Self-Destructive Resentment (Revised)

There is a pattern here: Mother’s financial support
is received from people with such clear resentment
towards her she appears the victim – yet in his book
“Breakthrough Experience” – Dr Demartini says
there are no victims, only people choosing certain
experiences – in mother’s case she married dad
whose diction is worse than a sailor’s

Dad supported her while showing her no respect,
later on in life mother gave my sister’s furniture
away and tried exorcism on me – which led to my
incarceration in a state mental hospital, running
the risk of never getting out again; luckily Tannie
Yvonne and Prof Piet DuPlessis got me out, I was
saved not my mother but by Strangers

Mother’s later interest in my brothers’ lives led
to their financial ruin, she’s currently involved in
my sister’s financial affairs and sis treats mother
with disrespect and resentment yet I can’t say a
word in mother’s defence, who is emotionally
blackmailing my sis into paying all credit accounts
and expenses; my sister hates her life:

WHY does mother’s involvement invariably lead to
financial ruin and moral disintegration – as it emerges
she propagates a theory she’s doing my sis a favour
by staying with her, despite my sister’s so palpable
resentment; I had to flee the lightning, mother
cannot stay with me as I wish to protect my little
family from such consequences

How can she bear disrespect of people she duped into
caring for her financially – they make no bones about
their resentment; without trying to understand how
mother blackmails people until they resent her in self-
destructive ways I vow to keep my little family out of
her reach while giving my sister the support that might
set her free from self-destructive resentment…

I Am Swimming Away (Revised)

She lives in her own bubble – doing what she
deems best for her budding business – trying
to ignore things irking her into impatience –
yet resentment makes her ugly in expressions
of bitterness – invariably the cause is mother’s
blithely yap-yap-yap way of talking

While everybody else just wants to get on with
their lives, drinking morning coffee in silence,
planning the day, ordering the workshop and
helping clients, while she has to face the one
who controls her with a hand of steel and she
has lost the will or ability to be friendly, to

Treat others with respect, no self-control left,
no good manners or etiquette, plain straight-
forward accusations and irrational actions to
put the blame on others – everybody else is
guilty except herself, she used this kind of
assistance once – now she pays eternally for

The privilege – a situation so negative in its
extreme I don’t want to get caught in it, this
driving me about since I cannot drive myself,
this getting me involved so I can take over
from her – isn’t working, I do not agree with
anything, there’s nothing honest or

Real, nothing true or eternal in this – the
story changes to suit the protagonists and to
draw me in – but I am swimming away…

To Be Me (Revised)

Early Saturday morning, it seems no other being alive –
one dive, just one stupid dive into the pool let water into
my ear – oh frustration and irritation, Nutcracker Suite
DVD ordered has still to arrive, waiting for the Saturday
‘usual’ routine to swallow me – shopping for the week,
planning meat or no meat, maybe fish or chicken, and
finally, reading my book – about balance between the
negative and positive as truer than one-sided rejection
of the negative – impossible in this dualistic universe as
degrees of everything are required to differentiate our
self from all else, but exercises a self-congratulating
author claims, like watching people and trees to become
one with everything, is a bit juvenile – so I skip these,
being a tree is a mystery to me, I cannot feel sap rising
just as I won’t succeed in setting my astral self free to go
visiting, keeping the silver chord intact while roaming
free – whether considering being a tree or astral spirit,
all I can manage is to be me...

Gerhard Visiting

Gerhard and I, Gehard came by
and we had some fun, we had
barely begun when the afternoon
was gone, why does time fly?

Never mind, the future is ours,
I shall not complain, soon we
shall visit again, reminisce about
our family relations

Rejoice in the freedom to leave
them behind - though we carry
our folks in the heart - the call
of blood to blood

He called her grandma, we called
her Tannie Klein, he called her
Tannie Max, we called her grand-
ma, so we knew each other's

Family, I hope Grandma Alice,
known as Tannie Max, was as
good to him as Tannie Klein
was to me!

Siestas In The Afternoon

In the music room listening to mother playing her
favourite pieces on the piano, reflecting on all the
things I have learned: not to lean on the driver of
a motorbike, I must keep my own head and helmet
up; singing gets on everyone’s nerves - there goes
my dream of singing on street till my voice is strong

And most important of all, people are impatient and
irritated when they get up from a siesta; mother is
very temperamental when you do something wrong
or fail to hear her imperial command, and the most
endearing thing is dad’s whole existence centres on
keeping the piano safe by cooling the music room

The piano’s strings are affected by the excessive heat,
he wedges in boards to keep the dogs out while leaving
the room open at night so that mom can play a piano
that is in tune; and as I tried to chase a sparrow stuck
in the music room flying up against the ceiling instead
of keeping low to leave through the door

I was hit on the head by a piece of wood and felt that
physical hurt is not as painful as criticism and emotional
wounds inflicted by people having siestas in the afternoon…

Wind In My Face (Revised)

Had my fast motorbike ride, sensation of wind
in my face, fingers cramped from holding tight
while swishing past lush green veldt each side,
first my head on the right then left, eventually
eyes closed and nearly passing out, a theory
forming in my head:

Anyone depressed is helped by a fast ride, the
imminent threat of death under acceleration
puts an end to despair in an adrenaline high
I express my theory to Pete driving the bike
I can’t drive one myself – he replied no
psychologist would use this therapy

They need patients to stay ill for income
guarantees and I agreed, healing is not their
aim – luckily I have the privilege to enjoy this
therapy for heart and mind!

