I have written a mould inspired blog post some time ago. Mould is persistant. We are lucky it doesn’t think. We would be in trouble.
.
What we should think about is malnutrition.
Books make all the Gifts
The Girl with All The Gifts by M R Carey
Zombies!
I think this book caused our first disagreement within the book club. I really liked it while Eva thought it was rather flavourless.
The story is set in a post-apocalypstic world (Britain specifically) and humans are close to extinction. I don’t read many zombie novels but I think this might be the only one written from the zombie’s point of view.
The zombie girl Melanie is really lovely if you don’t advertise yourself as meal on legs to her. She is smart too and saves the day and the world – for the zombies, not humans. Humans are kind of doomed in this book.
I loved the ending.
Landscape
Theoretical Laboratory
Brilliant of pathetic? Neither? Both?
Humans, just figures in headlights and rear-view mirrors:
targets, possessions, poisons.
Trading familiarity for quantity,
no purpose, no own route,
no added aroma.
Weighted down, heave and hard as metal.
…….
Design the new cycle –
Job? Serve, embrace, listen.
___
This is what I call fun! Although I ended up with a rather dystopian poem.
I would love to do this in the proper cut-words-our-of-newspapars way but I don’t have any at hand. Instead I used a book (no scissors were called into action). I bought this book about three years ago and is still pristine as the day it came home with me. It is called ‘Periodic Tales: The Curious Lives of the Elements‘ by Hugh Aldersay-Williams. And I have no idea why I haven’t read it yet. I don’t have an explanation.
Drawer
I dream about you at night –
about your secrets and treasures and lies
I spy on you, I plan.
The day I touched you,
caressed you, probed you the very first time –
the overwhelming desire to posses you
has consumed my mined.
You act as nothing happened, unmoved
hiding behind walls and locks.
Your silence mocking my efforts –
no squeak, no creak, not even whine
to my desperate break-in tries.
My knees are chaffed, my fingers bleed
Oh how I wish to know where is your key.
––––
Phew…I was really struggling with this one.
Zero Tolerance to Loud Puffing, Huffing and Growling in the Gym
My gym is primarily visited by office people so there is not much huffing and puffing going on there. I don’t really know many bodybuilders with day jobs in banking. I don’t really know any bodybuilders full stop. I’ve only met one, actor Rob Archer and he is an absolute sweetheart.
Anyway, I’m not saying iron pumping is a synonym for making random lound scary sounds. It is more of the macho attitude that comes with it that I have a problem with. So when someone like that comes to my gym, he will get noticed. Dude, you’re not there alone.
What should be also noticed is the ongoing LGBT discrimination.
.
And I couldn’t help it – crazy picture with Rob Archer 🙂
Fingers
The earth is soft, dark and damp
ants clim over my mountainous fingers
I feel a bite – I’m trespassing.
I brush the soil, gently first,
but I can’t resist the urge.
My fist intrudes the cradle of life –
cold, kissed by the morning dew,
dirt hides behind my fingernails.
I dig deeper but the earth is fighting back
my fingers sting and burn and
I can’t stand the pain anymore.
I withdraw.
My hand is red and black, the hand
that disturbs the earth.
Earth is fighting back.
___
I was very torn whether or not to include a comment on this poem or not. Especially because instead of talking about the environmental crisis we are in and which I’ve tried to express in my poem – I actually wanted to mention fingers as tools for communication. I did a writing course few year back and there was a girl (whose name I don’t remember and it is driving me absolutely crazy) who was and I guess still is a puppeteer. She also was and I hope still is an amazingly talented poet. I loved her poems. I will never forget a line she wrote ‘my hand is a naked puppet’ and it was the first thing that popped in my head when I read the assignment for today. I’m sure you know someone who ‘talks with their hands’, use them to emphasise emotion and when you are in different country and don’t speak the language – how many times have you used the pointing technique? Fingers have their own voice – whether it is the official sign language or one that we use without even realising.
