Where is the land of Luthany, Where is the tract of Elenore? I am bound therefore.
‘Pierce thy heart to find the key
When to the new eyes of thee All things by immortal power, Near or far, Hiddenly To each other linked are, That thou canst not stir a flower Without troubling of a star; When thy song is shield and mirror To the fair snake curled pain, Where thou dar’st affront her terror That on her thou may’st attain Persean Conquest; seek no more, O seek no more! Pass the gates of Luthany, Tread the region Elenore!
Scruples make us focus more and more We focus more and more on less and less. We fall into the black dot we have bored.
Excessive zeal is narcissism galore, As off to that Confessional we rush, Scruples make us focus more and more
How can we love our sisters when unsure Our guts and bladders squelch in horrid mush We fall into the blackness off the shore.
Oh, sacred Self, oh Sanctity renewed! God will worship me, delicious! Scruples made me narrow-eyed and sure.
By my own will, I thought I could be pure. A mystic soul admired by all the toffs I fell into the black hole of manure.
The sensitive of mind find life so rough That penance, torture, whipping’s not enough Scruples made my focus narrow down. I fell down the black hole , hey, what a clown!
Stan was standing on a small step ladder washing his windows yet again with a clean blue microfibre and elastane cloth and some windolene he had bought in Tesco’s
I don’t know why I bother,he whispered to Emile, who as usual was watching from the back of the sofa,which he was “milking” gently with his paws.
With all the rain,the outside of the windows was besmirched by leaves and bits of mud.A wiser man might have left it alone but Stan had O.C.D which made him very nervous if he failed to carry out certain tasks… so he made use of it in house chores and baking perfect cakes and buns..and in taking photos of frogs,birds and flowers.Neurosis can be useful sometimes.
All of a sudden he heard clattering footsteps…
Up the garden path walked two women dressed in the latest style of 3/4 length silk cargo trousers with matching blouses, all in a subtle shade of violet.Except for their faces,of course,which were both a light shade of beige and they had Revlon peach blusher on their cheeks with Chanel scarlet lipstick…on their lips.They also wore dark blue nail varnish from Rimmel
“Good morning,Stan!” called one of them.”We are Annie’s ‘s cousins from Pittsburgh.She told us to call on you today.”
“Well,I never knew wearing expensive makeup ran in the genes… can there be any other explanation?”Stan asked stupidly.
“Annie told us we must wear it all the time in the UK.” she responded,”even in bed.”
“You seem a bit fast,” he answered,
“I’m not sure I want to go to bed and as you seem like identical twins,which of you should I bed?”
They burst out laughing….oh,what a strange noise that seemed to this sweet old man
“I was just saying what she told us,not meaning that you need to go to bed with us.In fact, we sleep together at night.”
“As children that would be normal,but don’t you think you should separate now?People might think you are gay!”
“We never worry about stuff like that… and by the way,this is Ruby and I am Rosie.”
“I’ll put on the kettle and make you some coffee,” the dear and anxious man said in a kind tone of voice,before he went into the kitchen and swallowed a handful of red and green striped valium tablets.
“I wish the psychiatrist would give me some therapy.I don’t like taking valium but I seem to be having visions again… and I don’t want to get worse..I never heard Annie mention cousins in the USA. I wonder if CBT would help me?” he said to Emile.
“I see visions all the time,” the cat replied in a matter of fact and calm way.
“Do they not make you feel anxious?”Stan called.
“No,I just watch them drift by,” purred Emile.”I enjoy them.”
“I wish these two women would drift off.”responded the weary yet charming Stan.
Ruby and Rosie came inside and admired the kitchen where colanders in many colours hung from the wall into which someone had knocked a few dozen nails.
“”Why do you have sixteen colanders?”asked Rosie.
“Why do you think everything has a reason?”Stan replied.
“I can see you studied philosophy,” Ruby cried disconsolately as she loved an argument
“No,I have just read Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein eight times,” he quipped merrily.