Feel Free To Rejoice (Revised)

Christmas, the message visionaries dreamed long ago,
a Child who came to accord everyone – child, woman
and slave, the same status and rights that applied at
the time to rich, high and powerful men only; the new
world they dreamed of gave equal worth to members
of the human family equally – and this message was
spread through the birth of a child

For believer and nonbeliever alike a wonderful idea if
we forgo debate whether literally true, concentrate on
the symbolism only, let its meaning shine through; and
as we regain this beautiful story from despoilment and
misuse by covetous churches to enjoy it as individuals,
the light grows overpowering and we freely rejoice
without paying homage to an interloper, a supposed

intermediary holding people hostage under a reign of
terror – today we rejoice while paying respect only to
transforming power of dreams and ideas….

Frail Sailing Ship (Revised)

Slowly wrapping my parent’s presents in special paper,
decorating my sister’s gift with gold and silver glitter,
putting the frail sailing ship made of shells and wood
in a box to keep its mast from breaking; it’s a memory
of the time dad showed me how to draw a sailing ship
on the wall-painted blackboard when I was small

My mother’s mauve-with-pink-roses pillow is in a pink
bag, I’m delighted looking at beautiful things, my lilac
scarf draped around my new straw hat, artfully hung
on my lamp-cum-hat-stand, I’m sitting in rich golden
sunshine, watching amazing animals on Nat Geo Wild –
this the best time of the year, just before Christmas

On My Own (Revised)

If I had known you weren’t listening to anything
I said I wouldn’t have become upset; once I got
it into my head you only wanted to be driver or
organiser and supervisor, and not be bothered
having fun with the rest I went off on my own

enjoying prospects of dwelling in my very fertile
imagination, buying flowers, visiting a school
book fair to admire the brightly coloured covers,
going on a long walk on the beach, gazing at
washed out waves, kids playing in the surf

dreaming of being a thin sprite in a dress made
of sea water drops kicked up with my feet – not
crystal imitations, the real thing – that ought to
defy gravity – suspended like that – magnetised,
they would cling to my form; came home, smiled
at my soul’s effigy sitting on the bed –

a doll with a juvenile face I bought today – tried
to write but nerves in my hand paralysed by
vertebrae in my neck, went dead…
Saturday 15 December 2012

The Art Of Dreaming

I just wanted to hang out in the shop
with things that were interesting and
you refused, adamantly insisting we
leave then and there - it would have
cost you nothing to wait a few
minutes more

I just wanted company on the beach so
I could swim without being all alone in the
world and you refused, your cricket game
not even on yet - it would have cost you
nothing to spend a few minutes more with
me and you refused

Don't offer me a new cell phone with gadgets
galore - I'm bored by technology - I just want
TIME and you will not give me that; I want time
to stare at the flowers I like - see visions I can't
realise - I want space for dreams - keep your
ice-cold reality

Let me be alone in my mind, I cannot escape
into a book, this is the price I pay to become
fully functional at work, an average robot; as
soon as my mind is accustomed to the new
regime, I shall study the art of dreaming
again…

[Friday 14 December 2012]

Friends with the sun, wind and sea

Went into the shop seeking flowers, deliberating between
two bunches, one yellow and one pink, when my eye was
caught by a colourful top, finally I went away with two new
tops and a new hat - the other hats did not work, as you
can deduce, the wide-brimmed silvery one (do not mention
the black Mafia one at all)  was too large for my height, found
a straw hat with purple hatband - perfect

Went walk-about by myself after lunch, found a new invisibility
cloak (any large black top that makes one recede into the back-
ground counts for this), a white scarf - tying my new straw hat
with the scarf, looking like Miss Marple on the Orient Express -
also found mosaic tiles in yellow and green for my twin sis,
bought a book on Maps of the World - Piri Reis included -
for myself - what a brilliant find

Went swimming, finally caught those big waves at high tide, re-
newed my acquaintance with the sea at its best when the sea
is my exciting friend, though I pulled in my legs to roll like
a stone, the waves were so strong my legs unrolled in a back-
somersault, my neck in whiplash, my affair with the ocean as
passionate as ever, tomorrow we shall continue our relationship,
the sea and I - being friends with the sun, wind and sea

Makes life so easy - with delight only a heartbeat away

[Thursday 13 December 2012]

