To which great god do  people sacrifice?
Humans are burnt offerings like goats
Is there any god so filled with vice?

Upward  human smoke and ash will fly
We may watch constricted in our throats
To which great god do  people sacrifice?

Which of us can have an alibi?
If we live, we live like dead men float
Is there any god so filled with vice?

Did any try to disrupt with  their cries?
Some rest secluded hid by their own moats
To which great god do  people sacrifice?

Even God the Father ,even Christ
Do not interfere where hate is brought
Are there  other gods who  enjoy vice?

Is it murder.soldiers ask the Ghost
Eternal mother  do you see men roast?
For which great god are  humans sacrificed?
Is there any hymn  composed in vice?

I have been studying wax.I found there was some wax on my wool skirt.I also  found some on the carpet
The way to remove is to put some kitchen paper over it and possibly under it if it is a garment.Then press it with a hot iron.The wax will melt and go onto the paper
This has worked very well but along with fixing my account book it has taken my morning

I find a lightweight dry iron is ok for most clothes.

Thank goodness  the days are longer.I can go out later on at last as I can’t see well in the dark

“If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn’t part of ourselves doesn’t disturb us.”
― Stephen A. Mitchell, Freud and Beyond: A History of Modern Psychoanalytic Thought

https://www.brainpickings.org/2012/11/01/john-keats-on-negative-capability/

In the introduction to Selected Letters, Jon Mee writes of the letters themselves as a meta-embodiment of “Negative Capability”:

The provisionality of the correspondence might be taken as a triumphant demonstration of negative capability, recording Keats’s ability to project himself into different roles and live in a state of creative uncertainty, but these letters also seem to express a deep sense of insecurity, which frequently took the form of a desire to escape the fever and the fret of the life around him.

Perhaps Christoph Niemann was right, after all, in asserting that insecurity is essential to creativity.

All of Keats’s surviving letters to his family and friends are available as a free ebook.

“Attention without feeling,” Mary Oliver wrote in her beautiful elegy for her soul mate, “is only a report.” To fully feel life course through us, indeed, we ought to befriend our own attention, that “intentional, unapologetic discriminator.”

I have spent the day with a friend helping them to do a factory reset on a new phone after they forgot the password
Then we  did the rubbish and put some new light bulbs in,talked about WW1 and a few other things and suddenly it was the evening!
The days are longer, I can tell now.I am waiting for a new doorbell  ringers to come as  one of my ringers broke and I can’t hear  when I am upstairs so I can put  a new one on the landing….I.
What a  pest they are.Sometimes people phone me from the doorstep.They promise miracles but none really last for long. I must check all 3 ringers immediately.

When I was 9 months old  my mother was taking me out in my  pram.A  neighbour stopped and asked her something.When I replied the poor woman nearly fainted

At last a after many years I have discovered why my brothers hated me.My mother was teaching mt older brothers to read  [4 and 5  years old] I know!!
When they were slow she would point to me sitting by the fire reading  a Rubert Book.I was only three.
But talking too early is not a good thing.It means youw ere not a baby for long enough

Anyway  when I was five I decided the school was boring.I asked what a University was and liked the sound of it.So I asked to go there instead
What a disappointment  I had to spend 13 more years in school where we spent Friday afternoon cleaning ink wells and polishing our desks
Do you think any school now could let chidlren spend two hours polishing the furniture?We loved it

In my last year at  the primary school I was allowed to spend all afternoon reading…I loved that
In the morning the teacher gave me arithmetic booklets with problems in which I worked through at the ba ck of the room

Then I passed the 11 plus and  had to spend 5 years in a grammar school being taught the stuff that I’d  done in 1 year
Schools are prisonsi

At least I know what compound interest is

A home that welcomes our more liberal minds

A home that welcomes, our more liberal minds

Warm sunny weather
I thought I was ill but no,
I was far too hot

Wearing two jumpers
Wearing two of everything
I   hate heavy clothes

I hate heavy coats
I hate heavy books as well
I hate  politics

Will GNT sprays
Be here or will I die?
Anxiety

BTW talking
Raises our blood pressure,wow
I’ll join the Trappists

The Magic Mountain
Is the place of peace
But where is it?

I can’t climb mountains
Nor skate on icy rivers
But I’m not deaf yet!

I’m following you
Through a  meadow of tall bright summer flowers
We’re not rushing, just idling along
Feeling happy

I’m following you
But not on Facebook

I’m following you
Up a  vertical  rock face with few footholds
I am looking to see where you put  your feet
I imitate you.
I’m  not frightened
I feel calm.
I can’t see your face
You move with no  hesitation

I’m following you
But not on WordPress

I’m following you
Well, I am accompanying you
I don’t  know where we are going
But it seems right,somehow

Do we ever know where we are going?
Will  we know when we get there?

