For then ,on earth, our life will long endure

110906_5662We think we own our bodies and our minds

Not realising  when we have the gift of health

We use them without thought ,.with vision blind

Yet nature creeps up with her sylvan stealth.

When to work  or when to take our ease,

The signals sent may never reach our brains.

But later, they will turn to constant pleas

For help to cease from  imposing more strain.

Days we work and never take a rest

Except to slump  by  TV,tablet,screen.

It takes much time to learn what is the best

If not, what is will soon be” what has been”

Let us learn our body’s  signals clear

For then on earth our life will long endure

Precise and moving geometry

 

Looking past the trees

What a marvellous day yesterday was for us here in London.
The sunlight was powerful,the sky blue and on the trees and shrubs I imagined I could almost see leaves turning red and gold.By the lake a huge flock of pigeons rose from the trees and circled in precise and moving geometry whilst simultaneously many sea gulls which had been floating on the windblown water arose and formed concentric whirling music in the sky.
We stood still on the grass in the deep silence, absorbing the colours,shapes and murmurings.Just a normal day in the country park but I am sure of one thing:

Birds can see God

The memory lasts

 

midsummer days evoke entrancings past
where children played in joyous, daisied fields
with buttercups so bright the memory lasts
a freedom that our conscious growth will steal.

those stones and leaves and many coloured flowers
were gathered into images that glow
yet later we forget those treasured hours
when for a while we lived in life’s deep flow

we did not look and see,but felt at one
we lived as did the birds high in the trees
now we see and write yet experiencing has gone
we no longer live like flowers filled with bees

to lose ourselves in nature is a joy
which to our adult selves we must restore

Now speaks the sacred earth

Now speaks the earth of spring and all its joys.

Now flowers and blossom soothe our  lonley eyes.

So happy are the lovers,girls and boys,

As in the  daisied meadows they may lie.

 

Now speaks the sun and makes us  want to grow

to open like the flowers for his love

To let the life within us start to flow.

With  blessings sent down to us  from above.

 

Now every part of nature is in flood

Fresh leaves point down from trees to holy nests

The birds are active in this little wood,

And dwelling on the tree branch breast to breast.

 

Oh let’s not waste time brooding on our thoughts.

For we may miss the joy which spring has brought

 

 

Poetry makes me breathe differently

 

 
 
 
 

Dreaming

Sometimes writing makes me breathe differently.
I can see the silence settle around me,
Like a prayer shawl.
i accept it gratefully.
There’s a thin feeling to the day
As if the sun might have tried harder
to come through
But it had a blue feeling
And the clouds were greedy,
Wanting too much to melt
And shed their moisture.
Some  perfume please,I think it was £27.99
Yes,I like that one even more than jasmine oil.
Pour it down over London
Like a blessing.
A black woman laughed and patted my arm,
You’re so funny,she cried.
And I smiled coyly
As if someone hidden was taking my photograph.
Sometimes life’s too sweet
And needs a little pepper.
The chair creaks as I lean forward
Trying to see everything at once
As if it all happened now,not yesterday.
I like  dreaming.

 

Shapely tulips catch my eye

Shapely tulips catch my eye

Red as cherries

Winter berries

Spring will never lie.

Willow buds as green as glass

Happiness

Happiness

Memories are made of this,

Sunlight slants across the wall

such loved color

my eyes follow

Delight  to me is all

Mauve and grey the evening sky.

Sun descends

Day must end

One last goose flies by

So I see with widening view

Gently dancing in the sun
Wildflowers grow;
they bloom,
are gone.

With no thoughts,they have no cares;
Yet their lives are gentle prayers.
May I walk in such a way
That I am alive to this day.

So I see with widening view,
And joy and sorrows embrace too.
Then my time will come like yours...
And of us nothing shall endure.As to the earth our bodies go,
All are one;it shall be so

 

Friendship problems.. nature consoles

My friend is like an FBI interrogator…asking so many questions

ImageImage

Do you have a friend with no charms?

Do you have a friend who alarms?

Well,go  hug a tree

And  you will then be

Caressed  with nature’s own balm

Geese fly by

Wintery frost and sunset
Wintery frost and sunset

AUTUMN

It’s Autumn weather, geese fly by,

Autumn rust,red,gold,so gay

Drystone walls edging fields,

Apples gathered,holly berries

Flash so brightly

Look like flowers

Sun shines sideways,shadows long

Of trees appear;I dwell amongst.

Woods of gentle beeches sing

Swaying with the sideward wind.

See their roots, all intertwined.

Feel their geometry in your mind.

Look up now into the sky,

See the V formation high.

Geese fly home at end of day.

My heart is moved by patterned dance

In this peace and great silence

My mind widens like the sky

And in this moment I would die,

So I would stay with this still vision

Of geese set out on autumn mission.

Snails in rain pools slither near

My feet upon the terrace here

And look,upon their whorled backs

All the sense of life is packed.

And yet so easily Life’s destroyed,

When blind foot foot steps into the void
;

Autumn arrives

Image

I take pleasure seeing leaves turn red.
On trees from whose rich fruit we’re fed.
My apples dropped to mossy lawn,
My plums purpled from sun late born.

Stand still, then listen in the woods.
Hear the sounds of dreaming doves.
Shelter, quiet,by  oak and elm,
And find your self in woodland’s realm.

Gaze at clouds through branches high.
See red leaves light up pale sky.
The sun is angled now so low,
The trees their longer shadows show.

In what,at first,seemed silence clear
The chirps of birds, who know no fear
Are gathered to our open ears.

I’d like to live as do wild flowers.
Though life may last but one hour.
An hour of complete submission to
The bliss of love and sun and you.

A moment can be a life time too.
In joy, our love of life’s renewed.
Time stretches out in sweet embrace,
For us who live in earth’s dear space.

Image

Birds can see God

Reverie and fantasy « katzideas

What a marvelous day yesterday was. for us here in London.

The sunlight was powerful;

the sky blue and on the trees and shrubs I could almost see buds opening.

By the lake a huge flock of pigeons rose from the trees and circled  in precise and moving geometry

whilst simultaneously many sea gulls which had been floating on the windblown water arose

and formed concentric whirling music in the sky.

We stood still on the grass in the deep silence, absorbing the colors,shapes and murmurings.

Just a normal  day in the country park but I am sure of one thing:

Birds can see God

And in such green stillness,perhaps we can feel God ,if only for a moment

Birds can see God

front garden

What a marvelous day yesterday was. for us here in London.

The sunlight was powerful;

the sky blue and on the trees and shrubs I could almost see buds opening.

By the lake a huge flock of pigeons rose from the trees and circled  in precise and moving geometry

whilst simultaneously many sea gulls which had been floating on the windblown water arose

and formed concentric whirling music in the sky.

We stood still on the grass in the deep silence, absorbing the colors,shapes and murmurings.

Just a normal April day in the country park but I am sure of one thing:

Birds can see God

And in such green stillness,perhaps we can feel God ,if only for a moment

September from BCUK

  • I’d like to lie beside you,
    so we’d be face to face..
    A sweet embrace..

    Eyes to eyes…
    I look at you
    Your face is always
    in my view

    Then I could take my fingers
    Across your brow,
    they linger….
    and trace the dear lines
    around your eyes.

    I’d like to touch your lips
    With my finger tips.

    I’d like to blow your nose
    On my handkerchief.
    I’d like to get inside
    Those powerful arms
    And rub your shoulders
    with a hot balm.

    I’d like to boil your hankies
    In a pan
    On a big coal fire..
    Though the coal fires are long gone.

    I’d like to rest my head
    Upon your chest
    And check the whiteness of your vest.
    I wonder if
    I should starch your shirts,
    For as they say
    Real loving hurts!

  • I was waiting for the ink to sigh.

    He was waiting for the ink to lie.

    I’m waiting for my pen to fill,I can’t write yet.

    Oh,I can’t write…I have to pick a lily.

    For what?

    To pay for England!

    Oh,I was waiting for the link to come by… but it was so fast it was absolutely hyper.

    She’s waiting for some misty petals.

    Or was it a new electric kettle?

    He was waiting for his mother’s views to falter.

    She was waiting for a whip to home in.

    He was waiting for your lips to come closer.

    I wake-up and yell,Whoopee!

    I crack up and shout,I see!

    I make up and I look like a bee.

    I wake up and need to pee.

    I believe above the storm a boiling kettle causes alarm.

    I had wake-up fall…….. the bed threw me out!It was tired of me.

    I’d love to wake-up on the wrong side of the bed… on top of you..

    I can talk about a mile wide…but how high?

    She walks softly and carries a big lipstick.

    I was practically talking as the eggs fell.

    It was a walled garden called Eden before the government interfered.

    The walls have ears in the hospital.If only the doctors listened how happy I would be


    Gradually

     

    You have come here gradually,
    from the whirling chaos of the dreaming infant,
    anchored by the maternal hand to earth
    to this strange place.

    Do not try to fly back to heaven today.
    Be patient;your guides will,with no effort,
    Teach you the patterns and the dance.
    All you need is to be open and to trust,
    For you have a place in the world.
    We need your contribution.No-one else
    will see this world from your perspective.

    And as you trust the chaos now,fear it not
    Should it return.Every creative act
    involves the breaking of these barriers
    by which we keep the chairs and tables
    anchored into themselves.The patterns may break up
    but new ones are somewhere near.Patience
    with this suffering is the only route now.

    You cannot go back.Heaven comes only after
    you have grown roots into this earth,
    grown sunward,and travailed the storms
    and stinging blows;
    have grown your flowers and leaves
    And let them fall.

    Accept.
    The only way you can go
    is the earthly way.
    You are part of us.
    We love you.
    Our hands are reaching out
    If you just lift your eyes.
    In the Chaos,God danced and rainbows
    Flew from his hands and tears fell from his eyes.
    Those tears which fertilised our earth.

    He wept, knowing of the pain to come;
    And yet,he did not cease to dance.

  •  

    I’m a thin skinned person
    On a thin skinned, spinning earth.
    We’re living on the surface,
    Creating more financial worth.

    My skin is getting thinner
    I am feeling far too much.
    My skin is very fragile,
    I may need to have it patched.

    The earth is full of danger
    But we build on it like fools.
    As if our skins would thicken
    If we covered them in jewels.

    Inside the earth are fires
    Which rage like infernos.
    But we build nuclear reactors
    In places we don’t know.

    We build our human cities
    As if we are in charge.
    Banks,shops,bridges growing,
    The built world has grown too large.

    The earth has a thinner skin on,
    But we don’t want to know.
    We just want our human cities
    To grow and grow and grow.

    My skin is getting thinner
    I feel life far too well.
    I don’t want to write poetry
    But I feel that I should tell.

    My skin is getting thinner
    I’m at one with Mother Earth
    She groans and labours loudly
    Like she is giving birth.

    Her skin is getting thinner
    Is it something she will shed?
    As adders are reborn
    When we think they are dead.

    But if we have too many cities
    The earth has no space to move.
    We’re like acne pustules dancing
    Without energy or love.

    The skin is getting thinner
    The world is going to split.
    And the energy released
    Is a fierce charge to transmit.

    We split the atom once
    And opened the abyss.
    But when we split the atom
    Who knew about all this?

    My skin is far too permeable
    I’m feeling too much pain.
    I want a thicker skin
    To survive on this terrain.

    The world groans and she labours
    And she destroys cities and trains.
    She’s giving birth to her own self
    As she struggles,works and strains.

    Her self is something fearsome,
    She is not civilised.
    When God spoke from the Burning Bush,
    We covered up our eyes.

    My skin is getting thinner
    I feel the heat again
    My skin is getting thinner
    I’m feeling too much pain.

  • Robert Frost

    Poetry

    Fire and Ice

    Some say the world will end in fire,
    Some say in ice.
    From what I’ve tasted of desire
    I hold with those who favor fire.
    But if it had to perish twice,
    I think I know enough of hate
    To know that for destruction ice
    Is also great
    And would suffice.


    Emile helps Stan and Annie to create a painting

    If you look carefully you will discern Emile’s foot prints.

    He is now swimming in some Fairy Liquid in the bath..

    He tells me it is a card for Annie’s birthday though she doesn’t know that.

    Will she like it?

  • His wit have been tried and found haunting.

    So I invited him to be my ghost.


    I saw you

     

    When I saw you waiting in that cafe
    I knew you would be mine.
    You were handsome, smiling,funny..you were specially designed.
    You looked like men I’d only dreamed about in all those years before.
    I’m so broke up,so broke up;you don’t love me anymore.

    I saw you on the station as I came from out the train.
    You wore an old green parka to protect you from the rain.
    I wanted to be one with you,to make a Love entire;
    But all you did was give me pain too bad be endured

    You walked away so quickly,I could not see you long.
    I wish I had a big guitar to draw you back with song.
    I looked at where you disappeared;what love has loss revealed?
    I wish I could just lay down on this floor and keep my face concealed.

    Railway stations sadden me, for I know we’ll never meet .
    I won’t cry more ,for tears are running almost to my feet.
    I walk fast looking straight ahead past that entrance gate,
    I pretend that you have missed your train,that work was running late.

    I count from one and one up to a thousand and many more–
    But I know for sure it’s far too late; you have closed that heavy door.
    You are hiding in a dungeon
    You are covered with white steel
    But I know you had a heart and you must surely feel.

    I lost all my illusions, and then I lost some more.
    I wish I could lay down and die,right here on this floor

  • An agitation of the air,
    A perturbation of the light
    Admonished me the unloved year
    Would turn on its hinge that night.

    I stood in the disenchanted field
    Amid the stubble and the stones,
    Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
    The song of my marrow-bones.

    Blue poured into summer blue,
    A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,
    The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew
    That part of my life was over.

    Already the iron door of the north
    Clangs open: birds, leaves, snows
    Order their populations forth,
    And a cruel wind blows.


    Make sure Jesus gets no benefits!

     

    BOOKS FOR YOU

    Silent spite.

    Holy rite.

    Shepherds flocks.

    Vicars frocks.

    Three Wii Men.

    We three Kings of Haunting and War.

    A million children died,children of beloved renown.

    Will you Kings donate your crowns?

    Oh little drink of bed time cheer.

    When will Horlicks get up here?

    Faith of our Fathers,time for a rethink?

    the Vatican hotline’s on the blink.

    God test thee,holy gentlemen.

    Wait till Jesus comes again.

    Was Mary after a council flat?

    Oh,yes,Joseph mentioned that.

    God didn’t marry her, for if he had.

    He’d have had to buy her,her own pad.

    Fancy,Jesus is illegitimate.

    Make sure he gets no benefits
    .
    Oh,mother’s mind is in full spate.

    where will it all end at this rate?

    Why did God not want to wed?

    I don’t know,he never said.

    But someone told me he is dead.

    That’s just a rumour some nerd spread.

    God is still in us today.

    But something always blocks His say.


    A party?

     

    Stan was down on his hands and knees washing and scrubbing at the carpet with a new microfibre cloth and
    some shampoo for dry hair.He had a bucket of hot water beside him.Happy, as always, when cleaning and
    scrubbing he whistled “The lark ascending” for his cat Emile, whilst sipping at a big mug of lager.
    Mary was down in the town buying some new earrings to match her red dress from Phase 8 Sale.Their
    granddaughter Flora had also gone to town but she wanted a nose ring not an earring.As she was a girl it was
    mandatory in the UK.
    Suddenly,quite out of the blue,the doorbell rang.They always do don’t they.It was their Muslim neighbour
    Bert.”We’re going away in the caravan.”He boasted gruffly.”Anyroad,the cat ,Nelsonia Mandelinaah, doesn’t
    want to come.Would you be able enough to feed her over the weekend without any politically correct remarks
    being issued ,as it were?”
    ” Certainly” Stan responded jovially.”When are you off?”
    “Well we went last week but we need a weekend in bed to recover from seeing Brent Cross Shopping Centre
    in Kettlewell right next to the old Post Office.[Kettlewell,Yorkshire’s idyllic village]
    “Very strange”Stan said,”Mary was in it only yesterday ,she claims,in Knittingham spending all our minute
    joint pension on new dresses and shoes.”
    “I encounter women who have seen Brent Cross down the road all the time all over Britain.Still they’re
    entitled to believe what they want!
    ” “But what will the consequences be?”
    “Is there a flying Brent Cross?”
    “That sounds rather religious,” Bert answered quickly
    ,”Is it an augury?”
    “I’d say it’s an omen,myself”
    “But of what?”
    “The times we live in?
    “But what’s going to happen?”
    “God knows.”
    “Well,does he though?”Stan’s hot water had gone cold.In fact it was frozen.”The laws of physics seem very
    mutable” Stan wrote in his journal,
    “Also my spelling has deteriorated badly ssince I began drinking lager.
    Would whiskey be better?”
    Meanwhile,he had cleaned only one third of the carpet.
    He filled the bath with hot soapy water,stepped in fully clothed and then rolled himself around all over the
    carpet to pick up all the fluff.
    When Mary came in she was amazed,
    “What’s going on?”
    “You look as if you’ve been having an orgy on the floor!”
    An orgy was something unknown to Stan as yet.”Would you like one?” he murmured.”Yes,”said Mary
    childishly “Age has not beaten me yet!””Better have it soon before my knees get too bad!”So now Stan is
    cleaning the carpet again.It’s very soft and thick,just perfect!The list of invitees is posted on his blog.
    Well,he’s been told to do something new every week.An orgy this week,the marathon later!
    But why is Mary ringing 999?
    Does she want to invite Dave,the paramedic or is it more sinister than I can tell you?
    Yes,indeed,she wants to invite Alistair Campbell and Tony Blair but she’s not telling Stan!.He’ll be furious.In fact he might be tempted to slap someone but no,even these people have the right to life.And they did some good in Northern Ireland.But would you want them at an orgy?””Me neither!”


    The stranger

     

    Have you ever had a dream,
    That you were all alone?
    Have you lived with someone handsome,
    With a heart like a cold stone?

    Have you drowned in deep,cold rivers,
    And been lost in shadowed caves?
    Have you lived with too much fusion,
    Till you drowned in ghostly waves?

    The waves run down the sea shore,
    Then up they come once more.
    The tide turns and life alters..
    Deep on that ocean floor

    .
    You were so beautiful and silent,
    Like a sword without its sheath.
    I should have let you take me,
    The way you took away my breath


    Smoke

     

    If I go I won’t tell you.

    I’ll just disappear one day.

    Like when a cigarette ,which seemed so long,

    suddenly has become smaller

    and you never noticed it

    because you were talking

    about the meaning of life

    while life was somewhere else

    blown away with your smoke

    into the sky

    and then dispersed

    never quite visible again

    but still floating on the breeze

    hoping to be caught

    in a butterfly net

    but unable to communicate

    except by flying.

    If I go it will not be today

    but it will be an ordinary day

    no one will realise

    that it’s that day

    that the bird flies

    from her nest

    to go to a new place

    only seeing the deserted nest

    he realises,

    my bird has flown

    The music of silence

    by Kathswords Pro @ 2012-09-26 – 10:14:42

    Somehow,you were here.
    I didn’’t hear you coming,
    then I saw you were here.
    Happiness fills me.
    Standing in the garden
    looking at red leaves,
    I hold your hand gently,
    and share the sweetness
    of autumn leaves,
    the distant doves cooing,
    the sun dipping down to the horizon.
    Life is good today.
    We hear together
    the music
    of silence,


    Emile and the flu jab

     

    Stan realised it was time for Emile to have his annual flu jab.He stopped polishing the windows and picked up
    the phone.Hello,it’s Stan here.Can I make an appointment for Emile?
    Yes, come today if Emile has had a bath!
    Are you joking?
    Yes,the receptionist responded cheerfully.
    Actually he did have a bath and now can swim breatstroke!
    How amazing,she said sweetly.
    Stan got out Emile’s travelling basket.He put some copies of The Independent inside
    in case Emile was bored.
    Here,Emile,I’m taking you for a ride in the car.kindly step into your basket,
    Can’t I sit by you and wear a seat belt?
    I fear it’s illegal.
    OK,grandad,Emile answered jauntily.He climbed into the basjet and sat up staring out boldly with his great
    amber eyes.
    The doorbell rang.
    Hello,Annie,Would you like to come to the vet’s with us?
    She looked down at her violet velvet tracksuit and purple trainers with real gold laces.
    Yes,I’ll sit in the back with Emile.
    After ten minutes they arrived and parked the car under an elm tree.Stan carried the basket steadily not
    wanting the poor cat to fall in an undignified manner,Annie looked at her green nails.
    Do you like my nail varnish,Stan?
    To be honest,I prefer shell pink.
    Why is that,darling?
    It is more feminine!
    Feminine!But you can see I’m feminine!
    I like you to be even more feminine.
    Oh,yes ,agreed Emile,So do I.
    You men,she cried sweetly,never satisfied.
    I wouldn’t say that,my America,my Newfoundland!
    What’s up?Swallowed the dictionary.
    It’s a poem,actually.
    You’ve been reading again.It’s bad for you.
    Don’t you like to be my new found land?
    A bit late to ask now,she murmured seductively.
    Next moment they were in the empty waiting room.Then a man came in with a big black dog.Emile stared
    fiercely and the dog whimpered and lay down on the floor.
    The vet came out and asked Stan to bring Emile in.Emile gave a yell at the dog before Stan shut the
    door.So,said the beautiful young vet,how is pussy today.
    Emile remained silent.He’s fine,just needs his flu jab.muttered Stan.
    Come now,Emile come out of there.But Emile was clinging to his basket with ll his sharp claws.
    Are you afraid Emile?He asked kindly
    No,I’m not afraid,I’m just acting how vets expect cats to act.
    So Emile speaks English?
    He knows French too.
    Je t’aime Emile.
    Bedankt,madame.
    Stop showing off and get out of there,she doesn’t speak Dutch.
    Mein mutter wast immer krank,cried Emile.
    Get out now!
    Emile came out slowly and stood by this good lady.She looks a bit like Annie, he whispered.
    The vet took out a small needle and swiftly injected Emile.
    What a good boy,she sang,would you like a jelly baby?
    A jelly baby!Cats don’t eat jelly babies!
    Well, have a go!
    Emile stalked back to his basket,put on some glasses and began to read the editorial in The Independent.
    Stan was hoping to make a suggestive remark to the vet,but Annie came in.
    Hurry up,there’s a thunderstorm coming.Her nails were now pink.
    Did you change your nail varnish?
    No,the green was artificial nails!I took them off.
    Can I have some claw varnish.demanded Emile
    What colour?
    I fancy teal,Emile miaowed.
    Teal!How ludicrous!
    What about red?
    Too pretentious.
    I don’t think I’ll bother then,the cat said languidly
    We men don’t have to bother about such things.
    Well,you are lucky said Annie.
    I hate makeup and nail varnish,blow dries and manicures but I don’t feel feminine without it.
    You feel very feminine to me said Stan,running his hand softly along her forearm
    and patting her behind!
    Stan!Not here in the road!
    Why not?enquired Emile.It looks ideal to me if you go behind those bushes.
    Annie jumped into the car and drove away leaving Stan to carry Emile to the bus stop for a tedious journey
    home.Then she reappeared,opened the door and said,come on now
    let’s all go home.I’m sorry I drove away.I’m feeling a bit blue today.
    They got in and arrived safely home where Stan brewed a big pot of tea and let Annie sit on the sofa with her
    feet on cushion.He rubbed her head gently.Lovely,she purred.
    I like having my head stroked.So do I,said Emile loudly but alas they were too busy to hear or care.

  • I shall wail it today.

    I said a ball for the dogs!

    I hate someone re free market.More than one…

    I feel the hots.

    Oh,a cat can speak,can it

    A can of germs was bailed for £5,000 last night.Doctors said it would be happy in the fridge till being tried for manslaughter.

    You are so quaint I could eat you.

    I can’t fold a candle up.

    I can’t judge a look by the eyes alone.

    You can’t learn a psalm without understanding the words.

    I can’t pray enough for him

    i can’t teach an old dog to eat Weetabix


    I’m a pessimist but I’m ok

     

    I’m a pessimist and I’m ok
    I worry all night and I sleep all day.
    I do my shopping at 1 am
    Then I’m certain to meet some very naughty men.
    I’m a pessimist,it’s not a gay life,
    Especially if you have a watchful wife.
    I invent crossword puzzles for the Times.
    Then I write these cunning little rhymes.
    I am rich but I generally suffer panic.
    Either that or I get pissed and manic.
    I’m a pessimist and I love to laugh
    It makes women wet themselves,just like a bad cough!
    But we’re too fragile to worry about such issues,
    Just fill your handbags with plenty of thick tissues.
    I’m a pessimist,I’m neurotic and depressed.
    Will I feel better now that I have confessed?
    But I earn money by writing all night long;
    Then I lick my lover’s face with my bright red tongue.
    That is more than enough.THE EDITOR.
    No,it’s perfect.Just right.


    Word fun

     

    The Aliens have no Maps.

    A Map a Day keeps Words at Bay.

    Read a Map without eyes: Touch your Way to Happiness.

    I am a Map.

    I am a Door Map.

    Lonely and Mapless:Therapeutic advice from Angelic Geographers.

    The Map of Heaven.

    I see the Map but I have lost touch with Reality.

    Maps of Desire.

    Contour Lines for British Boys.

    Equilevel Curves for Latin Men.

    Isoquants for Greek lovers.

    Equilateral computers for geeks and their lovers.

    Triangles are ringing in my head.

    Where is the Path of Wrath?

    Isoquants for Greek Lovers.

  •  

    I had a little nutmeg and drank a glass of wine

    Then I fell asleep and dreamed I was divine.

    When I was awoken by my little cat.

    She was in the kitchen fighting with a rat.

    I made myself an omelette in a special pan..

    Eggs are full of protein so I ate up 21..

    Then I had some custard,I made it yesterday.

    Here is the policeman for the 60th time today

  • Unable to travel far

    I concentrate more closely

    On the flowers in my neighbours’ gardens

    In one small road

    One thousand jewels.

    I close my eyes

    To take in the scent

    Of the late roses.

    Of the late roses

  • The colour of the flowers

    touches my eyes

    more softly than a raindrop

    Yet with the intensity of the sun

  •  

    “Say what you mean, but don’t say it mean.”


    Not a poem

    He went off his huff and decided to laugh.

    Of its time..10000 years ago.

    Quaff these newts in ale.

    She stole a cough off the shelf.

    She stole the top of my head.

    You are off your blogger now…

    I feel a little old “miss you”

    Oh brother.I want mother.I feel so sad.Can I sleep on your iPad?

    Hello,God!

    Oh my blood is wetter than I expected…thanks to drinking tea all day long.

  •  

    Lyra’s a Bohemian girl
    She makes even dead men’s hair curl!
    She wears vintage skirts
    And old blue denim shirts.
    She has whopping golden earrings
    And black fishnet stockings.
    Lyra carries a black velvet tote
    Full of the latest poems she wrote.
    Lyra’s a Bohemian girl.
    She makes even her own hair curl.
    Lyra’s in love with an ancient Emperor,
    His unreality does not prevent her.
    She believes she is an Egyptian Queen
    She sees Mark Antony in her dreams.
    As she lies there covered in face cream,
    Her unconscious plans more wondrous schemes
    Which cause her psychoanalyst to despair.
    About a man who isn’t actually here.
    But the Emperor’s mad desire
    Has set Lyra’s Bohemian mind on fire.
    Desperate Freud got a bucket of cold water
    And threw it over this delirious daughter.
    He was,at the end,unable to maintain
    The distance and silence he claimed
    Was essential for a cure-
    What a torment to endure!
    Lyra made even Freud go crazy.
    She’s one real cool Bohemian lady.

  • I want silk and money.

    I am past the witch’s efforts.Her broomstick broke.

    This is the last Bazaar before the Day of Judgment,

    Taste, but don’t eat.

