I spent much time with books on how to live

I spent my life with books on how to live
Then when death was near I really did
I saw the little smile on my friend’s face
I saw the shining eyes, the lost embrace
I gathered up these books and threw them out
I wasted time in thought and curious doubt
Let’s leave our heads alone and use our sense
To hear a bird sing to enthrall his spouse
To see a swallow dip and fly away\
To see a little orange butterfly
Sailing like a flower across the sky
The silken skin of children and their gl

What has human wisdom done?

What did all those sermons do?
Did they say he was a Jew?
Oh, Jesus.
Did he want the First Crusade
It is his blood the priest creates
Lord Jesus.
I don’t like the way things are
I am getting tired of war
Kill Jesus.
What has human wisdom done
From Wittgenstein to Abraham?
Cripes, Jesus!
Does research improve our lives
As for grants, the scholars strive?
Ask Jesus.
We may have chemotherapy
Radiation, history.
Where’s Jesus?
You’d think that after all the years
We’d have used up all our tears
Sweet Jesus.
Love your neighbour as yourself
Give 10 % of all your wealth
Aye, Jesus
.Do what’s better, not what’s worse
I see another fragrant hearse.
It’s Jesus.
See the plastic Crucifix
See him dying with dry lips
Bend your knees, confess your sins
Otherwise, the Devil wins
Not Jesus
.We destroy the good we hate
Envy writhes and with pride mates.
The progeny will wreck the earth
Eden’s burning as drones pass.
No, Jesus.No Jesus.
Know Jesus.

No more will the Bedouins dwell in the desert

Evoking the beauty, the stars so far away,
I like to watch geese at the end of day.
Patterns and poems disclose other worlds.
Feel the hand of a baby with the fingers all curled

See the trust and the smile when the mother is home,
To create entire worlds for the one she has borne.
For chaos and panic or not far away
Even in adults who don’t care to say.

The little hands touch me so deeply, so well;
How come the world is diving to hell?
How can we kill little wains by the score
Was it for this that I opened your door?

Was it for this that love electrified us,
And we were lost in each other, in the holy white dove.
Was it for war that we gave love our wombs
Making more soldiers and filling more tombs?

The bombs are a-loading they’re having parades.
It’s not North Korea, it’s Washington, dude.
Let the tanks roll on Corrie and the Bedouin tribes.
Let the allies laugh blindly as the Lord Jesus dies.

O take me, dear mother.Please take me away
I can’t see no point in saying my prayers.
The leaders’ religions are making God frown.
The desert is empty, the tents all dragged down.

The centuries of living so free , so mobile;
The holy land blessing as they pause for while.
The little black tents like wombs of the night
Are all gone to shredders as we sing, Silent Night.

The cyclamen the lily

The cyclamen, the lily and the earth
The potted plants ,green leaves , distil the air
The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

Let no human live in pain or cursed
Let the golden light en-wrap them here
The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

The waxy flowers of cyclamen bring mirth
Bring gratitude in winter when all’s bare
The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

I feel my hands are reaching for a brush
The watercolour paints bring their allure
The cyclamen, the lily and the earth

Then I see a flower trod on and crushed
It seems to bleed like Jesus,tears my eye.
The lily is for peace. the rose for worth

Nature has its truth and so do I
Many times I weep, bewail and cry
The cyclamen, the lily and the earth
The lily is for peace. the rose for birth

I remember playing with your face

I remember playing with your face

Standing on your knee I saw you smile

With my childish fingers I would trace

Laughter lines and lips and how you smiled

I put my little hands on either side

And pushed your mouth together small and wide.

Then I laughed with joy that’l still abides

In the memory of our morning lives

Your eyes were blue and smiling like the sky

I loved to see you happy, see your joy

All to soon the Shadows would come by

And take away my dad your loving boy.