Wrestled It To The Ground

Today I tackled the growing heap of washing and wrestled it
to the ground, enjoying the work as the lack of achievement
which marks the holiday season wears me down, I managed
to worsen the sunburn by going on scary fun park rides with
Tiaan, swam in a calm sea lacking waves and cut a small slit
in my swimsuit to pour out the sand which gathers between
the two layers of material

Tomorrow we shall split up and each visit his favourite place;
I shall be off to the Bargain Bookshop; yesterday I bought
mother a cushion with roses sewed on top and heard angel
voices sing as I carried it home, bought dad the sailing ship
I have earmarked for him five years ago, also bought yellow
flowers identical to those in my office, the theme of light and
sweetness still filling my heart

Wednesday 12 December 2012

Scared And Unheard

Sunburnt, sorry for myself, lost in holiday-making,
the only challenge is making peace with myself,
no obstacle to overcome, no problem except de-
ciding what to eat when, going to the beach and
surviving the heat while you give the sea a wide
berth; why on earth did you want to come if this
is how you feel - at least the kids are having fun

Found a friend to hang out with, playing pool while
I gather the clothes to be washed, watch the cars
passing in the street - wondering how I fell into the
trap of holiday-spirit without the power to survive, I
am just like Marvin, the paranoid Android – at work
I fear those long documents, here I fear the lack of
challenges – it is my theory that I cannot die

For fear that when dead I would be bored and make too
much noise in the afterlife realm - boredom would send
me to the wrong frequency where those depressed and
cynical souls lurk – an eternity being depressed would be
hell indeed, maybe I should learn to sing loud and long in
the street like Edith Piaf did, instead of singing softly to my-
self as I always do, maybe it would develop my voice

Maybe I could sing for my life instead of driving my family
wild - but given my Marvin-like propensities and complete
inability to be wild and inconsiderate; I suppose singing
will remain in the domain of the scared and unheard…

Your Tumultuous Life (Revised)

First I’m blamed for being inappropriately keen
to leave while you claimed a need for ice; tho’ I
was prepared already I had to beg forgiveness,
explaining I was being inconsiderate, to help
reduce your mounting ire

Then you said, now we should leave, and I was
too slow reacting, you gave a speech about
my being unbecomingly slow whenever you
wanted to do anything – by that time
I was completely resigned

To the autocratic boss in you, I did not bother
with repartee, it is useless to anticipate your
taste; whatever I do, I’ll be in trouble again,
I might as well accept that you are bound to
blame me for whatever happens

In your tumultuous life…

Pack My Bag For A Trip To The Sea

I still haven’t learned how to say no
when food is pressed under my nose,
nobody held a gun to my head but I
still felt compelled to hold up my end
and consume more than I have room
for, a headache for my pains, rather
down in the mouth, all the fun gone

I wonder how more outgoing types
deal with the regret always felt after
going overboard, maybe it’s just some
of us who feel compelled to indulge
in feeling sorry for themselves after
a very singular event, it feels as if
I’m carrying the whole world

On my shoulders simply because I
couldn’t stop when offered chicken
wings with two sauces, after laughing
at Leon Schuster reels I fell back into
this feeling of malaise – now abiding
my time to get the right vibrations
back so I can laugh again

And pack my bag for a trip to the
sea, always a wondrous place 
to me…

As The Prophets Said I Should (Revised)

An accolade of full marks in my French exam,
paid a speeding fine smiling knowing nothing
can faze me now; simple, past and imperfect
verbs paid off their learning, I have the goods
displayed for attending class as our manager
required – a certificate, no less, proof of
hours spent concentrating, doing my best

Tomorrow I’ll finish the documents on my desk,
Friday its goodbye to my colleagues and friends
and a trip to the Cape – to criticise the people on
the beach sardonically, embarrass my kids by
rolling in the surf; this time I’m taking my French
Bible for character building since I’ve given up
on books - just as

The prophets said I should

Seemingly Good Beset By Cowardice

I know certain things are run by idiocy, the most immoral and
unprincipled rise to the  top; but what makes me wonder no end
is why seemingly moral people abet and support them, the only
reason is the seemingly good are also beset by cowardice, need
to relate to weaker specimens, feeling threatened by those with
high moral principles - which means the seemingly good are not
good underneath, just white-washed tombstones

Best is find the humour in their doings, laugh as the situation is
droll - I know the fragile peace between us only exist because I
traded freedom for advantages – however conditional – what use
would freedom be if you were not there to help me deal with the
duties of life – we only live in peace because I obey the law laid
down by physical force - and why not,  being free and alone with-
out a home and family would be meaningless

New friends might reveal more of the shortcomings forming part
of life in captivity - after all, when I relate our farcical discussions
to my friend, we laugh no end  - thus this relationship affords food
for the soul, sometimes I want equal rights but if I wait long enough,
the feeling subsides, I can leave this task for another to complete;
discrepancy between want and need is illustrated by all, why should
I want anything less in my life; let me bow,

Lick your shoes, say amen to all you say, be silent long enough; let
me be very obedient - facing a male prima donna is not my way, I
love quiet contemplation and peace, let me look down on the world,
see the unprincipled leading the way - and be calm, what does it
matter what they do and say, as long as I manage to keep my eye
on the vision of what harmonies might be encountered after this
life of sorrow has passed…

