There’s many a true word spoken but not heard.4% -p+ = 0
Many a lover is fairly agitated& affeared, adulterated.
We must love one more than we have time and
If poetry needs to %^SW£I7^£( rhyme.]
We must abandon ourselves123 to Divine Providence £$%
If we hope for God to take up residence.
All that bitterness, still untold and inrolled
makes pleats in my mind which I cannot unfold.
Did the cooks really boil with wrath
or maybe toil up the path?
We will never know Hell until it’s too late
To affect our own fate. Tee hee.
If you ate my photo
Why not make a baked potato turn red
You have enough fires
And liars.
What do you expect?
Respect?
Perspectives?
Je no sais zwroufj!7^& and sod off algebra to you too
Topology… that’s no longer new.A crying Zion…lion.
Judah,excuse her.I shall blot her.
him,me confuse,lose and muse.
a clever 8,9 ruse
Keep me in mind
I am not blind.
Poet House Blues…
I used to have green shoes.
Is it still news?”%Hdye9&
Not in my views…
Whatever you peruse
makes my lights fuse.
Thank youse
all is misbegotten and then forgotten.
In Llangolen.
Hoseshoes pass in the night
If you have seconds of sight.Amen%
I got fifteen O levels grade A
What does that say?
mc^%*x£” a” e=mc squared
So I once heard.
Einstein
Bechstein.
Which is more piano?
Diana.
She was killed in a tunnel…
A road incident
A pure coincidence.
An act of utter chastity.
And perspicacity.
9876 ur minet 4 ever more.
I feel unsore,Stop mincing.

Enumerating   all the ways of love
[Impossible, uncountable  they be]
Took too many years of toil, not fun.

And yet, demand for figures carries on
As statistics while surreal are never free
Innumerate, unwise, we fall in love.

And we are not content with just someone
We want the thrill and madness or we flee
We ‘ve had too many years of toil, undone.

The pigeon mates for life as does the dove.
The boredom of humanity we see.
Innumerate, unwise, we fall in love.

And what of God, whom we say dwells above?
To his judgment what shall be our plea?
They say he’s died and so it will not come

There was no obit on the BBC
God is dead and Nietzsche’s on TV
Enumerating  all the  sundry ways of love
Took  many years of toil; it can’t be done

Waiter, there’s a fly in my eye.
Sorry,sir.I  thought it was dead.It must have flown out of the soup.
What was it doing in the soup?
Looked like the butterfly to me.
I’ll have  stroke if I stay here.
I promise not to touch you ,sir.
I might go mad
Don’t worry.We’re all mad here.
How do you know?
I have a Ph.D and I work as a waiter.
But was it in psychology?
No,it was field theory.
Who needs a theory about fields?
That’s just what I thought.
Yet you managed to write a thesis?
Yes,it’s not hard to write with a pen and paper.
Maybe you don’t understand me.
Let’s visit a field and find out
Find what the fly is doing?
It’s gone
What a shame.I planned to take it home with me.How about you?
I never take flies home with me.
Does your wife object?
She doesn’t like them either.
That makes two of you.
So you can count, then
Thank you so much,uno,duo,tres,quattore,qinque,sex
Are you sure it’s sex?
I know it’s septem after
A  long time after for some
Are you one?
No,I am 35.
Thank God.I don’t want children here.
People go to  the hospital for that
Are they free?
No,it’s all private now except for the sex.
What do you mean?
They watch you make love in case you do it wrong.
What is wrong?
You sound like Pontius Pilate
That’s an unusual name.Is he in a Soap?
The greatest of them all.
Sez who?
I’m tired of talking
Well, what else can we do?

Living life in all its fierceness,
Birth and death and joy and pain
We struggle on our unknown journey,
Sometimes lost and found again.

https://schlemielintheory.com/2013/07/16/emmanuel-levinas-don-quixote-and-the-hunger-of-the-other-man/

Quote from the above article

Like many Jews over the centuries, I am fasting to commemorate the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in 70 AD.  Now that I’m in middle of the fast, I’m having a hard time distracting myself from my hunger.  In the midst of being enthralled with my hunger, an academic memory came to my rescue.   I remember how the Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas, in apposition to the German philosopher Martin Heidegger, argued that it’s not about my death and suffering (as Heidegger would say (in translation) my “being-towards-death”), it’s about the death and the suffering of the other.  Echoing this, I thought: perhaps Levinas is right, it’s not about my hunger; it’s about the hunger of the other.

Strangely enough, Levinas writes about the “hunger of the other man” in relation to Don Quixote (a comic figure which has appeared quite often in Schlemiel in Theory).  In 1975 and 1976, Levinas gave a course at the Sorbonne. His course notes are included in the book God, Death, and Time (translated by Bettina Bergo).   On his February 13^th 1976 lecture, Levinas addresses Don Quixote and the “hunger of the other man.”  This talk, to my mind, gives us at least one angle to understand Levinas’s approach to humor.

Let me sketch it out.