    I quaff beers with no limit

    I laughed all the day as we sank,

    Play down the law.

    I got laid by a bard in a fable

Latish May: writing and images

  • Already it’s the last day of the month.
    That is usually when I think of you
    Walking by the river,the path green
    With moss and small grass blades.
    Is that your shadow across the window?
    I still expect you though you’re long gone.
    Damply trudging through the meadow,
    Hand in hand we never noticed the cold,
    Though my fingers were painful with chilblains.
    I don’t see you any more,nor the chilblains.
    Would I walk on knives for you
    Like the girl in the fairytale,No.
    But almost anything else.
    Sand runs through my fingers,
    I’m a human timer,though not for eggs,
    But for love,my time is running out.
    Though even in a moment one can receive love
    In the smile of a stranger.
    Why should love not be short
    Like a grass blade?
    Or tiny like a grain of sand?
    Dante only saw Beatrice once,
    But it sustained his life for ever.
    That’s worth dwelling on.

  • http://www.arduity.com/toolkit/risk.html

    This is a website called Arduity which is about difficult poetry,how to understand it and has many good discussions about risk and so on.I recommend it just may make reading poetry less scary.Cats praying

  • wild cat

    http://vandelaydesign.com/blog/blogging/common-blogging-problems/
    Tthree more cats
    I just saw this which I feel will be of interest to many people though not to cats.
    If you are a cat,please out your paw down here
    This will help cat owners with finger issues.Cats............... funny day

    This image is intriguing as it appears to be naive but it uses a rare kind of geometry known only to a few people… mostly introverted men with their heads in the cloud……………yes, you can store your head on the cloud for free now with
    GOOGLE HEAD
    You may be the first people in the world to know about this.That’s because so far we have got a name but no product…but we are working hard.

    We feel it’s only fair to say you need to have your head screwed on before you can unscrew it for storage.If your head is fastened by other fixtures please consult a psychiatrist at your earliest convenience

    loo

    If you have no convenience use your discretion instead please.Do not use a vicarage garden.I suggest a disused coal mine.
    coal mine
    Be circumspect and remember the old proverb:
    Discretion is the better part of valour
    What does it mean?
    signed by K.Flannery O’Braithwaite-Ulysses M.A.D.Phil. {Knittingham U.K.]

  •  

     

  • The trees stretch silver branches
    In the late December sun ,
    The robin perched there watches
    As we offer him our crumbs.
    The elegance of shapes laid bare
    Forgives the winter cold.
    And side cast sun rays clearly
    Touch the embers of my soul.
    Too soon the quarter moon will rise
    To send the sun away.
    So let us all wipe clean our eyes
    To see what Winter is..
    And all the while the world rotates
    Regardless of our fate.

  •  

  •  

    Photo0295
    I threw my words up in the air
    So they would fall at random.
    I put some paper on the floor
    For these words to land on.
    Lying like a mixed up puzzle,
    I pushed them with my fingers.
    Until I made a verse from them
    Which suits wild drunken singers.
    A Jackson Pollock of the page.
    Post modern verbal mistress
    As Picasso haunts Greek labyrinths
    With post modern art’s distresses.

    A beam of light passed through my eyes

    And showed to me a world disguised.

    So near,yet far,we do not see,

    Unless by gift of grace redeemed.

    That world is full of peace and calm.

    Its colours mingle,like a balm.

    In such a moment all thought dies,

    Revealing Love which underlies.

    Colours caress my naked eyes.

    Sunlight blesses new designs.

    I stand enthralled,and do not wish

    For one delight,other than this.

    My breath slows down, and filled with joy,

    I rove my eyes with bliss to toy.

    Everything is just itself.

    This is now my living wealth.

    Beneath the noise of city traffic,

    This mellow joy,love soporific,

    This depth and peace, is always near

    When we choose Love and turn from fear.

  • One day the answer in a crossword was”Black walnut”
    Which then lead me to write this poemHot March days 049.

    I love you like I’d love a black walnut.
    You’re so rare I can’t eat you.
    I’ll put you in my pocket
    and take you with me
    when I go in town
    I’ll feel your crinkles and your wrinkles,
    But nobody will know.

    I love you like I’d love a comice pear.
    I’ll put you in a golden bowl.
    I’ll let the sun shine on you,
    Till you are ripe.
    I’ll put you in my bag,
    Take you to a meadow of buttercups
    And devour you.
    And nobody will know.

    I love you like I’d love a flower.
    I’ll give you my best vase.
    I’ll stand it in the window.
    Then I’ll look at you all day
    With my peripheral and my central vision,
    Till your pattern is embedded in my brain.
    I’ll sleep well and dream of you all night.
    I’ll wake up and remember it all.

    And nobody will know.

  • Theorem. Every positive integer is interesting.

    Proof. Assume the opposite that there is an uninteresting positive integer. Then there must be a smallest uninteresting positive integer. But being the smallest uninteresting positive integer is interesting by itself. Contradiction!
    Hence the theorem in true

  •  

    Trying to keep a hold of you.
    trying to keep a hold of you.
    Don’t go,
    Don’t go.
    I’ll not let you fall down that gap,
    I’ll always try to pull you back
    Little sister.

    You slipped away from us.
    You slipped because you could.
    You saw a gap and fell right down,
    You were serious,my little clown.
    Come back now.
    Come back now.
    My baby.

    I sang all those songs for you
    But I still needed a mother too.
    A mother too.
    If only I were stronger,
    Would you have stayed here longer?
    Little sister.

    As you rocked in your little chair,
    the demons of the past were there.
    Your blue eyes shone,
    Then you were gone.
    My sister.

    I saw you in a vision in a long blue gown,
    With a golden halo wrapped all round.
    You smiled and said you didn’t know
    That I had really loved you so.
    You were sorry to go like that,
    And would I please feed your little cat.
    My sister.
    Little sister.

  • Private

    I just read that in some countries maybe the USA dentists can remove a wisdom tooth and transplant it to replace another tooth..not sure about the nerve.Teeth have roots like little tree roots………I wonder if they could be gold plated and used as ear rings? There must be something one could use them for.
    My teeth have been a pest.In 1974 I had a wisdom tooth removed by a fairly junior dentist.Now it is so much better that you hardly know they have done it.Though you do get pain ….
    When the junior dentist took out my tooth I went and sat in the waiting tom where a lovely old man sat.He called to the nurse
    “Fetch this young lady a cup of tea.She looks dreadful!”
    To which she riposted
    “You should see the dentist.He’s in a terrible state!So much blood.He looks far worse than she does.”
    So I said..
    No,I said nothing at all.

    Still, it was free in those days.
    Well dentistry,like all surgery, is improving all the time here.But lately I’ve grown tires of it…I’m sure many people feel the same way.
    I must pay my bill soon.
    Fortunately i am very fond of my dentist.I knew him as a junior and now he’s got adult daughters but to me he still looks the same.It’s a strangely intimate relationship.Still it was a day out for me…It made a change.
    Next it will be the doctor…he has his mood swings…but he’s very clever.
    And I read the Times free in the waiting room.I’m a very fast reader.It’s not good usually to be fast but sometimes it has its uses in waiting rooms
    or in trains.But it’s more economical to read slowly.. you need fewer books.
    Or re read the old books.I like to do that.
    I may try writing a poem about a dentist.But it is not something I would put here.I know you like humour mote here.
    Humours … that’s more complex.Like bile and so on.
    As in “Ill humour”

  •  

    Jim Brown was in his new conservatory admiring the windows he had just

    polished.His 82nd birthday was coming up in a few days

    Marie,his stunningly attractive yet irritable,nasty and over educated

    wife,a leading authority on Wittgenstein and most likely suffering from

    Asperger’s syndrome into the bargain,….oh a cliche prone author too—!

    had made a huge whole orange cake and planned a large gathering of friends

    to celebrate his survival for so long whilst married to her,not easy she

    knows.

    He heard a sharp tapping on the door.

    There lay Lucy their next door neighbour spying through the key hole.

    “Are you on your own?” she queried tersely yet rudely.

    “No, yet I’m suffering from chronic existential anxiety” Bill lied politely.

    “Well,I just saw Martina on her second hand Raleigh bike going to the

    market or the Charity Shop or possibly leaving home for ever….”

    “Well,I still have the cat here”,he whispered loudly as if he were free

    associating in a dream

    “Let me in and make me some coffee” she asked courteously,

    “She’s an odd one” the cat Emile thought naughtily.

    “Where’s my Carnation cat milk?”

    “Real or instant?” Simon answered suavely yet naturally.

    “Won’t it wash off your brand new coral lipstick from Chanel of Paris?…

    not to mention your factor 60 sunblock.”

    “God’s whiskers” she murmured quaintly to herself.

    “How does he know it’s Chanel?

    Is he a spy or what?

    Is he in M.I.5?”

    John got some instant coffee and debated whether to put in a little LSD to

    add some visions to their morning!No,a short breathing exercise would do

    he concluded after 9 minutes of obsessive anxiety.

    He sat down in his favorite old wooden Habitat chair having poured the

    coffee into some old plastic mugs.

    “Did you know Habitat is going b..b bankrupt?” she brightly stuttered

    turning pink with happiness and the menopause which so far had lasted over

    30 years.

    Suddenly Lucy sat down on Bert’s lap and began to kiss his right eyelid

    “Careful,my darling!” he muttered insensibly.

    He was savouring the annoyingly uncommon pleasure when the chair fell to

    pieces as it frequently did at such times, throwing the elderly but

    versatile and experienced couple down onto the new Mary Quant patterned

    pure New Zealand lambs wool carpet.Suddenly they heard the peal of Mary’s

    bicycle bell.Shortly she walked into the room carrying 78 bags of

    groceries for the birthday party.

    “What’s going on here ?”she murmured seductively in a piercing shriek.

    “I’m so sorry,Jenny,please accept my apologies,he has this thing about

    chairs.It’s a fetish,I believe,according to Sinald Floyd.””

    “Have you got your mobile?” shrieked Tom agonisedly in a whisper.

    ”I can’t get up.” he screamed softly.”Am I dead?”

    “What cannot stand up must forever remain lying down” As my old philosophy

    tutor at Cambridge used to say,muttered Marty.

    “Why,that’s bit extreme,” said Jane uneasily yet gallantly.

    .”MY tutor said “Who cannot speak must forever remain silent.”

    “Oh,who was your tutor?”

    “Elizabeth Ansconbe!” Amy admitted furtively.”She knew Wittgetensin well.”

    “Mine was Iris Murdoch!” called out Alf.

    Later they heard a silent siren.It was the emergency ambulance.

    Dick,the paramedic bounded into the room.

    “It’s this chair” said Marie urbanely.

    “Can you mend it for me? My husband can’t manage without it!”

    “Anything else,madam?” Rick queried anxiously.

    “Any coal to fetch in,tins to open,blocked toilets?”

    “Later maybe.”

    Danny looked at Joan.

    “Your eyes look like two deep pools in the Caspian sea.”

    he whispered into her left ear.

    “Are you on another creative writing course?”she quipped urbanely.

    “Yes, we’re on eyes at the moment;what colour is that eyeshadow you have

    on.”

    “This is called winter teal” She admitted uneasily yet seductively.

    “Did you know I’m a transvestite?” he admitted happily her.

    “Yes”,she replied dishonestly.Kitty like to give an impression of

    omniscience owing to her ontological insecurity and her ignorance of

    theology and also her narrowly trained mathematical mind.

    Unfortunately that frequently gave men the wrong impression.

    Mamie cried out to Al,

    “Get on with it,my sweetie!” So he took out a big tube of glue from his

    jeans’ pocket and set to work reconstructing the chair.

    “Oh,dear,Stewart looks a bit odd”

    “!No,he looks quite prime to me.”

    “Is he an integer?!”

    “No, he’s a transcendental real number”

    “He’s a number all right.”

    “Never mind,we’ve just got new wheelie bins so I’ll put him out with the

    rubbish,”

    Marty joked on hearing Amy’s remarks to Zach.

    But Simon was not yet dead.He merely had fallen asleep.

    He dreamed of his days at Oxgridge University studying illogic and unreason

    with Rudolphina Catnap,the famous female philosopher.Oh,happy,happy days!

    Danny made the ladies some Ceylon tea in the fabulous oak kitchen with its

    pure linen curtains in raspberry beige. and its black enamel sink with

    matching double oven and microwave.”Why no halogen?”Iris Murdoch might

    have asked.

    “What is a human life,”he pondered.He was studying logic as well as writing.

    He began to tremble like a leaf in the wind to use a freshly recycled old

    cliche.

    “Help” he called,”I’m having a panic attack.Hurry I’m dying,I believe.I

    need a priest“

    “You can’t have a panic attack,” shouted Marianne

    “Paramedics heal themselves.”

    “Does God heal those who heal themselves he wondered as he lay under a pile

    of broken china?”

    “Where’s the tea?” called the ladies.

    Ah,if only Wittgenstein were here,he would know,thought Emile.

    But I disagree.Only God would know that and He won’t say usually as he

    speaks another language known only to the few.Though sometimes one may

    hear it on the wind deep in a thick forest.

    That’s what I believe.

    Here endeth the first lesson… so be off!

  • How does your handwriting look now?

    Like an inky beetle crawling across white paper

    following a map or wandering haphazardly

    Across some page?

    From colored inner space come different dreams,

    And images swimming like fish

    within our inner seas.

    But, essentially, it’s love that fills our hearts,

    Directs the movements of our hands.

    Yet love can twist,stretch, bend and snap.

    Sometimes love fails,

    Sometimes love wounds,

    Sometimes love gives pain.

    Oh, my Love…

    But deep inside,goodwill prevails.

    Good will come again..

    I do not doubt.

    Don’t doubt,my love.

    Love lost…

    Love found….

    Love will remain.

    .

Almost the start of July

  • There’s many a true word spoken but not heard.
    We must love one more time!
    May I scalp your fleece?
    I’m getting buried again in the morning.
    I was reborn in Jesus’ tribe..I’m Jewish now and I’m ok.
    Two writes make for much better poems.
    They tell me that London is quite full of spite… or is it spice?
    So you want the moon to play with,and that man to run away with
  • .Try a lady next time..more luck there!
    Ride on the sea,the whale is very kind.
    We wish you a fairy Christmas and a very gay Year.
    Happy worth day to you,self love is quite free.
    Don’t take such a big feel of me
    On the seventh day, God jested.
    God messed up.
    God feasted.
    God sussed us.
    God confessed it.
    God,I missed him….
    God invested….in us
  • Gold stone from Cotswold quarries men brought
    And built into a way of life for those who bought
    Their lives so cheaply,And did not see
    The children’s eyes,the ball,the game,the tree
    Of life that grew in small backyards and gave all
    To those who climbed into its arms.
    Why should this not be you?
    Oh,Eden,I see that you are nearer now
    In lowly homes where love is free
    Than in the temple, grove,and soft set brow
    Of those who worship God in churches built of gold.
    Now we can see that this is easy to recall
    When sun is setting,and escapes the ashes
    Thrown up and floating in the watches
    Of the days of voter’s eyes cast up to skies,
    and wondering fearful, what will come
    when all the secret deals are done.
    Photo1437
    So take the gold of life and let it fall
    Into your children’ s growing souls;
    And let this Cotswold town and spires

  • A man in North London was attacked by a War Memorial.Wife asks if it can be replaced by a Joy Memorial made of rubber.
    She says,He was having a quiet amble across the village green when the War Memorial reared up and struck him on the head…is it linked to the Floods we are suffering from…?
    Now his wife is going up with a towel to see if she can wash him down as after 25 hours in hospital he has not been given any washes …not even water colour washes…
    Man pleads for soap and water… read more tomorrow…in the Daily Smile.What next………. shampoo,anyone?Foot washing as in the Holy Bobble.. You read it here or not at all..
    Fleece be with you.
    Flocks… can you abide them?
    Sheep.. flock for peace.
    Sheep’s milk cheese… protein with taste from Wensleydale.
    He shall feed his flock except those in A and E!
    Let his grace into your cracks.
    Heal the abiding way.
    You will know true sense when you feel his finger touching you.

  • Stan was washing the car while his wife Mary packed a picnic basket.He was already feeling very hot
    even bothered.Emile his cat and friend was sitting on the wall over seeing the car wash.
    Would you like to come,Emile?
    Stan murmured/l
    Yes,I’d love too but what can I eat?
    How about a tin of sardines?
    Do they have those little keys on the side?I find them hard to open.
    So it was you,Emile!I thought Mary must have sleep walked and tried to open a tin.If you get good at all these tasks nothing will be safe!
    I tried to open that tin of gooseberries.
    You must be a fool,Emile!Why gooseberries?
    They looked so nice but they were full of pips.
    Tinned gooseberries are not so tasty except made into a jelly.
    Can we take some jelly on the picnic?
    Well,it would be lovely but it might melt!
    OK I’ll settle for a tin of sardines,the cat mewed politely.
    I’ll have a gooseberry yoghurt instead.
    Since when did cats have puddings,Emile?
    I always envied you,so I thought I’d ask.
    Why,you are almost human,Emile.Next you’ll want a suit and some brogues.
    I’d prefer sandals,responded the striped cat.
    Why is that,my dear,Stan asked lovingly.
    So I can still scratch people or milk them when on their laps.
    You naughty cat!You”ll have to give up scratching if you want to become more moral.
    But what is a cat without a scratch?
    What is a wasp without it’s sting?
    What is a woman without a mood?
    What is a man without……………..
    Have you finished,Stan? called Mary,thus preventing the author from revealing what Stan thought was masculine!
    Yes,my dear.I just need a rug for Emile to sit on …or how about this old tablecloth?
    That’s my new apron!
    New..it looks as if you’ve cleaned Buckingham Palace including the chimneys!
    That just shows you how hard women work and to think I could have been working on my new book
    “Wittgenstein’s Hats!”
    I didn’t know about that, Stan said in a puzzled voice.
    Well,I’ve done four on his cats……… so..
    Did he wear a hat?
    That is the problem.Although Jewish he was raised as a Catholic in Vienna.And Catholic men take off their hats in church.
    Well,that is politeness.
    Yes,but Jewish men must wear a hat all the time.It’s part of their code.It shows respect for God.
    Do they wear a hat in bed?
    I believe not as it could drop off and frighten somebody.
    Well,tell me more about the book.
    It’s obvious to me that the source of much of Wittgenstein’s severe anxiety and guilt
    was his conflict whether/when to wear a hat.
    Did he solve it?
    I have evidence to show he wore a night cap!I have photographs.
    Where did you get those from?
    Well……….I have friends……..And without photos the book would not sell.
    How about cartoons,mewed Emile.
    Graphic novels are the in thing now.
    Good idea,I’ll think about it.
    My goodness it’s 8 pm..we’ve talked so long it’s too late to go out.
    How about eating the picnic in the garden?
    so they went through the side gate into the leafy garden where Emile ate sardines and pilchards and Stan and Mary ate sandwiches and strawberry trifle.
    Then Mary got a sketch pad and drew a few pictures of Wittgenstein in bed with four cats and all of
    them wore nightcaps and the philosopher was also drinking a nightcap of Scottish whiskey.
    A little smile came on her face…
    I like this,she cried merrily-
    Thank you,Emile.
  • An angel was near you today
    I saw her but I couldn’t say.
    You were tied up in a network of thought
    On the blackberry you had just bought.
    An angel was near you today
    But your mind was too faraway.
    You didn’t see her beautiful light
    For your eyes were entranced by tech sites,
    If we could temper our cybernetic romance,
    And we weren’t so electronically entranced,
    If we could all look up together just once,
    Our angels would teach us to dance
  • You are my golden buttercup.
    I love you all day long.
    And as I walk around the town
    I burst out into song.
    You are my heart’s delight
    You are my joy.
    You are my man now…
    Let’s love and say a prayer
  • The Veil Of Isolation
    Isolation vs. Interaction: A conscious choice?
    By Carol Eustice, About.com Guide
    Updated March 05, 2004
    About.com Health’s Disease and Condition content is reviewed by the Medical Review Board
    Chronic arthritis…..a disease characterized by pain, limitation, and loss…..a disease which impacts a person physically, emotionally, and socially.
    Much has been written about the physical impact of chronic arthritis and resulting loss of ability. The emotional impact has even been analyzed. Denial, anger, fear, and feelings of hopelessness are among the emotions which can accumulate and implode within the chronic arthritis sufferer. Add to the mix friends and family who do not understand the emotional turmoil and the result can be increasing levels of social isolation. Consider the following scenarios:
    *A friend asks you to go to the shopping mall for a day of shopping. The friend does not realize that the pain from your arthritis will force the shopping trip to end prematurely.
    *You are invited to a party but you know the fatigue from your arthritis will make it necessary to end the evening early.
    *At the party there will be alcoholic beverages. The question, “Why aren’t you drinking?”, will flow like the drinks, leaving you to feel singled-out.
    *You want to see the hottest movie in the theaters, but it is very difficult to get up from the seats after sitting for 2 or 3 hours.
    *At your family reunion, activities such as softball and volleyball are planned. As everyone else digs in for the competition, you are sidelined.
    *You plan a trip with friends or family but the sightseeing schedule will leave you way behind.
    *A new friend invites you over for dinner but you are apprehensive because you are unfamiliar with the friends home and you fear the number of steps and furniture that might challenge you.
    *You would like to invite people to your home but feel your housekeeping has been sub-par and it discourages you.
    *After taking the children to the amusement park, you find the rides are inaccessible for you. This leaves you in a “waiting mode” all day rather than a “sharing mode”.
    *You can no longer continue to work. Leaving your job causes you to lose the social interaction you enjoyed with co-workers.
    *The financial loss caused by expensive medical care depletes the allotment for entertainment.
    *Going out in public armed with canes, wheelchairs, and handicap parking placards provokes stares and gawking.
    Do any of these situations seem familiar? This is a short list of difficulties which can confront people with chronic arthritis. Obviously the length of time you have had arthritis and the severity of your condition make the cycle between physical, emotional, and social impact even more complicated. It is apparent that these situations lead to feelings of guilt and uneasiness. As you experience more and more uncomfortable moments, it is human nature to want to shield yourself. Avoiding social interaction becomes a choice, and the result of that choice is isolation.
    Choosing isolation over social interaction means you can avoid feelings of guilt over holding others back. It means you can avoid feeling that you have failed to meet other peoples expectations of you. It means you won’t have to ask for help or you won’t have to feel “different”.
    Think about it for a moment though. Doesn’t isolation just enhance other bad feelings such as low self-esteem, depression, and unworthiness? If you succumb to a world of isolation, doesn’t it mean that arthritis is controlling you rather than you controlling your arthritis?
    Isn’t it more satisfying to work to make people understand what life is like for you within your boundaries of limited ability? Isn’t it better for you to learn to live within your boundaries and not continually strive to attain other peoples level of normalcy? Isn’t it better to focus on what you can do, not what you cannot do? Please take your answers to these questions to th

  • I was shocked into this diatribe by seeing a hamburger win the Olympics.
    We were joined by the Whip… with some cuffs.
    A life time of at least ten thousand troubles began with the first quip!
    I like to float on his boat while he has a dip in the river
    I can’t respond yet.My fury is still out.
    Just a minuet and I’ll be free.
    I fell off the truck and my wife fell off the wagon.So we are well mixed now.
    Why is justice so often fierce?
    Have you any quips in mind?
    You seem very mal-ou-drat tonight.
    Tension is relieved by messages along the nerves.
    If I crack up please keep the pieces until God sends a pot of glue to mend me…

  • I was wandering all through the town
    When I saw the bright eyes of a clown.
    I fell into his arms
    Without any qualms,
    And now we’re going up to lie down,

    Life in my body

    I went to the dentist today
    He found I’d a cat in my cavity.
    Poor pussy was hiding in there…
    Well,no way you can call it depravity,The doctor found a mouse in my ear..
    He was much puzzled by my hilarity.
    He gave it a piece of his cheese.
    Should cats and mice now have parity?When I gave my nose a big blow
    A hornet came out wildly buzzing.
    So now I am off to the zoo
    to see if I can catch something more p
  • Loose in the fields of green…
    Oh, my own lover!
    He was such a bold flirt;
    with his love unclaimed,
    he could recite George Boole
    he was one of the old Cool.
    He never reached his goal.
    so with my bling and some flair
    I hoped he’d open the enchanted bud
    To the music of his lyre.
    I’ll pray this for him:
    t hat he should find what he wreaks
    and write it down with a stylus.
    Really he is the allurement of angels
    He was my epiphany
    Make it up, as the clocks clang..
    It’s not really you…it’s just an affliction.
    I can do nothing for my calves
    It’s because of all the punning I did once.
    I can’t even lump a stone over a wall now.
    My arms are as weak as Trojans.
    I never suffer viruses to be declassified.
    Like I said,just wink and say a prayer..
    In God we dare.

    I love your eyes

    I feel so happy when you’re near.
    Seems like love can cast out fear.
    The world looks brighter and more clear,so
    Down the avenues of life we go.
    I love your eyes and how you feel.
    I’m like an orange you unpeel.
    And when I’m naked I will be real.
    for then my soul will be revealed.
    When we lie together on the bed
    after all disguises are shed
    I see your soul shine through your face
    As I offer myself to your embrace.
  • The way you can lose weight quickly is to have a nervous breakdown.
    When that happens you will lose your appetite and also you will wring your hands and keep running about uneasily.This helps to burn off the fat.You will find it hard to swallow but that will help too.
    You can live on liquids for a few weeks…
    And when you recover,see the light, and control your appetite…
    If you can’t manage a total breakdown try severe worry instead,especially worry about food,additives,chemicalsm= etc.Worry about the sun…too much or too little.Worry that you have BO..or bad breath.
    Pretend a tiger is chasing you and ON NO ACCOUNT RELAX OR SLEEP
    That will help as you can clean the house all night and work all day.
    If you are too lazy to crack up then just crack on as normal.

