Tuesday, 31 December 2013

New Year's resolutions

In the past I have tried to say:
"This will be a good year, or I will do such and such."

But time and experience have proven 
that I really can't predict anything that will happen.

I can hope, I can wish, I can lay plans...

But this year I resolve to just accept what comes, 
because that's what will be.

And I will take graciously the learnings that the experiences provide.


by Jennifer Phillips
Lilium © Jennifer Phillips

Wednesday, 25 December 2013

White wine in the sun


I really like Christmas
It's sentimental, I know, but I just really like it
I am hardly religious
I'd rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu, to be honest

And yes, I have all of the usual objections
To consumerism, the commercialisation of an ancient religion
To the westernisation of a dead Palestinian
Press-ganged into selling Playstations and beer
But I still really like it

I'm looking forward to Christmas
Though I'm not expecting a visit from Jesus

I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun
I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun

I don't go in for ancient wisdom
I don't believe just 'cos ideas are tenacious it means they're worthy
I get freaked out by churches
Some of the hymns that they sing have nice chords but the lyrics are spooky

And yes I have all of the usual objections
To the mis-education of children who, in tax-exempt institutions, 
Are taught to externalise blame
And to feel ashamed and to judge things as plain right and wrong
But I quite like the songs

I'm not expecting big presents
The old combination of socks, jocks and chocolate's is just fine by me

Cos I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun
I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun

And you, my baby girl
My jetlagged infant daughter
You'll be handed round the room
Like a puppy at a primary school
And you won't understand
But you will learn someday 
That wherever you are and whatever you face
These are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world
My sweet blue-eyed girl

And if my baby girl
When you're twenty-one or thirty-one
And Christmas comes around
And you find yourself nine thousand miles from home
You'll know what ever comes

Your brothers and sisters and me and your Mum
Will be waiting for you in the sun
Whenever you come
Your brothers and sisters, your aunts and your uncles
Your grandparents, cousins and me and your mum
We'll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun
Darling, when Christmas comes
We'll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun
Waiting for you in the sun
Waiting for you... 
Waiting... 

I really like Christmas
It's sentimental, I know...

by Tim Minchin

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Santa and his sleigh on the new-fallen snow

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.  

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL A GOOD-NIGHT!"

by Major Henry Livingston Jr. (1748-1828)
(previously believed to be by Clement Clarke Moore)

Monday, 23 December 2013

Shades of black

Is night's darkness 
a shadow deeper than 
a heart lorn of love, 
rib-cage entombed?


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

On joy and sorrow

"In a world where people die every day, I think the important thing to remember is that for each moment of sorrow we get when people leave this world there's a corresponding moment of joy when a new baby comes into the world. That first wail is - well, it's magic, isn't it? Perhaps its a hard thing to say, but joy and sorrow are like milk and cookies. That's how well they go together. I think we should all take a moment to meditate on that."


Media in "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman

Sunday, 22 December 2013

Slow show



Standing at the punch table swallowing punch
can't pay attention to the sound of anyone
a little more stupid, a little more scared
every minute more unprepared

I made a mistake in my life today
everything I love gets lost in drawers
I want to start over, I want to be winning
way out of sync from the beginning

I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up
so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
God I'm very, very frightening
I'll overdo it

Looking for somewhere to stand and stay
I leaned on the wall and the wall leaned away
Can I get a minute of not being nervous
and not thinking of my dick
My leg is sparkles, my leg is pins
I better get my shit together, better gather my shit in
You could drive a car through my head in five minutes
from one side of it to the other

I wanna hurry home to you
put on a slow, dumb show for you
and crack you up
so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain
god I'm very, very frightening
I'll overdo it

You know I dreamed about you
for twenty-nine years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for
for twenty-nine years

You know I dreamed about you
for twenty-nine years before I saw you
You know I dreamed about you
I missed you for
for twenty-nine years

by The National

Saturday, 21 December 2013

Madam Life's a piece in bloom

Madam Life's a piece in bloom
Death goes dogging everywhere:
She's the tenant of the room,
He's the ruffian on the stair.

You shall see her as a friend,
You shall bilk him once or twice;
But he'll trap you in the end,
And he'll stick you for her price.