Face Concealed Under My Hat (Revised)

I waltz into the office after lunch, brag about my
new Mafia hat which makes me look like a rich widow
– my colleagues looked askance, said Rich Widow –
you hope; I amended it to The Merry Widow – Franz
Lehar’s operetta, I can see me on stage singing,
face concealed under the brim - but receiving
less enthusiastic response from a working crowd

I hung it on a hatstand to look impressive among
silver chains, xmas decorations already finding
their way there and a white scarf with silver
glitter; going home I took it with me to look
again at the toy in my hands – not wishing my
realistic family to burst my bubble too soon,
I hid the hat, as yet a game too new

To have shattered, a dream I’ll treasure until
ready to let go of what it means to me…

So Loftily Silent

Why buy newspapers when you refuse to discuss
anything appearing in it, totally unconcerned that
the farmers are tortured on their farms, killed for
their money and livestock – as long as YOU are
safe in a cushy job while the rest of the country
burns and dies and goes down the drain, you
simply will not say anything

FINE, swallow your bloomin’ newspapers, delight
in your existence without sympathy wasted on farmer
martyrs - their function of food provision does not
concern anybody, especially the government, who
cares what happens to anybody as long as they
are safe far away from children suffocated in
boiling water, people burned with hot irons

Why should you care, you can import food from
overseas or anywhere, who needs farmers here
in South Africa, you cannot be bothered even to
express sympathy with their fate, may you wash
your hands in innocence while the country burns,
following your political masters who see the land
as just another Tunisia to be sucked dry

By government and all their acolytes; destroy all
private business until the state is bankrupt and
international groups must administrate the remains
of their destruction - oh well, I am glad you are all
so happy while these people cry unto heaven –
retribution follows when people are exploited,
hope you will be so loftily silent then…

Watching My Feet…

I keep changing my clothes in a desperate attempt to feel different,
Seth says the physical world changes constantly, the only thing I see
changing is the layer of dust covering my figurines, just to illustrate
what Says says I carried my figurines to a table of glass, arranged
them in a different way, encircling their glass stand with blue material
which covered our Christmas gift:

A large round metal container for wine bottles at the table, we never
need something like this, maybe the kids one day will use it - I saw a
chandelier in the shop where this is sold – which I would much rather
have, but it is too late, we are stuck with the metal bucket – maybe I
can let grandkids play in it – if one day I shall have some, given that
both my son and daughter vehemently expostulates

Against the idea of having descendants, what with the present weather
conditions, I cannot blame them, they still wonder why I wanted to have
them – I fondly reply because I was lonely and needed support from
someone totally on my side - of that I am completely assured - Tiaan
leading me as if I were a hundred years old, Nici telling me what to
wear and sighing when I go wrong

To return to the beginning, I keep changing my attire in order to feel
the desire for life that Abraham-Hicks says should be mine, to feel the
control that Seth says we all have all the time, but whatever I’m wearing,
within about fifteen minutes I have to change again – changing flip-flops
helps - blue to brown to pink and purple – changing the look of my feet,
though it is bad for my neck to look down all the time

Watching my feet…

[Sunday 2 December 2012]

Nice to be Myself (Revised)

Exam over, steel clamp around my heart loosening
slowly, had to bind steel tightly around fearing loss
of motivation would kill my dedication, feared less
anxiety about outcomes, feared the ability to learn
was gone - that without rock-hard concentration I
would be unable to open a book, scared of proving

I am not able to retain what we learned in class,
scared myself into trying hard but I did not work
hard enough to achieve the highest mark, yet the
questions were fun, it was a privilege to follow the
course and I loved writing a blogspot note giving
my opinion on a movie - I chose ‘The King and I'

Which showed a woman empowered through
education and privilege in contrast with the life
of Edith Piaf - so tragic and sad, though she was
a celebrated artist - tonight is wonderful, fun
shows on TV - I am me - after having been
someone else, it is so nice to be myself…

Being someone else is not easy…

Something is different, my usual ego is gone, in its place is a
stranger who feels like going nuts, not a rational thought in the
mind of this strange one, not an original idea, headache as big
as an elephant, no coordination, cannot type, this is the mess
that has to write a French exam today, start a report on work
done during the month, brain switching on and off, blinking out
of existence

I’m trying to teach this stranger French verbs and the past tense
sentences it should write in my place, but I would have more
success teaching my desk than this strange one, I don’t even know
how to phrase a complaint against this alien posing as me, even
my back is acting up, relaying a simple document becomes an
impossible task, wish I could fall asleep and wake up as me

Being someone else is not easy…

Wednesday 28 November 2012

Status Quo

Status Quo

Three pairs of glasses conscience-clear will
not transform acerbic views the least today
no galaxies of magnanimous events appear
stacked end to end waiting an introduction,
no ameliorating hint of Occasioning or how
to be generously received, welcomed with
good will and situated atop selfish issues of
who’s dogmatic eccentricity is most worthy 

