A geometrically mean society?

Divided they subtract, and add their dangling eyes,
Quibble their modes, and cool their fleas and lies
Or else  beget the furnace of the fight,
Forget their means — forget their happy rites
See with deviant arms their wit —  additional crew,
The fire is deviating and nobody stings
For souls, and therefore no souls, Betty blings
A fly is in the silk-spot — must he be a spy
For a geometrically mean society?
No, no; there Master Shirter takes his  error mean
Inserts it, dips the angle, standardised bassoon
The little oboe mute  with pupils dark,
Across the seaboard draws a long set spark.
Arise! take the  statistics from the jungles,
There’s a large  solid berry in each  bangle
Abide with sleet, I must now stray  to sow
To No. 7, lost  round the circuit play
‘Aghast, my friend! your stats  fit  very well;
Blair,  where does your  failure live?’
‘I may not sell.
O pardon me — I  fancy him now and then.
Why index sailors lives? I say, Amen
I cannot  stimulate, let me no more  deceive–
He lives in Epping ,a comedian  with thunderous  sagging knees

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Not: I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud by William Wordsworth

I  sauntered lonely in a  crowd
With coat so shy,  like half-veiled hill,
When all at once I saw men bowed
A storm of gold with silver frills;
Beside iced cakes , I  saw the bees
Muttering and prancing  with  the fleas

Deciduous as the jars that whine
Like ankles bought on my E-bay
They stretched  on Ted Hughes fishing lines
They were the bargain of  the day:
Ten thousand, awesome,  happen-stand,
Bossing the  Man, who has no chance

The graves beside them nightly bounced, but they
Out-fled the  ducking leaves  to plead
A poet could not be shut dry
In such a  wanton timpani!
I raved—and raved—and  little  taught
What stealth the  throw to me had brought:

For oft, when as I grouch and sigh
To  chimpanzee or  monkey  glued,
They crash  with bluebottle and with fly
Tea a  mix of cold and  shrewd;
And then I start  to pay my bills
For today, that’s all my thrills

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Are worms as lonely as a Cain who’s cursed?

I wish I were a worm inside the earth
Hermaphrodite well able to survive.
Then I would not wonder what I’m worth.

Yet a worm must dig its holes and never surf
Are they aware that they are here  and alive?
I wish I were a worm inside the earth.

Worms do not have to suffer giving birth
Nor do they demand  to meet one’s wife
I wish I  did not wonder what I’m worth.


Yet I do  enjoy some laughter and real mirth
On my chair with humour, I may writhe.
Still, I wish I were a worm inside the earth.

Are worms as lonely as a Cain who’s cursed?
They never go on holidays or drive
I wish I would not wonder what I’m worth.


Yet we deplete the earth of goodness as we thrive
Into hell we do not  run, we drive
I wish I were a worm inside the earth
.Then I would not wonder what I’m worth.



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Tickle my fancy

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A mirror is somewhat like a window.Both are made of glass and both will send back an image to your brain.A mirror reflects you back to yourself.A window shows what  or who is outside of your residence, be it a hut or a palace.

Ths first mirror is the face of your mother…she reflects you back to yourself and ultimately that is how you develop a  sense of self

A window is a way of looking out or indeed looking in if you are walking by a house.We seem to have ambiguous feelings about letting people look in so here many people put lace or net curtains up to veil themselves from the public at large

Now, this is very bad because I am coming tonight to look into your window.Why are you so shy?

Are you doing something you ought not to? Like reading Pasternak and drinking brandy while your cat dances the minuet on the table?

I have read a few articles lately about the poet Sylvia Plath.She suffered from severe depression and wrote a novel called “The Bell Jar” based on this.

Being behind a glass wall is an experience I have heard other people mention.So you can see people but you feel unable to make contact with them.Maybe you need a time of isolation but maybe you got stuck in there:Glass,windows,  mirrors there’s a lot of very deep meaning in these images.

So although I do look into windows I am not being unpleasant and I like to go into friend’s houses and sit there talking  or listening

If you feel sad and lonely in your bell jar find a group of people who will let you sit and listen without having to speak much.Maybe you can help wash up afterwards..Just being near some kind people can be soothing especially if they will just let you be.Or talk about simple things like flowers and cats and the weather.It’s the animal in us that needs to be be near others even if we feel very sad.

It’s all about balance…alone is good, together is good.And as long as you have a soft tongue .most people will like you.I think we imagine others to be more critical than they are.

To be frank, most people are very caught up in themselves and would hardly notice if you had a tea cosy on your head and a dress made from an old blanket.As long as you are clean and polite just forget about that side of things.Nowadays dress is less important in many countries as more wear jeans, chinos and sweatshirts and that’s the women..

Don’t stare too deeply into people’s eyes unless you are looking for a one night stand… if so do take precautions,like a relative  for example but do look a little into my eyes as I am peeking in at you tonight as I pass by to the Pizza Hut with my cat and my partner who will be paying for our meal..I leave my money at home.There must be one night a week when a man pays the bill….My money is for those essentials like the hairdresser and the beauty salon or maybe some novels… a man likes to pay,I find.Even if you have to give them a £50 note from your purse before you leave home. A man is the best accessory I have found and you can talk to them too and buy them clothes and tickle them with your fancy

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You start on the right and go left


“I’m on a whiskey diet. I’ve lost three days already.” Daily Mirror

No, that is not funny enough.They must be lacking in knowledge

But then would you write for a Mirror?

Like writing for a window…. you can write on my mirror, though, if you want  to as long as you do mirror writing

ie you start on the right and go left.Then when I see it I will know everything

Build me a mirror at my gate

And call me up on the phone in my house

So I can  slip off

and look at myself….

Maybe better in the bathroom

There is “The Writing on The Wall” but where’s that wall?

And the game is up.

We know what you are after.. ……but what are you before?

The newspaper should be The Daily Window…after all we don’t believe the world is just a mirror to us, do we?

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Balanced on this old seesaw

Looking in. we miss the  outer world
The  blossom hanging  from the vicarage wall;
An old man’s hat which by the breeze is whirled
The toddlers skipping in the Shopping Mall.

Now coffee shops are where we socialise
No more we labour over stove and sink.
And listening, hear what would not meet our eyes.
When for one little moment they both blinked.

And  yet we  long for time to be alone
To breathe more freely, play within our mind
For being far less solid than a stone
Impingements to our boundary  we find

As we balance on this old seesaw
We know nothing is static.life is raw.

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