Before making his reading of Don Quixote, Levinas prefaces with a meditation on the relation of thought to the world. He writes: “thought contains the world or is correlative with it”(167).  He notes that by “correlative” he means that it comes “prior to” the world.  In this spirit, Levinas argues that thought “disqualifies” anything that would be “disproportionate to the world.”  He provides two adjectives to describe things that would be disqualified: “all thought said to be ‘romantic’ or ‘theological’ in its inception.”

“Disqualified” thought, argues Levinas, is not equated with the world (which thought contains); it is equated with what is to come.  It is, for this reason, equated with “a question” and “hope.”  Levinas goes on to say that “God” is also included as something which is “disproportionate” with thought and the world.   To be sure, God, hope, and the question are deemed to be “outside” thought and, for that reason, outside the world.

Writing of this, Levinas wonders how much we can be “affected by what is not equal to the world, how one can affected by what can be neither apprehended nor comprehended”(167).  In other words, how much can we be affected by that which is disqualified by thought?

Following this question, Levinas launches into a discussion about the disenchantment of the world.  He addresses this, like Martin Heidegger or the sociologist Max Weber, from the angle of technology.  Unlike them, Levinas sees the disenchantment fostered by technology as good.  Here, however, he notes that although it is good, technology “does not shelter us from all mystification”(168).  Now “there remains the obsession with ideology, by which men delude each other and are deluded.”  And, says Levinas, even “sober knowledge…is not exempt from ideology.”

Everything, even knowledge, is still threatened by mystification.  Levinas finds the source in what he calls “amphibology”: “technology cannot shelter us from the amphibology that lies within all appearing, that is, from the possible appearance coiled at the bottom of all the appearing being.”

Benjamin Hutchens explains that amphibology is the “confusion between what something is and the concept that enables what it is to be known.”  This, says Hutchens, leads to a “kind of ambiguity.”  John Llewelyn cites Martin Heidegger’s notion of Being – in his claim that “language is the house of Being” – as an example of “amphibology.”  Being is ambiguous and this ambiguity troubles Levinas as he sees it as the source of what he calls “bewitchment.”  And, as Llewlyn suggests, this ambiguity goes along with the ambiguity of language.  Perhaps this implies (and may even be a jab at deconstruction) that one can easily become enchanted with the play of words and language and this may distract us from the other.

What Levinas seems to be saying here is that what threatens the project of demystification most is the embrace of ambiguity as such and this kind of ambiguity is associated with how things show themselves or appear.  Levinas notes that the basis of “man’s persistent fear of allowing himself to be bewitched” is “amphibology.”

And, strangely enough, the writer who best illustrates amphibology and the attending fear of being “bewitched” (and “allowing” oneself to be bewitched) is Cervantes in his book Don Quixote.  In fact, Levinas says that “bewitchment” is the book’s “principle theme.”  Levinas finds this to be most pronounced in chapter 46.  Hinting at his own phenomenology of the face, Levinas calls Don Quixote the “Knight with a Sad Face” and points out that “he lets himself be bewitched, loses his understanding, and assures everyone that the world and he himself are the victims of bewitchment.”

Since I became equipped for  sun and heat
I have two parasols and two white chairs
The rain plays on the walls in rhythmic beats

My wooden table  looks exactly right
I have a cat which likes to sleep on there
Since I became equipped for  sun and heat

I must be  of gigantic self-conceit
I assumed the Lord would answer prayers
The rain plays on the walls in rhythmic beats

And am I also guilty of deceit
To invite youths to step inside my lair?
Since  it is  equipped  for  sun and heat

In the end , our strivings bring defeat
We are  more like  leaves blown in the air
The rain plays on the walls in rhythmic beats

We must learn quite soon, life is not fair
And what is God that  he should even care?
Since I became equipped for  sun and heat
The rain plays on the walls in rhythmic beats

The medium grey of clouds backlit by sun
Now turns to gentle  pink and purple hues
A pleasure to my eye and its kingdom

My kitchen’s clean and all my toils are done
I gaze delighted by this epic view
The medium soft grey clouds  are lit by sun

The once long day has passed in its wisdom
I learned my  colours and I learned some new
With pleasure to my eye and its kingdom

How  to tell  the fire from  its first flame,
As now they merge into the cold night blue
The medium soft grey clouds  are now all gone

Life is both philosophy and game
Whose the rules and whose the mind , if true?
I close my eye and dream  away its shame

Who wrote the script,who gave us every clue?
To whom is payment now so overdue?
The medium grey of clouds backlit by sun
Gives  treasure for our  dreams in  their kingdom

Like another life, lived in another world
Two years is a long time
And a very short time.
Why did you call Hello in the night?
Only once, but you did not say more.
Now I have cut down a shrub and moved the wheelie bins
So I can sit behind the hedge in sunshine.
I eat my dinner later
I don’t wash up right then.
I read books I am drawn to
But I don’t understand them
Unless some elusive bit of my mind does.
I wake up at 5 am thinking it is morning
A little black cat sits on my garden chair
Won’t  come to me, not yet!
I’d like the cat to come inside in the winter
I like to stroke them while I listen to music.
Two years
Another world, another person
You’d hardly know me
I am sorry I beat you at chess.
But you beat me in dying.