In their own rich words delusory mists steam,
an effluence of ordure composting vagrantly
where once compassion was – it’s here as an
instance deemed answer enough and damned
queries that face up the Status Quo will be
trashed mercilessly by its alter ego
© 28 November 2012, I. D. Carswell

All That I Have Left

The Apostle Paul recommended women should
not seek beauty in hairstyles, ornaments, jewellery
and expensive clothes, true beauty lies in character;
I say: Thank you, the hairstyle is easily done due to
the thin feathers on my head, as for the clothes

I have to wear something, the clothes I have is ugly
enough - I cannot find pretty clothes in my size – and
now I find none that fits, neither pretty or ugly; at least
Paul said clothing is required, my only option is to mail-
order a burka as the clothes in our Western shops

Are an unqualified flop – for me at least, I comply with
the requirements for looking ugly; working on character
is all that I have left – Paul, you did not recommend
anything, you simply stated the state of affairs!


1 Timothy 3: 9 & 10

Love It, Change It, Hold It, Hate It

Reading my New Testament favourites
seeking spiritual food – just as anyone
who thinks about an inner, cognitive,
invisible world is likely to do

I love my culture’s religious & spiritual
texts because, simply – it’s mine, neither
superior nor inferior to each and any
– all unique as inner technique

To approach and direct consciousness;
quantum physics expresses how minds
shape reality – explains how all belief
systems fulfil expectations equally

Personal taste dictates where we feel
at home; meditation and visualisation
through prayer is mind reconstructing
the world into being more than it is

Being joyous is possible because we
are free to do what we please with
everything: love it, change it, hold it,
hate it, forget it, chase it, eat it

I like the way New Testament Apostles
remained gracefully joyful when in jail,
anyone can dislike this meek attitude, 
prefer the challenges of violence and

Sweet revenge, making it a more ex-
citing world – and they cannot limit
the freedom of those who prefer to
contemplate life in tranquillity

Looking for significance in every life,
studying history as recorded in the
writings of the Apostles and the great
figures of Eastern Religions…

Leaving Me Space (Revised)

Of course I was wrong; the gods had
more trials for me after the successful
completion of my urgent documents,

Tonight my daughter kindly advised my
contribution to discussion of her friend’s
driving mishaps was unwelcome –

I only wanted them to leave so I could
watch a romantic thriller on television –
but nobody moved, so I left instead

I‘ll want to watch it uninterrupted
fairly soon – it is beyond me why they
cannot quietly leave now

They should calm down, hold a different
conversation leaving me space too – or
let me watch wilting romance in peace

Your Humble Servant (Revised)

As a child I endured toothache pain stoically
practicing for persecution of difficult times as
Apostles in the Bible recommend, but today

I take antibiotics, accepting pain has no place
in fate chosen from future forks of a different
trouser leg of time; we are free to go any way

The gods knew I used earache to stay trouble-
free in translating my three documents, they
double-folded earache pain to make sure

Every work triumph has a price – uncomfortable
as the ear is, I’m thrilled by the deal, it is a dream
come true to do my work efficiently

Paying for such privilege in physical pain is apt –
makes me feel better about shortcomings, the
gods enjoy keeping me humble and quiet

Your humble servant as ever, that’s me!

Equilibrium (Revised)

Earache, perfect for a pity-party and this is
November’s best time of year, holidays near
yet not too close to be over too soon, more
work on my desk for an exciting adrenaline
rush of challenge, but I need to feel sorry for
myself – keep all other disasters at bay

Heard a Doomsday prophet say infection of
the ear, even untreated tonsillitis, can lead to
death, the effect lost as we laughed unfazed
hearing such dire predictions, we don’t mind
dying per se but rebel against slow decline as
in ageing with pain – aha –

Gout says I mustn’t eat chocolate or sugar but
wholegrain alternatives mean vertigo and
nearly losing consciousness, now I eat
chocolates, delight in butter and full cream
milk with cardboard tasting rice cakes; and
Christmas is to be spent with my sister, sweet

Meringue, fruit cake, vanilla sponge, hiking,
riding a fast motorbike – oh yeah, with these
wonders ahead earache will keep me safe from
calling wrath of the gods – let the pain and
aches come now so bad things required to
keep me humble will be taken care of

And all the delectable treats equilibrated
with just the right amount of suffering – as
long as pros and cons are in balance, there is
no fear of arrogance winning, and I can
dream in peace….

Nineteen Years Is Long Enough (Revised)

For the first time in nineteen years I’m planning
Christmas with my parents, to be with them as
one singing Carols, preparing delicacies to eat –
but particularly singing songs mother wrote,
presenting the play she designed for us ages
ago when we twins were just six years old

Back then my brothers and dad spoiled things –
but this time we can present mother’s songs less
their interference, and afterwards I can go for a
spin on brother-in-law’s motorbike, making up
for events we missed when small – yes, this
Christmas will be a grand reunion ball

For the first time in nineteen years I shan’t be
home; it’s either or, never parents and hubby
together, and though he was angry hearing
my plans – after nineteen years he cannot
really complain – it is the first time I shall be
with them – I think it is fair,

Nineteen years is long enough

Beautifully Constructed Document….