Yet in these little memories I can rest

Knowing my beginning was the best

Yet underneath long sorrow there is joy

A strange flawed beauty  caught my naked eye
As if some  monstrous beast is hiding near
Where deep rose clouds   hang from a darker sky

Now the rose has gone and all is grey
The night will fall and sorrow is our fare
A  shattered beauty caught by mirrored eye

Yet underneath  night sorrow there is joy
The wisdom of the  ages  does not stare
Though deep rose clouds   hang from a darker sky

Now I see some gold spread unalloyed
The artist we can worship ,love, revere
 Beauty, fearless, caught  in mirrored eye

Nature in her way will never lie
Yet she can kill  what humans   hold most dear
While deep rose clouds   hang from a near night sky

In the clouds of sadness faces leer
Hallucinations look but cannot jeer
Such beauty ,numinous ,affects my eye
While deep rose clouds  sing from a darkening sky

 

 

The icy axe

This icy axe has cut my heart in two

Never will I be a whole again.

Though still I cherish memories of you

The pain affects my heart, where is the clue?

The blood transparent does not leave a stain

This icy axe has cut my heart in two

The grief of death is worse than feeling blue

It’s worse than migraine worse  than feeling shame

Though still I cherish memories of you

So I will love your children in lieu

And with my writing make my feelings tame

An icy axe has cut my heart in two

Sometimes in a dream I hear your name

I waken up mysteriously feeling blame

An Icy axe did cut my heart in two

I’ll cultivate the memories, loving you

Old sayings: I can’t see for looking.

I’m frequently impressed when I remember sayings adages, things my mother used to say which are often related to bodily states

When I couldn’t find my glasses I was searching nervously or frantically and only found them when I gave up…..

I remembered my mother saying

You can’t see, for looking.

This is very interesting because like language itself and the developments from it these are coming from the lips of ordinary People. And they’re recognisinhg something which is only in the last hundred years been scientifically described I believe.

There are two kinds of seeing

Very focussed seeing.. narrow purposive vision… This is when we’ve got some thing which our mind is pinned on to and we ignore everything else apart from that very narrow bit of the world that we see very intently. We can also switch into this when we’re under stress, severe stress sometimes.

Then there is the way that the owl must look when it is looking from the tree for something to eat

Wide vision where you’re not focusing sharply on any individual spot in the landscape but your eyes widened and you’re scanning the whole at once. When the owl sees something then he or she must switch into the sharply focused mode and swoop down to catch the little beast that was spotted so the owl could have something to eat

I think artists also will be familiar with this. The eye muscles have to be relaxed which  will happen spontaneously when necessary or sometimes you can do it deliberately. There are breathing techniques and relaxation techniques which can switch into this mode

Going back to the adage

You can’t see for looking.

See refers to broad vision with the eye muscles relaxed

And ,cleverly, looking refers to sharply focused vision

So if you’re looking too hard you can’t see

Well it took me 48 hours to find my glasses

I had taken them off in my bedroom to put some sunscreen on my face and then I couldn’t find them

I was looking in the bedroom for them

But when I found them they were downstairs in the sitting room

I wasn’t even trying to find them them and I’d given up completely

My old ones are adequate for most purposes but nevertheless if you if you wear glasses you know that having the ones you’re used to especially for reading is really very important and some of us feel incomplete without them.

I’m always grateful when I find something and I often look up at the sky and say

Thank you.

And thank you to all those human beings that came before us and left us wisdom in these sayings. And this was long before they were schools and universities and other learning organizations.

I sometimes think that we are getting less intelligence as time goes on.

Love is never evil

The face that was familiar is no more
Lost like butterflies that wind destroys
And I sit alone by this closed door

From this anguish take me,I implore
Hoping that my prayer will not annoy.
The face that was familiar is no more

All the years have vanished from my store
With the empty future ,love destroyed
As I sit alone by this closed door

As days pass by, truth and pain conjoin
Love is never evil but conveys
The face that was familiar is no more

With nature’s rhythm, we touch on the benign
Loss and even sin are cast away
As I decide to open this closed door

So I travel down the path of day
Good will, acceptance come, I pray
The face that was familiar is no more.
Kindness, love and courage can restore.

