On the patio

On the patio stand my bay trees  in their pots
An acer red,a lavender   for gnats
The spiders weave their webs and so  do I
All I write down here  may be a lie
The truth’s a mountain. not a democrat

The toad crawls back  uneasy, the frog spits
I know I have retained a molten wit
My skin is healthy and it  slowly knits
The lord of death, another I defied
On the patio

The darker side is where my patio sits
In the evening,   by choice candles lit
Here an air raid shelter war defied
As we fought the Nazis and their spies
Wary of the past, alone  I sit
On the patio

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Emile falls off the roof

Cats five

Mary was  on a  step ladder in the bathroom spying on her husband  Stan,through a hole in the wall…which he had drilled for spying on women sunbathing nude in their back gardensHe was climbing over the fence with Emile their cat on his shoulder.

I think it’s  ridiculous, she muttered .
Surely Emile,  a cat, can jump over the fence by himself.But Emile was very limp,she then saw with horror
He can’t be dead,she whispered  to herself fearfully.She jumped down off the and hit her head on a tap… a dangerous event for a human with weak  retinae or retinas or even deaf ears.
Oh,my!That hurt…I’d better be careful.She  flew down stairs and imet Stan in  to the kitchen
Emile has got concussion, Stan said happily
Is he not dead,she wondered anxiously.
No, he only fell off Annie’s roof.I am sure he’ll come to.
Good Lord.What made him go up there and more important,how did he manage it manage to climb up?
You’d better ring 999,he informed her graciously yet boldly

If you say so ,my dear.I’d do anything you ask..
Don’t put on that act! he said wantonly
I mean it.
A bit  too late now.
What do you mean?
After 40 years with your mind on Wittgenstein,Dirac,Pascal and Kierkegaard,do you think I don’t know you made a mistake marrying me
But whoever I married,I’d have read those same  writers…
Umphh,said Stan dolefully.
Just then Dave,the bisexual transvestite paramedic ran in.
Poor Emile,what have you done?
He fell off Annie’s roof, but we have no theory as to how he got there,said Stan.
Well, there’s no need to think of that… deal with reality.That’s my modus operandi!
He gave Emile the kiss of life.

Emile came to…but was not pleased
Why did you waken me up?I was having a lovely dream of walking down a silver  path where I saw a big cat with shining fur and tender eyes looking at me.He just began to miaow when some fucking idiot woke me up… was he God?
I can’t say,Emile,dear.But please do not swear.
I’ll do whatever I fucking well feel like,he said.
Good heavens, what has happened.Has he been reading dirty books?
No, he was watching East Enders on TV… they all use the f word constantly.
Well,Emile.God will have to wait… he’ll be glad if you do some kind work here on earth.
Up yours,said Emile.I am sick of living here.I’ve been hoping for years Stan would mate with Annie but he has only managed a deep kiss.
Perhaps it was the kiss of life,said Mary hopefully as it pained her to think Stanno longer desired her.
Well, in a sense,you might have hit the snail on the bed said Stan thoughtfully.I know any further mention of philosophy will drive me mad!
Now,Dave said,shall I make you some tea?
Thank you Stan responded.I am half crazed already.Tea may save my sanity.But for what?
Annie came in
Did you know Emile was in a hot air balloon,she said in tones of wonder.How has he got down so fast?
I fucking well fell out,the cat yawned proudly.Then I had a near death experience until this loon here brought me round.
Emile,I’ve never heard you swear before! she whispered in a strange manner reminiscent of almost silent films starring unnames and forgotten beauties of long ago.
Do you like it,baby? Emile asked.
No I don’t. I’ve never said Fuck in all my life.
Well you have now,the cat informed her with a naughty smile.
I think he’s possessed by demons.We’ll have to have him exorcised.
But I like demons,Emile bawled .I’ve been good all my life and I am bored and depressed.
So you believe swearing will help more than therapy?
Emile got up and lit a cigarette nonchalantly with a certain ,je ne sais pas.
Good grief,he’ll be having sex on the sofa next said Stan.
What a good idea,said Emile, but I want my own room and an en suite..I mean to impress the next girl friend I have.
Dave drank some tea and watched these old folk ponder.
I am wondering where we went wrong,said Mary.All these years we’ve educate you privately and even had you baptised.
Well.I am going to be a Jew,said Emile.
I don’t think a cat can be a Jew… and you never ever had any interest in the spiritual before,why this?
Well,when I was unconscious I realised that God exists….
But why a Jew?
Well,they were the first to see God in a Burning Bush..
And the last too, thought Annie nervously.
Well,said Stan.You want to smoke,swear ,make love and possibly enjoy wine and song.Is that not enough?
Does God smoke and swear?
There was a long silence and Emile answered
Well,you see,Yes he does.
I’m off said Dave.I have to ring the Pope.
Why? asked Emile.I’m not going be a Catholic….
Well,said Dave,he ought to know that God is a cat.