I am a Hero!
I jumped on the busy train to Brighton Gatwick airport – finally got seat Mildly lost my way to hostel But not too lost to hurt my feet
The bunk bed squeaked with every turn
Scared to move, just wished for sleep
My bed fellow’s and mine ears burned
Both nervous about - BEEP BEEP BEEP
I was up at six, pretty ready if you ask Changed into my running gear Mind focussed to task Made my porridge and my tea
The morning was frosty but sunny And the Brighton beach serene Crowds started to gather quickly Soon the pens resembled sardines
Ten, nine, eight and so on till start The elite sprinted - we not so much Four minutes when we finally crossed the start Off we went with James, our 2hours pacers lad
First mile, damn it’s crowded -
kept following the purple flag
Mile two and the ascend started
And didn’t finish till 4 and half
Narrow routes and elbows fights Everyone wanted to go downhill fast I said good bye to the pacer group found a gap and zigzagged past
I chose my pace and stuck to it Mile five, the gel was out Mile six – almost half way there Seventh came and went
I chose my pace and stuck to it Except when the cold wind bit My wind jacket's bound too tight Round my waist, had to stop to clear the mess
Mile eight I felt bit bored
Water station after ninth
Sipped and sucked another gel
Blackcurrant! What was I thinking?
Mile ten, just three too go Mile eleven, almost home Mile twelve when I saw the purple flag So I sped up
Mile thirteen and my lugs now hurt I could see the finish line Few more steps and I’ll have my medal Here I go - my first sub 2 half!
__
Ok, I admit I lost the ballad-y feel pretty early on and I am very much distracted and happy about my first sub two hours half marathon – that was yesterday 1:58:42 in Brighton so please forgive me 🙂
This is happy me 🙂
Fog
I seek the sadness in the crowd of seven faces I'm surprised by so many.
As a child I prayed every night I asked God for forgiveness that only I could give - but how do you forgive fear?
I stand inside this dead house sheltering my heart colder than the frigid limbs hidden in the coffin Maybe one day I will forgive but not today. The dead body will not change it. Then I remember.
You are still alive.
––––
I’m having so much fun attending this writing class – I’m looking forward to the weekend just to read some of the other poems and meet new people. I have only managed a fraction so far and I am impressed by the talent that is here. Well done you folks!
Compassion #1000speak
Do you find it difficult to find compassion for your mother diagnosed with cancer? For a friend whose house was burgled? Colleague who lost his child? I’m guessing no.
How about the drug addict who broke into your neighbour’s house, the drunk driver who smashed your car or the stray dog who bit your boyfriend? What about that smelly homeless man that sleeps on the bench in front of library and picks up cigarette butts or the group of boys that leave them behind?
I think to have compassion requires willingness to understand one’s feelings, life situation, background but also to learn not to judge too quickly or too harshly.
Growth in wisdom can be measured precisely by decline in bile.
~ Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
Homo (genus) H. partius (species) of Animalia (kingdom)
You make me laugh! Thursday, the new
Friday? Oh, hun that is so last centu
ry. Monday is the new Sund
ay and Tuesday is the
warm up to
the we
ek
en
d!
D
in
ne
r, glass of wine or two
_
gets you ready for the date
night – Wednesday if you
must ask – love hidden in
a cocktail bar. Thursday’s
when the real fun starts;
office meeting in a pub e
nding in the 80’s bar. Fri
day? Who cares my dear
? Friday doesn’t count.
No one remembers it
anyway!Wake up w
hen the sun goes do
wn greeting Saturd
ay’s night – and
greet it all nigh
t long! There
‘s no other w
ay! Kicked
out of the
club? S
top for
Sun
da
yr
oa
st
an
dn
ev
er
le
av
eb
ef
or
et
he game is lost. Or won. In
which case we just go on!
_
Oh sweetie, Thursday, the new Friday? That is so last century.
___
This was exhausting! I’m going to bed.
Eva Marasca 