Creation

My old blue fountain pen allows

The ink across the page to flow

Like wet paint from the artist’s brush,

And words come in a rush.

Enchanted by the hand that writes,

Bewitched by art, beauty alights.

The script is like a music score

Through which we pass as through a door.

Imagination’s home.

As,mysteriously.to you, to me,

The spirits of our hearts are tamed,

By rhythms of pen,of brush,of mind.

They enter vision quite unplanned,

Like moths to flutter softly round

Fire joined heart and hand.

The pen slows down,the hand goes still

And just as dreams at daybreak will,

They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone.

I almost caught that one!

I miss you though

Art by Kathérine

I  miss you though I’ve never met you yet.

I miss you though we’ve had no tete a tete

I dream of you at night when I’m in bed

I wonder what it is we haven’t said.

imagine I could love you should we meet

I invented you and think you look quite neat.

You must have feelings for what is the good.

Aristotle Plato said we should.

Ethics and the principles of love

Guide us like the stars do from above.

Those who cannot read stars fall to sin.

Sometimes Satan and his forces win.

If I got to see you I would know

The eternal Life is now for those who’re low.

From above I saw the TV set

Our life is just a moment on the net

Magdeburg

The tragedy in germany has brought home just fragile life might be I know it could end is any moment

We must make the most of what we have left every minute,every every day every week

The beauty of flowers and people’s faces

The love we have for our friends

Let’s not waste it especially in ways which actually make life less than it should be like reading too much social media conversations which are mainly grumbling and moaning

It is very difficult for some people like the poor to enjoy life but there are  few of us who could enjoy it more if we decided to do so and yes you can decide by changing the direction  and focus of your attention

People were happy before washing machines were invented before microwaves before motor cars and ensuite bathrooms. n fact doing the washing in a river with the other women of your tribe would have been hard work but also companionship and help modern conveniences can make us more lonely while we’re using them at home and also we may have to work longer hours in order to pay for all these things

In fact doing the washing in a river with the other women of your tribe would have been hard work but also companionship and help modern conveniences can make us more lonely while we’re using them at home and also we may have to work longer hours in order to pay for all these things

I know what my new year resolutions are going to be

New Facebook groups

Born in the 1940s grew up in the 1970s Kathérine

Well there there is a real group called born in the 1940s but it makes me wonder how about when we grow up if we ever do and what it means

in the course of growing up we discover hate as well as love

I’m assuming that most parents give us some love but I can’t help thinking that’s economic factors are very important it’s not just a psychological health of the parents if you can’t afford good food then it’s difficult to relax and care for your family and yourself.

If you are living in much of the private rented sector there is a lot of poor quality housing there and it’s very hard to get repairs and alterations done

It’s always been hard to live on a small amount of money but what’s the first movie making in the last 4 years because the middle classes think but is very expensive now

Butter is always expensive for the poor

I once found some danish but in our kitchen which my mother had hidden for her and personal use

Then my brother was very good climbing so eventually he was big enough to climb to the very top shelf in the kitchen where mother had hidden some chocolate biscuits i’m not sure who they were for. Well I didn’t get any of them that’s why when I was 5 ft 7 inches tall I weighed seven stone if any mother was still alive I would still wait seven stone almost probably I would have died of starvation because I was not aggressive enough to fight for food in fact I didn’t like a lot of food like meat and fish m could it should be because my brother used to tell me she lives in the field over there well that’s what will be having for our dinner on sunday

Then I was punished for not emptying my plate . But never mind my brother used to steal this anyway

Even on christmas day he was stealing turkey for my dinner plate and I was very grateful because I didn’t like it so I live mainly on chips dried peas and butter beans.

Psychoanalysis with Children: a Brief Journey – Freud Museum London

https://www.freud.org.uk/2024/07/09/psychoanalysis-with-children-a-brief-journey/#:~:text=In%20his%201908%20article%20%E2%80%9CCreative,to%20access%20the%20child’s%20unconscious.

