Parliament like cardboard fell

I could not write a villanelle
My mind is  battered by the sounds
The repetition seems too droll

The teacher said she’d pay me well
I fled into the underground
I could not  stomach villanelles

I went by bus to Camberwell
The Monument looked sadly down
Our new leader rose from  hell

Parliament like  cardboard  fell
Contempt  dripped  down Oxford gowns
He would not like a villanelle

Jesus wept and Satan yelled
No solution has been found
The  people shudder, is this hell?

By no convention  is he bound
Democracy he fines,  impounds
I could not write a villanelle
We already  sweat in hell

Useful proverbs

Tricyrtis-hirta-Miyazaki_19.jpg

http://www.special-dictionary.com/proverbs/source/m/macedonian_proverb/#sthash.9uK3o4t4.dpuf

A few relevant ones:

  • 7. Think twice, say once. Think twice, say once.. Macedonian Proverb.
  • 8. What one fool can ensnare, not a 1000 sages can fix. What one fool can ensnare, not a 1000 sages can fix.. Macedonian Proverb.
  • 9. Where force rules, justice does not exist. Where force rules, justice does not exist.. Macedonian Proverb.

9/11 and unconscious racism

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https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-49582852

EXTRACT

In their study of the CIA, the intelligence experts Milo Jones and Phillipe Silberzahn write: “The first consistent attribute of the CIA’s identity and culture from 1947 to 2001 is homogeneity of its personnel in terms of race, sex, ethnicity and class background (relative both to the rest of America and to the world as a whole).”

An inspector general’s study on recruitment found that in 1964, one branch of the CIA, the Office of National Estimates, “had no black, Jewish, or women professionals, and only a few Catholics”.

By 1967, the report said, there were fewer than 20 African Americans out of some 12,000 non-clerical CIA employees, and the agency maintained the practice of not hiring minorities from the 1960s through the 1980s. And until 1975, the US intelligence community “openly barred the employment of homosexuals”.

Talking of his experience of the CIA in the 1980s, one insider wrote that the recruitment process “led to new officers who looked very much like the people who recruited them – white, mostly Anglo-Saxon; middle and upper class; liberal arts college graduates”. There were few women and “few ethnics, even of recent European background”.

“In other words, not even as much diversity as there was among those who had helped create the CIA.”

Diversity was squeezed further after the end of the Cold War. A former operations officer said that the CIA had a “white-as-rice culture”.

?What a wonder

2012-05-12-10-31-13-1 (1)

I did this drawing many years ago

He said he could never forgive himself if he forgave me.
Somebody has to be the bad person
Then someone else can be the good one.
As Melanie Klein might have said:

It’s the paranoid schizoid position

But what exactly is it?

My  Celtic feet have bones but not much fat

Mute-Swan-2008

 

I was bare as rocks are by the sea
My uniform had vanished  like the cat
I had to take exams  in geometry

I  felt  besmirched by nuns’ conformity
They always howled,  so pure they’d hit a bat
I was  as bare as babies on God’s knee

Nakedness displays  deformities
My  Celtic feet have bones but not much fat
I had to take exams  in geometry

My body seemed to cause hilarity
I had not typed it in the right format
I was  as  bare as swans  at Manningtree

I had no clothes,no pen, no mortgage fee
I left the room, I’m never going back
I  faked exams  in Greek and  poverty

My face was white, my eyes were blue and black
I   looked  so round ,I wore no corselette
I declare my  frocks  are up a tree
I had to  drop the bomb on  Coventry

Which human never feels these cruel assaults?

Here I am  half dressed with uncombed hair
As weary as  a wolf without a lair
Now my thoughts are waylaid by   my faults
Which human never feels these cruel assaults?

Why do I not think of all my joys?
Instead I recall cruelty  nuns deployed
If I could have hated them at school
My  anger would turn outwards ,be less cruel

Do we nurse  such hatred  for some gain?
Surely it ‘s not  worth the searing pain
I wonder how to let it go for good
And quietly bear my burden, cross of wood

Retaliation,  arrows that return
The  sender feels the pain but will  they learn?