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Mind over matter: what does it mean?

sky sunset clouds silhouette

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To me this adage implies that someone in pain  needs only use more will power to blot out the pain.This is  false.If  it were true it would be dangerous.Should we banish the pian of a broken leg and continues using it we would do more damage or possibly go unconscious and even die.Will power is affected by fatigue,it is not limitless
When Jesus said,Take up your bed and walk to the paralysed or crippled  he said it  we  believe as the Son of God who could work miracles
Maybe some of the people’s problems were psychosomatic and faith in God might  give them confidence to try to walk.These things have occurred under hypnosis.I don’t have any data
But pain is a neccessary warning signal and we cannot turn if off. entirely.People born unable to feel pain don’t live very long
If you suffer chronic pain you do use all your will power to keep going.However it is finite and you pay a heavy price.Like you go shopping get home and can’t walk for 3 hours.

The only sensible  saying would  be “mind interacting with matter” and even that assumes Descartes division of us into a body and a completely separate mind where we live and  take decisions.I expect this is imagined to be in the brain.Since we still don’t know what mind and consciousness are  Descartes supposition may have had bad consequences.
If we pay attention to our body  in the places which hurt this when kept up for a good while can relax some muscles  and tendons.I used to do it for migraine but it would take at least 2 hours lying down and gently focussing on the pain which would gradually ease.Keeping very still stops one vomiting too.Of course you need a quiet place to do this and work is no that place
I have not yet found it helps arthritis but maybe it takes 3 hours or 5 hours and would not someone have written articles about it? Relaxing is usually good but  many people are strained at work and struggle to keep going.That’s why  A and E is full of drunken people at the weekend… they have be injured in falling or brawling
We educated people may blame these workers but could you spend 50 years in the coal mines [ and bring up 6 children alone]  which my grandad did? He didn’t drink much as in those days they were paid starvation wages and Mum had to go to Soup Kitchens sometimes.If he drank he had not much money
You may say if men didn’t get blind  drunk  then, why do they now? Ask a sociologist.It seems also to be common among  middle class youngish people.I feel it’s a release of tension and if you go back to your flat alone on Friday you might be judged a loser.I know of people who go  out of London on a train,get  home and  have no idea about it the next day.So it can be dangerous even if it helps arthritis pain

People who say, mind over matter, also are asserting their superiority to us sufferers who are weak willed  morons

I did an IQ test  once and I am a moron which seems odd as I used to be a mathematician!Really it shows they are rubbish on the whole
Rubbish is the in word now

The other technique which does work is Distraction.Meet friends and talk, write poetry, paint and draw.Get a camera and  play with it.Go out and get a whore.I am unsure where you get them from but maybe now we are all whores.
Go to a party and get utterly knackered.But when you go to bed you still feel the pain.So how about all those free books you can get? Anything out of copyright might be available as an e book.I know someone who has read the ancient Greeks this way and also Newton and Hook.He has few friends as most people don’t understand such things but if you do, read all night and then have a nervous breakdown
Going  mad may stop pain.I can’t say as yet  and if I do I probably won’t be able to write an article about it.But on the whole given mental health’s low status in the UK I will not advise anyone to even think about it.How do you go mad? Does anyone know the ideal way? First have loads of money for carers and a nice home with space for them….  and no doubt you will end up  seeing a CBT therapist who will train you to believe you are sane and have no pain.That’s a different kind of madness

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The risks of mindfulness

red and blue hot air balloon floating on air on body of water during night time

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https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/jan/23/is-mindfulness-making-us-ill

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The water’s wide

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Whistleblowers and their fate

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The Holocaust, a genocide no more

Can something be too soon a metaphor
The Holocaust, a genocide no more
A word for something evil  done by man
A little worse than burning the best pan

Do metaphors make people do bad deeds
When we need  new ways and  stunning schemes
How about  we torch the Union Jack
And throw it  at a Constable hay stack

That’s pathetic, we need nuclear bombs
Stored inside the wombs of  virgin nuns
When birth arrives a triumph and a roar
The London Hospital shall be no more

No London,no New York,no Leningrad
Just a beetle  looking quietly sad

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In The Waiting Room

multicolored abstract painting

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In the Waiting Room the folk look dumb
Like a Van Gogh  painted with the thumb
Colours swirl uncanny as I peer
I guess my perfect hate has made more fear
Wondering what the dickens is to come.

I want to get  the bus though noone’s home
Only Alfred clawing at my comb
It’s not as if a cat could read King Lear
I  dream  of Summer  donkeys  by the pier
In the Waiting Room

Oh, for Istanbul and   rounded Dome
No pointed steeple like a finger torn
The floating heavens here enclose   the higher
If waiting is a horror, I’m a liar
We are a  haul of  herrings   shipped to  shore
In the Waiting Room

 

 

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On the NHS

On the NHS, we have to wait
Weeks of blood tests,no sign of a date
There are people who’re worse off than us
They almost die just stepping off the bus
Have they kept  quiet  lips till   time’s too short

You know my wife, the man begins to state
Never seen her yet, the doctor bleats
The nurse recalls the scar   and the skin loss
The blooming doctor doesn’t give a toss

That’s not  true,  the doc has  just two feet
Two hands, two eyes, one head and  folk to meet
He cured the nose, but killed  the man  in’t verse
Wasted money from the Nation’s purse
Let them test the heart,  forestall the hearse.
On the NHS

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Things my mother said

What can’t be allured must be cured
What can’t be  pure must be  demure
What can’t be  lured  must be procured
Whar can’t be  immured must be insured
What can’t be endured must be disappeared
What can’t be  borrowed  must be  followed
What can’t be horror may be sorrow
Sodom today and Gomorrah termorrow

 

 

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