And with a swollen head, I can’t complain

A copper  pan with silver tin inside
Is useful to a cook and to a bride
They heat up fast and if they are boiled dry
They soon clean up and light my gloomy eye.

I do not polish mine with Duraglit
But that maybe because I have no wit
For it is black and does not shine at all
And when  it’s on, the phone will take no calls.

I use the oven for a Sabbath roast
And use a toaster when I make men toast
I have a grill pan larger than a flame
And with a swollen head, I can’t complain

Get out and buy a copper pan todayl
For ,to be saved, you need this vessel gay

How I miss your eyes

Dearest sister how I miss your eyes

Grey green as the sea as up it rides

In the sadness of the water as it sighs

In the s d go quelching of the sand beneath the tide

Sister dearest sister I’m alone

I miss your quiet voice I miss your face

I cannot reach you now by telephone

But loving memories are not erased

Last year you came to visit me at home

You  filled my fridge with food you were so kind

Now I feel the sadness in my bones

I only see you here within my mind.

The inner seas are wild they moan with grief

Time goes slow, we weep, we are bereaved

Conversation is a form of play

By Katherine

Conversation is a form of play

We take our turns to let the other say

When we pray we hope that God will hear

We send our spoken music without fear

If no one responds what shall we do?

The mouth turns dry our lips are sealed  with glue

I wonder who we talk to as we moan

Repeating cliches drop like  dead grey stones.

You think you speak to me but you are wrong

I hear no music and I hear no song

It’s hard to leave a gap for others words

when we fear their sharpness like small swords

But in the end we must hear or die.

Yet if none will speak they tell no lie

The hand upon my tiller is

Come back to me, my sweetheart
Don’t leave me all alone.
Come back to me, my darling
I can’t believe you’ ve gone.
I’m crying ‘cos I’m feeling blue again.
I’m crying’cos I’m falling like a stone.

Oh, let me tempt you with my beauty
And my voice forever young.
Let me tempt you with my spirit
My laughter and my songs.
I’m crying ‘cos I never did you wrong.
I’m crying ‘cos with you I  still belong.

I thought maybe I’d follow,
To see where you have gone
But there’s a hand upon this tiller
That is not mine alone.
I’m crying ‘cos I wrote this old blue song.
I’m crying ‘cos I’ve been lonely for too long.

The hand upon my tiller
The mystery of the dark
The unknown one who lives in me
And sings like a skylark.
I’m singing ‘cos I wrote you a new song.
I’m singing ‘cos the cat ain’t got my tongue.

The music of the heart

How beautiful it was when the sun shone
And I walked with you,my dear husband, through the gardens.
How happy I was to sit with you by the lake
and to hear the water from the fountain splash.
It's our our favourite music now we cannot visit the sea
To hear the tide rush in,then fall sucking on the shingly beach.
But I see it in my minds eye.
Aldeburgh,the fishing boats go out at sunrise.
I awoke early and saw the sun across the sea
and the boats setting out in the soft light.
Dunwich,the heath filled with birds
the cliff and the beach where sometimes one can find marble
from one of the many churches washed away by the encroaching sea.
And Southwold,the marsh so quiet I heard crickets.
We went across the Blyth in the rowing boat
And saw the place from which our picture of Walberswick was painted...
If only life could be captured,slowed, for a few minutes
for us to receive the beauty and hear the sound of the sea
The everlasting music of the heart

Love

Love drew your face upon my heart

Love makes the tools that we can find

Love like this cannot be bought

In the nets of love we’re caught

By golden threads we are combined

Love drew your face upon my heart

Moved by intuition’s charts

By the fires of geace refined

Love like this cannot be bought

In deep darkness love could start

From the gods love was purloined

Love drew your face upon my heart

From the pits of death we climb.