“Wow,is it not boring?” they murmured softly like two doves in spring time
“No.it’s so good it put me off reading lesser books.And I love to understand things,”
Just then Stan tripped on the rug and fell over. unconscious.
.Emile picked up his mobile with its full Qwerty key pad and texted 999.
“Why are you texting?”asked Ruby.
“Well,it difficult to mioaw down a phone and now I have this Blackberry it’s so easy…. why even a mouse could do it.”
“Do you know many mice,Emile?” enquired Ruby wistfully as she felt very lonely at times
Rosie slowly made some instant coffee, walking around poor Stan ,unconscious on the floor…and she and her twin sat down on some white Swedish chairs at the old oak table and drank it,gazing shyly at the huge weigelia blooming outside in the shed.
The front door opened and in ran Dave,the bisexual paramedic.
“Is it you,Emile.Have you lost your hankie again.Are you sad?” he moaned nervously.
“No,it’s Stan… but at least he’s not broken the chair”
Stan came too and looked up. at Dave.
“Oh, lovely,I feel much better for that nap” he said brightly as he was such a positive person..
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in?” said Ruby querulously.”I like your mean expression,my dear man.”
“Now,look here said Stan,”I’m too old for any monkey business. Besides,I don’t know if you are real.”
“We just wondered why you slept on the floor.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do,” came the mystifying response.
“Now that Dave is here,he can take one of you and I’ll take the other.”
“Where will you take us”the twins asked delightedly.
“Do you fancy the cinema… they are showing Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday”
“Don’t tell me he’s still on his summer holiday!” riposted Ruby
“Let’s go in the ambulance.I’ll lie on the stretcher” offered Rosie generously..
“I’ll lie by you,”said Dave.” and Emile can drive.Stan and Ruby can lie on the floor.”
Sometimes life seems so simple,it’s rather like a dream controlled..
Controlled by what,asked Emile,clutching his Blackberry.
But answer came there none…
And that was very odd because.. they’d vanished every one…
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I remember riding on his back It was summer; I was only two He had an old tweed jacket full of smoke Woodbines, they would probably kill you too
Walking with my sister in her pram Mam looked as happy as a summer lark My brothers were pretending to be soldiers We walked along, right into the deep dark
A few years later Dad was sat there crying They never told me he was very bad Eight years old, I pushed the baby My sister walked while clutching at my side
I was worried Grandad would be angry Seeing us three coming up the lane We usually went there only at the weekend On, on, on, went my brain
Going back home it was the evening The sun had gone ,time to go to bed I pushed my little sisters up our street Auntie told me Daddy was now dead
No more rides on his thin shoulder No more walking in the flowery park Only the anguish of our feelings Only children weeping in the dark
A strange and lonely feeling held my heart Posted on July 29, 2017 A strange and lonely feeling held my heart Gripping like some pincers made of steel. From my beloved, I had had to part The numbness folded round me like a wheel.
Quietness loved, has now turned into threat Nero-like, I fiddle with my tunes Pie Jesu’s not made top ten yet! Larks’ ascents aren’t worth much to a loon.
I phoned a friend, her voice did me no good It echoed in the chambers of my mind Where metal walls torment the coursing blood And escalate these feelings so unkind
Though he l loved has gone for he is dead. I see his shadow on my artless bed
It was September, and Dr Rosa Benchez wanted to buy some new clothes for the Autumn Term.Being ignorant of fashion, she did not know that Autumn clothes come into the shops in July.Up to now, she had bought all her clothes in Jumble Sales or Oxfam but she wanted to look more appropriate as she was going to be promoted.
As she entered the new dress shop, the manageress looked up and saw this tall, plump woman with gleaming green eyes coming towards her.Her hair was standing on
end but even so was a bit sparser than the ideal Such a pity she had no African blood.Maybe a perm would help.
And as her skin and hair were both beige, one could hardly tell where the hair was.
Hello, said Rosa.I am looking for a beige trenchcoat.