With his kneebones at your chest,
And his knuckles in your throat,
You would reason - plead - protest!
Clutching at her petticoat;

But she's heard it all before,
Well she knows you've had your fun,
Gingerly she gains the door,
And your little job is done. 

by William Ernest Henley
Sculpture by Bruno Torf - Image © Jennifer Phillips

Angel

From William Shakespeare's "Romeo + Juliet" Motion Picture 
Movie © Twentieth Century Fox, and Music © Gavin Friday

I have come out of a 45 hour migraine

One of the days I had the migraine it was 40°C = 104°F and the airconditioner broke. It was tough, really tough.. and so here is a reprise of my "migraine" poem:

"Migraine"

Slow spinning trails of dullness 
churn in my brain.

Dull ache spreads, 
sharp pressing fingers encroach.
The world stutters and wavers - 
fogbound I curl.

Pain slices through my vision 
and my thoughts,
concertinas this throbbing corner 
of my mind.

Thunder and lightning flash 
as synapses fail.
I writhe, 
hands pressing into temples.

Darkness draws me, 
sounds splinter in my head.
I crave to crawl into a black hole, 
hibernate, nurse this pain.

Days on, I open my eyes clear to the world.
Cautiously I make my way into the day.
The day is fresh and new, and I am free of pain.
Joyful in normalcy.

How quickly I forget its grip.


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)
Rocks at Sorrento © Jennifer Phillips

Wednesday, 18 December 2013

Tuesday, 17 December 2013

How do you decide who to marry?

A group of young kids were asked how do you decide who to marry, and here are the results:

HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY?

(1) You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming.
- Alan, age 10

(2) No person really decides before they grow up who they’re going to marry. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you’re stuck with.
- Kristen, age 10

WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?

(1) Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
- Camille, age 10

(2) No age is good to get married at. You got to be a fool to get married.
- Freddie, age 6 (very wise for his age)

HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF TWO PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?

(1) You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
- Derrick, age 8

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?

(1) Both don’t want any more kids.
- Lori, age 8

WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?

(1) Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough.
- Lynnette, age 8 (isn’t she a treasure)

(2) On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that Usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date.
- Martin, age 10

WHAT WOULD YOU DO ON A FIRST DATE THAT WAS TURNING SOUR?

(1) I’d run home and play dead. The next day I would call all the newspapers and make sure they wrote about me in all the dead columns.
-Craig, age 9

WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?

(1) When they’re rich.
- Pam, age 7

(2) The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn’t want to mess with that.
- Curt, age 7

(3) The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It’s the right thing to do.
- Howard, age 8

IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?

(1) I don’t know which is better, but I’ll tell you one thing. I’m never going to have sex with my wife. I don’t want to be all grossed out.
- Theodore, age 8

(2) It’s better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them.
- Anita, age 9 (bless you child)

HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN’T GET MARRIED?

(1) There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn’t there?
- Kelvin, age 8

And the #1 Favorite is……..

HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?

(1) Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a truck.
- Ricky, age 10

June 3, 2012 Copyright © 2013 Daily News Dig

Monday, 16 December 2013

Blue as the sky - series

The same cloud formation taken just minutes apart, the wind moving the restless clouds across the sky...You only have to look up at the sky to remember that everything changes, and nothing is constant...Without change there is no growth, no excitement and no joy.
Summer Skies #1 © Jennifer Phillips
 Summer Skies #2 © Jennifer Phillips
 Summer Skies #3 © Jennifer Phillips

Sunday, 15 December 2013

Somewhere between

I have discovered
I like to be somewhere
Between beyond
Behind betwixt 
After Alpha
Before Omega
Near the cusp
Of start and  finish
Where the moon
Curves
And a point
Is made
Upon which hangs
A silver chord
Of harmony
The pendulum
Swings yet finds
The moment  
Poised to play
Both sides  
Of opposing forms
I love beginnings
But if I miss a few
I'll take the middles
Which lead to the endings
And then
I'd like to start
All over
Again

© Denise Baxter Yoder (2012)
Pendulum © Zoltán Vassy

Saturday, 14 December 2013

Dreams are for dreamers

I was big there, for a while.
Open, wide, engaged, and engaging.
Enjoying life's richness 
like a creamy pavlova.

Now I must fall back.
I am not really big enough
for the weight 
of your expectations.

Become small again.
Not expecting much, 
and tasting only the crumbs
as I find them.