    No,I’ll never love again,not whenever

    Her hands are all wavy,her nose runs all day and her feet tweet nonstop.Is it the New Exercise?
    I made a witch profit by teaching her doubt.
    At least tantalize me till it’s light
    At last, abreast for the I’s.Level at last
    He gave me a laugh and sinful emotions.
    He kept me mating far too long.
    Then he laughed all the way to the bonk
    I play down in the bar
    I pray for more catarrh
    I generally lay my bards on the table
    l left my mark on his back.. scratched again!
    I leave no home unconsumed.I’m just a devil in my own lifetime
    I was left at his falter.
    She’s a legend so well defined…she’s never out of her own mind
    A gun brings me out in spots…when they hit me.
    It was the fleeter of my two feet which arrived at the finishing post.I’ll catch up with it later.Is that a crutch or are you limping to meet me?
    Will they make my groans into migraines?
    Let sloping fogs lie freely over all the elastic lands.
    I let the flat out to an old hag.She had bags under her eyes and a broomstick under her charms.
    Is that a crutch I see before I wee.
    Let’s never poll again.
    I’ll never be a dove again.No,I’ll never write a double negative for you.No not ever
    She said,let’s spit now..but I refused,so she bit!
    His blinkers are perfect.His winks are a pleasure to behold.
    Let’s love again before the next millenium..
    You keep me mating all of the time.What did I do?
    Was it my song?
  • You are adorable you are so Other
    And yet you remind me mysteriously
    Of my mother!
    You are so sweet,you are so offbeat,
    You dress so neat;
    And you don’t eat meat.
    Or bulgur wheat,
    You seem to have excess conceit,
    about your
    skills as a writer of Fleet Street
    type stories
    and mix with all the wrong folk
    and you are no good at small talk,
    Though you have eyes like a hawk.
    No chance of me hiding
    My secrets anymore,
    Yet though I adore
    Your piercing gaze.
    I need to have my face double glazed.
    I love how your lineaments were made,
    do you fancy me,
    Or wish to get laid?
    I’d be more than happy
    to oblige
    In any way I can.
    You see, I am a man,
    and this is my home.
    My bed is made from thick foam
    Rubber,It’s very wide
    so plenty of room for both of us
    Inside the covers,
    Or space to hide!
    Are you very shy?You never speak.
    I’m just going to
    Take a leak.
    I beg your pardon for my rude word.
    Ladies should be spared
    I should say,may I use the bathroom?
    But as it’s my own bathroom
    I was not thinking.
    You beauty has made me start blinking,
    I think I’m going to wet myself soon.
    How the hell can I get out of this room?
    Now I’m getting ruder and ruder.
    Excuse me,miss.
    I’d love to kiss
    But I need the loo,
    Or I don’t know what I shall do!
    I’m too polite.
    I need to assert myself tonight.
    I need to pee.
    You see
    You and me
    We are similar
    And no doubt sometimes
    You want to go
    When it’s inconvenient socially.
    A penny is money well spent.
    Though it’s more expensive on Euston
    Station.
    Oh my God!I can’t keep waiting.
    I have to go,goodbye.
    I like your eye
    S and your lips.I
    Drank too much cider
    and it affects my kidneys inside
    Me.
    Cider is deadly for people
    with weak bladders
    And men who need to climb ladders
    May get drunk and fall off.
    Don’t make me laugh!
    I’m just going out for a few minutes now.
    I don’t want to offend you or that old cow.
    Please let me go.
    I love you so.
    but now my main concern
    Is not finding a home for millions of my sperm.
    Oh,for God’s sake!
    I’m going off to take that leak.
    And when I come back,
    Please speak!
    Or emit a few squeaks

  • Down yonder dark valley,where bankers meander
    On dark grey cracked pavements I ruminating roam;
    Or in the bright moonlight,I pensively wander
    For once this here City was my native home..
    But now I’m a tramp and sleep on a gravestone.
    I have nothing left but this carrier bag.
    I get food from the convent
    And eat on the pavement
    And soon I am hoping to write a tramp’s blog.
    I had a netbook and now I’ve bought a dongle
    I’m keeping some notes on the politics game.
    I’ve got a nokia camera
    On permanent loan
    So I snap all these bankers,
    [truly they are wankers ]
    I hope I can tease them until they all moan.
    I love my little dongle
    As around graveyards I stumble
    It keep sme in touch with the whole wide world
    And if I sometimes caress it,
    It’s only to check it……
    And to make sure I’m not turning into a girl!
  • I am looking back at the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st
    and reading Gitta Sereny and Barabara Tuchmann and I just thought
    On the seventh day God rested.
    Maybe this is that day.He’s on sabbatical.
    But then I look further back at the Crusades and I think
    On the seventh day, should God have been ARRESTED?
    Blake saw infinity in a grain of sand…and eternity in the shower
    I want to break into song.. will you come along?
    I want to take a peek at your preek
    Please make fish walk into the sea one by one.No coupling by order.
    Now,take hold of my outstretched hands and fly into the bright
    He blocked a stoned banker from entering the cafe de la mare
    Please look after your witticisms..My writs can take care of your selves.
    Won’t you take it wheezy?Or Shall I be more greasy?
    Shake it from me…I’ll define pain no more
    Take me to the limits of the defined.Extremity is my piano d’accord.
    Oh,forte.O mores!Temerity is torment.
    Lakes are friendlier, bigger streams.
    He faked a cock up and lost the balls.What a blot!
    I’ll take a mull in the hawthorn’s vest.
    Wimps and shepherds come all day.
    My mind blew over with slow notions.
    Take me to your blouson.
    Take me to Google Reader.
    Let Google Docs iron your frocks.
    A Doc a day keeps Apple away!
    Are you a scholar with a dollar?
  • Did you ever have a lover
    with long red hair?
    For long red hair
    seems too unfair.
    Did you ever have a lover
    and then another lover?
    For there’s added gain
    if you feel no pain.
    Did you ever have a lover
    who loved your eyes
    and never ever lied,
    and let you cry?
    Whatever was the trouble.
    You’ll never have a lover.
    if you have no time for others
    for love needs care,
    say,what is here.
    Here and there are many lovely people
    who live with their lives with scruples;
    if you’re scruple free,
    then let it be.
    Oh,let it be is fine,
    Except for the divine.
    I want to be involved
    For I can’t please all the folk,
    Who touch me with their talk.
    My heart has melted down…
    and now I’ve grown a world
    completely on my own.
    Were you ever quite alone
    Like a toad under a stone?
    Did you ever hear a groan
    as you wrote your poem?
    For you’ll never write a poem
    that makes me laugh..
    Because my feet are in the shower
    but my body’s in the bath.
    My head is on the shelf…
    and I’ve lost all of my stealth…
    Yet you will love me
    Evermore.
    Evermore and evermore
    You’ll be standing on the shore
    Watching the horizon,
    wondering what she lies on.
    Oh,you’ll never be a poet,
    Unless you learn your notes..
    They take you to the limit…..
    Love.whatever is it?
    Evermore ,evermore…
    The words seem like a roar…
    I love your heart’s deep core.
    Ever more and ever more.

  • Stan was happy for a few moments when he woke up.Then he realized Emile
    was not anywhere to be seen.Mary,his wife, had already gone out as she wanted to catch a very early train to London.She needed to visit the British Library.She urgently wanted to find evidence that Wittgenstein wore a hat in bed as this was an important idea in her new study “Wittgenstein ,guilt and hats.. a new theory”
    Stan went searching around the house but Emile had vanished.Usually at 8 am he would be dashing about pretending to chase flies and giving a balletic performance worthy of Sadler’s Wells…
    I wonder who Sadler was,Stan muttered as he filled the kettle with fresh cold water and put some Earl Grey tea into the teapot.
    Then, a strange,uncanny feeling came over him.He looked up and there was Emile crouched on top of the highest cupboard in the kitchen.
    Emile,he cried,What are you doing up there?
    I’m training to be a spy,Emile replied nonchalantly.
    But how could this kitchen be of interest to the Intelligence Services?
    Well,the cat murmured,I am practising hiding.Hiding is very useful.
    You gave me a terrible shock,Stan said.I had this feeling I was being watched.I wondered if it was paranoia.Then I saw your gleaming eyes.
    So,I need to get some dark glasses,Emile whispered.
    No,I would still feel that horrible feeling…. someone is staring at me.And how were you planning to get down from that high ledge?
    I’m not sure,the cat mioawed faintly
    Well,the first lesson for a spy or even a detective is,
    Never go anywhere unless you can make a quick exit,
    As it is,I may have to ring 999.
    Just then the front doorbell rang.There stood a man with a white beard and moustache.
    Hello,he said holding out his hand in a pleasant manner to shake Stan’s. hand
    I am called Peter Fried.I have just moved into one of the new flats across the road.I am a psychoanalyst.I have taken on another flat to use as a consulting room and a waiting room
    A psychoanalyst! Do we need one round here? Well,Good morning,I have just brewed some tea.Would you like to join me?
    How kind,said Peter.
    I say,old bean,did you know there’s a cat on top of your cupboard?
    Yes,that is Emile.Today he has surpassed himself in wickedness.How I will get him down I don’t know.
    My training analyst used to say,What goes up must eventually come down.
    That seems a bit weird for an analyst.To what was he referring… something to do with sex I don’t doubt.It’s all sex with you people.
    Yes, some of us are very peculiar…that’s why we enter the profession.
    What I meant was,if Emile got up he can get down.How did you get up,Emile?
    I leaped,answered the tense animal.
    Can you leap down?
    I’ve lost my nerve,replied the poor creature pathetically
    Well, as it happens,being a therapist,I always carry few spare nerves with me.I’ll climb up this stepladder and throw you a new nerve.
    And without waiting,Peter climbed the ladder.He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a golden thread.
    Here you are,Emile,Catch this in your claw.
    Emile caught the golden thread and wrapped it around his neck.
    Can you leap down now? enquired Stan.
    Emile leaped down and landed with a splash in a bowl of hot soapy water in the sink.
    It’s a good thing I wasn’t making chips,laughed Stan anxiously
    Come here,Emile and let me dry you on this old towel.He put Emile
    in front of the fire and he and Peter drank mugs of Earl Grey tea.
    I have got a mistress,Stan told Peter.
    Why tell me? Do you want  to have therapy for your inner conflicts?
    Oh,no.I’m far too old for therapy or indeed for a mistress.I was wondering of you would perhaps be interested …she just likes to spend a little time with an intriguing man.. talking, drawing graphs, interpreting data,making tea,calling the ambulance.. you know…she is most charming and intelligent company. When I give lectures on Statistics and Modern society she organises all the rooms and the chairs and so on..She likes our paramedic,Dave.and is always sending for him to mend chairs and open tins.
    Is she not married?
    No,her husband fell into the wheelie bin during the night and alas he was taken away with the rubbish.
    That is a strange story.Are you certain it happened?
    No,it could be he grew tired of her and ran away.Then she invented this story,
    Well,this may be a quiet suburb but I can see there is plenty of material here for me to write my next book:
    “Deceptive appearances and the fascination of apparent dullness.”
    Oh,that sounds very unusual….please lend me a copy.
    Well,I’ve never believed in true dullness.There is always a story hidden in every house and home.
    See,I’ve just met you a man of 98 yet you have a wife, a mistress and a crazy cat.. and I’ve only been here for one day.Imagine what else I may discover here. after a few weeks
    They heard a siren.
    Oh,no!We’ve not even rung 999 and here is the ambulance…. Mary will be so angry..You see Dave is bisexual.
    My goodness,are you having an affair with him. as well?
    No way,shouted Stan.My life is tough enough already.He can be bisexual or even trisexual but I’m not interested.
    What does trisexual mean,enquired Emile.
    I have no idea but I thought it sounded good,admitted Stan.
    Peter stood up.
    I think I’d better go home and start to see my patients.It may calm me down.
    Now .goodbye,Emile,Put your nerve somewhere safe.We don’t want you to lose it again.
    Thank you,darling cried Emile.I think I’ve formed an erotic transference with you already.
    Peter rushed out in terror.
    Is it me or is it them?he wondered.
    I thought it would be quiet here on the edge of Knittingham but I think now wherever you are there will always be something unexpected happening.But I hope Emile will not begin to follow me around.I shall have to buy a lady cat and then Emile might fall in love with her instead.So off Peter went whistling a Bach cello suite and wondering how to cope with life in a suburb.. clearly it was not as dull as he had imagined.Dullness… does it exist or was it merely invented?

    Where tadpoles mioaw

    He wanted to be publicly logged.
    Logged on?
    Anyway he was dogged by misfortune.
    Don’t be sad… he was a masochist at heart.
    That’s a blessing…
    Is it a sin to enjoy pain?
    No pain, no flame.
    Hell snaps at their heels…
    I wonder how that feels?
    It keeps one slim…..running for your life.
    I was running from my wife!
    Did she catch you?
    Yes,she caught me with a net.
    What sort of net?
    As I’m famed for my fondness for flowers she used a hairnet.
    So you were caught supping nectar?
    Yes,it was like honey to me.
    What happened next?
    She kept me in a birdcage for a year…but the birds hated it so she set me free.
    So here you are,fancy free.
    Well free,anyway..I still have my fancies.
    Say no more.
    No more!I’m saved.
    Saved by the well..
    The one where the frogs sang all night?
    Yes,Jesus liked frogs you know.
    We used to sing,
    The Lord’s my leopard,I’ll not chant.
    He makes me frown and lie.
    By wells of frogs,he leadeth me
    The tadpoles all do cry.
    M
  • Who has never felt grief,
    When a small gesture would have helped
    but it has,unknowingly,been withheld?
    How many people have the imagination
    to guess what’s in your mind,
    And to embrace you rather than push you away
    No-one.No-one.No-one knows.
    No-one knows these numbers.
    No-one knows these names.
    No-one knows how many feel so diffident,
    Nor how many feel shame.
    Being alive is joyful!
    Being alive is pain!
    Being alive is all we have,
    We’ll never be alive again.
    I look into your eyes today
    I sense your shame and woe.
    I look into your eyes just now
    And tell you that I know,
    Being alive is lonely.
    Being alive is good.
    Being alive is pain indeed
    For flesh is not like wood.

    Can I put a word in your beer,dear

  • My head came loose as I rode on a merrygoround.I feel better without it.
    Keep a bad man in your room and leave the good ones full of gloom.
    My eyes keep falling onto you…Can you lend me your arms?
    Can you keep it down for a bit?
    Keep the wimple on,Cupid
    I keep mathematics at bay all day..I’m counting on your aid..
    Stop those flies opening the windows…. get an apple mac.
    Keep your hair on.Shaving is ungracious to your Creator.
    Keep your powder dry..but your lipstick moist.
    Keeping up with the Tones,the Shades ,the Hues.Why is life such an art?
    He used to keep a bird closeby..but she flew off with all his money
    My heart keeps on ticking..when will I have to get up?When it stops?
    You lick me and I’ll lie here longer…I need a thorough wash..bring two cats next time…they will know what to do.
    Why did she hit those herbs? She forgot the rosemary……Crikey.
    What happens if she forgets the beef…watch out,you cow.
    If we all kick at once,the earth might give birth to a new day.
    He went out one day and fell into a book.When he woke up he was a professor in a circus.He could ride those horses as if he were born to it the, without a thought in his head,he would talk for an hour.It was a but like the marriage feast at… you know….wine,women ans Bong!
  • P

    My husband is very kind.He lifts up his feet when I am hoovering the floor…
    Mine is nice too…he made me a cup of tea once.I still remember..even after 40 years.
    My husband washes up when we have a takeaway.
    Mine does after we have fish and chips.
    My husband folds up the sheets.
    When?
    When the newspaper gets creased.
    My husband cleans the bath with a brillo pad.
    Is it a tin bath?
    My husband never cleans his pipe….
    Smoke gets in your eyes,smoke gets in your eyes….
    Did you ever have a brief encounter?
    No,but I lost all my briefs.
    You should take legal advice.
    Knickers!
    My dad rolled his own cigarettes.
    Down yonder hill?
    My Mum used cigarettes to curl her hair..
    I loved the warm atmosphere in your house.

  • The line of your lips
    The line of your lips is finely made,
    as suffering accepted has transmuted pain
    into a sculptor who
    has given you much beauty;
    yet the pain has shaped too
    the eyes setting,
    as if a slight question waits
    in the back of your mind
    asking,is this right?
    and I perceive this and how you may suddenly tremble
    with a memory too piercing;
    yet how you love
    the world so broken,
    so humane
    so vulnerable
    so strong.
    what are you saying to me?
    I gather you ask me this of me:
    Tell me it’s good to be alive.

  • Pray Father,give me your blessing.It’s six feats since my last Compulsion.
    What have you done now,my child.
    I have washed all my unclean linen in public.
    I suggest buying a washing machine.
    You don’t understand,Father,I am speaking metaphorically.
    Well,if you’ve already revealed it in public,you have no need to confess here.
    I wanted absolution
    Well,we all have dirty linen.It’s the nature of life.
    Yes, we just finish rinsing one lot and the next is there.
    where did you reveal all?
    In the market square.
    And what response did you get,my child?
    A man called,Your sins aren’t very original!
    No sin is entirely original though I think the Banks are giving it their best shot.
    Now,Father,you must avoid cliches!
    What,even in here?
    I find once I use one cliche,I get caught up in a vicious spiral.
    Yes,it’s like adultery.you think once won’t matter but after having unlawful congress with one person,it doesn’t seem to matter how many more you have.
    You can’t commit adultery,Father!
    Why not?
    Well,you’re not married,are you?
    No,you are quite right.I was just using my imagination.
    I quite understand,Father.I was like that once.Now I just have compulsive washing problems instead.
    What do you wash?
    You name it,I’ve washed it!
    How about the heart?
    That’s when we need God.
    What,God the Washer of All?
    HYMN OF THE DAY
    Come down,Oh,Wash divine.
    Clean this grey heart of mine,
    And Kindle it with thine own Amazon password.
    Oh,Cleanser,draw reak near,
    and make stains disappear.
    And subscribe me to those Websites that I’ve heard
    of.
    Thanks so much.I really enjoyed that.And for your penance you mustnot go into the market for a month.
    Which Market?
    The Free Market.It’s Hell in there.
    You can say that again.
    It’s Hell in there.
    Goodnight,Father.I feel compelled to leave now.
    Leave now, or forever stay and preach!
    A strange choice.I’ll be off to write my,”One Sin A Day” Blog.
    Where is that?
    Oh,blogger.
    You ought not to swear here,
    Have you never heard of Blogger?
    Don’t keep saying it?
    It belongs to Google.
    Don’t say they are buying up rude words now.what next?
    The W
  • Bless me Father for I have skinned.
    Why are you here,my child?
    It’s ten bleats synched with my tweets since I began obsessing again
    I see.So you wish to confess?
    Well.either that or digress..
    Alright,my child.Blurt it out.
    I spent three hours trying to examine my conscience..
    And………..
    Well,I am filled with envy because my sister is so thin and beautiful.
    Is that your sister who lives up the road.
    That’s right.
    But she’s much fatter than you.
    No,no,She’s skinny as a rake..
    I think you are looking through the wrong end of the telescope.
    What telescope?
    I am speaking in metaphors.
    Can’t you speak in tongues?
    So you are envious of the slender physique of this lady who is so fat
    she can hardly walk?
    She’s just pretending…she always was lazy.
    Well,I recommend you have your eyes tested and also you need your head examining.
    Why?Have I got nits?
    Only metaphorical nits.You need a psychiatrist, I believe.
    I believe too but can’t you accept my regret at my sin.
    Definitely,I can but I can’t accept the stupidity of envying someone worse off than you.Absolution may help the sin but for stupidity it’s hard to think what to do.It’s like paranoia…the more you try to show people they are wrong,the more they cling to their belief.
    So what do you suggest,Father?
    You need to ask yourself why you keep comparing yourself with others.
    I see…they do say comparisons are odious.
    And envy and spite can cause a kind of blindness.
    So spite ruins your sight?
    Definitely.None so blind as those who will not see.
    I think I’m making progress.What’s my penance?
    Are you good at dress making?
    Do you want a new cassock.Father?
    No,I want you to make a beautiful dress for your sister.You will have to measure her height and her vital statistics and wrap her around in lovely silk fabric.
    That will give her a shock.
    It will give you one as well.Any more sins?
    Well,I keep getting hit on the head by the hairdresser.
    It’s not a sin.
    I know but it’s a sin that I keep going there and never say anything,
    Well for your penance it’s a facial and a hair cut at a better salon.
    This all seems a bit odd,Father.
    Well,we try to keep up with the times but it’s the same old sins..
    Envy,self hatred,other hatred,malice….bullying,murder..gluttony
    and that’s just in this one parish.
    Goodness, how do you cope?,
    Well,I shall never vote Liberal Democrat again..
    What’s politics got to do with sin?
    It’s all quite simple.The more the wealthy flaunt their wealth,bonuses and tax breaks the harder it is for the poor to say no to temptation.
    Sin has its social aspect.It’s not entirely personal.
    One virtue is to avoid causing others to fall into temptation.
    This is quite intriguing.Thank you,Father.
    Thank you…. and I’m standing as an Independent next time.
    What will you label yourself as?
    Not sure…how about
    It’s the rites that make it right?
    It sounds like the BNP
    Then
    If you want to go to hell,feel free but don’t take everyone else too.
    There are enough people in hell already.
    You’ll have to make it snappy.
    I’ll have to pray.
    How about
    Stop preying and start praying?
    The one drawback is that the old language of sin and so on seems outdated… we need new terminology.
    Raise your self esteem………do us all a favour.
    Be good and you’ll feel good.
    Love others even when it annoys them.. the fun of God.
    That’s it!
    The Fun of God…
    The Humour of the Numinous.
    I thought you might say:
    The Humour of New Mirth.
    Mirth is the latest thing
    No other quality can bring
    such great joy and happiness
    To our story.
    Mirth is the greatest joy
    Far better than cars and toys
    No other virtue can send
    such a sweet message
    Of God’s glory.
    Mirth is the only worth.
    Mirth us like heaven on earth;
    so why not join in and laugh.
    DON’T VOTE TORY
    Right,must dash…I can’t stop smiling … Let’s have a bash.
    Let’s create a brand new story

    The face within your face

     

    I saw for a few moments
    the absolute vulnerability
    of the face within your face.
    Heart touched heart.
    I knew you.
    You had a black umbrella.
    The rain struck hard.
    At the station we parted.
    Thank you,you said.
    I walked away slowly.
    The pools in the pavement gleamed
    with reflected light.
    I see you now,
    Like a finger with a torn off nail.
    Let no-one harm you .
    Let no fierce sun burn you.
    May you be protected

  • Come down,oh Blog divine.
    Clean this wrought mind of mine,
    And Kindle it with thine own Amazon password.
    O Holy Spirit,draw real near;
    Make all strain disappear.
    And subscribe me to all the intriguing and wonderful Websites I’ve never heard of.
    Oh,MSN
    Ah,men.

  • Make sure you do a fine sprint before your end implodes.
    I got the paw end of the tiger.
    Alan Turing was an enigma.He was a dependent from the Links
    and hypertext.Even the sphinx gave him a quick spook
    Stop battling your rage….go and strangle that Morse code.
    I try to flee between the lines… but I’m a word textpert
    I try to see between the lines….everything passes at some time.
    I try to be myself in between times…..I know you love me for my nonchalant poems alone
    I try to write on the lines………but I often wander round the points.
    I prefer unlined paper………….I like plenty of space to calculate my sin tax.
    I prefer the lines of your face…………they harmonise with the designs on my Wall.
    I tried to freeze the lines…………but they kept moving the whole Post.
    I love the words in your blog……..so original.Did you say you line Dutch caps and what is the main treason in that,if any?
    I like taking exams… it passes the time between rhymes.
    I like writing letters……they please my haunted wraiths and flaunted
    grace.
    I like to see you run time……….it makes my smartphone snappy.
    I like your flaws…..they appeal to my inner Grudgement.
    You are so line free….you must have been banjaxed…
    You are so smooth,there’s no groove for you in my heart.
    I prefer the posts already red.
    I like a site with a start venue,
    I like blogs about funny.
    Your Word meant all to me.
    His Word was made fresh.
    He liked my after lines.
    The clitoris
    is the epitome
    of sensuality,
    but we call for more
    variety.
    Freud thought the interior
    was superior
    How did he come
    to this conclusion,
    or more rightly,
    to a possible illusion?
    We can’t generalize
    On other women’s lives.
    Nor on men’s either…
    that’s a genuine tantalizer.

  • We are all one,
    with the literati,
    The clitorati,
    The flitorati,
    And the fitorati.
    All we wait for now
    are notoriety,
    impropriety,
    depravity,
    and this new society.
    give me more variety
    in my poetry.The clitoris
    is the epitome
    of sensuality,
    but we call for more
    variety.
    please come quietly
    to avoid
    being handcuffed.
    What,impiety?
    What kind of society?.
    Do they need a gratuity,
    Or shall we go for free?
    We’ll go for broke
    and go up in smoke.

    Negative capability [from wikipedia]

     

    Keats: The poet’s turn of phrasehttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Negative_capability
    The poet John Keats used the term negative capability to describe the artist as receptive to the world and its natural phenomena, and to reject those who tried to formulate theories or categorical knowledge. In this concept, Keats posited the world and the human to be of infinite depth. Such a position put Keats at the forefront of the Romantic movement, and even at the cusp of modernism, according to some commentators.[2]
    In a letter to his brothers, George and Thomas Keats, on December 21, 1817, Keats used the phrase negative capability for the first and only time.[3] He did so in criticism of Coleridge, whom he thought sought knowledge over beauty:
    I had not a dispute but a disquisition with Dilke, upon various subjects; several things dove-tailed in my mind, and at once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously – I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason – Coleridge, for instance, would let go by a fine isolated verisimilitude caught from the Penetralium of mystery, from being incapable of remaining content with half-knowledge. This pursued through volumes would perhaps take us no further than this, that with a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration.[4]
    Keats understood Coleridge as searching for a single, higher-order truth or solution to the mysteries of the natural world. He went on to find the same fault in Dilke and Wordsworth. All these poets, he claimed, lacked objectivity and universality in their view of the human condition and the natural world. In each case, Keats found a mind which was a narrow private path, not a “thoroughfare for all thoughts.” Lacking for Keats were the central and indispensable qualities requisite for flexibility and openness to the world, or what he referred to as negative capability.[5]
    This concept of Negative Capability is precisely a rejection of set philosophies and preconceived systems of nature. Keates here advocated an acceptance of what we can know about the world as necessary being limited, and rejected the artist’s attempt to analyze, rationalize, or categorize the world. He demanded that the poet be receptive rather than searching for fact or reason, and to not seek absolute knowledge of every truth, mystery, or doubt.[6]
    The origin of the term is unknown, but some scholars have hypothesized that Keats was influenced in his studies of medicine and chemistry, and that it refers to the negative pole of an electric current which is passive and receptive. In the same way that the negative pole receives the current from the positive pole, the poet receives impulses from a world that is full of mystery and doubt, which cannot be explained but which the poet can translate into art.[7]
    Although this was the only time that Keats used the term, this view of aesthetics and rejection of a rationalizing tendency has influenced much commentary on Romanticism and the tenets of human experien

  • Mihaly was a saint of sorts;
    he improved, with his search for understanding,
    lives of so many yearning writers;
    the lame in spirit heard his Zen like words.
    He could not have imagined the journey
    From Hungary to Zurich to Chicago
    A glimpsed mandala led to the heart of the impossible image
    How did he learn to trust the flow?
    The Rhine flowing down to the North Sea
    May start as some minute spring
    At the confluence of the gravity of water and earth.
    And those then who have cast their nets into that sea
    May bring in treasures not found in the business of cities.
    At the first sighting,the image seemed hazy
    Then the words began to flow like current through a wire.
    Like a river cutting slowly through rocks of marble,
    like an unknown sage from the Himalyan Alps
    who had kissed the lips of his muse more than once
    As she floated like a ghost, no,more like music
    Tracing concentric spheres into the air
    Till the universe was singing.
    What was most human was his appetite,his love.
    Touch the hem of his garment,follow your flow
    Cut your path through the hard darkness until you find
    The sunlit sea you were made to swim in
    like a fish in its own sphere.
  • “Happiness awaits for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.”
    No author given [Think Exist.com]
    [Any strong language is here, of course, because of it rhymes ]
    As I sit here in silence,
    I think about your words;
    I think about your generous heart;
    Play the music that you shared.Why do we hurt the ones we love?

  • Why do we wield the knife
  • when we meet someone we want to keep
    As friends throughout our lives?
  • We all think we want love and joy
    But intimacy’s hard;
    But it’s better to be weeping
    Than never to have shared.

  • You may remain a virgin,
    Unwilling to take risks;
    But I can tell you what I learned:
    Living in fear sucks.
  • The world reaches out to touch us,
    and we shrink away.
    But this may be our final chance…
    So go out and get laid!

  • Get penetrating insights
    By opening your eyes;
    For all too soon, all too soon,
    Each of us must die.


  • I am not writing yet.I’m waiting for the ink to die
    I’m at the Fly Inn,waiting for the police kettle.
    I’m waiting for the other ball to drop.
    I’m waiting for his organ to play
    Wake-up and bill the Mafia
    I had a Wake Up fall.
    I came on the end of the bed and got bowled over
    He talks with the voice the wild western wind
    I talk softly and kiss a cowslip if it’s flowering
    I’m standing on the ink well but it’s still overflowing
    He came to life in the Wild Garden.
    I’m still not writing…I have lost the rites of passage.Oh,God our help with Rages past.
    Our hopes and fears still come.
    Please shelter us from Barclay’s Planck;
    Take us to Kingdom Come.
    The winds of change now blow so strong,
    Yet Thou art mightier still.
    Feed him that bitter pill today
    and his life will be long.