Oh, no, cried Martha, the manageress.Not beige!
But it is a classic and goes with everything, Rosa murmured knowingly
Sometimes a contrast is a better idea, said Martha, authoritatively
I have one here in deep teal blue.What size are you?
I have no idea, Rosa cried.
I should say an 18 because it’s better to err on the larger side for tall ladies
Why, is it wrong to wear very tight clothing, Rosa asked her nervously?
I suppose if you want to pick up certain types of men it might be ok.
I never pick up men, Rosa admitted humbly They pick me up
Don’t be so pedantic.You know what I mean.Why are you not married?You are very attractive
I was engaged but he ran away. I burned the ring as the jeweller said it was only cheap rubbish.It looked very nice.It fooled me
Well.you might be luckier next time even if only in a better class of ring
I think I am too intelligent and also love Wittgenstein
Won’t he marry you?
He’s dead!
Well, have you not grieved enough?
I only seem to love dead men.I suppose it’s an evasion of real life.
I love Leonard Cohen,said Martha.Let me get some coffee and we can discuss your entire wardrobe.
And so say all of us.
Charlie Blogge had gone away to visit his aged parents for a few days down in Cornwall so Rosa Benchez,his fiancee was alone except for her three cats and four houseplants which she had just brought indoors.Though she could have written a bit more in her new book Linguistics and Peace on Earth. Can plants feel emotion? she asked her oldest cat, Lucy who was a pretty tortoiseshell Definitely ,said Lucy.I have known plants to get depressed when in a dark corner. Oh,dear,said Rosa,it’s the weekend so the surgery is shut.I hope these plants don’t go into a downward spiral in their mood now that the days are shorter.I suppose I could ring 999 if they were desperate. They won’t allow plants in the hospital,Lucy mewed. Why not,asked Rosa angrily.That is sheer discrimination.We pay our contributions. But the plants don’t pay ,do they.Lucy retorted cheerfully.Cats don’t get free healthcare either. Socialism made a big mistake there, cried Rosa.Since the English prefer animals to people they would have won the Election if they proposed free pet care on the NHS Imagine, it would have created more jobs as well, she continues academically.And plant care is needed as plants can feel ill at times. Yes,we can, cried the Peace Lily.I feel ill knowing there is not much peace in the world. Humans don’t realise they may win a war but the conflict makes their health suffer even if they are too old to fight.And within families ,it is just as bad. You are so right,Peace,Rosa said thoughtfully.We always assume it is our inner conflicts that make us neurotic or physically ill,but it may be that at the back of our minds we are aware of all the wars, the refugees, the suffering.Outer conflict makes us all sick to some degree.And quarreling relatives and people who can’t apologise. Do you have any rain water,Peace demanded.I feel thirsty. Is that enough,Rosa cried.I can make you some weak tea if you like. Oh,go on then, the plant told her.Give me a teacup full of tea with no sugar. nor milk How about you, she carried on turning to her sister Pax. OK.Pax told her.Whither thou goest… She’s Jewish,said Peace to Rosa.Her real name is Ruth.But nobody uses it as Pax is shorter.She won’t grow on the Sabbath,though. Will you miss talking to the trees in the garden while you are indoors? Rosa asked, before any more Bible references were offered. Yes,definitely.Can you buy a few tall,male looking plants like bamboo or even grape ivy? We like a mixture.All living beings like a mixture of friends. How about human friends or even cats,Rosa said tactlessly Yes, as long as they talk in soft musical voices.And we don’t like to watch violent films on TV nor to see cats fighting on the sofa.,Peace informed her.Violence hurts our inner core And so say all of us
“I will call the world a School instituted for the purpose of teaching little children to read—I will call the human heart the horn Book used in that School—and I will call the Child able to read, the Soul made from that school and its hornbook. Do you not see how necessary a World of Pains and troubles is to school an Intelligence and make it a soul? A Place where the heart must feel and suffer in a thousand diverse ways!” Keats
Etching, is seeking something more elusive. He’s after mist and mizzle and haze and smirr and first light on unstill seas. Shorelines that sink below the horizon and spray that obscures the sky. He is happiest out on the water in a boat chartered for a week or more. Up at half past five, striking off from some tiny place such as Inishbofin — “the most beautiful little island” — off the coast of Connemara, the engine stilled, time to draw. “It’s my idea of bliss. And the boatman’s got a little gimbaled stove, you know? And he catches some fresh mackerel and he’s got some buns and a bit of garlic and butter and he makes a big pot of coffee …” He grins. “You can keep Torremolinos.” Then, in the evenings, “lobster, chips, pints of Guinness”.