This is an exquisite headache, I have struggled to page 5 and
there still is another ten, though I am required to say when,
the truth is I don’t know how to finish this work to make the
deadline, seeking help I found a guru’s advice ‘Start paying
attention to how you feel’ – not much help there

I feel hot and bothered and desperate and determined to finish
this should I die in the attempt, even writing this is lessening the
time dedicated to my precious text, I cannot sing about it,
diplomatic lines to assure lenders of funds unlimited and
Australians donating many Oz dollars to Africans

A sweet attempt to help Africa from the Middle Ages to the
Enlightenment of infrastructure, irrigation and policies en-
suring good governance – ay, there’s the rub, the moment
overseers and supervisors and political reports are needed,
the money is siphoned into an organigram and

Not enough is left for agricultural projects, reorganising the
government does not teach good ethics which should be learnt
at mother’s knee, through fairy tales to understand that one
should not slaughter the goose laying golden eggs or live
without discipline; much as I love people helping each other

I am curious to know how much goes to middlemen and what
percentage finally reaches the target groups who have to make
do with less than promised and then gets the blame when pro-
jects go awry – but miracles never cease and this might
just be the first honest project in human history

Or at least less plundered than before, hopefully the Ozzies
themselves will visit here with happy calls - Hey Mate, where’s
the barbie gonna be? – while looking through the books and
determining how much went to whom and why – but ere
I’m lost in a dream, let me return to my very

Beautifully constructed document…

Still Love Me Too

Power of communication, reading Sunday newspapers
was so depressing; my beloved sighed - Why are you
so difficult to get along with? – I’m totally overwhelmed
– I cried – I cannot see how our country can survive,
the poorest pay the price for political connivance

Farms burning down, I even feel bad about President
Zuma being attacked by others, don’t have all the facts,
some say our president uses taxpayers’ money to enrich
himself while he cries in public - I did not take your wealth
- Who should I believe and why, how can we ever tell

Who is writing the script, trying to use information on their
own behalf, welfare money directed to Africans only, any
European out on his ears; which is fine, we live in Africa,
but what if the new measures also damage the Africans,
my friends, not just excluded Europeans

At whom these are targeted? - You relented; listened to
my woes with many an exclamation - Stop-Stop! You’re 
driving me insane – And I remembered my existence is
the bane of your life, I apologised - I’m mesmerised by
communication – the Twilight movie

Made me glad about us, then newspaper depression -
I related all my woes - You recommended a purge:
This is constipation of the mind - you said; being the
only doctor at my command since loss of medical
aid benefits - Look to purgatory medicines

For a cure, castor oil is the thing, as to political landscape,
forget about it, farmers are forced to clean house and kids
of poor migratory workers must receive free education to
rise above bad circumstance – I also confessed inability
to accept my problems; you laughed

Next year we can redo the house’s plumbing and
everything else – and I smiled, you still
love me too…

Still Right For Me

Facing painful truths without getting
upset: we are taught youth should
last forever, an ideal to be achieved
through botox, hormone replacement
therapy and plastic surgery; but just
as I never succumbed to make-up,
I‘m failing in my duty to stay young

It is your right to be angry with me
for not being younger in an age of
increasing sex appeal, we’re taught
to believe in physical performance
only, females are expected to fulfil
male fantasies based on artificial
acting in adult movies - therefore

You’re right to blame me for being
a failure; I never became the siren
you were taught to dream of - BUT
I am joyful knowing you were just
right for me, the romance shared
was perfect- I’m sorry you were
upset when I told you this, sorry

That you feel I’m failing you today
because you are still right for me
and will always be…

I Have Earned My Rest

Still between worlds infused with crazy desire to
complete my terrible text – but overcome by tragic
discovery my courageous attempt to thrive on dry
beskuit led to symptomatic resurgence of allergy

Soft rain and loud thunderclaps mirror a desperate
prayer earlier today when stuck in an endless
meeting; there I could tune out the meaning of
spoken inanity, but not the resonance of it

Could not escape metre and timbre of King Kong
and her henchmen, Crying Mock Turtle delivering
a speech with many sighs and innumerable sobs
and Mr Dream-A-Lot riveted to his own spot

Being driven into the deep sitting in this big old car
of a meeting, gnashing of teeth trying to escape
the voice floating over me, nearly falling asleep
but remaining disdainfully awake, thinking of

Slashing my wrists and spraying blood on the
listeners as a clear sign I’ve had enough when
the end came, and after an anti-climax of more
sorrowful whining by Mme La Pompadour

I ran from the meeting only to find my powers were
spent, no more concentration to be obtained from
my brain, I did try to get back into step, in vain
chasing elusive meaning & strange formulation