I’m with you but I don’t know where
We are happy
We don’t need to talk

When I went out this morning I was wrapped in a red and blue coat with a blue scarf covered in red hearts wrapped twice round my neck.A man came along by me and looked back.He was speaking

“You’ve got  something your leg”

I looked down and there was a red and blue silk tie round my ankle, the property of my late husband Mr Katherine.
So I said, can’t you just leave me a note? I see you approve of my colour scheme…..

Sometimes I  find a tie in the bathroom.I find a newly ironed hankey on my chair.If only he would iron my trousers or my pink blouse with rows of shirred pleats that’s been waiting for 4 months.

More often I find a coin and ,if lucky, enough for a cup of coffee.I wonder what will happen if I go out with a man…. will he  be happy? I shall never know as I refuse to date anybody.I still believe my husband will get permission to return like Jesus did.But will I know?

As a  professor
I am entitled to take  home
Paper,pens and ink

In very large bags
Or even ten suitcases
To write my thoughts down

Of course, my children
Might  draw on the paper sheets
With one of the pens

Condemn young children?~
Is that an ethical act?
They can’t even  write!

I might write,that’s it
For I am genius
And ingenious.

We must be  prepared
To note inspiration
A good idea

What happens to paper
Is not important to me
I am brilliant

I shine in the dark
The  habits of small people
Are not my  concern

I might be the King
Oh,my Coronation
That is so timely!

I phoned Borneo
On my office phone again
Why not? I need perks.

Australia too?
Well it’s a small world
Don’t bother me now.

You do not need me!
What codswallop is that, then?
I was the future

I missed the plane,ah.
The future is fiction
I am still writing.

I am arrested
For bankrupting  colleges
At Cambridge, good Lord!

If they are stupid
I should be rewarded ,see.
You would not have guessed.

Evil genius
Gets government grants awards
Being good, you fools

I need you like I need luck in a cup
Put a  lock on the cop
Look in the coop
Look at cops?
Speak Afrikaans, good luck!
Knock for  headlock
I lack a cap.
Kippah on  the rocks
The super and the  dreck
The beige and the black
Greed fated my socks
Lines on the  dock
Unemployed and sick
Brexit, go f*ck!

In the haunted pub
We ate hot food and wondered
What is common sense?

In the sky ,snow hung
The  park was  icy and black
The farm was quiet

What is common? Sense?
What have we lost since that time?
Now we live nonsense.

Where is the humour?
The wronged kindness of  nonsense
The futility

Who says what is true?
Who speaks what is  silent , lost?
Who is the channel?

What is true has left.
“Maybe” hangs from black branches
Like dead fruit or  leaf

The autumn  orange
The senselessness of speeches
The withering   glance

The edge  of our  land
Borders are  more anguished
Cannot connect us

New laws and rules
Trial  by separation
The barbed rust   pierces

There is no heartland
There is no inside at all
Nowhere to  live well

Is our home on earth
Where   handsome trees  stretch upwards
Yet have deep roots in soil?

Where are human roots
Where is the soil that nurtures
Where are our flowers?

The flower of kindness
Is always ready for us
If we look outwards

To accept is hard
We like to be the  stronger
Are we receptive?

Who is the strong one?
Is it God, is he humble?
The   green force  shoots up

In a crack,  trees grew
Elliptical trunks,marvels
The beauty warmed me

Gold leaves in autumn
The beauty stretched my feelings
Like a  child’s face does

What are you thinking?
My beloved has gone forth
I remain, am rust.

What is rust’s purpose?
Change,ceaseless change and growth
Decay, neutrinos!

,

1.Try dropping a lit cigarette into the duvet cover.I never said you’d still be alive
2.Wear most of your clothes  to bed and cover with  a cotton,wool or silk wrap if it will still go on  over all your other clothes
3 Take some animals to bed.I do not mean men or women.
4 Use a sleeping bag as well as a duvet.Not good for newly married couples.
5.Clean the bedroom before you go to bed.Activity makes you warmer.Then  you can enjoy being virtuous for once
6.Hats do make you warmer.Or how about a wig? Golders Green is ok for both
7.Try putting on a heater… hard for the British but not impossible
8 Get angry and have a row.May be  a mistake?
9 Emigrate
10 Be wicked and have two partners.Nowadays anything goes
11 Look at something rude like Marks and Spencers lingerie.That will warm you  up