I’m afraid it does not come out properly so it’s not you it’s me. I will try and fix it later on
Moses was encrypted after Four-Eyes daughter found him in a basket.
So he was completely secure and emoted
down the river Tile then he actually rescued a bull from some Russians and proved to be a highly belligerent man if he was extremely holy so he said.
Later he married Cleopatra and had many children and they decided to seek the promised land. I don’t know where he heard is that but it’s a dream that we all have isn’t it to find the perfect place to live with the perfect spares or partner
At that time they had no paper or ballpoint pens not even a fountain pens. They used to engrave things onto flat stones but it was very slow progress
Can you imagine students sitting an examination and they had to engrave their answers on a stone or tablet? Or even if they had a Reed pen and had to paint there I think the mathematics would have been rather difficult but despite that they built a Temple in the time of Solomon
So the only map they had was on a flat stone which was rather heavy to carry about it and so they were lost for 40 years in the Sign-pie desert. But it gives them plenty of time to increase their families although what they food was no one really knows unless it was manna.
When they were in the promised land land god sent them a tablet with his 10 nrw rules of Life engraved on it.
It was so heavy that holy Moses memorised the rules and left the the tablet hidden in a burning bush on the side of the mountain
And it has never been discovered. One day somebody will find it and I will share.
After that Moses people tried to write the Bible using a new invention papyrus. And a pen made from reeds so they painted the words on. But that did not last as long as an engraving would
Because of all the work that Moses had to do do he lived to be much older than we would ever be and this was true of the lot of the ancient patriarchs like Noah and Abraham
After that Moses’ people tried to write the Bible using a new invention papyrus. And a pen made from reeds so they painted the words on. But that did not last as long as an engraving would. Printing had not really invented so they wrote on long throws of Paris and then they roll them up and tie them with thread and that is why the Old Testament as Christians call it was not a book in the conventional sense that we have nowadays.
Because it’s very slow for new things to be discovered like the printing press we should also live very slowly and not rush and try to finishv the life of Mosesthings quickly
Because of all the work that Moses had to do he lived to be much older than we would ever be and this was true of the lot of the ancient patriarchs like Noah and Abraham
My old blue fountain pen allows The ink across this page to flow Like wet paint from an 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 step 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 grows still, And ,just as dreams at daybreak will, They shrink,they disappear,they’re gone Like dew dies in hot sun
Paralysed by dread, my hand was still Afraid to make a mark on that blank page. I thought to make it move by force of will
I measured with my finger joints, [new skill] Then with my charcoal,l I became engaged Tormented by sheer dread, my fingers full
With charcoal, pencil, fountain pen or quill Human down the ages have portrayed I tried to make an image by my will
My body sweated like ten waterfalls well full My eyes gazed and my mind became engaged Touched by dread, my hand moved like a bull.
I’d measured, so I let it rush about unlulled My eyes were pleased with this dramatic page I thought I’d made it move by my own will
And so I am at one with every age Promiscuous is my love but well arranged Paralysed by dread, my hand was still Until desire was stronger than my will
Mary was in the teal coloured kitchen of her almost detached house making a jam sponge pudding when the doorbell rang.She wiped her hands on her new purple trousers because she didn’t want to dirty a clean towel.
She found her colleague Dr Rosa Benchez standing nervously outside shivering
Come in , Mary cried.