In the end I conceded, came home to lie in your lap,
feeling I have earned my rest…

Oh Mistress-Mine (Revised)

Oh Mistress-Mine, like the Old Testament’s Prodigal Son you
return unto the fold so stealthily, coming to us like a Prodigal
Daughter; you’ve rested well, it’s seen in your demeanour,
you are calm and resigned as sensed in your serenity

Will it be another foray into unchartered territory where
you’ll do innovative work, showing how we, like you, can
stay home courageously, with long disappearances, sudden
returns as a new moon after an eclipse

To shyly smile, win new acolytes with strict orders, rejecting
irrational demands made eagerly by troops who stayed
guarding sacred portals from barbarian horde invasions –
uneducated clients who demand non-entitled services

We are a profession fighting for executive recognition of
our smooth relays of foreign texts into a civilised tongue,
one that is understood by the Anglo-Saxon hordes rampaging
south from the cold northern slopes

Be that as it may, welcome back, Oh Prodigal Daughter and
Supervisor of troops, with military alacrity we are ready to
follow orders, except where they clash with ethics forged
through millennia of fighting for right & free expression –

Rights you claim personally, Oh Mistress Mine, not share
with the rest who earn their living where you merely dally
occasionally, singing from time to time ‘hey nonny nonny’,
with much ado about nothing

And in this institution lies only the way of the dreaded
watery death and creatures of the bottomless profundity
waiting to swallow all of the mighty and haughty who
do not care where they tread…

I Am Not Coherent Anymore

Now I’m the proud possessor of an iPod Shuffler in its small
box with purple disk and miniature apertures, I am bemused –
this resembles the little gold and white booklets I discovered
as a kid and used to play my version of ‘The Magic Flute’ by
making them into magical objects opening into the bewitched
worlds when presented to the guardians between this life and
their enchanted space

I cherished these booklets and now I have a small tablet which
plays music in my ears, another dream come true, switching on
the Shuffler I am thrown from Dean Martin’s crooning ‘Ma Bella
Mia’ to ‘The Merry Widow’ then straight into Strauss’ ‘Also Sprach
Zarathustra’, from there into ‘Ave Maria” sung by Lesley Garret and
Hoffman’s Tales - the chorus about 'Klein Zack' -back into ‘Das
Studium der Weiber ist schwer’

Then into a Prelude by Chopin - you’ll excuse me when I am not
coherent anymore, how can I be after this mélange reducing my
powers of concentration to nothing - I still hate Vivaldi when
his music crops up in between, you’ll notice I do not mention
it and any song which gets on my nerves – oh delightful life
that abounds with magic everywhere!

Figures In There Somewhere (Revised)

Came home to a brightly coloured work text
with Edith Piaf’s life resounding in my head,
read a Roger Bootle (Fortune magazine) écrit
on PIIGS (probable Euro-split, Portugal,
Ireland, Italy, Greece & Spain) explained

And Edith Piaf’s life intervenes, paging too
violently in the magazine, reading a heading
Dad Doesn’t Have Hobbies, He Has Passions
Tom Ricketts said; admonished by my love
I rest the magazine, time to get rid of

Edith Piaf’s passions in my head, her words
ringing in my ears – what’s the use of being
Edith if I cannot do what I want? It may be
why being Margaret Alice fails, I cannot do
what I want, becoming instead

Expert at hiding desire from myself; I shall
never know what I really want except that
music and singing and dancing figures in
there somewhere

Sleep Will Increase My Intelligence

Tonight I did my French homework. I spent the weekend in abject terror,
having ascertained that there is more work than can be completed before
the December holidays, and that I don’t know my French verbs – l’imparfait
does not come easily.

I finished reading The Long Earth by Terry Pratchett and his science-fiction-
writer friend yesterday. I’m sure that “Happy Landings” contains a few sinister
secrets – such as the murder of people with imperfections, that the trolls control
the people in some way and this is why they keep people from converging in large
numbers. All this will have to wait till the next book in the series. The book isn’t
perfect, but that is because two people are writing it and with a deadline in mind,
so it shows, but it is fun.

Today I was sleepy all day long and confessed I feel completely overwhelmed
right now. My beloved said bring your work home and I thought, bring the torture
home so I can feel scared all the time – but his confidence made me feel better.
Yet I still could not write a paragraph in l’imparfait, my attempt is pathetic.

We bought an e-pod for listening at work when the noise becomes too much in
the open-plan office – then discovered it is a “Shuffle” – the awful apparatus
shuffles my recorded CD’s, no choosing  the song when jumping forwards, only
random songs – how shall I find Obladi-Oblada when it is needed?

Oh well, with the hope that bringing my work home will help, I’m going to bed.
Tomorrow it is work-on-hand and the construction document to bring infra-
structure to Africa – my cup should be overflowing, if only my brain were clever
enough to master all these things – let me rest, maybe more sleep will increase
my intelligence…hah!