    I downloaded files from inner space.
    I dusted all my books.
    Too many hooks have caught my wrath.
    They gave me filthy looks

    Oh,God,our fantasy and dream,
    where can we find you now?
    Some find you in a still small voice
    Some in a holy Cow.
    I lie in meadows green as grass.
    I see you in a leaf.
    You’re vibrant as a violin string,
    Yet plangent in your grief.

P

Mid July musings


    • The clouds roll like giant Catherine wheels.
      The sun is shining on my heels.
      I am lying down upon the soil,
      I slipped upon a patch of oil.

      I look down into grains of earth,
      And suffer from a fit of mirth.
      How did I fall down today?
      Will my gooseberries ever pay?

      Though the bush nasty spikes.
      They are one fruit I truly like.
      I love them baked into a tart..
      And I make them for my own sweetheart

      Why is there talk of babes born here,
      When thorns would fill most folk with fear?
      Oh not,this verse is not a poem…
      So I’m off,I must be going!

      Blaise Pascal

      In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don’t.
      Blaise Pascal
      R

    • He said,I just wanted to break the ice.

      What ice,I said,it’s only September.

      So he said,why do you take everything so literally?

      I said,why you’ve only known me 3 minutes and you are complaining already!

      And by the way it’s unscientific to generalize from one example.

      He said,forget science,I love you!

      So I said,don’t be so ridiculous.You’re young enough to be my husband.

      He said,Hello darling,I know you have trouble finishing your thesis but I am your husband.

      So what happened then?

      He’s buying me some new glasses.

      Will it help?

      No,it’s not my eyes it’s my mind.

      What’s wrong with your mind?

      It has a life of it’s own.

      That’s what women want!

      A room of one’s own,

      A life of one’s own.

      A mind of one’s own.

      A towel of one’s own.

      A hat of one’s own

      An emptiness of one’s own,

      That is hard….

      A problem is just what I need,

      To take my mind off being alive.

      .

      Wisdom or foolishness,it’s all one to me,

      Sweep you fringes today….buy a broom stick here…I’m which?

      Keep the hinges boiling

      Keep your gins up or the tonic will all get drunk..and then what will we do?

      Is your quiz done? Or rephrasing myself,Have you any wisdom?

      Reap your hair in August.. unless you hear a whirl wind

      Keep your toast well buttoned

      Weep louder now or cry with me tomorrow.

      We are keeping up with our bones..or they may not keep us up

      He keeps his nose close to her breasts….makes walking tough,but,hey
      you win some,…..

      My eye keeps on pricking..it’s that damned needle for the partially sighted again….I wondered where I’d left it…..not my best idea

      Why kick a duck when you can swim with it?

      I shall stick him to the door candle for a few minutes to warm him

      I picked a whole flock up.I was real down on my luck with these lice.

      Pick me again.Lick me again.I’m coming,ready or not.

      Do you always lick the bucket or just on Sundays?

      They caught me on High

      This coyness lady is no mime

      Do you utter ever?

      Silence is full

      Good sight,sweet wince….you may soon be thrown in stone.

      You keep going your way and don’t look back…or I’ll turn you into

      a pillar which halts.

      Speak now or forever watch the police.

      I used to have boyfriend…now I have a snail in a pail.

      Do you hurry too much? Try to bow down to Life.

      He’s got the whole world in his Band!

      My doctor said,you have a pernicious Redeemer.
      I said,that’s very rude.
      He said, but I must tell you,you need more redder blood.
      But why is Jesus pernicious..?
      So he says,Are you going mad as well?
      So I answered him,You’re mad already, aren’t you?
      I will be mad if you won’t let me reject you, quoth he.
      So I said,why are you like all the others?
      Who else is infecting you,he cried angrily.
      I don’t know.doctor,they are invisible to the naked eye
      Are you hallucinating? he puzzled
      Not yet but i am doing my damndest.Can you see any ghosts
      That’s evil,he responded.
      What,like the Bankers and the Wealthy?I asked politely
      Anyway he said, forget politics can I inject now?
      Oh,dear,are you an addict,doctor.you’ve kept that hidden?
      What on earth do you scheme,Mrs Tan?
      Is it cocaine you’re on doctor?
      No,it’s just vitamin B12.That will redeem you.
      I said,I don’t think Jesus will like that.
      He cried out.
      What the bloody hell has He got to do with it?
      So I sang
      “He’s got the whole world in his band.”
      Then he rang for the ambulance and had me sectioned.
      Still,it passed the time…it was an outing.
      They just let me out.
      I’m not crazy enough to get free treatment on the NHS..
      but I feel awfully tired and my blood is not red…
      it’ pale pink….if only it were watercoloured
      I wouldn’t have to worry about menstruation
      and blood stains on my lace underwear,
      The unmentionables

      Don’t you think it should be called womenstruation?

      Why do men call everything after them?
      History is now Herstory….
      But that’s not fair on men,is it?

    • I wink to thee,my country

      Wink to me only with thine eyes
      and I will wink with mine.
      But I recall I cannot wink,
      Though your winks are sublime.

      Oh,who will teach me this fine skill
      I feel I have some part missing.
      If noone teaches me to wink,
      I’ll just have to keep on kissing

      Ted and Sylvia

      Was a night of sexual frolics,with someone you

      didn’t even love,in a place with no telephone,

      Was it worth thirty plus years of harrowing

      Grief and guilt.Did you need the excitement?

      Writing,too demanding.Real love was certainly

      A demand but one you’d think would be

      A useful mine for poetry.Sylvia’s love

      Too much?And what you thought would be

      A few seemingly trivial acts,could have

      such consequences.

      But isn’t that always so ?

      I don’t think Pontius Pilate knew

      His name would go down in history

      As the Judge of God,

      As he washed his hands like an obsessive,thinking

      A ritual would heal him of his guilt.

      Would we have been any better?

      I’d say,No

      Stan’s calculating again

      Stan and Annie were clearing a big desk to make space to study government statistics.Despite this Annie was dressed as brightly as a peacock in turquoise cotton trousers and a teal blue viscose
      and polyester [with 5 percent elastane] V necked striped top

      She chose the V neck was because she thought it made her look slimmer, but if that were so it was contradicted,paradoxically, by the clinging induced by the elastane in the fabric.

      “What a problem dressing is nowadays,” she screamed eerily.

      Her bedtime reading was
      “Contradiction, Paradox,Woman and Society”
      by the unknown,unseen,invisible yet highly productive world famous author Dr K. R. Brazenhwaite.O.B.E.

      Paradox and contradiction are the route understanding” was the last sentence she had read before she fell asleep last night.

      Then she had dreamed she saw a mouse eating a lion.
      No wonder she had indigestion today

      “Shall I make the coffee” she said to Stan.

      “No,dear.I’ll do it if you can get the graph paper sorted.”

      Stan stood up and walked across the room with a dazed expression.

      “I hope he’s not been trying self hypnosis again” she thought quixotically.He returned with two large mugs of steaming hot coffee.

      “Would you like a meringue” he enquired.

      “I’d love one.”

      “So would I,” he answered glumly.”But we have no cake at all.”

      “I blame Maggie Thatcher.”

      “Why her?”

      “Well, she caused the cake shops to compete;then they all shut down”

      “Why upset yourself.”

      Stan began to sob and moan in agony.

      So Annie rang 999.

      “Can you send a paramedic.My friend needs a

      meringue.” she said in a friendly tone.

      “What do you think the N.H.S. is ,a cake shop?” the receptionist replied assertively in ringing tones.

      “Well perhaps it should be.We older folk need cakes!”Annie sobbed.{Or older folk knead the cakes ?]

      “How old are you,” the woman said.

      “Why is there some cut off point?” Annie retorted…

      “Yes,we only supply meringues to centenarians!”

      she was told.

      “Well really,whatever next,” Annie cried in shock.

      “I suppose they have to economise now and can no longer

      supply cakes and ale to pensioners like they always

      used to do.” she muttered sardonically

      But we could send you some toasted mouse sandwiches,” she was told.”Don’t bother,” she cried ferociously.

      The heat and talk had made her makeup run and small rivers of turqouise,black and blue were crossing her face giving it the appearance of a large bruise.
      She wished she had followed the advice her mother had given to her

      “When in doubt,leave it out.”
      .
      Or,was it “when in doubt,say nowt.”

      or even “when glum ,keep mum.”

      “I would have kept Mum,”she thought resentfully, “but the law won’t let you once they die”.

      “Why do we have so little freedom here in England?” she asked Stan querulously.

      “I can’t tell you” he croaked mysteriously

      “Why not? It’s forbidden by the Official Secrets Act.”

      “After we finish the statistics on unemployment and mental health we could look into Official Secrets,” he promised her mellifluously.

      “Stan, you are so good.” she shouted gratefully.

      Will you wash my new jeans?” he asked.

      “Why can’t you do it?” she fretfully quizzed him

      “I don’t want Mary to see them.”

      “Gosh it’s 5pm .She’ll be back soon.”

      “We’ve not got far today.”

      I expect we can make up for it tomorrow.”

      Not wanting to contradict him she remained silent whilst he studied her face like an a psychologist trying and failing to see meaning in an ink blot.

      Then the doorbell rang.It was Dave,the paramedic with a tray of mouse sandwiches.What a nasty surprise.

      And now they really must get the social and economic statistics ready for the class Stan is giving later in the week at the Socialist Pensioners Club in the town centre,meringues or no meringues.

      After all,someone did once say of the common people:

      Let them eat cake.

      And look where that got them.

      Did anyone say,Revolution?


    • Even at the drop of a gnat,God is watching.

      We were at that obsolescent hour when life seems past and present

      simultaneously

      Towards the end of my mope,I begin to feel hope.

      She’s omniperious today

      At the rends in our day,I feel we should pray

      Catch the end of the checking border and whip yourself boldly.

      Handcuffed to a man, there is no limit to whom I could deceive.

      She has such gall and sob it, may the rest man win.

      We had the last minuet then wished for compliments

      What’s with your End..is it also your Beginning?

      What a ploy!

      What a pearl.

      I’m getting harried in the morning

      I have all these facts to grind before I go to the dogs.

      May the least man win.

      Jesus wants me for a sun scheme.

      Lord,what hopelessness;Lord not today?

      Tell me when I’m in a God mood.

      What’s the real ideal?

      I’ll be your sweetmeat,if you repine.

      Ah, my Med cruise..I nearly died of whoredom

      All in a guy’s smirk…just observe him

      All in due rhyme

      All over my lips today,those salty kisses from May.

      They all wailed in companionship

      All maths yet no fractions.. what decimal is this I see before me?

      All that twitters is not told

      Anyone for a quiz or a puzzle?

      All the love bites and kisses

      All bums inspected today .. please wipe.

      All work and no say, makes Jack a Union man

      All’s wear in love from afar

      All’s well that sends emails and tells

      All get off near the beer and drink it up.

      Already got one seesaw in the circus.

      Altitude is determined by the Beatitudes.

      I’m feeling like a pint of whiskey.

      Shall we have a pee now? Sorry, tea now ?

      On Witches hill I caught a bass…did you know fish can walk?

      If only bricks could talk

    • You gnawed at my jeans… I can’t keep buying new ones.. get a bone!

      You fell into my art like a bee into a flowerstack.
      .
      You let my heart backfire… and now I feel a little dire

      You wore out my heart so now I have a pig’s heart instead…no wonder

      I’m so fat!

      Your creative heart is so juicy…let me sip your nectar.

      You’re trying art..and it’s trying me..shall we try something different

      like sleeping?

      Evening

      As you walk away through lush leaved trees,

      I see you come and go like a sine curve wrapped

      around the axes

      of tall trunks

      and flat earth.

      I want to call,”Come back”

      but my mouth won’t open.

      My lips are dry without you.

      I’m flooded with loss already,

      though I can still glimpse you now and then.

      Sun,so high and golden,

      yet I am like a moon,

      my desolate heart its inscape,

      my hands its freezing soil;

      I stare as evening comes

      into the dark night sky.

      Lines occurred while creating in the bath

      Bands of rhyme will be crossing the UK tomorrow.. streams of poetry will bring rain in the eyes.

      Season’s Tweetings to Sinners

      Shadow of the whole silence is folding over like an envelope.Post it now

      The spice of wife..pepper.

      ~Hop around the roses

      It’s best to saunter nowadays.

      When inside out, a cat can still scratch.. with its reversible catclaws.Try one tonight.Just unzip the cat and it will spring into the heir…to the throne or is it the air all round>

      Until the end of all rhymes I’ll be loving you

      Time feels all wounds…and holes

      Maps of the iceberg have melted..

      Two hearts that beat as none ever did.

      I wait for the lime to be ripe then it will be a lemon.

      If you have a man,wash him weekly in a tin bath…don’t blame me if you get drawn in…..mate in the bath … saves washing the sheets.


    • Shadow of nails on the Cross.

      Wars like diamonds..expensive,useless,hard,yet we must have more and more.

      The human is descended from the most aggressive apes as they would mate more often..we will always have wars until the end of the world…which may be getting nearer.

      War,I can quip no more.

      Take my hand and help me cross the big Quiver I feel coming up…

      I’m all worn out like an old rag…throw me into your washing machine,Lord and use some strong soap on me..I need a change.

      Don’t let it out Anger…From third age.com

      LET IT OUT: “Depression is anger turned inwards” is a common expression, but research shows actively expressing anger only fuels it. It’s a good idea to identify the cause of your anger or resentment, but then instead of going on a rant, figure out constructive ways to overcome the issues at the heart of your discontent.

      “The faculty to think objectively is reason; the emotional attitude behind reason is that of humility. To be objective, to use one’s reason, is possible only if one has achieved an attitude of humility, if one has emerged from the dreams of omniscience and omnipotence which one has as a child. Love, being dependent on the relative absence of narcissism, requires the development of humility, objectivity and reason.

      I must try to see the difference between my picture of a person and his behavior, as it is narcissistically distorted, and the person’s reality as it exists regardless of my interests, needs and fears.”

    • My thoughts unravelled and lay unpleated on the floor of the Emergency Room…

      and they just talked all over me.

      Time and tide…can I describe?

      The broad band of crime is passing over East London as burglars and looters assess their Olympic Strategy alongside the muggers.

      “Reason’s Seethings” by Rafe Pascal

      You’re just the shadow of my ghoul…you don’t whiten me at all.

      Silence is withholding.. you’re hiding behind that glass wall you split yourself up with.

      The Christ of life….born again and again..and dies the same way.. every day

      Wars like bygones….come round at least annually like Xmas.

      Stop and yell for Moses’ tablets.The doctor forgot them and no-one can spot them.

      God is the only thing..

      Waste the waters…we’ve already wrecked the earth..why wait?

      Born from out my mother’s eyes….I never saw her gaze my way again.

      I will bend time for you if I can summon up the Gravity,

      Rhyme after rhyme….an endless circle.. a spiral…it’s viral…am I on trial?

      Rhyme again and again..I have this Zen like man.

      They interpreted my dreams yet I still have the screams… Symbols are Us

      Try freely associating and soon you’ll be creating…it’s the metaphors of old England that we try now and then

      It’s the repressed grief of olde Englande that makes most men go mad.

      Rhymes feel quite soothing if they’re of your own choosing.

      What’s that doc you’re perusing….is it about loss ans losing?

    • Flowers by virtue of design
      Appeal both to the heart and mind.
      First perceive and second dwell on
      Beauty,truth and hence reason.

    • My spare heart is in another land looking for a startling interest rate…or any interest at all…

      My opera has songs for you if you join the school of musical tricks and cosmetic funbums.

      Sorry I can’t take your call.My tart reached melting point..I put it under the grill and the house set on fire.Ring next year when the heat is off.

      My heart sings to you but you have gone deaf.

      My hat will fit you too..two minds under the same trilby

      My hair will always be blue;it’s so sad now it’s been cut short before it even spoke one sentence

      My heart will forever love the real.

      My heart whistled before a lyre..I am so ashamed..next it will be smoking in Church..will God mind?

      My heart lied once but never again.It lies twice now.

    • My comely white hart ran away into the High Road.. so they say.

    • My lonely soup bowl…it needs a mate.Two bowls together forever

    • I’m open late for heart to art talks

  • My solo is on the high wire and I’m screaming already.
    Pass the metre blockers please.

    My sole had a bone in it… Fish,they really annoy me.
    Why should they have bones..

    My soap is so hot,it washes me well..I’m as white as the sheets though my eyes are red as a rose.

    My mind took a bite out of his Tractatus and it’s not been seen since….so do we really need Philosophical Reflections….I’m getting so tired of Mirrors….Let’s ban them now

    What,more cliches?

    Every blog has its say
    Everything’s coming up disrobed
    Tainted heart never a true love knows
    They fall heart over feels for love and its deals
    They fall for some smacks and whips.
    Ban the blames .
    Gas is always fleeter than air.
    On the other tide the boat may come in.
    Clang in there
    Save a heart…be kind
    Heartful creature
    I can’t breathe for you
    I can’t love without jam
    I love you more than my new shoes
    In the crick of time he felt me
    Keep your Bin empty
    Kissing the nose,if it’s sufficiently large
    Looking into my whole I feel ok
    Cost of each other’s dreams is an enigma
    Love is all over my mind..and it’s leaking your way
    Smiles across the world unite humans.
    I touch you with my fingertips


  • Tea,tea, wonderful tea
    Nothing quite like it for making one pee.
    Tea,tea,say it again.
    Bring me more tea
    And bring me some men.

    Let me admire them as I sip my drink.
    I like the black ones and also the pink.
    I like the poets,but they don’t drink tea..
    They like espressos and that’s fine by me.

    I like Norwegians and I like Greeks.
    I like to perceive them,so please do not speak.
    I also like ladies,cats and striped bees,
    So I’ll open my eyes and I’ll see what eye sees.

  • Private

    Time is never “just right”

    by Kathswords Pro @ 2012-07-15 – 17:01:06

    Do not wait; the time will never be “just right.” Start where you stand, and work with whatever tools you may have at your command, and better tools will be found as you go along.
    George Herbert
    Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/g/george_herbert.html#jz1qOtcE2q2guyKO.99

    Wake up..there’s some metre about!

    The sun ascends the rosy summer sky
    My eyes,like slits. unwilling to discern
    That I must bid my visions fast goodbye.
    The mind loves most its thoughts and dreams unlearned.

    I stretch and breathe and suddenly rise up.
    I lift my glasses from the bedside shelf.
    Now where’s my tea pot and my special cup?
    Without ten mugs of tea,I’ll ruin my health!

    I take the china cup and gulp hot tea;
    And frown at books piled high up on my chair.
    Inside I feel so happy I can see-
    Contentment is,like the weather.set to fair.

    Oh,dear,it’s already ten upon the clock!
    And I can’t trace a partner for my sock!

    Stan’s here again

    b
    While Stan went out for a walk with Emile,the most superior, intelligent and handsome male cat in Knittingham,Mary his cute,hot, yet brilliant mathematician-wife decided to sort through her many clothes,She  went upstairs with a small step-ladder.This was needed to help her to look into the horrors of the top shelf   which was full of rubbish.
    Mary took everything out of the top shelf and put it all onto the bed.Five hair dryers,six blood pressure  monitors, seven thermometers, and a box of Carmen electric hair curlers under which was a box of Tena  pads.How odd,”she thought,”when I have such beautiful curly hair.And do I suffer from incontinence?I can’t recall it” But though her hair was curly,it was not curly in the right sort of way.That is it did not look chic and elegant.It looked wild and woolly,No doubt she had bought these curlers to tame it but had never used them.Wild her air had remained.And luckily continent she remained so far except when she caught whooping
    cough..Which continent she does not admit,though it may be in the Pacific.
    Suddenly she heard the front door opening.Afraid that Stan would tease her about all the hair dryers,she threwthem into a cardboard box.She heard foot steps on the stairs.She crouched behind the bed,

  •           Stan,my wicked angel,are you ready for me?” It was Annie their man-mad next door neighbour.Annie walked into the room wearing a low cut sapphire blue dress which clashed with her emerald green eyes and her ruby red lips.And amazingly with her black nail varnish.
    She tottered gamely in on her 6inch serpent skin stilettos. peering shortsightedly at the bed.
    “Why have you got all these blood pressure monitors out ,Stan?” she cried,”We can’t get into bed with these!Is it a new fetish?”
    “No,it’s not” muttered Mary nastily,”You most definitely cannot go to bed with the monitor,though a digital thermometer might be handy.”
    “Oh,Mary,are you here?”
    “No,I’m the ghost of Thumbnails Sketch Lane,” she whispered coquettishly,her blue eyes dancing with fun.
    “Well,Stan invited me round for a massage!”
    “A Reiki massage?”
    “Crikey,I don’t know.Just a friendly one.”
    “Well,could you not carry on some where else?”
    “Yes,but it wouldn’t be so thrilling,I’s find it less exciting if there was no risk.”
    “How boring is that!”,Mary exclaimed shyly licking her bright pink curving lips.
    “Well there’s no risk now because I’ve found you out.!”
    “I know,” Annie responded,”why don’t we go to bed?That would be a risk!”
    “Oh,no.I’d rather clear out the wardrobe!”
    Annie was not used to being rejected,”Shall I help you?”
    “Yes,move house!” Mary teased.”Maybe we would get some better neighbours.I am pretty sure you murdered your husband and sent his body to be recycled in our new wheelie bin,”
    “Well,it seemed a good idea at the time,” Annie replied defiantly.
    “You’re too impulsive,Annie,but you do have your good side.”Can you ring 999 as I think I am going to fall off this step-ladder.I knew we should have adopted it formally.”
    “My dear,I’ll ring 999 immediately.
    When Stan and Emile got home they found Dave the paramedic making tea in their pink and teal newly fitted kitchen. I am just making a good cup of tea,he informed them.Yes,we English….who are a mixed race of all sorts of people… we all like a nice hot cup of tea.

    Carolina..James Taylor


  • Watching Plato shining torches into blackness,
    Wandering through the galleries,
    Sepia paintings of pines,
    Pain came to the emptiness once my heart,
    I sat picturing screaming Popes and babies.
    Eastward, looking for fresh instruction,
    My mind unpleated,like a pair of curtains
    Hung out to dry in equinoxal gales.
    The bells of Satan’s cell phone
    Rang again,startling in this silence.
    “You had your smear done yet?”
    “It’s me,honey”
    “I’m having coffee here in “Costa’s.”
    Then I awoke,a man appeared.
    How apposite,I need you,Ludwig!
    I can’t write logically..

    In the Science Museum,the mirror cracked
    And from it stars flew out,
    Adorning cars and bicycles and buses.
    The building gently sank into its own reflection.
    People flew out like gasping rockets..
    Illuminating the blankness,
    Calling “Is today the day?”
    For what?
    Is it Judgment Day at last.
    Your bonus is nothing to God.


  • You are the soul of indiscretion
    A cheery spurt
    Adsense makes the money grow.
    Fractions speak louder than words.. and frighten the maths phobic.
    After my own heart I love your heart
    All’s bare in love affairs
    You are the dimple of my eye,you are the apple of my ear.. so have no fear.
    As far as the shy can see…looks good to me.
    So good and golden …I haven’t told ’em

    I’m facing up to it…this is not a ghost.As time’s asses buy it
    Baited breath catches the fish
    Baptism by liars
    Beauty is in the eye of the my lover
    Beauty is only skin deep but hence I’m all over you,sweetheart.
    She was so glib ….I called her off..

    Sulking

    Sulking is a form of anger I think…and it’s more common in women or anyone in a position of weakness.It’s something I felt as a child now and then and I remember it can be hard to break out of it.
    Just today I was reading an article by Dorothy Rowe in an old Saga magazine.Her mother was a champion sulker…her longest being

    SIX MONTHS!

    Can you imagine?I know a friend whose mother sulked for three days when the child refused to eat cabbage.
    Any way I have thought about it and decided it’s better to put your anger into words or just let go of it…if you sulk it’s very hard for your close family or friends.
    In fact,if you sulk I doubt if you’ll keep your friends for long!!
    Maybe we don’t realise we are no longer helpless children who had no alternative… we can speak…. or decide to stop dwelling on the issues and move on.

  • The morning sun attracts meFrom the avenues of sleepFrom my tiny clock I seeIt’s almost half past eight.

    But you keep rolling my way

    And I’ll keep rolling yours,

    And we won’t allow for any detours.

    I drink my tea and coffee

    From a very special cup

    you gave it to me long ago

    And from it I shall sip.

    You keep rolling my way

    And I’ll keep rolling yours,

    And we won’t allow for any detours.

    We were once so innocent

    And now we are so wise.

    I see the sun reflecting

    in the mirror of your eyes

    You keep rolling my way

    And I’ll keep rolling yours,

    And we won’t allow for any detours

    Our lives are growing longer

    And our eyes are growing weak.

    And please forgive me now

    I have to take a leak.

    You keep rolling my way

    And I’ll keep rolling yours,

    And we won’t allow for any detours

More late and mid July 2012

  • Oh,hello Mira.Do run in .How aren’t you?

    Wicked,thank you.I’d love some of your best tea… and some cake.

    Hear you are..I hotted it up in the microwave.

    How old is this tea?

    Only a few hours.

    The recession is truly terttttttttttttrrible when you can’t afford a fresh cup of tea.

    Yeah,I may disagree as it begins to taste like alcohol after brewing for hours.

    You should open a brewery…bottled alcoholic tea for a low price

    T.Brood.Hear,
    .
    My daughter is engaged to a Tebrew,

    Are they that lost tribe of Israel we used to hear about in the past?

    No, they are just normal Jewish British folk who love tea even more than other Brits so

    All my Jewish friends at Uni liked tea.

    There you are,you’re already a Tebrew lover.

    Well,that’s slight exaggeration..

    Oh please tell me everything right down to the last detail like what you were wearing when you met,where were his hands good at caressing.

    Yes,he was keen on caressing ,yeah, but we never went all the way… and now forty years later I’m still a virgin.What is all the way:
    I went all the way in my heart
    Anyway he was very sweet like honey.His lips were divine… well,you know what I mean,God has no lips but,it’s just an expression.. if God did have lips,how would we know?

    What a shame he left you.. what happened to him, not God…?

    He decided to brew his tea with another..

    Another what,teapot?

    Another woman.

    Did you know her at all?

    Not in the biblical sense.I saw her walking down my street loooking pleased

    Well,I know you’re not a lesbian… or am I making a category error?

    No and I’m not heterosexual either.

    Why is that,do you think? Are you otherly sexed?

    Or are you non-sexed?

    I always felt I had something missing… ,,like perhaps a body.

    Are you a virtual spirit?

    Well,would a spirit drink tea?

    Not if it was Wholly Spirit.

    Or what if it were a Holey Spirit… the tea would drip out.Aha.

    O layee.O layeeooo. O layee..Oh, oh oh oh!

    Are you yodelling or was it just wind emerging?

    I think you need to be Swiss to yodel.

    Is it genetically transmitted?

    No,generically .They give you a licence… the freedom..

    What we need is more licentiousness.

    Bring back sin..

    Bring back the love of the body.

    Bring back the language of flowers.

    Bring it all back,now!

    And that brings to an end this addition of Many Fancies for tonight.

    I fancy a meringue now…how about you?

    Visit our website

    Http://www.t.hee.hee.com

    Or email me at

    Tea4.2@ bteainthepot.orgy

    or Wait4me@theteashop.mail

  • He hurls before she whines

    Lord God,heal my bunions and lend me onions

    He’s a real grey thinker.Take your own whip and he’s  free.

    Sir Christopher Wren was uncannily learned.St Paul’s….says it all.

    When I’m wise,I feel foolish.

