke
The grass was wet  and soon so were our flanks
As if we were reviving some lost joke

Back to childhood then  we grew  and wrote
Mainly  to our others to give thanks
We once rolled  joy’s children down a slope

From a bridge, we dropped the paper boats
The Lea is pretty  ghastly, never  punk
In the eighties  Ted Hughes  told a  joke

Crow or wolf or magpie, what a hunk
Waiting for a vision, hit, distinct
We  sold books in moonshine  to the Pope
Feeling wild, enchanted   by new hope

 

Green leaves

By Mike Flemming copyright 2020
Small rain in  summer
Pools on large green leaves,
Makes all birds dumber
Silently they weave.

Wrens fly to and fro
Nesting near the house.
They know where to go
With nestlings and spouse.

Simple life of green
Hiding in  lush leaves.
A space to be unseen
Humans only grieve.

Where is our safe space,
Where can we  live well?
As sorrow veils the face
In green thoughts I dwell.

The things you can practise

You cannot practise dying, though we want to do it well
We don’t want to appear foolish when we might  be in hell
We can practise smiling and opening the door
Unless like me you’re crippled and you’re feeling  very low
You can practise  music, you can practise Art 
You can practise hiding in the burrows of the heart
Then you get to go on stage and  do it all for real
Dying ain’t for  dummies but allow yourself to feel
You can practise for your wedding, your baptism and your fall
In the hall of mirrors where God lives off the wall
You can practise  speaking, you can do it many ways
Then you must stop practising,  and say the words today
In the little spaces  in between the sounds
Let yourself be  emptied, you are on the Holy Ground

Words

 

Words rise up like geese at dawn

When with pale sun new day is born

The words approach and dance in line

The choice of words is mine

Words spelled here by sense and sound

In clause and sentence weave around.

Which tempting words shall I now use

And which shall I refuse?

The fire lights up inside my heart

So now my writing hand can start

“This is the way I spend my day.

With words I sing and play!

Theatre

I didn’t want to leave you in the place where you had died
The doctors heard  me singing as I sat by your side
And the people with cut fingers and burns from   the chip oil
Wondered what was happening and came by for the ride

You do not get free music on  Emergency Ward Ten
Death is  just a shadow but we don’t know the end
People wander happil,y  holding broken nails
I  was so delirious that I saw  round the bend

They take away the catheters, the drug lines and the charts
They expect you to be normal in the grave that was a heart
So wander down to Costa’s and imagine how it feels
Drinking from a tea bag, the cup  broke , it’s that stark

The doctors who were frozen by a woman’s singing parts
Feel  themselves still  melting in the cavern of the dark
They hear the swish of   gossamer,  the  window opens smart
Well, go there if you want to, it’s just  a different park

We wander  in the shadows  of the here and of the there
Stumbling over  pavements,  taking photos of the Ark
Listening to the symbols, seeing  what’s so dear
Rattling all  the funny bones and  winding up the larks

I didn’t want to leave you  but they had got no empty bed
There’s no room for the living let alone the dead
The  body is dissolving and  it flows down  from the  heights
Goodbye, it’s all over now.Do turn off the lights

For a bit of theatre it’s cheaper than  the Royal
Find someone who’s dying  and take love to appeal
If it’s your own sweetheart you’ll have an empty bed
Buy a  real stone tablet and swallow all the  blood

 

Oh,sweeter than the love of man

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Fine photo by Mike Flemming 2020 copyright

Inside my mind I dream of pearls,
Caterpillars,snails’ swirling whorls.
I dream contented, all enwrapped;
With reverie and dream I’m lapped.
The inner seas will comfort me,
While gods open my eyes to see

Oh,sweeter than confectionery
Is my  Oxford diction’ry.
The words whirl round  then fall to shape
The sentences which my world make.
This furnishing is rich and strange
Yet magically self arranged.

Oh,sweeter than the love of man
Is reading works of poets long gone;
Feeling deeply their dark tides .
Upon which our boat may glide.
The sea infinite we float upon
Is the same warm sea the ancients swam..

Sweeter still is the spring air
And the blossom spreading fair.
We’ll drown our selves in grassy fields
To the gods of poetry yield.
We’ll rise again and spring up tall
To grow more rich until we fall.