Then one day the tide of life will turn

When I’m ill I feel my life’s a wreck
The mirror frightens me as I reflect
Who am I and why  do I feel so
Omnipotent,destroying as I go.?

Yet how we feel   will change as does our health
After trauma, drained of all our wealth
We stagger on the battlefield unsought
Until by kindness we are held and caught

We  must help each other,strength combined
A smile, a touch, a word, a little line
What seems common sense  may be ignored
The strong may hate the weak  and slam the door

Be with others, listen,look and learn
Then one day the tide of life will turn

Famous love poems

Silver-spotted-Skipper-2019

https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/i-carry-your-heart-with-me-by-ee-cummings

 

[i Carry Your Heart With Me(i Carry It In]

E.E. CummingsBy E.E. Cummings More E.E. Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Is baking irony?

img_20190904_184213

I believe that we English people use irony more than other folks do,although I’ve not carried out any surveys.I am waiting for the government to give me 5 million pounds to carry out a short research project on this.

Now,if you hear someone say

This government is the best one since King Alfred burnt the cakes or since Queen Elizabeth the first lost her virginity,you would guess they did not mean exactly what they said.
BTW what kind of cakes did Alfred make? More importantly,what kind of oven did they have in those days.We had one adjacent to a coal fire so to bake or roast the fire had to be well alight and going strong.
Burning cakes was not too easy because there was no thermostat and the fire tended to die down.So you could not turn the knob around by accident or for fun as my brother did in 1947  on our gas cooker when my mother had put all her eggs,dried fruit etc together to make a Xmas cake… rationing was still on and besides we were quite poor then.A cake like that needs a long time to bake on a low  heat.
So it was ruined and although I was only a baby then I can hear the shouting now.Had my brother been the king ,no doubt he could have put all the family into prison where at least they would have got a slice of roast pigeon and some stale Xmas cake…. probably left over from Saxon times.
Come to think of it,were the Saxons Christians and if not  how come they made Xmas cake? If the Royal family had gone to Amazon and bought an oven timer history would be quite different.I wonder what Alfred was doing? Was he enjoying the delights of his Queen? Now in my baking book it says

Never  make love while waiting for a cake to bake.Not even to yourself.It will distract you.

Personally I’d admire anyone who got turned on after spending hours mixing the ingredients and preparing the cake tin but maybe I am unusual.
How would I know if I were?I can hardly go around asking if they find making a cake arousing.I’d have thought that it’s what you do when you are frigid as you hope the oven might warm you up.
On no account must you  try to make love inside the oven on a household cooker because  it’s not possible.Why?
That requires a  lot of thought.Basically it’s all about size
.Now if Queen Victoria had baked instead of having so many children the history of Europe would have been very different.
The Kaiser was her grandson and because his mother was Victoria’s first child he believed he should have been King of England.Now if he had been,would there have been a war?Is there any point in speculating like this?
Again I need a research grant to carry out …. research.Speculating can be dangerous sometimes.Again soe folk like gambling and others like playing Solitaire.Vive la difference.Oy vey.Amen

Now if Victoria had stuck to jam and cream filled  sponges the world would be utterly transformed and we would all be speaking a different language…but which?

We will never know

I watched her in my silent way to learn

The matron of the Home made cakes for tea
Her husband helped by stoking up the fire
How happy all the residents would be
Home made cake was  very much desired

This Home  where men and women shared their meals
And went for rambles in the afternoon
The spirit of the Home  was made to heal
The grief of those just widowed felt its boon

The Matron like a mother showed great care
I watched her in my silent way  to learn
Now who makes cakes  to feed the old and scared?
What kindness  is there now for those who yearn?