ebilling@bt.com <rogercarberry@btinternet.com>

Now my garden parasols stand tall
One is red and one is kind of beige
So naturally, rain decides to fall

I also have umbrellas in the hall
To poke invaders ‘balls if I’m enraged
Thus my garden parasols stand tall

I have a garden with a real brick wall
A lavatory never yet engaged
So, fortunately, rain decides to fall

When it’s autumn, stuff begins to fall
I read a sentence, sometimes a whole page
Still, my garden parasols look tall

I shall give my poetry my all
And if it’s bad then you may take umbrage
Unnaturally, rain will never pall.

Before we married, we were quite estranged
Afterwards, we soon became deranged
Now my garden parasols  may fall
So  sullenly. the rain decides walks over all

https://www.merriam-webster.com/word-of-the-day

I’ve  found there are terms derived from Art than can be useful in altering our perceptions and maybe making us forget our woes and feel more at one with the world.The most common and underrated one is,

Seeing things from a different perspective.

Most people are aware that when we look at a street or a row of trees we see them as differently shaped when we look at them from different positions.But we don’t see it can be used as a metaphor

I can imagine children think they are seeing a totally different place altogether
And furthermore to young children buildings are alive.Windows are eyes, the door is a mouth.So they seem to be looking at us.
When we grow older we invest the world with less of our imagination.So a pavement cracked and marked is fascinating to a child but is ignored, not noticed as we adults rush ahead trying to get things done

I think it is worthwhile to try to regain some childish vision and see more intensively what is near us.And who.

When we are unhappy it is good to get out of our thoughts and put our eyes and ears at the service of what is not ourself.I sometimes watched ants running up tree trunks.I wondered what their life was like.I believe injured ants are carried back to the nest.Perhaps they have a group identity.
See the brave grass growing in a crack in the road.
In a way, the environment  IS ourself when we are little and we play outside the front door.For me, it is the hills of my childhood that evoke a sense of identity,  a me-ness in me.
So to be a refugee or a displaced person must be very painful in more ways than we think.
As well as literally moving about to alter our perspective, we can also change our minds by trying to imagine what the lives of other people are like.
I find literature and novels especially are good for this.Great writers know more than psychologists.

So we can develop sympathy or empathy for others by reading.Many of us know a little Shakespeare and can identify with Hamlet or Macbeth, even King Lear.These works provide furniture for the mind.
And what do iPhones provide or texting

Should we be worried that a book written in poorish prose like 50  shades of grey outsells the Bible?
The stories of love, murder, savagery, mysticism are more interesting than these feeble writings women read on their Kindles as they commute to work.
Sometimes pretending to be a lawyer and making a case out for something you personally disagree with is a way of learning to see more widely
Because that really matters to everyone and not just the troubled or isolated

I find it hard  these days to have a proper talk
A text arrives, my landline rings, what next?
Without their smartphones, many blindly sulk.

Conversation  could occur on walks
When phones were heavy and but few could text
I find it hard  these   times to have a  talk

An object of transition , made in bulk
In colours.sizes.prices it’s alleged
That without their smartphones, many people sulk.

Their lips are shuttered with a  vocal cork.
Against our humanness, they  took a pledge
I find it hard to get  friends   here to  talk

With right hand holding combined knife and fork
The left one texts and  secrets are divulged
Without their smartphones, many folk can’t walk.

I ‘m determined with  complete resolve
To  make my tongue appealingly involved
When I  meet a human , I shall talk
And if they say,you’re foreign, I’ll  run riot.

I lost you once before the end, I know.
It was a fantasy of silent love
I accepted not the wastes  of  unthawed snow

If looks can kill, they also cause a glow,
As if another sun  shines from above
I lost you just before the end, I know.

Yet, all in all, it was a worthwhile show
Despite the naked hand inside the glove
I could not master  arctic wastes in snow

Once an innocent, I was betrothed
And we  touched so flew the homeward dove
I lost you just before the end, I know.

To be known, to love and so to laugh
To wander round the hills and ever rove
I could not  last well  in the iron snow

And yet at silhouettes of hills, we gazed
And saw those fierce Rams as they  proudly grazed
I lost you  in the mind’s mountains  I know
I would not choose the  arctic wastes  the snow

If we didn’t learn to speak like animals we would not be offended or wounded by what people said.Because they wouldn’t be able to say it.We could not ruminate and worry nor have low self-esteem.We would just do what we could and sleep when we felt like it.And only have sex once a year if we were deer.More if we were rabbits.And there is no need for courting.In fact sometimes it gets a bit aggressive as in the duck family.In London, female ducks have been killed by too many male ducks fighting over them.That rather defeats the purpose of sex in the animal world.They can’t write love letters nor use sex as recreation.Still who had time for recreation these  days
After you’ve blogged, tweeted been on FB and read the Guardian it’s time for bed