Singing silence

I  love the  singing silence as I muse
Listening to the silence  brings delight
Deep within  the silence are the cues

Everything from classic to the blues
Make  my  better sentences take flight
I delight in silence as I muse

Slowness with its thoughtfulness imbues
Words with love and depth  and inward sight
Deep within  the silence are the cues

Not like crosswords cunning  little clues
The cues I find can make the mind ignite
I delight in silence as I muse

Not for me those spikey  high heeled shoes
I want shoes that run  till I take  flight
I delight in silence as I muse.

As we write  we  feel the inner fight
Our language weaves a web but not of spite
I delight in silence as I muse
Deep within  the silence I hear cues

 

 

Norfolk

The sun shines but the sky ahead looks dark
I sit on someone”s wall to take a rest
The winter has come late, the  heat is sparse

Down the road, comes  wind,  the antic force
Who knows what the weather will do next?
The sun shines but the sky ahead looks dark

I remember well the  scent of  lemon gorse
Beyond  the stripey cliffs, we walked the beach
That was Easter, warmth began to course

I can feel the tears drop unrehearsed
No sea will wash my lover to my feet
The sun shines as the sky ahead falls dark

Below  the ground  the  tiny seeds will burst
The holiness of crocuses will greet
Winter  is no  match for Nature’s force

Come, my lover, pull me to my feet
Norfolk landscapes  offer, we receive
The sun shines, yet the sky ahead looks dark
The winter has come late but is no shark

 

 

 

Excuses

IMGoldarmSorry,dear,I need to polish my laptop tonight
I have to wash my briefcase as the cat has had kittens in it
Why has the cat no basket?It hates shopping
I have to fill my 20  pens before the Conference pears come out
I   have to  collect my tranquillers from  the late night Pharmacy and  pick up a  tart  or two.And some bacon.I know we can’t eat but I like the smell of frying.
Yes,let’s get a  divorce.But we’ll have to ave up for it for 10 years
You are  mad because of the pain.So am I.
You have a very hot temper.Maybe you are a weapon of man destruction
When I feel enraged I clean the kitchen.
Don’t you feel I am listening?
I can feel  you but not  yout voice
Please turn off the TV.We don’t need any more drama.
Give me the remote,please.Why,can’t I press its buttons?
I want the remote.Buy your own.Rent one ot steal one
He  is the man of mass infection.All the dead are in heaven and on earth it’s hell
Don’t keep watching me all the time.I am not a laptop dancer.
I like going to bed but  it’s a sin.That makes it even better.
Why are all the children screaming Mum
Is a comma  missing?
I like nonsense if I can misunderstand it at night

What are proverbs?

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My tidy home

Proverb

 

Proverb

Proverbs play very important roles in different types of literary works. The most important function of proverbs is to teach and educate the audience. They often contain expert advice, with a role for educating the readers on what they may face if they do something. Hence, proverbs play a didactic role, as they play a universal role in teaching wisdom and sagacity to the common people. Since proverbs are usually metaphorical and indirect, they allow writers to express their messages in a less harsh way.

 

 

 

Proverbs in Literature

Example #1: Things Fall Apart (By Chinua Achebe)

“If a child washes his hands he could eat with kings.”

Meaning: If you remove the dirt of your ancestors, you can have a better future. Everyone can build his or her own fame.

“A toad does not run in the daytime for nothing.”

Meaning: Everything happens for a reason, and for something, not for nothingness.

“A child’s fingers are not scalded by a piece of hot yam which its mother puts into its palm.”

Meaning: Children who obey their mothers are not punished.

Example #2: Romeo and Juliet (By William Shakespeare)

“The weakest goes to the wall.”

Meaning: Weak people are never favored.

In a tilted glass

The kaleidescope is  shaken,something moves
Like the height of water in a tilted glass
The beast approaches shuffling off its groove

By poetry we cannot ever prove
We hope for Evocation  like the Mass
The kaleidescope is  shaken,something moves

We forget how culture used to soothe
 The  days of Lent  and then the Friday Fast
The beast approaches shuffling past its groove

Here is Christ, Messiah,King of Jews
Here arrive the endangered and the mad
Are we shaken, are we even moved?