The gravity and grace of those who’ve died
Make us pause and take a deeper breath
The distant look of almost closed , dear eyes

Now the nerves and muscles do not try
Their life has gone and they are on the path
The gravity and grace of those who’ve died

The larynx closef we hear no more sad cries
Nor yet is there any mourners’ wrath
See distant look in almost closed , dark eyes

Space and peace and caring are allies
Somehow we shall know what is the best
The gravity and grace of those who’ve died

See the face, how watercolour flies
Seized is the hand when put to its new task
Catch his look ,his almost shuttered eyes

No longer to face challenges and risks
No longer do the fingers urge his wrist
The grace of those who have just gone survives
The holy soul ,the weeping of mine eyes

Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1729765

Toby’s  gone away
He won’t be home today
Toby, won’t you kiss your wife again?

Toby was so dear
To all whom he was  near
Toby, Toby, why have you just gone?

Toby’s little boy
Could sometimes Dad annoy
Toby, lose your head with Fred again!

He took his son to school
Love can be so cruel
Toby ,may  your mother  love your son

Your wife has lost your love
Unless you smile above
Toby, help her when the birth pangs come

Your baby will be born
While  poor Alice feels forlorn
Toby ,touch her  and  your little son

Goodbye to  this world
Your children’s hearts unfurl
Touch them gently  as the birds fly on

God is with the lost
As they weep  and rest
Let them  mourn a husband,father,son
Let them mourn  a brother, a  dear friend

I have baked beans, enough to feed a street
So left alone, our lambs can safely bleat
I’ve got ten spuds fit enough to bake
But only one debilitated steak

I’ve got some bread flour and some old dried yeast
If we find some jam,oh, what a feast
We may have a street party, watch men  box
As girls with  long blonde hair   each sidle past

But once I use the last of my supplies
Will we get more food  or will we die?
There will be a shortage of white  sacks
As we collect the bodies of the wrecked

A greater Britain cannot now exist
Boris  is the immigrant we missed

Annie Laughton, the neighbor of Mary Brown, widow of Stan , the  almost world famous logician, came out of her oak-panelled front door and paused in her double glazed white plastic porch deliberating over whether her teal color 7/8  length wool coat was the best one for her to wear in the frosty smog covering Knittingham and the River Quaint.[Now breathe]
She decided a full-length raspberry maxi coat would be wiser however she did not take her own advice but wandered next door, to see what Mary was doing.
Mary was reading some book reviews.
There is a new type of illness, she told Anne.
Almost flu.almost depression, almost measles……almost happy

Surely you either have measles or not, Annie mumbled.
Not so, Mary answered.That is Aristotelian logic; nowadays we use fuzzy logic.It’s a degree of indefiniteness or its opposite.
This is why Trump got elected, Annie cried.We want it simpler.apart from Leonard Cohen who wanted it darker and so it has been for him.He died!
Well, fuzzy logic is not so hard, Mary whispered.
Any logic is hard, Annie replied.Prehistoric man had no logic and look at us now.Are we happier?Or we wiser? 
You seem a bit moody, Mary told her.By the way, I love your new coat.Where did you get it from?
I stole it from the cloakroom at the Cricket Club, Annie teased her thoughtfully.
Are you not worried the owner will see you? said Mary anxiously.
No, it was in Newcastle under Lyme!  Annie cried
But it is still both a crime and a sin.Mary retorted logically
Actually, I got it from Lands End, Annie said triumphantly.They had a big sale on.Because it was a warm autumn.It was only £6,788.09.
My, that’s cheap, said Mary.
My pension is £189 a week so how long will it take me to pay off the credit card? Annie wondered.
If we ignore interest and assume you pay £100 a week it will be 16788/100 which is about  168 weeks or 3 years.Can you live on £89 a week for 3 years?
No, I knew I should have stolen a new coat but I lost my nerve.
I am still wearing my old clothes, Mary boasted.
Yes, I  can see all the moth holes, Annie said humorously.Your darning is pathetic
I know, Mary said.Stan was good at darning.
Well, he can’t do it now, Annie informed her logically.Well. he might darn God’s tablecloth but not your skirts and jumpers.
God’s tablecloth is perfect, said Mary.It lasts for eternity unlike our clothes
Are we going out?It looks so cold.Why don’t we stay in and teach Emile to thread a needle?Annie pondered
Do you believe that a cat could ever learn that? Mary cried.
O ye of little faith,cried Annie.With God all things are possible.
Your argument has only one flaw,Mary cried.We are not God.
And so say all of us