    People who live in doss houses need to get stoned.

    Deception ruins reality.

    I won it but I’m baffled I never even knew it was a marathon.

    The plus of the witty

    I stick to the low hanging fruit.Am I a human wasp?

    My diction’s worse than a thousand birds parroting

    Would you like some free oatcakes?Then you can’t have them.

    Wig headed…. no more bad hair days

    I’m jigged out since I danced with you all night

    We pin our mopes on the kitchen noticeboard and throw darts at them

    Don’t kiss me on the lips,I want your whips.i want to be tied to your bed all night..if you go out.

    It was a kiss-poor relationship but it made them unhappy which was their desire… so you might say,it was a marriage in one shade of grey.

    Bladders
    His bladder was so full, he pissed onto those hills.
    I don’t believe it.
    Well,he relieved it.his bladder,I mean.
    I wish mine was bigger.
    What,penis envy?
    No, it’s his big bladder I want.

    Love me,love my bladder…
    Mine is too small…
    For what?
    For me……
    I think if you really truly love someone,you don’t care how big his bladder is,or how small.

    As long as there’s a public convenience nearby.

    The streets are alive
    With the sounds of peeing.

    Well,the council can close down all the conveniences but our bladders still keep filling up regardless

    The hills are alive to the sounds of pee wee.
    With sounds they have heard
    for a million years.

    Do moors have ears?
    Do balls shed tears?

    Not Ed Balls….

    I have no balls on my head and no nuts in my bag.

  • There was a toad on our front path.We’ve not seen one for 20 years.
    The garden was shrubs with gravel between, but the rain and heat have caused wild flowers to grow in the gravel and some long grasses.So it must be there.I’ll try to get a photo…

  • Art’s as easy as how to see.


  • I loved her for her big blue eyes,

    And her Le Creuset pot.

    I loved her though she was naive,

    For,my word, she was hot.

    I loved her curly golden hair.

    I loved her home made jam.

    But most of all,I loved her brain

    And how she dealt with spam.

    I loved to lick her bright pink lips

    I loved to bite her ear.

    But most of all,her innocence,

    And how she showed no fear.

    I liked to lick her toes as well

    I like to touch her hair.

    But it now proves so difficult

    Because she is not here.

    I look at all her photographs,

    I look at all her posts.

    She has two dnzen boyfriends now.

    Whom does she love the most?

    I loved her breakfast coffee pot,

    I loved her tea as well.

    She fed me on hot buttered toast,

    The rest I cannot tell.

    Except she was tempestuous,

    And like an autumn day.

    She made the leaves fall off the trees

    Though it was only May.

    So now I’ve turned quite gay.

    She never let me play.

    She sells men on E-bay.

    Her name is Maisy Fey.

    I love her to this day.

  • How to tame yourself

    Try to gnaw on a piece of wood for a few minutes

    to stop yourself biting people’s heads off.

    Always keep your nails short and clean

    So if you scratch people they won’t turn septic.

    Try a small piece of sellotape over your lips

    You could paint it pink so it won’t show.

    Though if you have a cold you mustn’t.

    If you need to say anything try miming or pointing.

    Wear a scarf round your face

    So your frowns won’t show.

    They’ll think you feel cold but that’s better than thinking you have the evil eye

    Join a religious order.They’ll tame you free.

    Allow people to stroke your head without snarling.

    If you lie on someone’s lap having your head rubbed

    Keep your nails under control,

    Though soft humming and chuckling is fine and most welcome.

    If you eat other people’s dinners

    Let them eat your dinner.

    If you get mad

    Climb a tree and sulk invisibly for hours.

    If you get sad

    Lie in a melancholy heap just outside the bathroom

    Someone will notice you and douse you with a jug of hot water.

    That will get your back up again.

    And at night when you prepare for bed

    don’t backup the days grievances onto your internal hard drive.

    You will have more space for the best things in life

    Which are provided free for those who learn to see widely enough

  • I empathised with the wrong type of syllables.Now my language is impregnated with new meanings.


  • Everything’s coming up to close

    Looking into my hole?

    My heart sings to you,are you tone deaf or just horrible?

    Let’s droll again,like we did last summer.

    let’s split up and then reconnec our cables

    Flicking one’s wounds into other’s umconscious minds

    I’ll fly down with the lions of Judah

    Life is a bowl of worries… just pick one.,

    Life’s a bitch and how we love them

    As polite as a whether

    What a plight at the end of this tunnel

    Right in the guts…. he left me for dead.

    lightning never strikes the same place twice because it’s not there anymore.

    The delights are here again.Thank you,Lord

    Do lights shout or am I psychotic?

    I like a bull in a china shop…love that crackle

    He like a little licking with his head under the bedcover.

    I feel like a coiled spring in your mattress.watch out..I’m about to…. kiss your butt

    You affect me like a lost flog in the dark.Are you grey yet?


  • I could whip you with one arm tied behind my back.

    That’s so unkind.. don’t you know I’m a masochist,Untie your arm at once.. unless you are a one handed half sadist

    i hate to pray…but…where are you,God?

    i have no news about your vital stats.

    I hear a cat…

    i love you more than common sense recommends

    I need a hole in my head…I’ll shoot myself

    I never met a man I could ride a bike with since Peter left me

    i want my lace bikini and the sun

    i wasn’t born yesterday…what a surprise.That’s why I can read…
    unless it’s genetic.

    i wouldn’t whiten teeth for any liar,

    I wouldn’t thrust him as far as I could tweet.

    It was he who thrusted,Father.I just lay there..you might say,
    I got laid.What can I do?I’m no longer a virgin except at driving cars.

    I’d love my head if I wasn’t so detached.

  • This lady was too good and too kind.

    She even helped stressed wasps to unwind.

    So they sent her to school

    To learn how to be cruel.

    She had a dark place down deep in her mind.

    Why or why not?

    How many angels can dance on my PIN

    Why are angels men?

    Why am I a woman?

  • If you want to receive love and grace,
    ,
    You can’t if your soul has no space.

    If you want to create

    You must meditate.

    That is one rule at God’s place

  • If you fear that blank emptiness

    And your life is all frantic distress.

    How can angels get in,

    Off the head of their PIN?

    It’s an answer there’s no need to guess.

    &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

    There once was a lady poet

    Who gave too much advice, and free quotes.

    So her friends got her high,

    She was up in the sky,

    So she flew but still felt overwrought

    Her friends were very annoyed

    She was too much by words mis-employed.

    So they bought her a lute

    With a built in sweet newt

    Music’s an art to be loved and enjoyed.

    This lady was too good and kind.

    She even helped stressed wasps unwind.

    So they sent her to school

    To learn how to be cruel.

    She had a dark shadow lost deep in her mind.

  • http://youtu.be/8DQnS18EeWM

    Don’t miss this haunting song sung by Sinead O’Connor

    My lover eats me like blank verse.

    My lover bleats till I’m full of mirth.

    My lover makes two seem a cloud of unknowing.

    My lover is sweet though he’s a trifle terse at every verse end

    We watch TV when there’s nothing else on Earth.

    We play music so loud no ear is uncovered.

    My education never made me an Object of Desire…I expire too soon..please extend my lifeby taking out a new warranty.

    My first boyfriend had a lovely smile;just once,I admit,but it was worth waiting for…I think.


  • Life feels so Blair sometimes.

    You have nothing to fear

    The fear of fear is bad for your health.

    There’s nothing so near as fear itself.

    There’s nothing so dear as wishing for wealth.

    There’s nothing to fear in begging for help.

    There are many things more queer than loving one’s self.

    You have nothing to fear but the Era of stealth.

    I have nothing but tears, yet I drink to your health.

  • Never put back on tomorrow what you remove today.
    Being contrary,I shall please myself


  • Cocaine for the blues

    Thinking of you.

    Heroin’s bad news..

    You have to choose.

    Will you sign up? It’s free.

    How will we be?

    Just choose a password,

    Faintly absurd.

    We’ll confirm your account…

    By email,don’t doubt.

    You can register here..

    Join us without fear.

    Friends are so wikkied…

    So do not be trickied


  • Art’s as easy as how to see.

    It’s so easy to draw water.

    The beans mystified our trends

    Let them seat crows.

    Let the wheat cake.Let them meet steak!

    And so prey all of us

    His seat is lead!

    He’s in fear of dread.

    She eats me like verse.

    I eat straight from his hat

    You beat your gun and I’ll beat your bum:Forty glades of hey!

    Do you eat your own frog’s food?

    We found eight hundred Camilla’s all harrying one man.

    The Elephant and the Broom:an opera in three perhaps’s

    He sent a promotional rolling boaster to comb the streets

    You empathise with the wrong sort of Syllables.

    I’ll pre-empt your flattery..I just know I’m at the behest of the crunch.

    Did you pay for me and my paramour’s whole synthesizer?

    It’s the reverse end of the sentence.Ecnetnes eht…… gad it

    I don’t like words with no ends.

    Our blends mystify the means.

    Not even a kind squirrel lends an acorn to a tree.

    While the Press liars’ churning …the disabled folk are hurting.

    We have no wheels at all today… not even for meals

    To save confusion I shall admit that I sometimes invent a word..not just here but in my poetry too..after all it’s a human made symbolic world and I have the right to add to it…oh,pluck off.

    The cure it cliche

    I wept till I cried… how dare he have died?
    Why keep both sucklings abreast?
    Keep you cinders flossed nightly.Stop here and try a scone..please bereave me.
    Keep your gin up and be toned as a few fans hit some nit.
    The government keep the fares dear and keeps old dears afraid.
    keep your face powder fried ahead and brush your eyebrows till symbolic
    I’m keeping a cup of tea for his Bones
    He makes even hard men very depressed..
    My kiss keeps on sticking to your face.please accept my demonologies
    I’ll just cock the vacuum and weigh the dust
    I’ll flick this problem to a nerd with verve
    Tickle some brute.. you show it makes mince
    She flicked her hair so musically,it was great tart..
    How to pick your own feet up for dummies.
    Click till she reels…photography is a book’s spell

  • I have been one acquainted with the night.
    I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
    I have outwalked the furthest city light.

    I have looked down the saddest city lane.
    I have passed by the watchman on his beat
    And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

    I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
    When far away an interrupted cry
    Came over houses from another street,

    But not to call me back or say good-bye;
    And further still at an unearthly height,
    One luminary clock against the sky

    Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
    I have been one acquainted with the night

    Free for a fee

    An accessory devil is available on bequest
    Perspicuity is the father of circumvention
    Doctor,my nerves are like weals.
    Impervious as a top hat on a hot headed youth
    Never put back on tomorrow what you remove today
    I have a new tease on line
    The brewery is my curey,doctor.
    Wise guys finish last
    A fright a day keeps my nerves in play
    Unzip and good luck
    Tip it in the flood
    It’s woe with your umrelenting tales
    I’m no glamourer
    It’s an oh,oh moment!
    No bolds charged here.It’s free for a small fee..


  • He was hailed beneath the axe.

    I am torn with wrath and woe.

    Take some meths..and set your self alight.

    I’ll take a fracture;it will cast longer.

    Knit a sheep’s hat and keep the moors warmer.

    Life’ so Blair sometimes

    Shake me alive with the wounds of music

    Make the town wheezy

    Bake it for Tee

    He faked wit to its limits

    Wake me with a pail of malt.

    I made a mind filled with rhymes

    Doctor!Why,he mocked me….then he shot me.

    Rake the hill with hate stones

    I’m well coveted

    A land of silks and money.

    A land of jilted Bunnies.

    The last witch’s effort to inspell me into doom has failed again.

    Rioters bid a fast ta ta to the Law

    The fast and the feast..I love you at least as much as you do.

    Your laughter thrills my wits

    They laughed all day as their ship sank.Positive Thinking..gets you drowned faster

    He plays down my flaws without prayers

    I pay my bards on the navel.

    He has a faked heart crack.

    I leave no crone unweaned.

    Turn left at the altar…and run round the side aisle.Practise escapology before the wits of theology

    He was a legend in his own crime novels.

    A shepherd doesn’t change two sheets easily.

    “The wisdom of city devils”: my latest suffering in details.

    The evil is in the retail.

    Down in the Mall,don’t spend less than your All

    Oh,Susannah,don’t you tell lies to me,
    I’m off to my old Mama and then I’ll come to see.

    I’m as busy as a lone flea on a well coveted cat.

    Can I pee,too,in Hell?

    You’re as blind as my Dell.


  • At the hopes of what pseudo-dope?

    The Pope’s at the end of his Cope this summer.

    We blend hope and dismay…what else can I pray?

    At the sight of the tricky hoarder…I say,why her,why here?

    On hearing the last sin,the Confessional box burst into flames.
    Father said,I know it was mortal,but it’s hell in here,Lord.
    Why do I hear?

    I’ve just got one Ex to grind..

    On the tip of the sands

    Pat her with joy

    She’s my pearl.

    She’s my Fairy Queen.

    I’ve been blotted already and I’m just a Parker.

    I’m a Sheaffer waver…and my blink is permanen

The second week of August 2012

  • I never tried to impress,
    I never tried to charm.
    I never learned to speak posh,
    I was not designed to feign.

    I was not designed to do harm.
    I never tried to be true.
    I never tried to be false.
    I learned to make trifles,
    But not to shoot rifles

    I never tried to love,
    I never tried to hate.
    I let life affect me,
    I never learned to be right.

    I never saw you coming,
    I never saw your face,
    I never knew your true name,
    Yet you taught me to embrace

    I saw love’s depths in your eyes.
    I saw your nature displayed,
    I saw who you were,
    Your love never died

    I never tried to live.
    I never tried to die.
    I dwell in each moment
    Until we say goodbye.

    I never knew your name,
    But I knew your claim,
    I am not ashamed.
    I live without blame.

    I see birds all are singing
    Though they never learned,
    I see the flowers are blooming,
    I see the world still turns.

    Nature just happens
    Nature never mourns.
    People are destroyed
    By what they try to learn.

  • Take it from me and pass it on… love can travel faster than light

  • I painted the doorstep black so it wouldn’t need cleaning.. but now the dirt has gone white…. Does dirt turn white with age?
    My home is an abstract art work with dust making patterns all over the place.
    ?

  • I had some problems with gmail.I have since learned that you should always log out after using it.I won’t explain but you can easily find articles on this on the net.Most sites log you out when you leave… but be certain and do it yourself.
    http://www.ghacks.net/2007/12/27/why-you-should-always-log-off-gmail/
    The above article explains.

    I also made my blogspot blog invitation only…it’s of not much interest to you here as it’s only some of these poems plus links to some websites I’ve found of interest.

  • He had a whale with legs…

    I take a black sheep to bleat.

    She must shake her wrath.

    Brake the weather,Oh,Lord.

    Make a structure for your art..and give me new heart.

    I made a step black so it wouldn’t need cleaning.. but now the dirt has gone white…. is it aging?

    Be sparing with your wit

    Take it all with a drink of the malt!

    Take this love to please me.

    Take it from me and pass it on… love can travel faster than light

    i take this man for he dreams and I’ll rub him better if he screams.

    I promise to love,hum,sing and dream
    Until I fall apart.

    Do you take this poem to be your husband?
    No,but it might give me new ideas in the night.
    So it’s like a husband in a way
    Do you,poem, take this woman as your life?
    Well,I’ll dwell on her as she’s such a funny site.
    So may God help you.
    Does he like poetry?
    That is meaningless….

  • It’s a bit late in the day for a poem
    I’m only human you know!
    but if you feel like a-knowing
    Then to your bookshelf you go.

    Take out a volume of Shakespeare
    He was my ancestor too.
    Then if you need a short break,dear,
    A sonnet should do it for you.

    Take out a clean piece of paper
    And your pen and some ink.
    Make up a poetic caper,
    Then you can have forty winks.

    Take out a volume of Homer.
    Read it instead of the News.
    Then if you fall into a coma
    We shall all be completely amused!
    The Government will be bemused.
    Do you hire one or have your own Muse?
    This is all a very fine ruse.

  • Are you good at small talk?

    How are you?

    Who are you?

    You look well.

    Is it raining again?

    Who said that?

    Sylvia?

    Have you got a bread machine?

    No,I buy mine in the Artisan bakery.

    Pricey there.

    Do you like tea or coffee..either or both?

    Are you are too clever or too good?

    Why did Heisenberg stay in Germany?

    Why is uncertainty so important?

    Did Heisemberg meet Wittgenstein?

    I love your new umbrella.

    Shall we have a coffee?

    We can share it.

    Are the cups clean?

    How about Sales shopping?

    I hate shopping.it’s necessary but not sufficient for life.

    For some it is life.

    I like people watching…

    Watching you what…undress?I can watch you.

    Be my guest.

    Feel free to tickle me.

    You are my heart’s delight.

    May I love you tonight….or this afternoon?

    You have to go to work.Lucky you!

    I will work out my accounts later.

    Good to see you.

    And you.

  • http://www.writing-world.com/poetry/sonnet.shtml

    What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
    I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
    Under my head till morning; but the rain
    Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
    Upon the glass and listen for reply,
    And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
    For unremembered lads that not again
    Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

    Beside us in the winter stands the lonely tree.
    Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
    Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
    I cannot say what loves have come and gone.
    I only know that summer sang in me
    A little while, that in me sings no more.

  • This is an old one I found in my files.
    A daisy feels no shame.

    Shame is pain for being who you are.
    Guilt is pain for what you have done
    So shame is much worse
    If you wanted to be someone.

    Actions can be altered
    Actions can be forgiven.
    But being in shame about yourself
    Can make a hell of heaven.

    No-one knows my story.
    No-one knows my name.
    I want to disappear forever
    And never come here again.

    No-one seems to love me.
    I shrink from humankind.
    I lie like a hunted fox or beast
    In the hedgerows of my mind.

    How can shame be changed?
    How can shame disappear?
    Only when we live with the shame
    With acceptance and without fear.

    p.s. Remember it’s fiction i.e. imagination!

    k

  • Fly on your black, with your legs stretched back and hands by

    their sides
    or floating as wings… like a butterfly.
    Mohammed Ali loves you.,

    Bend the left knee and tape it to your chest then blog.

    Put a electric brand around the ball and then hold both the ends

    by the hands.Now draw an image in Paint.

    Slowly straighten your West foot up towards the ceiling and bookmark your own toes.

    Make sure your hips and the grass your bought are firmly pressed into the beloved earth.

    The right foot should be kept afraid and the toes vexed,
    pointing to the ceiling.

    Count till 20 while in this position and then faint sideways onto that grass we met before

    Do the same routine on any other legs.

    Do 3 Frets and two moans and you’ll be a different person.

  • Bother and bother all men

    He disliked the rounding of her bonnier parts.

    We reached a few heights in the nights

    I once fed roses for a hobby.

    I was the broad you unravelled

    Bands of horns play in my head all night… they sound French.

    Please look through the window of my soul.

    I think silence is bolder.

    Twice alive!

    Flowers like rhyming for me.

    Stop and sniff the posies….. how to catch hay fever.

    He blessed my water..before sending it to the lab.

    He has a horn on one side…he’s unsymmetrical.

    I will await the end of time patiently.What choice so we have?

    Me after thee

    Rhyme again for these men….now then!

    Time seals all wounds .
    Fleet lass of Richmond Hill… she escaped

    Greensleeves is a strange name.

  • I’m just a topologist….love your torus..

    I’m just a watchmaker….love your hands.

    I’m just a cat……love your eyes.

    I’m just a linguist………..cast a spell on me.

    I’m just a cartographer………may I make a map of you?

    You can if you think you can.

    I’m just a woman… why are we bust?

    I’m only a man………Ed Balls, we need you now.

    I’m just the Prime Minister……can I meet your greed?

    I’m only the Chancellor………lend me your ears!

    I’m a Roman Catholic………can I confess all..I’m Blaired with anxiety.

    I’m only Schubert……I need an Air…

    I’m only God………..I need some people..but which?

    They are all One to me.Many are called and some are brazen

    Yet I am Three to them…….I need a prophet..

    I said Prophet not profit.

    I’m human …….I’m weaker than Thou.

    I’m a woman……..let’s dance and damn the profit.

  • Uncertain on principle

    How uncertain was Heisenberg?

    Werner Heisenberg was a major figure in the development of quantum theory and nuclear physics.

    He remained in Germany throughout the war working on the bomb or perhaps delaying such a thing..Michael Frayn wrote a play on this.

    Heisenberg was uncertain on principle
    He wasn’t sure if Hitler was invincible.
    He went to see Bohr
    During the war,
    But we’re not terribly certain what for.

    Heisenberg’s world was certainly fragmented.
    His uncertainly thought-out ethics were splintered
    If he chose not to see
    What went on in Germany
    I wonder what uncertainty means?

    He couldn’t deny with certainty.
    Concentration camps were not a rarity.
    But he trembled unsure
    Right through the War,
    So maybe that’s what uncertainty’s for.

    I guess uncertainty was not as bad
    As the total denial some of us had.
    Painful to tolerate,
    And on nuclear bombs to concentrate.
    Whilst most certainly wanting Bohr for a mate

  • Waive the restrictions on my kitchen..I’ll pray as I cook if you bless it

    Give all your bated breath to us and we’ll clean it free and sell you the earth

    Pray as your goodwill advises….

    Play your prayers for ever on God’s eye-Phone

    He prayed for his own shadow and then he trod on mine.

    Wiping the bottom of the baby is necessary but not sufficient for its happiness.

    Reason’s meetings were quite fleeting.

    A second’s wind on my part made him start.

    I see eye to eye on my photo

    I see the class is half empty…can it be those geometric progressions?
    In that case I’ll soon have a negative number of pupilsnot even a fraction will be positive.

    I am an imaginative number.

    The revolution of the identity… can it be complete?

    I see the fly by nights have left me with a strange white face.

    I see the hole in your shield…never yield to punctures of esteem.
    You are awesome,babe.

    UR OK IAM OK

    ALL OK

    Y WAR?

    IT’S THEM AGAIN.

    We shall see which way the wind comes out….. and that will be a test of our love in the bed.

    She’s very well bread…love the dough,baby.Chew on you forever.

    Did Jesus have any sisters?Conundrums and strange facts…. a new book
    for the somniac.

  • The sun it was a-raining
    As I ran down the street.
    I saw you in the window
    With raw eggs upon your feet.

    Shall I mix in sugar also..
    Will butter act like glue
    I’ll mix you in my large white bowl
    And bake you through and through.

    I’ll sit down on a handkerchief
    And cover you in cream.
    And have a word with Wittgenstein
    To say life’s just a dream.

    Oh,cook your man in gravy
    Cook him till he’s done.
    I kept right on and when I looked
    Every one had gone.

    So nobody was looking
    You jumped out of the pan.
    I said,Are you the one?
    And you replied,I am.

    The rain it was a shining
    While we were laid in bed.
    I remember everything
    But forgot what you had said.

    Oh,cover me with icing..
    Put me on a plate.
    I want you to eat me up
    Before it gets too late.

  • A truth that’s told with bad intent
    Beats all the lies you can invent.”

    ― William Blake, Auguries of innocence

    As usual Blake gets to the heart of life.

  • I have plagiarised this but altered it slightly

    First of all,you need some apples,one each for all who are dining with you and begging from you.

    Secondly,you must crumble these apples and that is so hard to do.

    So I suggest you get out a cricket bat and pulverize them or chop them with your kitchen chopper or finally how about an axe?

    Mix them with plenty of butter and one egg per two apples ,first beating the eggs with a grey whip and stirring in some milk to make it slightly custardish.

    Some sugar might be an idea and a little crumbled clove.. the hot cloves…

    Put it into an oven/fool proof dish and bake in a moderate oven until it is set and firm but not burned to a cinder.A little charring is acceptable.
    About 40 minutes should be ok

    Eat hot or cold with cream or icecream and dip your fingers in then suck them

    Don?t whine if it comes out wrong.

    Cooking is hard you know!

    You know now.. so kiss me before we die.

  • Just going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in your garage makes you a car.”
    G.K. Chesterton.

    This seems typical of this author so maybe he did say it.

    As an adolescent I had a great admiration for him and his idea of Anarchy as the ideal political system..

  • The most important service rendered by the press and the magazines is that of educating people to approach printed matter with distrust.

    Attributed to Samuel Butler .. yet I doubt if they had “the press and thee magazines in his day[17th century]

    But it’s a good quote anyway

  • Words lead me to poetry
    To give them shape and form.
    Words are waiting quietly
    For a sentence to be born.

    Choosing words of interest,
    I look at them with care.
    If I look patiently,
    The right word may be there.

    Patterned words play in my mind,
    Dancing as they wait.
    Words want to be spoken,
    That is their true fate.

    Writing is the second best,
    So you must read aloud.
    What we write,we must speak.
    Let poetry resound.

  • A
    I thought you once wrote me a poem,
    But I can’t find it anywhere here.
    Please send me another one,
    If you have time, my dear.

    You sent me love at Xmas time
    You sent me love last May,
    But please bring love in person now
    Before I go away.

    I’d like to see you in the flesh.
    Clothed or unclothed’s fine.
    I’ll take you in my arms to hold
    Then I shall know love’s mine.

    When people are united
    In the warm embrace of flesh.
    We see the world all glowing gold
    As our two souls enmesh.

    Soul and body are a whole,
    That sing to us their song.
    Please bring your dear body back,
    To where it does belong.

    We’ll sit beside the oval lake
    Where coots and moorhens float.
    I’ll hold your hand and gaze at you,
    If you read what I wrote!
    while I write the new milkman a note.
    Is that your own beard or a stoat?
    Did you notice this brandy I brought?
    What was that mysterious thought?
    Why are we feeling so fraught?
    If you’ll teach me Serbo-Croat
    Whilst you tell me your weird anecdote.
    While I play with the tv remote.
    While I look down your cosy red throat.
    What is the gist of my thought?
    If you tell me how many mords I have wrote.
    What terrible trouble you’ve brought.
    Do you think my new suit is too smart?
    Since God knows what muck you then wrote.
    And your adopted white billy goat.
    Because I like your new overcoat.
    Because you are whom I have sought.
    Where’s all that hash you bought?
    If you’ll buy me a lovely new coat.
    If you only knew just what I thought.
    If all other things come to naught.
    If you’ll give me that salmon you caught.
    As I’m feeling so overly wrought.
    If you write me a tender love note.
    I’m admiring the moth on your coat.
    If you promise to carry my tote.
    I saw a bumble bee fly into your coat.
    A bee wants a sniff at your throat.
    God knows why I wrote what I wrote.
    I blame the green frog in my throat.
    Shall we hire a small rowing boat?
    Did you manage to sow a wild oat?
    My plans seem to have all come to naught.
    I am that lady you’ve caught.
    What ethics and games were you taught?

  • This apple is a solitary fruit
    Though it is quite impressive.
    Its colours rich and size are such,
    Its presence is too massive.If you seek to impress the world
    With presence and with dress.
    You may gain awe but love will not
    To your facade confess.Only the powerful and the rich
    Will offer you their hands.
    They want to use you for themselves,
    So like and love be damned.

    The humble apple on the tree
    Will gain far more true friends.
    Seek to be only yourself.
    Let,here, my lesson end.

  • A man who fond of lemons is
    Cares not how he gives a kiss.
    ‘T is a proof that he would rather
    Have a lemon than a lover.

    A child who never was embraced
    Will not marry in much haste.
    It’s a hint that she would, maybe,
    Be afraid to have a baby.

    A heart which mean with kindness is,
    Will rarely feel true friendship’s bliss.
    ‘T is a proof that some would rather
    Be correct than be a lover.

  • Praising the Tories is as daft as dancing a minuet in McDonalds.

    Do we laugh all the way to the sink?I sink not!

    They play down the Law but God is not blind

    I laid the bards on this table.

    To leave you starkers is unkind to defenceless animals like women.

    He weaves any stones unreturned into a hard wearing tapestry in 50 shades of grey.