God or Satan, who do you think we choose?
Two heads on one coin, we have  been  had?
The beast approaches shuffling  through the Louvre

The language is too violent,Precious Blood
Better play it softer  or we flood
The kaleidescope is  shaken, let’s be brave
The beast approaches shuffling from its cave

 

 

 

 

Disguised

A contradiction  felt outside
The  sun, the wind, a barbed wire  blade
It marks my   flesh ; I run to hide

We ignore context and a guide
We live on earth not in a   glade
A contradiction ,stealth as crime

The background alters all we find
The picture frame, the pins. the shades
This marks my  heart;I long to hide

All bear suffering in the mind
So our being alters shape
Adds  paradox  to  paradigm

New creation,crucified
From the Cross  the man is draped
Our hearts bleed  or do I lie?

All unmeasured by a tape
Can we find the will to make
From contradiction   our own guide
Life marks  the flesh, love haunts disguised

 

 

Prime Deliverer

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My art

 

I  get my groceries via Amazon Prime  sometimes.
So I can thank Boris Johnson for one thing…. he’s  the Prime Minister and the delivery is great
He might even preach in Church as well.
Why he is  in Parliaament is a puzzle
.Amazon don’t pay tax  like we do.Does he?

We should  have a Word Minister….. a word and you are here.
That is, he’s Merlin  modern replacement…..but where is Arthur?

And a Punctuation Minister   to decide if  “and ”  should have an Oxford comma before it and a Cambridge colon after it.And, and, and, and so on ,and……….;?:@@”£%

Where is our common sense?

Where is Society?

Where are we going to?

Hell,I don’t know

All I do for IPSO Mori

Someone rang me last week saying they were from IPSO Mori
They are doing a survey.They want   me to write down everything I do for either a week or  a month
I wonder what they mean by “everything”
I was offered £40 in vouchers.So if I stop writing you will understand
Who would tell strangers everything they did?
I thought it was  for some TV company re which programmes I watch.I could hardly believe  they expected me to tell  them all I do

7 am Went to the lav
Fell over my feet
Brushed my hair
8 am Scratched  my back and had a cup of tea.That was hard
Had more tea and weetabix.Wondered why I washed up
9 am Decided to get up, wondered what to wear
9.30 Daydreamed
10 am Got up, got washed and got dresses.Order is vital
10.30 Felt like emigrating but instead gave a lecture on algebraic topology
11.30 am Felt like a pee again.Wet myself.
Changed my clothes and washed them
11,40 Breathed and  breathed again until full of air
Didn’t like my outfit
12 noon Looked out of the window and wondered if I need a new TV
12,30 pm Went to library and stole 3 books
1 pm Wondered if I could open the sherry  bottle with a cheese grater
Ate a  raw carrot on toast and got diarrhea
2 pm Had some tinned soup from the tin to save energy
Fried my bread in olive oil
3 pm Wrote s story
4 pm Had a fit of laughter and saw  the black cat
6 pm It went dark and I forgot to put the bin out
7 p,m Ate some frozen curry with a knife
8 pm Ate a chocolate biscuit soaked in wine
9 pm Washed my hair with Fairy Snow
10 pm Washed up again
11 pm Went to Tesco’s again then came home
12 midnight Went  out on my broomstick
1 am Fell into a holly tree
2 am Rang 999
3 am Was locked  in cell  with a policeman
4 am Released on bail pending psychiatric exam
5 am Went to bed with the cat
6 am Dreamed about my Jewish boyfriend
7 am Woke up
8 am Decided  not to do this poll

 

My cat Ben

The first cat,Ben, was tabby, with great eyes
On Sundays we took him riding in  our  car
I used to wrap him in  a woollen scart
For he was very small and very blyth

Ben grew  up so he went out all night
Hunting round the flats for  mice  or hens
Cat suck eggs and don’t care who or when
They run and hunt until the sun arrives

No doubt they  find a mate to  play with, as one might
Father kittens, scatter their seed wide
Ben followed me into the road at five
A rushing car hit my dear cat, Ben died

Soon  my husband’s father went as well
We could not cry, for dried up was the well

Reason by its nature is not Art

Reason by its nature has no heart
No soul,no body,faceless  but for eyes
Feelings are made outlaws. love departs

The schizoid self, the broken appetite
The failure to acknowledge our own lies
Reason by its nature has no heart

Where did we  go wrong, where did we part
From  compassion to the lowly, to  mad heights
Feelings are made outlaws. have no charts