Love makes the gold we find the coins

Love drew your face upon my heart

Love such as this cannot be bought

To increase suffering of the poor

Wonkblog


‘Everybody outside of the top is suffering’: How stress is harming America’s health
By Ana Swanson December 13

(Washington Post illustration; iStock)
The stresses of poverty in the United States have grown so intense that they are harming the health of lower-income Americans — even prematurely leading to their death.

A report published Monday by the Hamilton Project at the Brookings Institution finds that stress levels have greatly increased for Americans at all income levels since the 1970s, but especially for low-income groups, as the chart below shows.

The report doesn’t measure stress as we typically think about it in daily life. Instead, the researchers track “stress load,” an index of certain biological markers such as blood pressure, cholesterol level, and kidney and liver function, that they say are “associated with long-term physiological strain.” These metrics are strong indicators of a person’s health and mortality, according to the report.

“The poor have seen really striking increases in the stress load index,” said Diane Schanzenbach, one of the report’s authors and the director of the Hamilton Project.

Don’t take your tablet

Can you swallow a tablet now?

No I only got as far as the phone.

Don’t tell me you have swallowed your phone

No I swallowed yours

.Give it back to me at once

How can I do that when it’s inside me? .

Doctor this man believes he has swallowed my phone.

That’s an unusual delusion

But who is deluded?

I’m just pulling your head

Well go and pull  a bird

Don’t be so rude

It’s just that I dont know what’s going on in this place

Don’t worry about that nobody could understand it.

But if you know that nobody could understand it in some sense you must understand it to be able to make that kind of judgment

I see what you mean. We make judgments using some other facility than logic

but we don’t know what we are doing

So it’s not necessary to understand what we’re doing in order for it to be correct

Oh well the human mind has got powers far beyond the computer 

As humans  can only make something which relative to themselves is partial because it was very hard to believe that we could make something more complex than themselves..

Perhaps we’re using the wrong language 

I don’t know what that means actually

I don’t either but can you

get some kind of partial comprehension of what i’m hinting at?

I think so because not everything can be described in simple clear terms

Let’s go out for a drink

Well shall we go?

What about the Swallow and Horseshoe?

I thought you were going to say let’s swallow an horse shoe.

I’m not going down that path again

I just can’t swallow your claim

Digest it

When Jesus rose again

When Jesus rose  they asked him how it was

Being crucified upon a cross

I think it must be  trauma someone said

REM might help you sort your head

Jesus stared at them with his great eyes

It isn’t a mere trauma when God dies

Now we have new wars and children bleed

Human sacrifice, where monsters feed.

When Jesus died the sky was black as night

He will rise again and be our Light

Don’t pull me under the water with you yet

Don’t pull me under the water with you  now

Don’t take me to the cavern of the drowned

There’s too many down there already don’t you think?

All pulling on the rope around me wound.

Don’t pull me under the water with you yet.

I’m not ready for another world today

But yes I feel the force of all those hands

And by this family yearning I’m beset

Don’t pull me under the water with you all

Leave me here alone I’m still alive.

Take your hands away from me at once

I don’t want to swim with you much less to dive.

Don’t keep pulling at me all the night and day.

There’s one more act in this my last,my final  play

My mother’s hands were black and much beloved


Posted on November 11, 2017
The summer heat made cobblestones like stoves
The Coronation happened, I know now
We played with melted tar, industrial bairns.

My mother’s hands were black and much beloved
The coal and coke had tattooed her, we sa
The summer heat made cobbles hot as stoves.

In the road, we played our ancient games
The older children passed the knowledge down
We played with melted tar, industrial wains.

The bully boys were cruel , did not heed love
A little boy had tried to be a clown
In summer heat, they beat him on the stones.

We were silent as they flaunted power again;
But in our hearts, we knew we’d let him down
We threw warn melted tar, industrial wains

And in our phantasy, he was alone.
No-one knew who threw the vicious stone
The summer heat made cobbles feel like flames
We played with melted tar, Christ died again