    She left her cat at the altar as she had no other offerings.God was amused,they say.

    He was a legend for being unkind to wasps and evil spirits.But he loved women to access.

    A leopard doesn’t wash its spots…let that be a lesson to you..

    He confessed to two weevils as the priest was drunk

    Wet your sleeping dogs with this shampoo and lie about it but not in it

    We let the cat out of the bag and it bit the Vicar.He cursed like a Whooper…you would have seen red if you were not out of your mind with
    all that Olympic Cider…. and by the way,can cats have hangovers?

    Think aloud and knit!

  • http://youtu.be/TYJzcUvS_NU

    Endless birds have tried to nest with him.They keep falling out

    Every Blog has to pray daily on this site

    Every sin is coming up blushing…what did we do?

    A quaint man makes hay while the wife rhymes

    I fall down into bed when he spins me his line.

    I feel too icy for you…can you warm me up in a microwave oven?

    Ban the old flames from your bed or I’ll split.

    Lassies are always sweeter in the spring time

    Sing on there

    Have I a heart to spare? Not today,thanks.

    Tart breaker…leave my quiche alone.What harm has touched you?

    Heavy weather tonight.. see the chart and dry now.

    I can’t leave home without your shoes.

    I can’t live without glue.

    I love you more than a rose thorn.

    Help me pick the time.

    Keep your grin out.

    He’s missing his clothes!

    He’s booking into my soul.

    They were lost in the bedcovers.

    He said he played for the Wanderers and now I believe him…he found my Arctic wastes and warmed them till I was like putty in his hands…
    Now I’m a statue in the park.

    He said sex was a marital fence breaker.. and he needed his offensives more than ever.

    All I heard was,Plead with the whips.

    It was a lover queered my pitch.

    What a lovely ditch.

  • “Penny for your lies?

    “My early words make men scared.”

    “Early to bed,longer to writhe in it”

    “Pretty is not as good as witty.”

    “Seen but not scared.”

    “He who lives by the word… …..loves weeding blogs.”

    “The way to a man’s heart is optional.”

    “A switch in metre beats time.”

    “Ask not what your poetry can do for you… just write it.”

    “Many bands make… a loud noise.”

    “An ounce of dissension makes life richer.”

    “If you can’t say anything wise,keep it to yourself”

  • http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Irrational_number

    An irrational number can’t be written as a ratio of two whole numbers.
    It is a non recurring infinite decimal… please correct me if need be as I’ve forgotten so much maths.

    The most well known such number is Pi…It is half the circumference of a circle of radius 1.

    There are more irrational numbers than rational ones.Different orders of infinity…

  • Doctor,my legs buckle under when I see this man

    Wear shades over your why’s,your eyes,his lies…now do be wise!
    That’s all for the lay man or woman.

    Doctor my legs crackled last night…can I have an X rated film on the NHS?I am sure it will help me.

    Why is it always these X rays.I can’t even see the blooming things…
    What fun is there in the invisible…it’s not at all risible.Humour heals.
    I reel..how do you feel?

    I feel a bit quizzical….. almost Biblical,if you catch my drift.

    I just went along for the bride.

    If the surprise is ripe,I’ll do anything I can for you.

    He was exhausted trying to read between all the lines on my face.So Now I sleep with my head at the foot of the bed while he massages my bunions,

    How does that make you feel?

    I feel as happy as a frog in a duckpond.

  • Good evening.Do you come here often?My name is Harold,by the way.

    No,I’ve never been here before,Harold.How about you?By the way my name is
    Anita del Oranges.

    Yes,Anita,I know Judy and Jim very well..in fact she was my first wife.

    How many wives have you had,Harold,or is that intrusive?

    I’m not sure.Five wives I think but I’m divorced now.

    So are you still hoping to find a new lover?

    Well,if one came along I’d be keenly intrigued.

    After five divorces can you say why your marriages broke down?

    I think it was my utter laziness.

    Don’t you have a job?

    Yes,I’m a doctor.

    I’ve seen you in the Clinic…

    I didn’t see your face..

    No,I know.But you can see it now…why do you say you are lazy?

    I want you to know I won’t do any housework after we get married but I’ll pay for help.

    Is that a proposal?

    Well,my mind was flowing that way.. you are a charming lady.

    I might be a psychopath.

    Well,that would make a change!

    I might be cruel..

    I can ignore that.

    And I wear a wig…

    I look forward to removing it at night…

    I may be bald..

    Well,I am bald.

    This is a strange way to talk to a person you never met before..

    Well, you are a stranger..so I talk strangely to you..I learned that in neuro-linguistic programming classes

    I’m coming to the Clinic on Monday.

    What for,angel?

    Don’t you keep records?

    Yes,I still have all Mozart’s stuff.

    You didn’t catch my drift……

    I never go with the flow.

    Well,I admire that in a man.Self control can take its toll though.

    So,how about a meal at the Ritz?

    I’m on a fast right now but I’ll call you when I am meating again.

    You look like a thin lady to me.

    But I am quite fat underneath this camouflage…

    Intriguing…May I underdress you?

    You seem quite naughty…

    I’m just pretending.I’m quite Victorian in fact..

    Well,send me an email about yourself…what you love and hate.What you read.What you eat

    What’s your address?

    Fierylady.hot@myfemale.org

    Or phone me on

    0207 pi

    Let’s pretend it’s a rational phone number

    Let it ring forever.

    For forever I’ll be loving you.

    You stick to me like UHU,my glue!

    Your heart is warm..

    Rest in my arms like a dying sheep.

    Embrace me now,I love your how!I hate your similes though

    Someway,somehow.We’ll get through

    Oh,dear.look at the time.I have to go home and prove Herbert’s Last Theorem.

    You are a very foreign person…I can’t translate you at all.

    Don’t you do foreign languages here?

    Well,there are so many of them.

    Ain’t it fun?

    I speak a dialect common only to a couple of square miles of Greater Manchester.

    You make me feel so blung.

    I am your song to be sung.

    When will you have rung?

  • Bands of rhyme will be crossing the UK today.. streams of poetry will bring dampness to your eyes.

    Until the end of all rhymes I’ll be loving you

    Time feels all wounds and rain wets all souls.

    Don’t go fishing with baited breath…and take your umbrella.Keep fish dry..be kind.

    Don’t look down.You’re on a tight rope

  • Until the loss of all my rhymes,I’ll be loving you.

    Until my pen drops from my hand

    I’ll love you through and through.

    Until the day my writing stops

    I’ll send these verses new.

    Until the loss,outweighs the gain

    My heart holds yours in view.

    Until the loss of my free verse

    Until my writing gets too terse

    Until my pen breaks from the strain

    I’ll write and write again.

    My letter to you

    The loss,the lost,the dead the live,

    We all are joined in heart.

    We balance life and death and love..

    We each have unique parts.

    The up,the down,the black the white

    We are all a whole.

    Come and join the human writes

    For your loss leaves a hole.
    Photo0421
    The human face,the human rites,

    We need their total sum.

    The human rights,the human sites

    We all must be as one.

  • Until the end of time I’ll be loving you.

    Until the end of all rhymes I’ll be writing you.

    Until the day I die,I’ll be unintentionally annoying you.

    Older and older,I’ll never leave you,but I will,no doubt, grieve you and

    deceive you,misperceive you.

    Otherwise I’ll think of you,wink at you and make a hyperlink to you.

    Still,for ever,I’ll be all over you..looking for fleas in your flies, and

    for B’s in your Y’s.

    I’ll be looking for tears in your eyes,making you surprised.

    That’s a love poem,innit?

    Well,innit?

    Wot!I’m English,innit!

    Kitsch?

    Oh, geddit?

  • Doctor,doctor,I feels so very ill.

    Dejas Flu!

    Faute de Mioaw!

    Bow,wow!

    Holy cow.

    Shall I moo instead?

    How low.

    In lieu de mon Tarte

    Je desire une Arte

    Pardon my English is showing.

  • http://www.marcandangel.com/2012/08/10/15-ways-to-be-irresistibly-attractive/

    I am doubting whether being irresistibly attractive would be good… it could take up so much time,depending on where you lived and worked..
    Women’s magazines put forward various methods.. but better to be who you are and go from there.

    There must be a man out there who likes modest,shy,large,short sighted,blue eyed women with an interest in colour,philosophy,humour and verse; who are an excellent cooks and can iron your hankies now and then time permitting.If they can find the iron.

    Don’t all call me at once,please.Here in Britain we queue.

    Irresistible from Dictionary.co,

    1.
    not resistible; incapable of being resisted or withstood: an irresistible impulse.
    2.
    lovable, especially calling forth feelings of protective love: an irresistible puppy.
    3.
    enticing; tempting to possess: an irresistible necklace.

    It reminds me of a funny old song about a wedding night
    where the bride removes her padded bra,corset,dentures,wig until she is revealed as nothing like the image she was projecting.

    http://youtu.be/sLUmnidPcV0

    Images and self images can be dangerous things…
    The best thing in life is to forget yourself and come to your senses!

  • I once had a doctor called Simon,

    Whose mobile was constantly chiming.

    When I told him my ills,

    He gave me blue pills

    and said I must practise my rhyming.

    So I started this limerick today,

    And shall write in rhymes if I may.

    I hope it amuses

    Those whom it confuses;

    You won’t have a penny to pay.

    You see,I believe in free verse;

    In sentences both compact and terse.

    Rhymes should be banned…

    Except between friends.

    And I shan’t use words like hearse ,curse and nurse!

  • And it came to pass that they ate their dinner
    and that she did washeth up.
    And she did leave the dishes to drain
    Whilst she put on the washing machine.
    and the man was very pleased.

    and it further came to pass
    that she gave the man some pudding
    and he was more pleased.
    And then it came to pass the he fell asleep
    By the fire.

    And the Lord God,said
    who is this man that sleepeth by his fire?
    And he said,I shall waken him up
    And the man awoke,
    And God spake unto him
    How is it that the woman laboureth in ye kitchen.
    And that thou sleepeth here in an armchair.

    and the man said,but Thou didst order women to labour.
    And the Lord God said unto the man
    Why dost Thou remember so selectively what I have said?
    And the man said,I knoweth not and therefore I will help this woman.

    And the Lord God said,
    Why dost thou not think of it thyself?
    And the man said in reply,
    It was Thou that made me,O God.

    And the Lord God was displeased with the man.
    so he called down a plague of butterflies
    To prevent him from sleeping.
    And when the woman came in
    she was much pleased to see these butterflies
    and so she fell onto the man
    And he did make love unto her.

    And the cat was very pleased
    For it thrilled him to watch humans mating
    and gave him hope
    That the Lord God would take his rib and make a mate for him.

    And indeed it doth seem to have happened
    Judging by all the cats staring in ye old window here
    And by their ecstatic yelps
    That the Lord God was very generous with them
    and made them many mates.
    For truly there is no jealousy among them
    And they mate freely and happily
    and never have rows about the washing up.Ah,men!Ah,women!Ah,aha,aha.
    by kathrynbraithwaite @ 2011-12-09

  • A joke and a stunning image

    by Kathswords Pro @ 2012-08-09 – 22:20:52

    A statistician is a mathematician broken down by age and sex. My letter to you

    Joke …

    A statistician’s wife had twins. He was delighted. He rang the minister who was also delighted. “Bring them to church on Sunday and we’ll baptize them,” said the minister. “No,” replied the statistician. “Baptize one. We’ll keep the other as a control.”

  • Trees swaying in the wind;
    Leaves
    blow
    down.

    Birds flying through the sky
    look
    for
    lorn.

    .March 2012 069

    Winter edges ever nearer.
    Frost and fog will then appear.
    Cats sleep cosy by the fire
    I clean the mud off my bike tyres.

    Trees swaying to and fro
    sig
    nal
    love.
    .
    Birds flowing on air currents.

    You’re
    my
    dove.

  • YOUR troubles shrink not, though I feel them less
    Here,far away,than when I tarried near;
    I even smile old smiles–with listlessness–
    Yet smiles they are, not ghastly mockeries mere.

    A thought too strange to house within my brain
    Haunting its outer precincts I discern:
    –That I will not show zeal again to learn
    Your griefs,and,sharing them, renew my pain….

    It goes,like murky bird or buccaneer
    That shapes its lawless figure on the main,
    And each new impulse tends to make outflee
    The unseemly instinct that had lodgment here;
    Yet,comrade old, can bitterer knowledge be
    Than that,though banned,such instinct was in me!
    Thomas Hardy

  • How old do you have to get before wisdom is utterly useless?

    I’d like to see God…as long as an angel gives me some sunglasses first.

    If He’s a burning bush,it might hurt my eyes.

    Will I still have eyes in Heaven?

    Will I still need glasses?

    It won’t be heaven then.

    If we don’t have eyes,I wonder how we’ll get about?

    We must have some other kind of sight…

    I’m worried about God.Such a shame He’s not married.

    Maybe he had enough with his one son.

    Was it o.k .to have a Son like that?

    I guess it’s a parable..

    Open yourself up to wisdom and you will be fertilized.

    Makes us sound like flowers.

    Of course Jesus loved flowers…He wanted us to live like that..

    But no,we have to have wars in order to being Peace on Earth.

    As I said,when are we too old for Wisdom to be of any use?

    Oh,the mirth and the grief of God..

    Oh,to be a speck of dust.

  • I thought I would forget you,
    That all those memories would go,
    I thought our love would melt
    Like the winter frost and snow.

  • I thought I needed space
    and to meet somebody new,
    But here I am remembering
    All the love I felt for you.

    So many years have passed now,
    And we have been apart
    But a sweet image lingers here,
    In the museum of my heart.

    I look at you with gladness.
    I look at you with pain.
    I still feel that I love you
    But we’ll never meet again.
    Oh come to me with singing.
    Oh,come to me,let’s dance.
    I’ll dream I’m just beside you,
    And that we are still entranced.

  • I loved her for her dark blue eyes,
    And her Le Creuset pot.
    I loved her though she was naive,
    As she was very hot.
    ******
    I loved her curly golden hair.
    I loved her home made jam.
    But most of all,I loved her brain
    And how she dealt with spam.
    **********
    I loved to lick her bright pink lips
    I loved to bite her ear.
    But most of all,her innocence,
    Which made me pull her near.
    *********8
    I liked to lick her cheeks as well
    I liked to touch her hair.
    But it proved slightly difficult
    For she was rarely here.
    *******88
    I looked at all her photographs,
    I looked at all her posts.
    She has twenty boyfriends now,
    Whom does she love the most?
    **********
    I loved her breakfast coffee pot,
    I loved her tea as well.
    She fed me on her buttered toast,

    The rest I shall not tell.
    **********
    I was happy,I was sad.
    Whatever should I do?
    She has run off with a tramp
    She met in London Zoo!
    ********8
    She sent me a love letter once,
    And now she sends a card
    I wish that she’d leave me alone
    Jealousy’s so hard.
    ********8
    My heart has got the cramps in it,,
    I’m sitting in the bath.
    The water is as black as coal,
    Yet I’m still filled with wrath,

Even more early October

  • Your face is map enough for me

    Your gaze your smile,your frown,your glee.

    And if I want to know the rest

    The shape your posture’s made is best

    For saying what your life is now.

    A look,a gesture,all this show.

    Till all you are is then disclosed

    And I am in your arms enrobed.

    Love vanishes when analysed

    And thinking too’ by Love’s despised

    Use the means to fit the end

    And then I’ll be what you intend.

  • Like watercolour pictures left out in the rain
    Our colours have mingled,yet the originals still remain.
    Two watercolour paintings without frames,
    Became one picture over time,
    Yet two of us still there.
    Our colours blended naturally,
    Now all the hues are shared.
    I love your colours intermixed with mine:
    Together they have made a new design.
    A Watercolour picture painted by the rain,
    We may go, but our Watercolour Love will still remain.

  • Season of Writs and Yellow Legal Pads
    Season of Cat Theatricals and Many Merry Kitten Calls
    We wish you a Merry Dish Wash:Use Alcohol to Clean Up.
    Season of Wistful Ways and Yellow Fruituality:Lost Your Spirits?
    Angels are Dancing on my PIN…..how to go bankrupt quickly and easily.
    Abstract Cake Making:applied Solid Geometry for when you lose your Cook Book.
    Shades of Right Surround me ever: Clegg Confesses All.
    Am i Who I used to Be: No,your i’s are different.
    Commuting Groups and Symbols that Keep Flittering like Butterflies.
    Non-commutative Operas with Demonstrations of invariance under rotations and regulations from anywhere at all in any direction or deconstruction

  • ‘Twas illig, and the blithely Stoats ,did fire a Thimble at a Ghrost.

    Around the World I’ve Lied with Youare and Blush,The Twin Horror Show.

    Alice in Blunderland.

    Malice through the Magnifying Glass.

    Malice in Gove Land.

    All Whimsy were the Government’s Groves:Chequers for Hecklers

    All flimsy were the Lying Grounds, yet the War Mongers Outslayed

    Where are they,Mioaw?Cameron’s Cats for Rich Rools..

    Who stole my Government?

    Shall I compare Thee to a Carving Knife? : The N.H.S reduced to Size.

    How to write and sell your first Comedy of Errors: Mandel’s Sunset.

    Death and Menace: New Big Society for the disabled.

    Where have all the People Gone?: Holidays at Home for Dummies.

    Philosophy in a new Sea. Lost Ideas and Drowning Brainwaves.

  • Stan had decided to do a some of baking.

    The larder was empty
    the cupboard was bare
    he looked in the cake tin
    but nut nothing was there.Sorry about that!
    Stan had flour,eggs and sugar and of course milk and butter.Emile was under the table waiting for something to drip out of the bowl!He loved baking days.
    Stan had bought a load of blackberries in the market so he was thinkin of blackberry tarts,blackberry crumble..
    He picked up the bag which seemed very heavy.Putting his hand in …..he pulled out a Blackberry!He went to the market
    to buy me some fruit
    and now he’s got Blackberries
    he’s going to shoot!Annie his next door neighbour was coming to the back door.”What’s up ,Petal?”

    “Oh,dear.I seem to have made a category error.”Stan answered philosophically.”Well what category would you put me into?” she asked petulantly.
    “Why are you so egocentric ?Not everything is about you!”He said fluently.
    “Well if I’m narcissistic it’s because my infant grandiosity was ruptured too suddenly and I was not held and contained in a suitable manner.”
    “You’ve been reading that Wilfred Bion again.” Stan said admiringly.”No,not just him.It’s some American chap as well .Would you like to read it?”
    “No,thanks,I’m finding Julia Segal is more than enough for me.I find Bion is a bit too mystical.I don’t think I can approach you without memory or desire.To be honest,without memory or desire I wouldn’t want to approach you.”
    “Wow ” she said stupidly,her large green eyes staring avidly upon him inviting him to fall into their salty sea like depths.
    “Shall I ring 999?I can’t think of anything to say.I’m lost for words.”

    “Perhaps you have reached that mystical spot beneath language mostly only known to babies,the mad, or meditators?”
    “well,I do feel a bit of madness today.”
    “Is that why you have purple and orange eyeshadow on clahing with your alarazin crimson lipstick and your light beige, but not too light, foundation by Lancome of Brixton and Blackheath,Paris,Rome,and London?”
    “I suppose so.” she replied indifferently.I feel as if I’m behind a glass wall.”
    “Oh,don’t worry.That’s the new window!” Stan explained courteously.”You really are behind a glass wall.”
    “You’ve been reading schizoid processes again on Yahoo,”
    “Yes,” she admitted her face blushing violently.”It’s those new people who’ve moved in across the road.They are both psychoanalysts so I wanted to feel up to their level of knowledge.”
    “I didn’t know they were psychoanalysts.How did you find out?”

    “Well,first of all,there were two large sofas, and then hundreds of knitting needles and a lorryful of wool.And I thought,”Hello,hello,It must be one of Anna Freud‘s followers.”
    “So have you met them?” he asked laconically?
    “Yes”,she confessed animatedly .I went over and said,
    “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
    “And what did he say?”
    “Are you all mad round here?”
    “So I thought,”You’re not getting hold of me that easily.””
    “So I said “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m am an admirer of Melanie Klein,”
    “Oh,how did they react to that?”Stan quizzzed her jovially.
    “He was so rude.He said,”Are you telling me you’re a lesbian as well as a lunatic?”

    “Oh,dear.No wonder your make up is all running off your face and disappearing down your cleavage.Why don’t you pop upstairs and have a bath?”
    “Well it’s either that or ringing 999“
    “My self is totally divided.”

    “Into equal parts?” “I can’t say” she murmured.”Oh,well” said Stan “you sit there with Emile and I shall make a Victoria sponge and a lemon drizzle cake without the lemon…I’ve only got bananas and they don’t drizzle.

    “Why not adapt to reality and make a banana loaf?”
    “Is that wise?” Stan enquired.”Wise or not,it seems to make sense.” she whispered coyly.”Get a move on or Mary will be back on her Raleigh shopper bicycle and there’ll be no cake for tea.”Thank you,honey.”Stan replied.
    “I am filled with memory and desire.””And quite right too,”mioawed Emile from his basket.”I’m like that every night!””And so are all of us,”Annie twittered on one of Stan’s blackberr

  • http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/09/24/doctor-empathy-a-factor-in-diabetes-care/

    I would not be surprised if it were true across a wider spectrum of health problems,that the doctor’s attitude can have a physiological effect.I have already seen evidence that medications work better if you get on well with the doctor… even antibiotics.I have noticed lately our doctor is busy with NHS reforms and so is not so available….
    I wish he would read this article.Three of my family are diabetic

  • I once met a very smart man
    Who lived in a little red van.
    He ate his meals out
    Though I have no doubt
    He would sometimes eat beans from the can.

    He took his shirts to the laundrette.
    That is,to be sure, where we met.
    He was fascinated by music,
    But just to confuse me,
    He never told me he played the cornet.

    Thus,when we listened to Mozart’s French Horn,
    And I was feeling quite puzzled and torn,
    He criticised the breathing
    Of the player who was meaning
    To show the world why he’d been born.

    If someone had written a piece for the cornet
    Which sounded like a half drunken hornet,
    He might have married me
    And now I would not be
    Sitting here writing pornette. [ A new word meaning very soft porn]

  • Looking out,
    I see the yellowish wood
    of the forsythia
    where blackbirds live.
    Now the sun shines and a leaf or two
    wave in the wind;
    the points of light
    edge of each holly leaf
    like moulded silver flowers,
    celebrating the falling sun.
    Pine cones dangle loosely from the conifer
    will we be showered innocently
    with these fruits?
    cat comes out of the shed
    looking determined,
    moves off quickly
    down the curving path
    in search of movement.
    Peers into the glass door
    but won’t come in.
    Hello,cat!
    Make hay,while the sun shines.
    I hope it shines for you,too.

  • Floating like seaweed on the tide,
    The final leaves of summer die.
    The birds ride on the wind’s broad back,
    They know no fear and know no lack.
    The air is filled so with great treasures,
    My female heart its wonder measures.
    The clouds are deep and dark and grey
    What rainstorms may they fetch our way?
    The sun appears and gives a glow
    Of yellow to bare branches low.
    Red berries so bright, like summer flowers,
    Decorate the holly’s pointing tower.
    Sharp thorns protect the smaller birds,
    And from inside,their cheeps are heard.
    As dusk arrives the blackbird sings,
    So much sweetness nature brings.
    As I turn my mind from in to out,
    I feel salvation for my doubts.
    I know that I’m part of the whole,
    And with all life I share my soul.
    In this peaceful place I rest,
    As with love’s eloquence I’m blessed.
    There’s singing in my inner heart.
    Like bees to flowers,my fears depart

  • 1.
    I was once quite addicted to fruit
    I ate anything whether raw or half cooked.
    Till waking one night,
    Without very much light
    I gnawed a hole in my husband’s new boots.

    2.
    There was an old gent in New York
    Who hated to eat with a fork
    He lived on tinned soup,
    And ate poetry books
    And got protein from the insects he caught

    3.
    There once was a foolish young girl
    Whose hair was not willing to curl.
    So she chopped it all off
    Whilst in a huff.
    And instead she wore a crown made from pearls.

    4.
    I once knew a scientist of note
    Who never wore a winter topcoat.
    When I asked him why,
    He said with a sigh,
    There’s no space when you live in a boat.

  • Leaves have gone so suddenly
    Small birds float on the wind
    Like boats astride a choppy sea.
    Their swaying stills my mind.

    Wild geese fly past at dusk again
    They head towards the West.
    If I were such a wild white goose
    I’d know which path was best.

    But as a human I need words
    To find my destination.
    So many words which are packed
    With genius of generations.

    I send my words with love to you.
    I hope you deftly catch them
    Send me true answers from your heart
    And I promise I shall match them

  • I will love you like a big elastic band would,
    Holding you but not constraining.
    I will be like a giant paperclip
    Keeping all your bits connected.
    I will be a sheet of paper
    On which you write your thoughts.
    I will be a curtain on your window
    To hide you from the glare.
    I will be a briefcase that you hold in your hand.
    But I refuse to be a wastepaper basket
    To hold your garbage.
    I do have my limits
    Though they are elastic.
    But even elastic is not infinitely stretchy
    And neither am I.

  • I walked across the water.
    I skied across the sea
    I took the television too,
    And it’s heavier than me.

    I fell up a mill chimney
    I slid down a sunbeam
    I have to go to London
    I was told to in a dream.

    I drove right up a mountain
    A horse rode on my back
    I felt rather excited
    But I forgot to take my mac.

    I swung across the ceiling
    Like a spider in its web,
    I say,you are so beautiful.
    Do you have a double bed?

    I am sitting on the roof top
    Drinking cider from a can.
    I wanted to get married
    But she said she wants a man.

    I climbed right up a tiger’s tail,
    I crowned an elephant
    But my most abiding passion
    Is to learn to mix cement.

    I spied for several governments
    But then they threw me out.
    Because I am an alien
    Of that there is no doubt.

    I’m not a human being
    I am lacking in some ways
    I’m too kind to kill other people,
    Even when it’s highly paid.

    I write with a big crayon
    I draw with candlewax
    I live on cottage pie and rice,
    And I’m addicted to kind sex.

    I set my curly hair on fire.
    I swam In boiling oil.
    I went down to the market
    To watch the apples toil.

    I had a lot of people
    Who were living in my house.
    I could not ever remember
    Which one was my spouse.

    I taught my doctor to love lice
    I showed him how to shoot.
    And now I’m training Isaac up
    So he can be a Newt.

    I skate across the surface
    Of everybody’s eyes
    And all I ever ask of you is
    Forget how to tell lies.

    I am coming down to your place
    As it’s twice as big as mine.
    Have you got a chip sandwich?
    To feed our love divine?

    I want to see the people
    who are living in that Palace.
    I have to tell them God told me
    It belongs to Carroll’s Alice.

    Roll your eyes like marbles
    And interweave your hair with trains.
    This is how it happens,
    When you don’t heed Labour’s pains.
    .

  • A few people have told me they would rather know what I was doing than read my poetry.If you are such a person I have just bought a number of new sheets and pillowcases.I have also bought 12 table napkins from France.I ate some pizza at midday.It’s raining and quite cold.I am reading “Dresden Green” by Nicholas Freeling…..or I was.I lost it in the bedroom.No doubt in 6 years I’ll find it in the wardrobe.The logical deduction is…buy an e-reader.Wow,why did I buy new sheets?It’s this urge housewives get as winter approaches…fill the cave with food and other stuff….And new sheets are nice.One looks like tent fabric it’s so tough.They are from a French mail order place.Sartre…. what sort of sheets did he like?The heating is faulty so I have a fan heater on.I have some navy blue track pants on.I found them in the bathroom on the chair.And I have a blue jumper on…. bright like my eyes.My hair looks really good today…
    it’s some gunk I put on,really as long as it feels clean and don’t give a toss how it looks…It’s gone lighter and lighter blonde till now I think it’s platinum.. and all without a dye.I feel quite envious of myself.Is that possible?I shall ask a theologian..I know two.I know some people hate themselves… so you could be jealous of yourself.Isn’t life weird?Or is it me?
  • Leaves have gone so suddenly
    Small birds float on the wind
    Like boats astride a choppy sea.
    Their swaying stills my mind.