Time to put the big toys away 
and go back to being little.
Little needs, little hopes, little wants, little life.
Dreams are for dreamers.


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

Friday, 13 December 2013

A personal god

"I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in an impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn't even know that I'm alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman's right to choose, a baby's right to live, that while all human life is sacred there's nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and no-one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. I believe that life is a game, life is a cruel joke and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it."


Sam in "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman

Thursday, 12 December 2013

Before it breaks


Around here, it's the hardest time of year
Waking up, the days are even gone
The collar of my coat, Lord help me, cannot help the cold
The rain drops sting my eyes, I keep them closed

But I'm feelin' no pain
I'm a little lonely and my quietest friend
Have I the moonlight? Have I let you in?

Say it ain't so, say I'm happy again
Say it's over, say I'm dreaming
Say I'm better than you left me
Say you're sorry, I can take it

Say you'll wait, say you won't
Say you love me, say you don't
I can make my own mistakes
Let it bend before it breaks

I'm allright, don't I seem to be?
Aren't I swinging on the stars? Don't I wear them on my sleeve?
Went looking for a crossroads, it happens every day
 And whichever way you turn, I'm gonna turn the other way

Say it's over, say I'm dreaming
Say I'm better than you left me
Say you're sorry, I can take it

Say you'll wait, say you won't
Say you love me, say you don't
I can make my own mistakes
Learn to let it bend before it breaks

Say it's over, say I'm dreaming
Say I'm better than you left me
Say you're sorry, I can take it

Say you'll wait, say you won't
Say you love me, say you don't
I can make my own mistakes
Let it bend before it breaks

By Brandi Carlile
Brandi Carlile

Wednesday, 11 December 2013

Stardust

My heart was wrenched from its place
in the firmament of my chest, 
then I floated aimlessly
in the sea of your remembrance.

You came, to heal me
You came, to open me
You came, to shore me up

Now I hold these lessons, like stars
and must turn away, face the dust
with your stars in my hands, 
and your wind at my back.


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)
Stardust © IFA-Amsterdam 2013.

Sunday, 8 December 2013

On bad patches

"People who have only good experiences aren't very interesting. They may be content, and happy after a fashion, but they aren't very deep. It may seem a misfortune now, and it makes things difficult, but well--it's easy to feel all the happy, simple stuff. Not that happiness is necessarily simple. But I don't think you're going to have a life like that, and I think you'll be the better for it. The difficult thing is to not be overwhelmed by the bad patches. You must not let them defeat you. You must see them as a gift--a cruel gift, but a gift nonetheless."


by  Peter Cameron

Friday, 6 December 2013

When all is said and done


Here's to us, one more toast and then we'll pay the bill
Deep inside both of us can feel the autumn chill
Birds of passage, you and me, we fly instinctively
When the summer's over and the dark clouds hide the sun
Neither you nor I'm to blame when all is said and done

In our lives we have walked some strange and lonely treks
Slightly worn but dignified and not too old for sex
We're still strivin' for the sky, no taste for humble pie
Thanks for all your generous love and thanks for all the fun
Neither you nor I'm to blame when all is said and done

It's so strange when you're down and lyin' on the floor
How you rise, shake your head, get up and ask for more
Clear-headed and open-eyed with nothin' left untried
Standin' calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run
There's no hurry any more when all is said and done

Standin' calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run
There's no hurry any more when all is said and done

by ABBA

Thursday, 5 December 2013

The courtship of Sun and Moon

Every morning the Sun knelt
in the courtyard of the Moon.
She would never let him see
quite all of her; cloud curtains
dropped at any sign of his advancement.
How he burned for her!
He compared her to seafoam, pearls,
hammered silver thin as rain.
He ached to marry her.

One day she agreed. 
"But you must bring me
a suitable gift which must fit
me precisely."

The next day he brought her a bracelet
made of red coral and dove feathers.
But it was too small!  He gave her a cloak
to wear after her bath:  It was too big.
He could never keep her constant.

They have never married.  Moon saddened,
for he never spoke of the one gift
without measure and yet the measure of all things:
Love.

by Anita Endrezze (based on a Yaqui story)
© Sun and Moon by PatrickSchappe-Art

Wednesday, 4 December 2013

On Eccentricity

"I am not eccentric. It's just that I am more alive than most people. I am an unpopular electric eel set in a pond of goldfish."