Food  will help us live and keep our health
It makes a symbol  shared ,  our spirit’s wealth

Now I am  old and I have realised

pteroceras-semiteretifolium

Once I  cared for people who were old
Who wet themselves and  felt the winter cold
I gave them baths and washed their backs  and fronts
Helped them to get dressed and  zip their pants

I made them pots of tea and gave them cake
I gave them dinner  on a china plate
I listened to their stories of the past
An unknown world of war and  terrors vast

And if they cried I’d wipe away their tears
Talk to them  till sorrow disappeared
I’d   do the washing up and  clean the knives
The women missed their being someone’s wife

Now I am  old and I  have realised
I really had no feel for what it’s like.

Who could  think that work might be a sin?

Our narcotic is excessive work
Who could  think that work might be a sin?
Thinking numbs the heart in sadness stuck

Learning mathematics,feeling pert
Latin Greek and music, what a din
 Our narcotic is excessive work

I wonder if my cello I could pluck
Its metal strings  made grooves upon my skin
Abstraction numbs the heart in sadness stuck

If we feel, our feelings make us hurt
We kick the nearest person on the shin
Today’s narcotic is excessive work

With our government we  stay alert
We can’t be quiet inside when all’s maudlin
Exotic symbols numb the heart so stuck

We feel the pricks of many sharpened pins
The  conscience of the soul is wearing thin
Our narcotic is excessive work
Thinking numbs the heart in  angst now stuck

Is love a crime?

I have not had sex since I was born
Augustine said it’s sin to touch  those parts
Yet God gave us  vaginas, where’s the harm?

I thought I’d fall in love, is that a crime?
But I got laid by sickness,missed the start
I have not had sex since I was born

Some must procreate however torn
Others are  well pricked by Eros’ dart
 God  made our vaginas, where’s the harm?

Even poppies give out seeds  with charm
Opium  is the drug that warms the heart
I have not had sex since I was born

The Church  has uttered edicts  that deform
No Catholic child can sin however smart
God  made our vaginas, where’s the harm?

Are greed and lust less bitter than my heart ?
Is envy  and its death wish more refined?
I have not had sex since I was born
God gave some  vaginas, I’ve got corns

 

 

Flirt with danger

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Use an electric powered back brush in the bath
Take a boiling hot cup of coffee into your hand when you feel faint
Ride your brake-less bike along a dual carriageway. as fast as you can.
Warm your feet on the back of a tiger in the zoo then run for your life
Let a beginner take driving lessons in your new car
Never insure your house
Never  check your bank account
Never read this column
While making chips  smoke a cigar
When the cat is angry try to kiss her
Smoke in bed and charge your tablet under the duvet
Keep your i phone under the pillow and dribble.
Let a man you  don’t know   read your hand

 

 

 

I know, they know, we know,  how do you know?

Buy a motor-home  to Europe   go
Soon there will  be built a  British Wall
I know, they know, we know, you know

See the Concentration Camps,enjoy
Buy a reproduction of the Fall
Buy a motor-home,  to Europe  go

Go to France, where is the Maginot?
See the Europeans in our thrall
I know, they know, we know, you  know

See the Rhine and Rhone and how they flow
Hear the people  laughing at our calls
Buy a motor-home,  and to Europe  go

Churchill bombed out Dresden in the War
Even great men’s deeds  will us appal
I know, they know, we know,  who knows?

 By the hands of   politicians mauled
Beetles on our breasts will shortly crawl
Buy a motor-home,  to Europe  never go
I know, they know, we know,   he knows?

In the Ball, he think he is the belle

Politicians come in many grades
Oxford Cambridge,Eton,Harrow Hill
But with Johnson miming humour I’m afraid

With a merry smile, he must get laid
Are his ladies ever on the pill?
Politicians come in many grades

What we do confuses what we say
Does he pay his mistresses and  tell?
With him miming humour I’m afraid

See him looking angry on the dais
No-one likes his jokes, they make us ill
Politicians come in many grades

He  conquers but now so much  is displayed
He is not so jovial on his hill
With his  so called humour I’m afraid

In the Ball he think he is the belle
Britain has no comedy, it’s Hell
Politicians come in many grades
With Johnson’s antic humour I’m dismayed

 

 

An early work

Come live with me and be my help-meet now
I’ll share my bed with you and how!
If you let me love you
I’ll darn your old gloves for you..
If you come and meet me brow to brow.