    Wild geese fly past at dusk again
    They head towards the West.
    If I were such a wild white goose
    I’d know which path was best.

    But as a human I need words
    To find my destination.
    So many words which are packed
    With genius of generations.

    I send my words with love to you.
    I hope you deftly catch them
    Send me  answers from your heart-
    And I promise I shall match them.

  • Seven o’clock- and the sun’s still glowing
    Seven o’clock – finishing colour bright day,
    Up above – pink tinged clouds are sliding
    Down still sky,sweeping sun away.Come back sweet sun,do not leave me.
    Come back bright beams,I need sunlight.
    Down on earth,it’s witch moon darkness,
    When your golden face is out of sight.I see the orange tinged clouds extending.
    I feel such sense of sky lit bright.
    But gently now,the mist surrounds you
    And sweeps away that happy sight.Into velvet blackness sinking,
    The dazzling, dreaming darkness falls.
    Goodbye to haste,and glare, and sunshine,
    Time for reverie,night time calls.On the night-train’s gentle journeys,
    On this trackless train we ride
    Strange,seductive haunting pictures
    I will see in dreams’ designs.

    In my night trainI’ll be happy
    In such rich deep reverie.
    We visit darkness in our sleeping,
    There we learn its ecstasy.

    Now we have no God to hold us
    In His Hands of Living Love,
    What will help us trust deep blackness
    If there’s no Saviour from above?

    Must we enter that great darkness,
    Go back to dark from which we came,
    Into dark all living creatures,
    In that darkness find our home?

    Trust the dark unknown, to hold us,
    Trust the dark ,both night and day.
    Must we walk into that darkness
    And trust it is our safest way?

    Nonsense

    I lack personal walls.

    He was sacked by the draper.
    And bagged by the greengrocer.

    I have hacked what I said from my own files.

    It was a snack in my hand that gave me indigestion.

    I’ll be a duck in a beck in Cumbria rather than take from the poor.

    Are you back on the fiddle or is it the guitar?

    I shall back my life up onto my brain….

    He was a back seat driver owing to his overly long arms… that’s why he let his cat sit in the driver’s seat,so he said to the police.
    The judge sentenced him to community service so he’s now the Vicar.

    Are you an expert at jabberwocky/

    We went back to the dear ones…. they were so creative.

    We all went back on the duty to hoard.

    A lack of salt mines made it easier to sweat.

    He gave her a cackhanded compliment so she struck him with her walking frame and is now in jail for criminal damage to an artefact.

    I believe in rum tea.

    Is it possible to be flat all over and still be a woman?

    I have a little…..

    Wave your breath through the hole.Will it separate the particles out?

    Pay,why?Are you a bill….?

    Weigh your prayers.God cares.

    Scarcely a den left on Hampstead Heath…where will thieves meet?
    Westminster….you know where!

    He was bare except for his own shadow… and that was not very cosy.

    I am wiping the bottom of the barrel… it’s been digesting our polticians all day.

    Season’s Tweetings to all my friends

    I reckon it will cost as much as a bed for the bananas.

    I have second sinned now…I got my eye in,or should I say on, a handsome man.~Is it mortal?
    All men are mortal….
    As for sins, we leave that to God.
    What,he sins!
    No he judges our sins…our motives and our thoughts…
    Seems a horrible job…

    Never wee when you lie.If you are so scared,tell Ruth….I mean the truth.

    I pee in the glass till it’s only half empty.We have no loo here, you see.
    Why not pee outside in the garden?Are you afraid of the dark?
    No,but I am afraid of sky larks.
    You mean nightingales?
    Well,I’d rather spend the night in a breeze.
    You are getting on my wick.
    Sorry,candle.
    Don’t take that tone with me.
    I am so sorry.I am tone deaf.
    Tone blind too,if you ask me.
    I shan’t ask you.
    Wank you.
    Wank you very much.

    I see the light at the end of the funnel…I fell into a big teapot.
    Where is the spout?

    Can you see which way the bacon rinds flow?

    Yell,” No doubt” if you hear any politician speak.Or “Unclear.”

    My senses have overflowed….I am sorry you had no Mac.

    I separate the men from their toys at night so they can play with me in the dark.
    Well,I am in the dark totally but it seems fun at the time.

  • Suddenly the air was full of roses
    smiles floated out from strangers’ faces
    children blew bubbles
    I stood watching the colours on one
    as the sun lit up the edges
    as it ascended into heaven
    everyone was smiling
    music played
    world more real seemed here for a moment
    perhaps a’re always on the edge of paradise
    if we stopped running so fast
    the world keeps whispering
    “I’m here,see,listen,look”
    wants us to interact,relate.
    the air I breathe was once in your lungs,
    We are all fish in one ocean
    green and deep,we swim blindly
    like the mad. WE are the mad,
    As the mad sometimes tell us.
    They saw too much,too soon.
    We see too little,too late,
    Though it’s never too late to start

  • Trees so tall their
    wind turned branches stroke the air.
    leaves still green,
    still stretching sunward
    will burn red and gold soon.

    Wood pigeons cause a flurry
    by the birdbath,
    as I pass they indicate surprise
    with strange cries.

    Look up at the sky,
    it’s blue again
    no clouds.
    a silver plane flies north,
    are people looking down at us?

    If only love made time last
    would like this morning
    to be longer,
    for our turning earth
    to pause for a moment.

    How dear you are to me.
    I stretch my hand
    to touch you,
    as if you are a leaf
    bathed in light.
    no shadows on your face,
    no shadows in your eyes
    but smiling with the beauty
    seen by those who love.
    come kiss me now ,my dove.

  • Watching the car come round the corner,

    I put up my arm and ordered it to stop.

    Don’t pedestrians have the right of way

    over turning cars?You can see I was already

    feeling impertinent even before the man

    would not give me a chair in the bookshop.

    Still I saw a woman laugh and she patted me

    On my arm and said she’d remember me.

    Standing by the flower stall,counting rose petals

    The world seemed simpler and more beautiful.

    What’s the answer to the unspoken question,

    We all ask.The point is will we recognize this answer?

    Will it pass unnoticed as we look the other way?

    Which vision will we use to decide?

    Where are we looking?

  • Stop for a moment.
    There has to be an incantation,I demand it.
    Oratory has a place but needs music
    To make the world succumb
    To get all the atoms vibrating as one
    Will you find out how to do it?
    Ancient people knew it,but we lost the art
    Logic was all we thought we needed
    But logic doesn’t make the sperm penetrate
    As the ovum waits patiently.
    Such waiting,such stillness.
    How can we not admire it?
    Sing special songs for the acceptance of the female spirit.
    This Mozart sonata,the piano’s voice is almost painful
    in its beauty.
    Just stop for a moment,please.
    He’s inverting all the previous melodies
    Upturned then and made something new.
    It’s in the air,invisible
    Like scent of raindrops,
    Touching the face and tenderly passing
    On their way to earth

  • Somehow,I’m thinking,there has to be another way
    that doesn’t destroy the tenderness of love.
    that leaves the grass green;
    and lets the daisies flower on cricket pitches,
    In England and the commonwealth.
    Where’s the soul’s astute intelligence
    playing itself out?
    Look at my hands,
    They speak of it all
    Tapping on keys while I listen
    To the silence
    all around
    with the distant radio
    giving yet more news.
    An end to nonsense,we are the animals that can learn
    from experience.
    but we have to want to change.
  • It’s autumn weather,geese fly by.
    Autumn rust,red, gold so gay
    Drystone walls,edging fields
    Apples gathered,holly berries
    Flash so brightly
    Look like flowers
    Sun shines sideways,shadows long
    Of trees appear,I dwell among
    Woods of gentle beeches sing
    Flowing with the gliding wind.
    Look at roots all intertwined
    Feel their geometry in the mind
    Looking up into the sky
    I see the V formation high,
    Geese fly home at end of day
    My heart is moved by patterned dance
    All in this peace and holy silence.
    Is it true it’s only chance
    Or is it that gods dwelled here once
    I feel my heart open like the sky
    And at this moment I could die
    So I would stay with this still vision
    Of geese set out in Autumn mission
    Snails in rain pools slither near
    My feet upon the terrace here
    And look upon their whorled backs
    The complete pattern of life is packed.
    And yet so easily it’s destroyed
    When blind foot steps into the void

    I love those old genes

    i am all peers…

    All for a bone,and scones for the boys?

    All hands are paint flecked on the deck,by order.

    All trespassers persecuted in court.

    All hands to the rumps.

    How hell breaks the teeth!

    She calls in almost daily with a smirk.

    Balls in due rhyme.

    It’s all over except we lost the map.Still we found another War… the War to end all Wars and it’s still ongoing.The War seems to be a great success …. but for whom?

    We all paled in contrition.. our sin was imprecision

    He’s all hawk yet no action.

    All those Twitterers should be in jail.Tweet that now.

    I love all that jazz….. and those old blue genes.

    I had all the wits he needed…so he believed….yet he was deceived.
    I kept them for myself,you see.

  • Perspicuity sees more than convention.

    I have let all words unreel for me.

    As nervous as a maths Prof. with hot proof, he paced the platform looking for imaginary numbers.Cauchy put a stop to it all?

    Never put off until Heaven the loving you can do on Earth.

    I brought new police in for my wife.I need them to get a grip otherwise it’s Bedlam in here

    A newbie: that’s a word I hate.What rhymes with it?What chimes with it.What sort of time can one have with it

    Tall guys find lust at last when they get unstilted.Free here.

    The girls were so bright and prey.

    Well,I’ll flip my duck to you,Sir.And I rarely do that howerdays.

    You need to flip pancakes for your lover.Or even do somersaults.
    They need to unwind their bobbins

    There is no accounting for taste.It’s unmeasurable and undefinable yet it exists.

    He made no grains at all…but he sowed all his wild oats and I sewed up all his coats.

    It was a no grow relationship so I uprooted myself and wept.

    I believe no colds were barred…they resisted innoculation on location by special bequests.

  • Note:I had a list of cliches.I joined them together with extra words…. and l altered some slightly.

    I find it amuses me when I think of more cliches.

    Sometimes leaving out part of a cliche or a proverb gives a new idea which may produce a poem.Sometimes just a laugh…

    HERE I GO

    You are driving me to thoughts which rarely entertained me before… give me my pen

    Everything is coming up too ,you know.too intense,too dense.too claustrophobic,too near,too whelming

    Don’t cry overmuch.you can pee instead,in bed,when you’re dead,standing on your head

    He’s not worth a brushing with butter or a sprinkling with cheese.Eat him neat,what,cheat?

    Faint hearts need GNT or a G and T ,What’s your poison?It’s all nectar to me.I live up a tree.. so how do I wee?

    How do I love thee,lend me your veers.

    Cats to the right of us,cats to the left.Let’s take our clothes off except for our vests.

    Where have all the hours gone?
    Where have mine gone?
    Where have all our coalmines gone?
    In England’s green and peasant filled land

    AVERSE TO VERSE?

    I feel my heart’s cracked.
    How..over spilled milk?
    Do you want to feel me?
    It does my heart good,yet
    You are driving me crazy
    with your endless words.

    Every blog has its sway..
    In point of fact,
    everything’s coming up roses.
    Wasted hearts
    never a true love know.

    Shall I
    fall head over heels or
    fall through the cracks
    in the pavement.
    I love you,please
    fan the flames of our fire.
    To know you is to love me.

    How can I end it otherwise?
    My desire is to be here now.
    And to paint you all over
    With olive oil unless you prefer butter.
    To be buttered!

  • Beautiful face …………….
    I have experienced a few times in my life a beauty that was so perfect that in some cases my legs gave
    way.One time it was seeing Lincoln Cathedral floodlit through a window and I did fall down then.Another
    time it was a drawing by Picasso,and again St Paul’s Cathedral at night.With people I’ve felt it once or
    twice.One wishes to die at that moment simply to avoid losing the beauty.It’s as if someone has just played a
    chord which harmonizes with one’s soul/psyche.It’s difficult to explain but maybe you have felt that too.
    One time was very funny because it was a mere greeting card with a Picasso drawing on that made my legs
    give way.So if I don’t post one day you’ll know I’m lying on the ground worshipping some beauteous image or
    smile or face or the sky.I’m not drunk except on beauty.
    .
    Your face is so beautiful
    when you smile,
    I could die while gazing
    upon it.
    Your eyes affect me
    like silver light gleaming
    on a frozen lake in winter
    I could remain entranced always
    And,though I know
    love to be eternal,
    the music begins
    the dance goes on.
    You leave me.

  • There once was a doctor called Spooner
    Who was affected by all things lunar
    When the moon was half sized
    He was quite galvanized
    By the bum of a lady piano tuner.

    There once was a scientist named Newton,
    Who wanted a room with a futon.
    But no-one had heard
    Of that Japanese word
    So he went off with his apple to Luton.

    I once “knew” your daddy,Newton.
    Before he had got his new suit on.
    When you were conceived
    He said he’d been deceived.
    And it all occurred here on that futon.

    A scientist went into to the loo
    When he had lots of hot thinking to do
    But the door lock got jammed,
    And poor Newton was crammed
    In a bathroom without any view.

    There was once doctor called Newt
    Famed for his bizarre birthday suit.
    So one day he went out
    Clad in ne’er a clout,
    So now he’s been given the boot

  • If Jesus wants you for a sunbeam
    Tell Him you’re not ready yet.
    If Jesus wants you for a sunbeam
    Tell him that your mind’s not set.

    If Jesus asks you something silly
    Then it’s highly likely that
    It’s not Jesus,it’s your shadow
    So you can just say “Godwot.”

    If you see your Guardian Angel
    Flying round your kitchenette.
    It’s a sign you’re high on wine.
    And you’re not an angel yet.

    I am most wary of illusions
    If they satisfy my dreams.
    True imagination only works when
    Our ego’s not in the scheme.

    Let Jesus go and take a step
    Into the darkness on your own.
    Ask a human being for help,
    Then you really will have grown.

    Goodnight fairies,goodbye witches.
    Goodbye elves and fantasy.
    Take your self into the future
    Where we know not what may be.

    “Jesus wants you for a sunbeam”
    Is a very weird sentence.
    If Christ’s religion has a value.
    It’s based on truth and not pretense

  • Oh,Mr Osborne,what did you do ?
    I took away the free bus pass
    From silly old fools like you.
    Oh,Mr Osborne,may I ask you why?
    Yes,indeed, we Conservatives
    Want all you old fogeys to die.
    So we are getting rid of the heating allowance
    And sending you all back to work.
    So the stress and the strain ,the worry and chill,
    Will get rid of you all,oh fuck,[I know most of you like this word,unlike me.. remember the rows]
    I’ve lost the bit of paper
    On which I had written my budget
    Oh,God,Oh ,Hell on earth,I say,old boy,
    I’ll just have to bloody fudge it.
    You can say whatever you fudge,
    And we old people may die.
    But history will soon be your judge,
    And your own children may ask you”Why”
    You’re making the BBC pay the licence fee
    For people over 75,
    When it should be the tax from the rich folk
    Who expect us to take a deep dive
    Oh,Georgy Osborne,I’ll put your wallpaper all over your eyes,
    So that you cannot see,but you’ll still hear
    The poor people’s loud, raging cries.
    And remember the coalition lose votes
    If too many old people die.

  • Put your thoughts down on the page
    Whilst you’re in the writers’ rage,
    All you want can be said here,.
    Imagination’s clear.

    Remember those long sunny days
    Playing in the park always,
    Every hour was filled with mirth
    Imagination’s birth.

    Put your burden down and play,
    Today is now the only day.
    Sun is up, joys may lurk.
    Imagination’s work.

    Never let your heart go sour,
    Live in moments,not in hours.
    All of us are here anew,
    Imagination’s due.

    Wrap your arms around the world.
    Keep them always warmly curled.
    If you hate someone, forgive.
    Imagination lives.
    Imagination lives

From early October writing…love and humor

  • There were three of us on this motorbike,
    Father Dan with me,
    And he had Jesus in his bag.
    So that makes the total three.

    Transubstantiation is a special thing,
    I looked down at that bag.
    Is Jesus really inside there, I thought?
    Should it have a tag?

    It’s a secret I have never told
    But Father Dan gave it me to hold.
    So I had Jesus in my lap,
    No wonder there’s an awful gap.

    We zoomed off up an unmade road
    As fast as Dan could go.
    I felt bewildered and bemused,
    I loved my Daddy so.

    Father Dan took back his bag,
    And went inside our house.
    I got my marbles out to roll,
    And I ate a chocolate mouse.

    So Three of had taken a ride
    And after that mi Dad had died.
    I saw Father Dan saying Sunday Mass
    With holy Jesus,so I cried.

  • I went to the doctor, he said I’d pre-flu,
    I said “my dear doctor what shall I do?”
    Next time I went, he said “It’s pre- shock.”
    And then I had pre measles,pre mumps and pre-pox

    I ran to the doctor,he said ” You’re pre-well”
    I said “Are you sure it’s not just a pre-quel?”
    Next time I turned up,he’d gone out for a walk
    It’s hard for a doctor who wants to pre-talk.

    I went to the optician, who said I’m pre-blind
    I thanked him for being so intensely unkind.
    I went back to the doctor,and these words I said
    “I’m pre -blind, pre-deaf,pre-ill and pre-dead

  • Found guilty of committing a crime
    Now I am serving my time;
    To this jail, I lately was sent
    For loitering without intent.

    I was standing inside a large Mall,
    Though I had bought nothing at all.
    The judge says it’s bad for the pound
    We should all make an effort to spend.

    So the tax payer is spending on me,
    Is that good for the economy?
    Now I am lingering in here,
    Imbibing the prison atmosphere.

    Strangeways makes an excellent setting
    For the new novel I’ve been plotting.
    You can live quite freely in prison,
    If you possess John Bunyan’s true vision.

    When I have finished this term
    I will not have this lesson to learn
    “If you really want to do naught………………
    Don’t do it where you might get caught”

Early to mid September writing 2012

  • Stan was sweeping the garden path.He had a stiff broom with a small head that was useful for cleaning the edges of the steps.Emile, his beautiful cat was sitting in the old apple tree gazing down on Stan.
    “Is it time for coffee yet,”Stan asked himself.He had forgotten to put on his watch.
    Suddenly he heard a shriek.He peered through a hole in the fence.His neighbor Annie was lying on her back in some mud.
    “Hang on,I’ll come round!” he called.
    There was a gate in the old fence which was rarely locked
    since Annie loved to drop in on Stan.
    “Oh,Annie,how are you feeling?” he asked her anxiously.
    “Bloody annoyed.I’ve only just bought these,”Not your daughter’s jeans” and now I’ve torn them,” she replied politely.
    “But you don’t have a daughter!” he informed her loudly.
    “I know that.It’s just they are better cut for the mature figure.”
    “Your figure is not mature.You are quite slender.my dear,” he murmured lovingly.
    “Well,I never feel happy with it!” she said mutinously.
    “Whereas I am very happy feeling it,” he responded romantically.
    Tears came into her green eyes lined with purple eye shadow.Alas,it was not waterproof and purple rivulets ran down her cheeks across the peach blusher with which she had valiantly decorated herself earlier.
    “Can you get up?” he asked tenderly.
    “Yes, but it would be nice if you picked me up.”
    He leaned over her and licked the purple streams of tears off her cheeks.
    “I hope it’s not poisonous,” she murmured.
    Then with the aid of Emile,he lifted her to her feet and helped her into her large trendy kitchen.
    The kettle switched itself on as they entered and a robotic voice asked if they’d like coffee.
    “God in heaven,what the hell is that?” he cried confusedly.
    “It’s my new computerized hot drink maker.After that fall I think a double espresso would be good.”
    Emile ran in and asked for coffee too.
    “Emile,you usually have milk,”Stan reminded him softly.
    “Well,coffee is a new taste for me but I like a little.”
    the cat whispered sweetly.
    “I’ll give you some of mine in a saucer,” Stan replied.
    Emile began to sob.
    “Why Emile,whatever is wrong?”
    “I want a cup and saucer just like you” the cat howled.
    But you have no hands,Emile,” Stan reminded him.
    The poor cat was crying loudly now.So Stan rang 999.
    “Can you please send the emergency ambulance round.the cat’s crying and all his hankies are in the wash.”#
    Soon Dave,the transvestite paramedic appeared.
    “I love your light teal kitchen,” he informed Annie,
    “And your eyes look like two deep pools in a coal mine.”
    She slapped his cheek naughtily.
    “Have a look at Emile” she ordered him sweetly.
    He turned to the cat who was sitting on the dark pine table.
    “Here,Emile,I got you some Kleenex for Cats in Sainsbury’s.” he said gaily.
    “I want a real hanky,”cried Emile.Dave took a clean hanky from his own pocket and dried the cats tears.
    “What made you cry.Are you feeling bad.”
    “Yes,I want to go to Cafe Nero,” Emile mioawed.
    “Who told you about that?”
    “Another cat down the road has been and he said it’s lovely for people watching.”
    “The town is not safe for cats like you,Emile.”
    Dave urbanely replied,
    “But when summer come I’ll take you to the out of town
    Marks and Spencer’s.They have a cat’s coffee corner upstairs.”
    “Wow,isn’t it amazing,”Stan wondered out loud.
    So Dave poured out the coffee and they all sat down and
    discussed Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein.
    Ray has discovered that Wittgenstein liked cats but as he moved around quite a bit,he never owned his own cat
    though Elizabeth Anscombe let him play with her three cats now and then.
    We may all be different but most of us value the love of a good cat.Even boiling their hankies and ironing them is very nice.We all have this problem though.
    Where can a cat carry his own hanky?
    Do cats need shoulder bags?
    What would Wittgenstein say?

    T


  • The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.

    Michel de Montaigne

  • The search for happiness is one of the chief sources of unhappiness.
    Eric Hoffer

    Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/sources.html#FcB0I3hGiehKceaU.99
    Photo1820

  • Excellence is an art won by training and habituation. We
    do not act rightly because we have virtue or excellence,
    but rather we have those because we have acted rightly.
    We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an
    act but a habit.

    Aristotle

  • Love doesn’t just sit there like a stone: it has to be made,
    like bread, remade all the time, made new

  • Good luck soup… boil a horse shoe in water with an onion and some cloves,then liquidise it
    Photo1826Photo1810Photo1832Photo1839

  • On Monday morning Stan had to go to the shops in the centre of town to buy some special easy threading needles for his visually-other wife Mary.Somehow,most puzzlingly,she had lost all of the eight packs he had bought for her in the last year.He had suggested letting his mistress next door do the hemming and stitching.But Mary was determined even though sometimes she took 14 minutes just to thread a needle.But she was very patient.One might almost say she was saintly but he did not want her to get conceited so he kept his thoughts to himself.
    Now what will I wear.Stan thought over-anxiously.
    He had OCD now and then.
    People no longer dress up to go down town instead they dress down to go up to the town,in a very real sense.
    The art of living is to choose the most simple solution to any problem and Stan recalled he only had some navy trousers,some white and a few colored shirts and one light teal colored jacket.
    He chose a coral colored shirt and looked in the mirror..
    I look wonderful, he thought very humbly.
    Why has God kept me so youthful?
    Surely not so I can seduce more women?
    We know God may be merciful to scissors,or is it sinners?
    Well,let’s just say God can be merciful but for some reason,we never know till it’s too late whether it’s to us.
    More haste,less speed,he conjectured.
    Or is it, More paste,guests feed?
    He stood in the hall combing his hair with a tortoiseshell comb and brushing it with a large nail brush
    He looked again at his image.
    His amber eyes glowed like neon lights on the main road to Knittingham in winter.
    His dark hair looked very full for his age.
    His teal jacket had been well pressed by the dry cleaner,
    Jacob Weissmann.
    And his coral shirt was new as Mary had been out buying him more clothes lately.She had grown tired of seeing him in one solid color,especially grey or brown.
    His navy trousers were a bit old but quite alright for Knittingham.
    As he gazed into the mirror he began to feel odd.Then he saw Emile
    who was standing on the chest of drawers behind him performing a dance.. solo!
    Why are you dancing,Emile? Stan asked politely.
    I am amused by seeing you gazing into the mirror for so long,
    If you don’t hurry it will be lunchtime before you get to the Needle Shop.
    Alright,growled Stan hoarsely.
    At least I don’t wear make up!
    Now there’s a thought…maybe I’d look better…what shade of foundation would suit me?Would I need lip balm and perfume?
    Hurry up,said Emile unkindly.
    More taste less greed.
    What does that mean?asked Stan.
    If you taste the food and eat slowly you will enjoy it more and thus need less.
    Very clever,Emile.Shall I buy you some cough sweets in the pet shop.
    No,I want some codeine linctus,Emile answered.
    I want to go high,high.
    I want to reach the sky.
    what will I do when my love is away
    Will I be happy on my own?
    Lend me your ear and I’ll sing you a song
    I’ll try not to sing out of tune!My God,Emile.Whatever has happened to you?
    I blame the old chalk and opium medicine someone spilled on my breakfast.
    Well,go and lie down but drink some milk first.At last Stan got out…it had taken him two hours to get ready
    At the bus stop there stood Anne their neighbor.
    Hi,Stan,where are you going.
    I’m buying sewing needles for Mary.
    I can lend her some,she shrieked.
    Well,she has to use special ones nowadays.
    Oh,so she does.I forget as she looks normal but is in fact suffering constant trouble since her Vitreous-vasectomy.. or was it hysterectomy or vivacity?.
    Well,never mind.You know she’s not normal.
    Who is normal?
    Let’s just assume we will recognize it when we see it,he whispered warningly.
    This bus is very late.I wish there was a proper seat here..my knees hurt.
    I hate this plastic seat.Why has the wooden one gone?
    Apparently the council are afraid of homeless people sleeping on them.
    Well,everybody is at risk of homelessness with this economic crisis,
    Anne shouted in a fury.
    No,beggars can’t be losers,he responded.
    Very true,she replied,
    As they have nothing so they can’t lose it.The more you have,the more you fear losing it.
    This bus is very,very late,I wish I had a horse or is it an horse?
    A goat would be o.k.Speed bonny goat like a word someone flung..
    Over the page to Fly.Anne burst out laughing so her face was as red as her coat from Artigiano.Her blue tights were a perfect contrast and also matched her lipstick.
    At last the bus came.They got on board and the driver called out,
    You both look very merry!
    Too many looks create more wrath,Stan replied warningly.
    Well, why dress up if you want no attention.the driver gloated.
    Hello,darling, he said to Anne,Are you free tonight,babe?
    Why? she murmured,I have two tickets for the Rolling Stones and no woman to take! he replied boastfully.
    Now,if it were the Rolling Bones,I might be interested.
    Your wish is my command he muttered,
    I have my smart phone here,I’ll see what’s one elsewhere.
    He kept trying but the virtual keyboard was playing up again.
    Eventually the passengers got annoyed and asked him to start the bus.
    As I’m half an hour late,I should be coming back now so I’ll do a U turn and go back to the terminus.
    But we want to go into town,every one howled.
    There’s many a blue word spoken as a jest,sang the driver.
    Stan said,Please open the door,we shall dismount here.
    Crikey,you don’t half talk posh,said the ,driver.
    He leaned over and gave Anne a French kiss.
    Now look here,Stan said,leave her alone.She’s my mistress.
    Cor blimey said the driver,who are you,King Henry the Eighth?
    I say,Stan,I can see Mary.It must be tea time.
    Stan ran into the house and put the kettle on..then he made a pot of tea.Hello! said Mary.
    Did you get my needles,Stan?
    I’m so sorry,Mary.I’ve had such a busy day,I never got into the town.
    And where is my supper.
    I’m afraid it’s still in the womb of time!
    I see,it’s chick pea dahl and brown rice again or egg on toast.
    But I’m not complaining.Keeping house is a big job.I know it only to well.
    So they sat with Anne and Emile,who even had his own cup and saucer now.They were weary and soon ,despite the tea, they were all fast asleep.

    copyright

  • ..Photo1761

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

    We are indeed like lambs to slaughter
    Death will be our final goal.
    But while we live,let us live bravely.
    Let us not destroy our souls.