Edith Sitwell (1887-1964)

Façade

"This modern world is but a thin match-board flooring spread over a shallow hell. For Dante's hell has faded, is dead. Hell is no vastness; here are no more devils who laugh or who weep -- only the maimed dwarfs of this life, terrible straining mechanisms, crouching in trivial sands, and laughing at the giants' crumbling!"


by Edith Sitwell

Tuesday, 3 December 2013

For Katrina's sundial

Time is too slow
for those who wait,
too swift for
those who fear,
too long for
those who grieve,
too short for those
who rejoice,
but for those who love - 
time is Eternity.

by Henry Van Dyke
Sculpture by Bruno Torf - Image © Jennifer Phillips

Monday, 2 December 2013

Day in the life of a rose bush (photographic)


Beautiful yellowy orange "Amber Sun" variety roses in the garden
"Amber Sun" roses in the morning © Jennifer Phillips

A bee collecting pollen
Bee collecting pollen from "Amber Sun" roses © Jennifer Phillips

A butterfly visits an almost spent rose
Butterfly on "Amber Sun" rose © Jennifer Phillips

Roses in late afternoon rain
"Amber Sun" roses in the rain © Jennifer Phillips

 These roses close at night
Closed "Amber Sun" roses at night © Jennifer Phillips

Saturday, 30 November 2013

Ten foot c*ck and a few hundred virgins

by Tim Minchin

("If you're a religious person, you might want to pop out for about five minutes...")

So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins.
So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes down
in his shimmering chariot of salvation,
You're gonna be the first to know.

And so if...
God was there from the very beginning
He invented men and women,
Then He also invented wanking,
Then He said wanking was sinning.
So if I'm feeling randy
I'm not allowed to hand-shandy,
But having sex with my family,
That is just fucking great.

It's all there in Ezekial 8,
Just before He opens up His big Pearly Gate,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the date,
Even if it's great,
Even with your cowboy mate.

So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at the greener grass,
And when the Lord comes down
With his shiny rod of judgement,
He's gonna kick my heathen arse.

So if you...
Cover the bodies of your women
Everybody is grinning,
Because black is so slimming,
Though it's not great for swimming.
But it gives you an erection,
With the increased sexual tension,
What with the U.V. protection
That is second to none.

You'll find it all in the Qur'an
Just next to the bit that justifies guns,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the bum,
Even if it's fun,
Even with permission from your mum.

Oh, so you're gonna live in Paradise
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at eternity,
And when the Lord comes down
And I haven't done my penance,
He's gonna disembowel me. Ohhh...

You say that...
If I...
Stumbled on a watch I'd assume it had a watchmaker,
That a muffin presupposes a baker,
So you must agree sooner or later,
That this proves that there's a creator.
So if I put my foot in a stinker,
You'd assume the existence of a sphincter,
Thus you don't need to be a great thinker
To conclude that God's a bum,
Which negates the words of Genesis 1.

Which made Him out to be so much fun,
Until Adam succumbed
To temptation,
And then His only son
Got nailed to a gum,
Or the Middle-Eastern equivalent,
Which suggests that God's omniscience
Is nullified by His ambivilance,
Unless it turns out that He's impotent.

And if God can't get a boner,
I guess that explains the plethora
Of huge erections in His honour -
Because we all know a steeple's just a subconscious
compensatory manifestation of a huge stiff penis -
Still He tells us that it's heinous
To stick a penis up your anus,
Even if you're famous,
Even if you're good at tennis.

So you're gonna live in Paradise
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes down with 
his big stiff slippery, rod of justice,
I'm gonna be the first to go,
He's gonna send me down below,
He's gonna whip me like a 'ho,
Do you really think so?
I'm gonna be the first to go.

Friday, 29 November 2013

Bloody men

Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars, the taxis and the lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.


by Wendy Cope
© Australian Doctor

Thursday, 28 November 2013

Dietes grandiflora

Dietes grandiflora © Jennifer Phillips

Puzzle pieces

It's done, finished.
The pieces pieced, 
piece by piece
back together.

But I've missed a piece, 
because you were
my completeness.

It may be complete, 
but my heart is missing
the piece where

you fit, 
you fitted, 
and now I don't fit
my life.