Graphs and figures,lessons maladroit
The Nazis numbered Jews, turned off the lights
Reason by its nature has no heart

Who would do great evil and  make charts
Coded homes,  surveillance is our plight
Feelings are like outlaws.  they depart

Logicians made machines without insight
Do  robots  voices bring us sweet delight?
Reason by its nature has no heart
Feelings  gassed  like insects, love  departs

 

The storm

The rain  has hit on my windows   with great force
Like the horns of bulls  toss bloody matadors
The Spanish rites acquaint us with  our lacks
For in the end we by a horse are dragged

The bull is strong with open fearsome eyes
But in the end it  is the bull that dies
Helplessly  he runs and he rotates
Strength and helplessness are not good mates

The matador takes risks to taunt the beast
From a snack  he  makes us a great feast
Better to   be eaten by a  man
Than make a meal for worms  when death has come

Men may claim they’re strong and great and  pure
In the end it’s  wits that have most power

What it seemed to be

Mourning has broken
Imbibe with me
E bay in a manger.
Type to say Goodbye
O come all ye wrathful/awful
They sent baiting for our partitions
Guardian angels,  Telegraph demons
All on an apron even.
Enhance me with the sense of love.
So long,carry on
The  tipsy wife.
Alexandra heaving
Three wise men…. send them here
Idolatry is love
Go spell  it to  the Pope

Give us back the seats in public space

When in pain, the world is made of seats
Where one can gain a moment of relief
Ignored are flowers however fair and pure
When pain  grows strong,we cannot  gaze,revere

But since the homeless lie on  seats at night
The council have removed them from our sight
The bus stop , seats of plastic , hurt me sore
Till I am wracked   with pain  I once ignored

I need gardens with low walls of stone
Where I  may sit and softly, clearly moan
My coat is spoiled  and now I feel  my rage
I’m no longer on the human stage.

Yet bees die if they sting us in  defence
Little in the world makes any sense

Strength needs flexibility and give

\
When of the world of doctors,I am sick.
When diagnosis is not any aid
When from the choices given,
I cannot pick
Although I feel my deepest debts were paid.
Then off from thinking I must take my mind
To gaze upon the beauty of the woods
And feel the sun not fiery, even kind.
It warms and heartens even my cold blood.
The trees are calm for they have grown deep roots
Though storms may strike their trunks and branches too
Breaking off new tender green tipped shoots
They sway and take it without much to do.
Strength needs flexibility and give;
With no such, the brittle shall not live

I hope my dialect is not foreign!

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Mike’s  photo 2020 copyright

https://www.collinsdictionary.com/dictionary/english/fettle

Eeh, it were right crackin’ at school t’day
Wot wur tbey sayin’ this time?
Thi said wi can do Greek next year
You’re not doin’ Greek
Why not,our Mam
Ye can’t even spek English
Why,  am I not canny enough?
No, we don’t spek English eether
Well, ye shud a thought eh that before y’ad me.De ye mean only  people with BBC eksents can bear childern?
Well, we reckoned if we learnt English we’d lose our desire
F’wat, Mam
F’ that! Ye know… It, ye get what ah mean
No,Mam.Can you not spell it our a bit more?
Spell it out, te dad would tan me hide!
Still he must a dunnit,Mam
I dunno, it wer dark.Mebbe it wer the cat, ah thought
Surely the cat’s not mi  dad, is  he?
It weren’t this cat, it wer another called Billy.
Well, how come I’m human?
You think ye are human, but  am telling ye,ye got  t’cat’s eyes
Just his eyes? How abaht his whiskers
Don’t be so daft, our Kath,Ye’ve got his hair
But only on my head so far.Willa bi changin’ into a cat as ah mature?
Wi’ll have te wait and see.Put ‘t kettle on.We need some tea.
Why, what difference will that make now.I’m a cat,I’m a cat…. oh, what’ll  ‘et nuns say  ‘et Convent when ah tellum?
You keep away from ‘et Convent~
Why, our Mam?
Do as I tell you.Never confide in a nun
Well,Ah shan’t let ‘et cat fettle me.Ah’m not that daft
Well, yi can’t do Greek and that’s final
Kyrie Eleison,Kyrie Eleison
Wot’s that?
Oh, nothin’ at all
Christie Horizon
For God’s sake speak English, Kath