Pointless Things

23 Sunday May 2021

Posted by Candia in Fashion, Humour, Literature, Personal, Poetry, Psychology, Satire, Social Comment, Writing

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concrete operational, fascinators, list poem, pet hates, Pillow Book, Sei Shonagon, trout pout

I think I wrote this poem based on an entry in The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon,

which was a list of ugly things. I tried to bring it up to date with pet hates of the

20th and 21st century.

Juxtaposing hair

which is unkempt with fine clothes;

a fascinator

on a helmet-like mullet;

hand-made paper spoiled

by spidery handwriting;

low-cut brides kneeling

in front of praying vicars;

presenting logic to the

concrete operational,

who try to pretend

that they understand;

a trout-pout selfie taken

by a narcissist – tramp-stamped,

and no Spring chicken either.

Poem from a Time of Trial

22 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by Candia in Humour, Literature, Personal, Philosophy, Poetry, Psychology, Religion, Satire, Social Comment

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atheist, blame game, Kipling, natural consequences, Natural Theology, plague, theology

Natural Theology

by Rudyard Kipling

Primitive I ate my fill of a whale that died  And stranded after a month at sea.  .  .  . There is a pain in my inside.  Why have the Gods afflicted me? Ow! I am purged till I am a wraith!  Wow! I am sick till I cannot see! What is the sense of Religion and Faith :  Look how the Gods have afflicted me!    Pagan  How can the skin of rat or mouse hold  Anything more than a harmless flea?.  .  . The burning plague has taken my household.  Why have my Gods afflicted me? All my kith and kin are deceased,  Though they were as good as good could be, I will out and batter the family priest,  Because my Gods have afflicted me!

Medi/Eval  My privy and well drain into each other  After the custom of Christendie.  .  .  . Fevers and fluxes are wasting my mother.  Why has the Lord afflicted me? The Saints are helpless for all I offer--  So are the clergy I used to fee. Henceforward I keep my cash in my coffer,  Because the Lord has afflicted me.    Material  I run eight hundred hens to the acre  They die by dozens mysteriously.  .  .  . I am more than doubtful concerning my Maker,  Why has the Lord afflicted me? What a return for all my endeavour--  Not to mention the L.  S.  D! I am an atheist now and for ever,  Because this God has afflicted me!

Progressive  Money spent on an Army or Fleet  Is homicidal lunacy.  .  .  . My son has been killed in the Mons retreat,  Why is the Lord afflicting me? Why are murder, pillage and arson  And rape allowed by the Deity? I will write to the Times, deriding our parson  Because my God has afflicted me.    Chorus  We had a kettle: we let it leak:  Our not repairing it made it worse. We haven't had any tea for a week.  .  .  The bottom is out of the Universe!

Conclusion  This was none of the good Lord's pleasure,  For the Spirit He breathed in Man is free; But what comes after is measure for measure,  And not a God that afflicteth thee. As was the sowing so the reaping  Is now and evermore shall be. Thou art delivered to thine own keeping.  Only Thyself hath afflicted thee!