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)
Puzzle © Ricevi Kabbalah Blog

Wednesday, 27 November 2013

Not too late


Tell me how you've been,
Tell what you've seen,
Tell me that you'd like to see me too.

'cause my heart is full of no blood,
My cup is full of no love,
Couldn't take another sip even if I wanted.

But it's not too late,
Not too late for love.

My lungs are out of air,
Yours are holding smoke,
And it's been like that now for so long.

I've seen people try to change,
And I know it isn't easy,
But nothin' worth the time ever really is.

And it's not too late,
It's not too late for love,
For love,
For love,
For love.

by Norah Jones
Norah Jones

Tuesday, 26 November 2013

Sunday, 24 November 2013

The Gnu song


A year ago, last Thursday
I was strolling in the zoo
when I met a man who though he knew the lot.
He was laying down the law about the habits of baboons 
And how many spines a porcupine has got.
So I asked him:
"What's that creature there?"
He answered, "Oh, it's a h'Elk"
I might of gone on thinking that was true 
If the animal in question hadn't put that chap to shame
And remarked, "I h'aint a h'Elk, I'm a Gnu"

"I'm a Gnu
I'm a Gnu
The g-nicest work of g-nature in the zoo
I'm a Gnu
How do you do
You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho
I'm a Gnu
Spelt G-N-U
I'm g-not a Camel or a Kangaroo
So let me introduce 
I'm g-neither man or moose
Oh g-no g-no g-no I'm a Gnu"

I had taken furnished lodgings down at Rustington-on-Sea
Whence I travelled on to Ashton-under-Lyne it was actually
And the second night I stayed there I was wakened from a dream
That I'll tell you all about some other time
Among the hunting trophies on the wall above my bed
Stuffed and mounted, was a face I thought I knew;
A Bison? No, it's not a Bison. 
An Okapi? Unlikely, Really. Could it be a Hartebeest?
When I though I heard a voice...

"I'm a Gnu
I'm a Gnu
A g-nother gnu
I wish I could g-nash my teeth at you 
I'm a Gnu
How do you do
You really ought to k-now w-ho's w-ho
I'm a Gnu
Spelt G-N-U
Call me Bison or Okapi and I'll sue
G-nor am I the least like that dreadful Hartebeest,
Oh, g-no, g-no, g-no, 
G-no g-no g-no, I'm a Gnu
G-no g-no g-no, I'm a Gnu"

by Michael Flanders / Donald Swann 1960

Saturday, 23 November 2013

If you open your mind too much, your brain will fall out (Take my wife)

by Tim Minchin

If anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Psychic who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions 
that they are able to read minds...

And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Astrologer who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions 
that they can predict future human events by interpreting celestial signs...

And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Homeopathic practitioner who has been able to prove under reasonable experimental conditions 
that solutions made up of infinitely tiny particles of good stuff dissolved repeatedly into relatively huge quantities of water have a consistently higher medicinal value than a similarly administered placebo...

And if anyone can show me one example in the history of the world of a single
Spiritual person who has been able to prove either empirically or logically the existence of a higher power that has any consciousness or interest in the human race or ability to punish or reward humans for their moral choices or that there is any reason - other than fear - to believe in any version of an afterlife...

I will give you my piano,
One of my legs,
And my wife!

Friday, 22 November 2013

It is because you are

No, not a temptress
I met at some  smoke filled hovel -

But you,
with whom I swooned
at the full blown moon

...with whom I presupposed
that the plum was a rose -
with whom I slept
and with whom I rose
  
Therefore, you must know
there cannot be
much forgiveness
for this -

So watch me turn :
(I have been  practicing this for a while now)
this holding of my head  up high -
 this stamping of my foot
         and walking away.

by Omukuvah Otido
Rose © Jennifer Phillips

Wednesday, 20 November 2013

Blocked

The phone occupies a small corner of my bed - 
yet you occupy all the corners in my head.

I lie awake, wait for your call - 
reduced to apathy, is this all?

Another waking dream, so real, so true - 
all I can dream of is you, is you.

I cannot go forward, cannot go back - 
I should give up on you, go and pack.

Instead I lie in wait, for what?
I ache to give us one last shot.

If you don't call - 
I think I'll bawl.


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

(Written a for Poets of G+ competition based on photo provided for prompt below)

Chemical restraint

He lies there - bony,
wasted - a shell of himself.
Confined in his shell -
a prison not of his making..
His listless eyes stare, hung in their sockets.