Come live with me and teach me all you know
About poetic licence and Soho
I’ll mend your vacuum cleaner
And learn expressions meaner.
How cheerfully the hours to come will go,

Come live with me and be my lover true
Without one,how will ever we do?
I’ll set up model railways
And learn the Jewish weekdays
Come live with me and I will sweep your flue.

Come live with me in Norway on a fjord
I’ll mend my Canon Powershot if I’m bored.
I’ll watch the ice flowers growing
And then we must be sowing.
When  will Newton’s apples  strike a chord?

Your love mine and  all the earth’s divine

When we think of what’s inside  our skin
The sacred heart and the  most precious blood
The fire that burns alone without  new wood
The still small voice, the  mind and soul within

The systematic violence  of our kin
The  burning  church, the  holy books in flames
While  the leaders swagger  and play games
Unmoved, they kill  our culture as  protection

Yet the mother  will protect her child
Would that we could do the same for all the world
Your love mine and  all the earth’s divine
Would that we  had not  so long defiled.

And as the curtain falls across the stage
Would that  life was real and we engaged

The people are enraged  about our Play

I dare not watch the News again today
The House of Commons  deep in its own fray
Our leader is as stupid as an ox
Who thinks that he’s as cunning as a fox

We the people are at Civil War
The regime has  split and rotted all our cores
Like Blake’s rose which had its sweet decay
The people are enraged  about our Play

Shakespeare   could not write one apposite
We  cannot find a good enough play-right
The  people nondescript  because unknown
Biting their thin fingers to the bone.

Let somebody rid us of this rogue
Before our weak “democracy” erodes

He wooed me with a paucity of tact

He wooed me with a paucity of tact
Assumption is the enemy of gain
Good manners were a quality he lacked

He teeth were yellow, more,  his brain was cracked
He did not leave and neither would remain
He wooed me with a paucity of tact

He did not know his fantasy from fact
Upon this earth his face would bring all shame
Good manners were a quality he lacked

For my boundaries ,he’d no respect
He  did not even try to entertain
He wooed me with a paucity of tact

Keep a little mystery ice packed
Never tell the time  nor give your name
Good manners are a quality most lack.

As Wittgenstein  has mentioned, life’s a game
But time flows on so we can’t play again
He wooed me with a paucity of tact
His manners turned to malice , Facebook tracked

 

Life is not what’s said but what we heard

Life is movement life is song and word
We try to capture life in all its forms
Life is wild as tigers,sweet as birds

Life is what we get yet don’t deserve
The birth of infants and the  food of worms
Life is movement life is song and word

Life is not what’s said but what we heard
Grace comes down like leaves as Autumn turns
Life is wild as tigers,small as birds

Like a boiling pot that must be stirred
We need to watch  for only then we learn
Life is movement life is song and word

Love comes to the empty, is not earned
The heart   like Joan of Arc  is made to burn
Life archaic , everlasting curves

Of our empty fantasy we’re shorn
Like the fields of wheat and barley corn
Life is movement life is song and word
Life is a wild melody   lovelorn

 

Another Autumn comes with spiralled snails

Another Autumn comes ,I see damp snails
Boris Kemal Johnson hits the  roof
Brexit  and its battles , he may fail 

A carnivore, he leaves  bloody trails
And he rarely tells the honest truth
Another Autumn comes with spiralled snails

Is it just bad luck  we should bewail?
He does not seem a  leader but a spoof
Brexit  and its battles , he may fail 

Now the  media float in Autumn gales
The people read  but  is there any truth?
Another Autumn comes  with flying snails

Jews attacked in Hertfordshire,I pale.
The baby’s pram was knocked about,  oh grief!
Brexit  and its battles   let them fail 

Anger,rage and violence  hard to soothe
Jesus  is a shadow, evil looms
Another Autumn comes , are we the snails?
Brexit  and its battles , will we fail ?