    Climbing in the hills and moorlands
    In the heather, children play.
    The sun half blinds me with its light
    Yet still I see the given way.

    I received a call to climb.
    These hills are my essential home.
    My vocation is to dwell here
    While in the silence,mind may roam.

    Noise in cities is destructive.
    Though nature’s fierce,it’s also true.
    Struggling on life’s craggy slopes
    I offer up my words to you.

  • Private

    Crop a line into an infinity of dots…it takes forever and a way.

    I dropped the bucket.What lucket!

    Supper was benign.

    Whopping like flies on amphetamines.Have they got HDHD?

    I try drown my sorrows but they can swim too fast.

    I was as drunk as a Monk after a day of lasting abstinence.

    Fly with a Crone.
    .
    Good luck soup… boil a horse shoe in water with an onion and some cloves,then liquidise it

    Wuck!

    Plumb in a fox… it will wash you with its tail.

    It would come in the post if it was delayed.

    Numb as am iceberg’s stump.

    Dumber than a clump of shagged out spammers.

    More numerals than a box of clocks.

    Shall we go to the crux

    Such a feat.

    A witch’s treat.

    Twitchy feet.

    A bitch in the heat…

    and wild in the cold.

    Put my clox back now!

  • Insanely flung by chance into a brothel she worked her way out with a book,The Joy of Cookery.It was heavy enough to break the thickest windows.

    I wonder why windows don’t have brakes for hot weathe

    Sieve your breath for health.

    Pray for whom you bill.

    Today for your prayers read your Palms.

    Scared of the cows in a meadow?Then take the bull by the horns.He’ll show you the ropes.

    I am wiping the bottom of the barrel..I can’t sink much lower.

    Reason’s freezing

    A record busting wind blew as the herd wound slowly over me.where’s the coward?

    I see I’m I to me and thou to thee.If we just had one pronoun how .easy life would be…

    When a baby can see itself as me as well as I,it’s already moved out of its self centred viewing point and can se

  • The Wild Swans at Coole
    Swans in November 2
    Photo courtesy of Mike Flemming

    William Butler Yeats (1919)

    The trees are in their autumn beauty,
    The woodland paths are dry,
    Under the October twilight the water
    Mirrors a still sky;
    Upon the brimming water among the stones
    Are nine-and-fifty swans.

    The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
    Since I first made my count;
    I saw, before I had well finished,
    All suddenly mount
    And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
    Upon their clamorous wings.

    I have looked upon those brilliant creatures,
    And now my heart is sore.
    All’s changed since I, hearing at twilight,
    The first time on this shore,
    The bell-beat of their wings above my head,
    Trod with a lighter tread.

    Unwearied still, lover by lover,
    They paddle in the cold
    Companionable streams or climb the air;
    Their hearts have not grown old;
    Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
    Attend upon them still.

    But now they drift on the still water,
    Mysterious, beautiful;
    Among what rushes will they build,
    By what lake’s edge or pool
    Delight men’s eyes when I awake some day
    To find they have flown away?


  • We seldom realize, for example that our most private thoughts and emotions are not actually our own. For we think in terms of languages and images which we did not invent, but which were given to us by our society.”
    ― Alan Wilson Watts


  • My irises

    The Pilchards.

    23,Sweetnames Avenue

    Knittingham

    Near Nottingham.

    England

    Dear Jane

    Hope you are keeping well in this unusually cold spring weather.

    Stan has had flu.It made him so bad tempered and waspish

    that I took up the Duraglit polish and got him to polish all the brass,

    except the front door knob, as that doesn’t come off.

    Mind you,it made the bedroom smell odd… a mistake,perhaps…

    so I sprinkled lavender oil around.

    He seems to get thinner and I seem to get fatter.

    So our average w eight remains constant.

    What a relief.I’d like to be weighed as a married woman.

    Can you believe this..

    I’ve got chilblains! It’s those dratted blood vessels of mine.

    Still,I polished some old plum colored leather and wear them in the house.

    We seem to be doing polishing frequently here.. boots,furniture,apples.

    How is your new book “Nonsense:A.N.Whitehead and Lewis Carroll” coming on?

    Hope it’s progressing….to a nonsensical ending.

    I’ve got a new book of poetry coming out in April

    [from Polar bears publishers]

    It’s called,”An unpolished performance.”

    My fourth book on Wittgenstein’s cats is almost finished.

    And the publishers can’t wait for the photographs…I’ll get a friend to do those for me!!

    It gives me a change from all that polishing.

    I’ve begun to talk to myself out loud…. in the street.

    Just seeing if I can still do my old Lancashire accent.

    I suppose it might worry people but no one has said anything as yet.They may be afraid.

    “That which is unsaid can,nevertheless,still be heard.

    Stan is still involved romantically with Anne, our next door neighbor.

    I can’t blame him as chilblains and Wittgenstein not very romantic.

    When I think of how we used to be,it makes me smile and feel sadness too.

    I wonder if I can find someone new for a romance,myself… someone with Asperger’s syndrome

    possibly…as I’ve just been diagnosed.It’s quite common in mathematicians.It may be an

    advantage in concentrating a lot

    I need a boyfriend with weak eyes as my clothes are all full of moth holes

    and I’m damned if I’m going to buy new ones.

    I can’t see well enough to darn but I’ve sewn the holes up neatly thus

    giving a strange pleated effect to my clothes.

    On my merino wool knitted trousers, one hole was right on the ass.

    It looks now as if I’ve been shot in the rear…

    but I can’t see it.So it does not exist.

    Sometimes in the past I would iron on those motifs like

    butterflies…but

    I think it would look odd having a butterfly just there…. or indeed

    anything else like wild rose.

    I could make a little sign saying

    “Keep clear,from my rear.This is a hole where a moth scored a goal.”

    Still,not many people are going to look there now I hope….

    I seem to have stopped knitting but am still drawing.

    Meantime I’ve just ironed some of my winter clothes as it’s still chilly..

    and am planning to iron all my pink and blue knickers now

    as I believe it kills any germs left when you wash at 30 deg.I got those colours in case I should

    change sex or is it gender?

    I wonder if I should iron the sheets?

    Could I do it while they are on the bed?

    I don’t wash them much as it wears them out and me too.

    I am going to take up baking again because Stan is getting so thin.

    I fancy a Russian cheesecake as it had a lot of protein in it.

    I have a genuine Russian cookbook and also am waiting for a delivery of a

    Jewish cookery book as I have lost mine..no it fell down onto my head last week

    .God only knows where that came from.

    but I believe there were good cheesecakes as Jewish cooking has much in

    common with Russian,perhaps because once many Jews lived in Russia.I just

    made friends with one here….he is charming and like me he hates golf.

    I have got almost all the Penguin cookery books ever printed but mislaid a

    few.

    In fact it’s quite hard to get into the kitchen

    with all these books on the shelves.And a little food.

    I was comforted to read that the parent’s of John Burra,the artist,

    had books piled every where in their large house….

    and he was very untidy too.

    So all I need is talent and practice and I’ll be an artist.

    After all,anyone can be untidy but not everyone will practice their Art.

    I’d like to practice the arts of love.

    They say you should love your neighbor as yourself,

    but personally I prefer the neighbor or even the milkman to myself.

    Meanwhile I’m happy with Emile our cat

    and my 500 photos of Wittgenstein.

    I shall make Stan a lemon sponge pudding.

    That is the love he wants…Food.

    “If music be the food of love I’ll cohabit with a pure white dove.
    And while he coos and sings for me.
    I’ll try not to :fall out of the tree,
    Get stung by a bee,
    Have psychotherapy
    Make more enemies,
    Let my thought free,
    Hurt my knee.
    Let moths frighten me.

    Well,time for some tea.

    Now Jane, please write to me soon.

    I love to see your so strangely beautiful handwriting

    and to hear about Whitehead and Cambridge and all the weird dons.

    I hope it’s not too damp and cold there near that river.

    Keep warm and make a note of any intriguing happenings to relate to me.

    And anything beautiful you can see or hear.I hope Edward is writing

    regularly..where is he doing his research now… did you say Stanford?

    Maybe you should install Skype..then again,perhaps not as you would have to

    wash your hair too much… and comb it too…perhaps we could wear wigs.

    Do write soon,Love always,Mary.



  • Apples on pink
    I wish I were an apple
    and you were eating me
    I’d like to make you happy
    As you sat by this tree.
    I wish I were a blackbird
    So I could sing for you.
    I’d like to make you cheerful
    And stop you feeling blue.
    I wish I were the sun
    So I cold warm your frozen heart.
    And then your heart would melt for me
    And you would be less tart.
    I wish I were the moon
    so I could protect you all night long.
    But being only me may I
    Present you with this song?

  • 1.Why is denim now a sign of conformity not rebellion?
    2.Where are the best jeans from?
    3.Should you wear “double denim”?
    4. Why is denim too hot for summer and too cold for winter and yet we wear it anyway?
    5.Why don’t most people wear winter coats nowadays?
    6.Why are the shops so hot they make one feel sick
    7.How shopping makes me feel sick and other ways of saving money.
    8.Why did the Russians have the best novelists?
    9.Is 8. true?
    10.Is life worthwhile?
    11.What does 10.mean
    12.Who can come up with the best ideas for small talk?
    13.Food processors…are they a good thing to own?
    14.Did you see the second version of Dr Zhivago?
    15.Why is Russian Orthodox liturgy so moving?
    16.Have you been to Walsingham?
    17.Do you like day trips on a coach?
    18.Why is fish and chips our national dish.
    19.Why is roast beef our national dish.
    20.Do other nations have fish and chips?
    21 Is rapeseed oil any use for chip frying?
    22.What an odd name rapeseed is.
    23.Did Einstein eat chips?
    24.Is your skin sensitive?
    25.Why do women wear deodorants but men don’t usually bother?
    25.Do you need suncream in the winter?
    26.How many grains of sand are there on Brighton beach?
    27.Why is the sea at Hythe sometimes teal
    28.Why are the Saxon cliffs in Kent a mile from the sea?
    29.Can the Kent authorities move the cliffs back near the sea again.
    30 Isn’t it odd that the railway line runs at the bottom of the cliffs near Folkstone as the tide might come up
    as a train goes by?
    31,Is this small talk?

    Topics for small thought

    Small talk topics
    -1.What newspaper do you read,if any?
    0.Do you have a blog?What about?
    1.The weather [in UK]
    2.Health problems…. or possible ones.
    3.The government
    4,Your clothes
    5 Recipes.
    6.Light novels you have read.
    7 Stuff from the newspaper
    8.TV if you can get to yourself to watch it.
    9.Your car or bicycle or your bunions.
    10 Your new camera/computer/i pad/u pad/her pad/ur pad/z pad.
    11,interior decor.
    12.Money..the recession and price of food.
    13 Religion
    14.Atheism
    15 Indifference
    16 Is depression an epidemic? Do you worry too much.Or talk to much.
    17 Are your boundaries strong enough?
    18 your sex life or somebody else’s or the lack of
    19,Is pornography responsible for crime?
    20 Crime.
    21 The police
    22 The riots.
    23 The strike planned by teachers
    24 12/12/12
    25 Xmas.
    26 Baking.
    27 Xmas presents
    28.Family problems.
    29 People who don’t speak to you or vice versa
    30 Pets
    31 Breadmakers.
    32.Pop stars
    33 Schools.
    34 Newspaper.
    35 Disabled people’s benefits being cut back.
    36.Should you buy an Amazon Fire?
    37 Are women too like men now?How?
    38.Do you think life was better in the past?Which era?
    39.Do you use a table cloth.
    40.Do you wear a nightie or pyjamas or a night shirt or your underwear in bed and if so why have you picked that one?
    41 Should people wear old clothes at home and only dress nicely if going out?
    42 Why do so many people wear jeans?
    43.Is tencel better than denim for jeans.
    44.Should fat people dress to look thinner or dress how they please?
    45.Why David Cameron has no expression on his face.
    46 A and E closures.
    47 Chemotherapy.
    48 Best hairdresser.
    49 Makeup.
    50.Do you wear accessories or think they waste time?

  • Private

    Do 4 things to cut your risk of diabetes by 93%:

    Eat healthy

    The lowest rates of Type 2 diabetes in the world occur in populations consuming a whole foods, plant-based diet.
    Lose weight
    Exercise

    Overweight people walking 150 minutes a week can reduce the risk of developing diabetes by nearly 60%

    cliches

    Again,I am frayed.
    In pain I have prayed.
    In the main,poems don’t pay.
    Don’t be plain in your way.
    I’ll explain it some day.

    Training cats and dogs to pray seems idealistic.

    Training frogs the time of the day is an idea but will never become real,

    Praise the jar… an early invention rarely mentioned.

    Waking up the bunny was cruel.

    I am a wholly cat.

    Battle with your cage or walk out the door.

    I saw the end of the wheel.It turned a full circle.

    I reached new knights near a round table floating in the sea.

    Ideas breed between the lines.

    I bleed between the lines.

    I need more than a few lines.

    Lead the fine poets to print their own books

    I led the riot to attract opposites


  • You bit my big tart

    She lies over willed silk

    Do you feel me approach?

    Food does my art good.

    You are making me wavy.

    Mindless words damage.

    Every dog has his own way.

    Painted face art never should shows

    I fell dead on the wheel.Now I have wings

    Maternal reverie

    Gale Dictionary of Psychoanalysis:
    Capacity for Maternal Reverie
    Top
    Home > Library > Health > Psychoanalysis Dictionary

    Wilfred R. Bion developed the concept of the capacity for maternal reverie in his three books written during the 1960s: Learning from Experience (1962), Elements of Psycho-Analysis (1963), and Transformations: Change from Learning to Growth (1965).

    Although he was an adult analyst and was primarily interested in group dynamics and the workings of psychosis, the concepts that he proposed (based on study of the analytic relationship in these two areas) in fact also proved to be very dynamic and very productive in connection with study of the foundations of the psychic apparatus—that is, the ontogenesis of the psyche.

    In Bion’s view, this ontogenesis of the psyche can be related to a digestive model of the workings of the “thought-thinking apparatus.” At the beginning of its life, the baby does not have access to a thought-thinking apparatus that is mature enough to metabolize—that is, to use and integrate its very first mental or proto-mental materials. Bion thus described the beta (b) elements, which correspond to extremely archaic bodily feelings, to emotional states linked to the infant’s very earliest sensory and relational experiences, which it cannot utilize as such. There is thus a need, for the baby—that is, for its mental growth and maturation—for a detour through the Other.

    The infant projects these beta elements into the psyche of its mother (or other adult caregiver); this adult effectively lends the child their own “thought-thinking apparatus” to reshape, detoxify, and transform the beta elements into alpha (a) elements, which can then be assimilated by the infant and integrated into its own mental functioning. This transformation is due to the “alpha function” of the mother’s psyche, or “capacity for maternal reverie,” which thus fulfills what could be described as a “desaturating” function with regard to the beta elements produced and felt by the infant (or by the patient).

    From vantage point of the history of ideas, the emergence of this concept is situated at the confluence of Bion’s ideas on the functioning of groups, which also have a containing and transformative function (containers), and his analytic practice with adult psychotics: “If the patient cannot transform his emotional experience into alpha elements, he cannot dream,” he wrote in Elements of Psycho-Analysis.

    This model is indissociable from the grid that Bion proposed to categorize the different types of mental materials (horizontal rows) and the various ways these can be used in communication (vertical columns). The beta and alpha elements correspond to the first two horizontal rows (A and B) of the grid, the last row of which is the “algebraic calculus” (H).

    The extrapolation of this model to early psychic development was effected more by later theorists of child analysis than by Bion himself. In France, René Diatkine published L’Enfant dans l’adulte ou l’éternelle capacité de rêverie (1994; The child in the adult; or, the eternal capacity for reverie), in an implicit homage to all that this concept has contributed to the work of child analysts. In Diatkine’s view, the concept of the maternal reverie must be understood along with Jean Laplanche’s work on psychic translation in the context of his theory of generalized seduction.

    Bibliography

    Bion, Wilfred R. (1962). Learning from Experience. London: Heinemann; New York: Basic Books.

    ——. (1963). Elements of Psycho-Analysis. London: Heinemann.

    ——. (1965). Transformations: Change from learning to growth. London: Heinemann.

    Diatkine, René. (1994). L’Enfant dans l’adulte ou l’Éternelle Capacité de rêverie. Neuchâtel and Paris: Delachaux & Niestlé.

  • MATHS FOR LOVERSArty party

    How many toes can you suck at once?Advice for guys

    How do I love thee when I’m an Aspie? Delightful Mathematicians.Their care and feeding and
    even…breeding!

    Will you still love me when I have forgotten what logarithms are?
    Bizarre tales of love in the Mathematical
    Institute.

    Forget Maths in twelve easy steps: Dancing for Darlings.

    Inch by inch:Crawl up the Wall with Professor Braithwaite.

    Baby steps to Love for the Mathematically Gifted.

    Dr Braithwaite’s Love Problems:Triangles,Squares,Elliptical Approaches and Heaps of Leaps.Solutions at the back.

    Leave your Hyperbola at Home: Dates,their care and feeding for the Geometer.

    Are Quadratic forms relevant for Sexual Success:Succinct Replies to Astutely Odd Queries.

    A Dummy Date: Trial and terror.

  • http://www.newsbiscuit.com/

    Mike Flemming has passed on this wonderful website name to me.It really does take the biscuit!blue butterfly DSC_20194-01 [800x600]
    Copyright Mike Flemming,Published with permission.


  • How are you?

    Who are you?

    I’m your brother!

    Sorry,dear,my eyes are not what they wear.

    Well,why not have new glasses if you must wear them?

    What kind of new classes.Socio-economic?

    Are you deaf?

    I think it’s a dress.

    Are you not sure?

    No,I’m not insured so it’s no good you killing me for the money!

    I’d bill you just for pleasure!

    Too much leisure? Why not do voluntary work?

    If it’s voluntary,is it work?

    Yes, she does smirk?

    Who?

    Meryl Streep!

    What sort of name is “Streep”?

    Perhaps it was a spelling error?

    Yes,she does fill me with terror!

    I thought you liked strong women.

    Only as they lust and last longer in bed.

    In bed.What a joke.You’re 96 tomorrow!

    Yes,it will be my 96th lady tomorrow.I hope to find four more sweet ladies before I die.

    I won’t ask why.

    I’ll tell you anyway.

    Go on,tell me;I’m all here.

    Well,with the first ninety I have realised I was doing it wrong.

    Can you do it wrong?

    Well,yes,if you want to procreate or to please.

    Did father not tell you what to do?

    Bell me!I’m a man not a cat.

    Look,there’s a pretty woman.

    I can’t see anything!

    She’s across the road.

    I need stronger glasses.

    I just need stronger spirits.

    Do they breed,those ferrets?

    I never know what they do.

    Can’t you watch them?

    Well,they’re so quick!

    Yes,I love Diana Quick.The best actress by far I believe.

    Better than Judi Dench?

    Well,no-one is better than Judi.

    I’m no-one.

    I’m a moral vacuum.

    Can I take my morals from you?

    Yes,I love stew.

    No,Beryl’s in a stew.

    I knew it!

    How?

    I saw her hair was dropping out.

    She’s up the spout.

    How vulgar you are.

    I’m doing my best.

    Yes, do wear a vest.

    I passed my driving test!

    In what?

    A car, of course!

    So,passed at the 100th go?

    Yes,that’s why I want 100 ladies.

    You mean…………………..

    So I hear!

    What,are you still here?

    I’d love a beer..

    Yes,I have some fears and I shed a few tears.

    I could lend you a hankey.

    Will I have to pay interest?

    No,just pay me some attention.

    Detention!I’m not a schoolchild.

    I agree,you are wild.

    I’d like some mild beer.

    Everyone suffers fears.

    For years,oh,dear..

    Yes,the strawberries are dear.

    They are queer?I’d love a gay strawberry or two.

    You are too old to be gay!

    I’ll do it my way.

    http://youtu.be/Y0KOomVppNs

  • A clock of fire shone overhead.That’s just the sun,they said.

    Up and punning.The life of an old word lover.

    Sick of rhyme?Free verse now.

    Take off that look.Try a new Face…. without the book.

    Knock me off the shelf.I’m divine….ravings of the Cook.

    At the top they are dead.At the bottom they dread.What is the meaning?

    Are you on Plotter,the new social medium?Sign on secretly when you get a private message.I never spoke.

    Don’t sign up to Paranoia.Madness hurts.

    Of kilts and men.The Scottish affect:Gloom is us.

    Oh,I shan’t bother!Listless and weak…. you need a new kind of speech…talk yourself well in ten days.

  • 6390440_a38d1a1d66_s

    I am thinking today about reverie,daydreams and fantasy.I believe it is crucial to creativity to be able to enter a state of reverie,a state of mind that can happen if we feel secure and safe in our surroundings so we can let our attention float freely.When in danger we must be alert and our eyes are sharply focused.We don’t fall into reverie then.

    Reverie is not fantasy.Fantasy to me is when you make up a little scenario that pleases you…maybe dreaming of dramatically rescuing someone from drowning and being presented with a gold medal.Or meeting a perfect person who loves you. forever and sees no faults in you.
    Reverie is not self serving.

    What I think is that fantasy is done by the conscious mind often to gain gratifications unobtainable in real life.Most people do it now and then.

    But a fantasy meal does not feed you.On the other hand it may give you hope.
    Apples on pink

    In a state of reverie we are open to intimations and images from parts of our mind not controlled by the ego.In my case it sometimes happens by way of a tune coming into my mind…. a song.Or an idea about how to solve a problem…. or a phrase which leads to a poem.

    I believe what is called “Stress” may be a state in which you cannot allow yourself to daydream and fall into a reverie.We feel in danger so must remain focused all the time.The eye muscles tense as do other muscles.So we get very tired.And we fail to see the broader picture.

    As for dreams whilst asleep… these seem nearer to reverie to me than to wish fulfillment.But I’m not sure.

    One thing concerns me is Lucid Dreaming.I try to taken this I believe people try to take over control of the dream and make it go in a way that they consciously want.If it’s a nightmare that may be a good idea
    but in general I believe we should let our dreaming mind go where it wishes because it may be some other part of the mind sending a message.Or it may be God sending a message.The language of symbols is different from a spoken language.Symbols have many meanings.

    Each person can know better what their own symbols mean than an outsider.I think falling int0 reverie whilst contemplating a dream image may help to understand it in part.

    As for Meditation,I’m unsure where that fits in… but it must be somewhere near Reverie…

    Don’t mock it

    Feel the money flowing over you?

    Don’t pencil me in…am I unworthy of ink?

    Ask Penny what she thought.

    A Jenny pincher..he loves a Wren.

    A penny waved is a penny scorned.

    Many may be wise yet can thousands be more foolish than thou?

    People who live in classy houses shouldn’t moan.

    Deception breaks loyalty.

    Pick of the wittier…political farces for the bored.

    He picked the low hanging suit…… oh, belly in

    A dictionary gives birth to a thousand elegies

    I thought it was a piece of cake,mother….Never bite Art works.Dentists love them,hate them,pay them,but when?


  • I shall peck a tin…..it’s the new diet for quick weight loss.
    You eat the tin and throw out the food.

    He has been seen praying in the maths classes.

    Have you got a pane in your neck?why not install double crazing?

    Will you paint yourself in the corner?Make up is too sexy in front of the children.

    Will Pandora put on her socks ?

    I can paper over the cracks but with the holes in the floor that’s tricky and dangerous…especially with the stouter ladies.

    I’d like a paper tiger for my bed.The cuddly ones are too lifelike/

    Is there a bar for the horses?

    He passed his dismay on to the priest and received a blessing and then a brick fell on his head.Oh,Lord…can’t you wait?

  • I copied this from the World of Psychology but regret I can’t find the reference.But read it anyway.
    Wisteria on  ancient bridge of old New River bed
    Not quite timeless but very old

    Connect with the Timeless

    There is another source of connectedness that does not involve specific other people and that has some advantages that attachments to people do not. The Gershwin song expresses the romantic wish that through “the Rockies may tumble, Gibraltar may crumble, they’re only made of clay, but–Our love is here to stay.” Well, the Rockies and Gibraltar are still around while countless people who earnestly sang these lyrics to their partner are not. Or their partner is not. Or both, through separation or death, are gone.

    I am not proposing that it is better to love rocks than people. But I am implying two other propositions: 1) that it is unrealistic not to recognize the possibility of any relationship being transient and ephemeral, and 2) that the more we can root some of our attachment needs in things more lasting and even timeless, the firmer is the ground on which we stand in life’s changes and discontinuities.

  • Private

    A leopard doesn’t ache in spots.

    I confess to two evils….eating cake and drinking.

    Let sleeping dogs lie but not humans.Truth now!

    Let the cat out with a flag.

    Let’s roll over in the hay.

    Let’s split in two so I am you and you are too.

    Ticking off one’s wounds never works.

    I shall lie down with lions and see how they like me…raw or cooked.

    In life its rare to hear a bowl of cherries growl.

    Life’s a sandy beach with the tide coming in…. then going out with us floating.

    She was as light as the weather forecast on a stormy day.
    .

    Switch the light off at your end of the tunnel

    I got blight in my loafers.

    Worms sing too

    I was planning to make a carrot cake till my mother told me:

    Carrots don’t eat cake.

    What are carrots anyway? Why are they so picky?

    I have to eat all my food or I get punished by hunger pains.

    Are there worms inside me eating my food or biting me?

    Do worms have teeth?What is it they like about soil.

    Charles Darwin wrote a book about worms…

    So far I have not read it.

    Worms are the opposite of us.

    They never get angry or depressed as far as we can tell..

    How fortunate as to psychoanalyze a worm would be hard.

    Indeed could you tell a worm to lie on the sofa

    Or would you have to climb inside a plant pot next to the worm?

    As Wittgenstein might have said,

    If worms could speak we would not understand what they said.

    I don’t know,I think I can guess though…

    I have some experience …symbolically that is.

    Or is it metaphorically?

    Imagine a worm on your couch.

    Hmm,how are things going?

    Yurp,blurp!

    Well,that’s good.

    Werp,serp!

    Quite right,I am interfering with your transfernce.

    Hurpppppppp.

    Would you like a little soil?

    Mummmm

    Oh,dear…I should not have offered you anything.

    Daddddddd.

    Surely you don’t remember him?

    Herrrrrrrr.

    So your dad was a lady?

    Oh ,ahhh!

    Well,it takes all sorts.

    Glumb,glomb.

    I’m afraid your time is up.

    Tinnnnnggggggggg

    You want a minicab?

    Taaaaaaaaaaaaa.

    That’s £500

    Do you take plastic?

    No,only notes.

    Doh,ray,me

    I never knew worms could sing…

    Well,you do now.

    Tools

    My irises

    The art of writing is to guess
    which tool will suit your hand the best.
    Know which muse will bring out joy
    as you new sentences employ.

    Writing brings up treasures deep,
    as do dreams whilst we’re asleep.
    Take such gold and use it well,
    If you have a heart to tell.

    Wisdom comes from sharing views;
    So point out critics to your Muse.

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