Chemical restraint was easier
for them, for the staff, 
as he became anxious
in his slow descent into Hell:
Alzheimer's then Dementia.

These strange arms, these people
pulling at him - his clothes, his arms..
He's trying to fight them off -
not understanding. 
They're trying to shower him

For convenience...
without constraint
they injected:
"Chemical Restraint".

Because its easier...
to force the arm of
a person reduced
to a vegetable,
for amenity...
into a shirt-sleeve.

The drugs caused him to suffer a stroke.
This is quite common
among the unknowing, unwilling
unchampioned recipients
of chemical restraint.

So much suffering he wears
for this administered convenience.
on his emaciated visage,
for the ease of the staff.

His only pleasure 
was to waft aimlessly
along the corridors
of the nursing home,
picking up things, fiddling, 
putting them down.

Underpaid and overworked -
the choice to drug patients
for ease of care
is the burden of guilt
they choose to wear.
How can they sleep?

His eyes on visits speak
a brief connection
and then gaze past as if
he want to leaves here,
this Earth, this horror - 
confined in his contorted body
in a bed, on wheels...

He lies locked
in the demented plaques of his mind...
He feels pain and fear and hunger
yet cannot speak his need.

Let him fly free in death,  
and leave this place he never chose,
never asked for.

Let him fly now to the next place,
or to the peaceful arms of oblivion -
anything better
than his semi-starved living Hell.

My father, how you suffer.
Your bed on wheels is the prison
that houses the prison
of your mind, your body.

You didn't ask for this.
How could you even speak?
No one should endure this daily hell
they inflicted upon you.

You - my father...
who made me,
and made me
a catapault to shoot at the birds that
ate the fruit on our trees.

Made halters for my horse,
constructed me a boat,
made fences, gates, repaired anything -
intricate metal, and works of leather -
kangaroo skin boots for winter,
a stringybark hut,
biltong hanging in the shade.

You, my father - an international rowing champion
reduced to two nappies a day because
that's all the allowance allowed 
by Governmnent Aged Care Facilities.

You who so tenderly stroked my back 
and spoke to me softly as a child, 
taught me the types of birds and trees 
and to listen to the bush.

You did not deserve this.
No-one deserves to be trapped first
in the cage of their mind 
and then in the cage of their body.
You pay daily for a convenience of administration.
I am sorry, and I cry for you, my father.


© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)
My father in better times.

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Top five regrets of the dying


1. I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

"This was the most common regret of all. When people realise that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had not honoured even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made. Health brings a freedom very few realise, until they no longer have it."

2. I wish I hadn't worked so hard.

"This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children's youth and their partner's companionship. Women also spoke of this regret, but as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence."

3. I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.

"Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result."

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

"Often they would not truly realise the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying."

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

"This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realise until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called 'comfort' of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content, when deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again."

Source: 
"Top five regrets of the dying" The Guardian - Wednesday 1 February 2012
© 2013 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved.

Monday, 18 November 2013

Space Oddity


Ground control to Major Tom
Ground control to Major Tom
Lock your Soyuz hatch and put your helmet on
Ground control to Major Tom
Commencing countdown engines on
Detach from station and may God's love be with you

This is ground control to Major Tom
You've really made the grade
and the papers want to know whose shirts you wear
But it's time to guide the capsule if you dare
This is Major Tom to ground control
I've left forevermore

And I'm floating in most peculiar way
And the stars look very different today
For here am I sitting in a tin can
Far above the world

The planet Earth is blue and there's nothing left to do
Though I've flown one hundred thousand miles
I'm feeling very still
And before too long I know it's time to go
Our commander comes down back to earth, and knows

Ground control to Major Tom
The time is near, there's not too long
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Can you hear me Major Tom?
Can you hear...

Here am I floating in my tin can
A last glimpse of the world
The planet Earth is blue and there's nothing left to do

A revised version of David Bowie's Space Oddity, recorded by Commander Chris Hadfield on board the International Space Station.

Saturday, 16 November 2013

There is pleasure in the pathless woods


There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
There is society, where none intrudes, 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar: 
I love not man the less, but Nature more, 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before, 
To mingle with the Universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

by George Gordon Lord Byron
Forest near Marysville VIC © Jennifer Phillips