Would you like a cup of tea? You need to sit by the fire and get warmer
I’d love that, Rosa said politely but distantly
A few minutes later they were sitting looking out of the bay window watching a blackbird sitting on the fence;they hoped it would start to sing
May I talk to you,Mary? I have got rather more agitated than ever before
.I am wondering if I need counselling or maybe shooting, she joked morosely
OK,said Mary cautiously.Has anything unusual happened ?
Yes, my sister has had her driving license taken away because of big panic attacks she had crossing the Humber Bridge …. you know how huge it is.She got out of the car and screamed,Help! Help!
That was dangerous with so much traffic about
She is furious and says we live in a Nazi state and is writing to the Times
Well, it can happen that you lose your licence,Mary said,but when she has learned to deal with the attacks she can re-apply and get her license back.Simple things like not eating and being tired can bring that on so I have heard.And fear of fear, too.
As well as that,Rosa said,my son has got a recurrence of cancer and is going onto some new drug-type chemo.My ex husband is very distressed and so am I as it was unexpected.
And even worse my new fiance Prof. Charlie Blogge has broken off our engagement with no reason.I can’t think of any at all.Shall I ever trust a man again?
He said I can keep the ring which is a blue sapphire ,supposedly, but when I had it valued they said I was mistaken and you can buy them on amazon for £57 and less.
So she took off the ring and hurled it into Mary’s coal fire where it looked very nice as it got hotter and hotter glowing like a lighthouse off Portland Bill in a sea storm or a banger about to explode
Good grief, said Mary.No wonder you are agitated.We may have to phone Dave the bisexual lovable paramedic available on the NHS 24 hours a day.Or we could have our hair permed and dyed red instead, she murmured to herself
Which of these events bothers you most,Rosa? She continued gently while hoping she would cope.
It is my own feelings that worry me most.I wake up feeling very sad and nervous;I wonder if I am having a breakdown.Then I feel worse as I turn it over in my mind trying to decide what to do.Then I get up and get food into me and think it all over and over again while drinking my tea.
Well, you know it is normal to feel sad, anxious or distraught when bad things happen,Mary told her.
But most people look happy when I see them in the town , Rosa shouted angrily
That is because being outside they put on a mask.They could be feeling worse than you.Anyway, why bother about that? We are all different.Some people think I am very calm but they don’t see me when I’m not.I go stiff like a piece of wood.Then I pass out
So what do you do? Rosa asked her nervously,twirling a golden ringlet around her finger as she watched her engagement ring melt in the fire.
I don’t do anything,Mary said.This is one of the fundamental errors in our society that action is needed for so many things and especially for negative feelings.But it’s usually part of life.Things pass.
I pretend I have a big round box inside me and I let the anxiety live in there nice and cosy until my mind has absorbed and dealt with the pain.Once my box was quite small but it has grown bigger now and so it has room for mad or bad feelings.I do little tasks and listen to music.
Then if I feel really bad I listen to Leonard Cohen and tell myself, he had it worse.But he made money out of it! Not that you can make money out of yours. though it’s worth musing about
Well,Rosa replied.Thank you,Mary.I am glad I am not the only one who feels so anxious sometimes.I shall try to get a box like yours.
You are welcome,said Mary jovially.Come round on Sunday for tea.Emile is out hunting but he loves to see you and so do I
The women hugged cautiously and Rosa went out looking less cold and nervous as she bravely carried her box away .It was invisible to the people walking nearby
I’d love to write a sonnet but I daren’t For in this steamy heat it’s much too hard So please don’t send me messages that taunt Nor with disdain compare me to our bard.
.For not all people have poetic skill And what I have will sometimes fall to dust Like virtue writing’s not made by the will Await the grace ,as saints and mystics must
In the mind an empty bowl of space We keep to catch the offerings of the gods. It’s more like contemplation than a race; For freely, quietly we receive the good.
The lady’s not for turning words to gold But with a chosen few she loves to mould
How my heart speaks 