Sunday 11 November 2012

I Have Just Repeated It (Revised)

Olé Guapa is happening while sitting here with
local development planning & financial assistance,
Andre Rieu conducting with nostalgia, the melody
and dancing as promising as it will always be

Fingers flashing over keys, Death and Renata
Flitworth at it again, dancing up a storm at the
Village Green, dancing on upturned boards, the
rhythm unflagging, augmented by

Languorous lines punctuated by sharp movements
of head, arms outstretched, images repeated again
and again, crying for Saudade, sweet moments
lost in time – I joyously hold on to them – and

The Theory of Relativity – everything that ever was
exists forever and can be repeated whenever we
want – oh, I want, I want, I smile - I have just
repeated it….

Pearly Drops (Revised)

On hearing golden-brown voices nothing
but sound transcendence exists, pearly
drops joining into song, networked notes
form chords, evoking feelings forgotten
– an exit out of this world

Realities’ rules force orthodoxy to hide
inner events transporting away unwary
dreamers – until I awake all work stays
undone, time for action gone after eons
unproductively spent invisibly dreaming

Only a shining countenance exists, an
inner fire that cannot be quenched by
events taking place in the world outside,
a dream I can repeat whenever the
music plays again

Wishes And Dreams Within

 

Four dolls in my work station, the
prettiest small amounts of money
could buy - a special doll must be
cheap, otherwise I cannot
play with her at all

The smallest doll represents the
grown-up shell in which the child-
hood version of adults dwell, the
two bigger, younger dolls re-
present the wonderment

Of early youth - the smallest one
reminds of undeveloped potential,
everyone has probable personalities
which had been repressed to allow
one main ego to develop well

A shock might activate other ego-
possibilities - a split into several
identities - I sincerely wish I had
several personalities in me, one
for mathematics, another

For transcribing legalese, one for
cooking, another for social activities
while the real core personality would
be free to write poetry - or swim in the
sea or - dance to the music

My dolls represent my idea of human
personality, a bunch of unrealised
wishes and ideals within…

Wild Desire For Life (Revised)

Silver crystal sandals, for final effect add in silver
shine magic pedicure, being Cinderella at the office
Grande Ball with best legal text quoting six different
Acts, enjoying challenges, French Level III pronouns
and regular verbs, fun – Je me suis bien
amusée

Red KJB pants with sandals, glory in flowers,
self-esteem anchored in poetic hands as days
pass, life enlarged in multi-layered waves
visible only when keeping the eye on inner
vision colouring every detail with great
energy, new consciousness created by

Silver cords and golden sound weaving life’s
hologram - Schön blühende Heckenrosen und
Ade zur guten Nacht filling the spaces between
murmuring voices and loud laughter with wild
exclamations - beauty of inner peace in small
joys - adding trimmings to my workstation

Friends supporting each other, filling my life,
spilling sweet drops of incense bright with
idealism and beliefs outlined in bright blue
lines of new designs that will grow into all
our tomorrows, adding more dimensions to

The rolled-up string theory twenty-five, impetus
driving a wild desire for ever more life…

Things To Be Conquered (Revised)

So emotionally drained, trapped in the passion
of fresh challenges and new techniques, the
tension of exploring financial alternatives, the
nervousness in confronting your anger when
explaining problems caused by language you
used when I made mistakes

Counted my many blessings in bed, felt better
but couldn’t sleep, arose, switched on TV –
the film ‘Insidious’ - a mansion full of strange
events, a psychic telling the family of a place
for tortured souls - oh dear, there goes my list
of many blessings

Or maybe the list has just grown longer as
life is enriched by imaginings of spectres
and things that have to be conquered
through dreams of beauty and love…

The Feeling Of Losing Control

I hate this restless feeling, first I messed up the bedroom by putting
all my books which were cluttering the white sitting room, on the bed,
then messed up the study by shoving books helter-skelter on to the
racks, continued my mission of confusion by creating chaos in the
kitchen, seeing as it was already full of crumbs

I added my new thick file spilling papers and my favourite pictures,
including Sean Connery and laughing people having fun, fantasy
rooms, an article on slavery in the Cape committed by the English
themselves, no less, they had a thriving monopoly, according to
Lady Anne Barnard who wrote it in her Journal

Compounding the feeling of losing control, the radio is playing Golden
Oldies, Roger Whittaker singing Now you Don’t Believe In If Anymore,
I smile – I still do and always will - if nothing else, at least it keeps that
dour expression of deep suspicion from my face, I dream about If all
the time - - - trying to focus amongst all the noise

I opened my French file just to find it impossible to pin myself down,
the feeling of accomplishment after last night’s work – five pages
of notes from Labour Equity Law and School Legislation in South
Africa – is still too fresh in my head - it seems having chocolate
for breakfast must have been bad because I feel jittery

Running around like a chicken without a head – time to settle and
wait for the mental fog to disperse before doing something; Tom
Jones belting out It’s Not Unusual To Be Loved By Anyone; right,
I shall nestle against my beloved in front of the TV - he’s
watching rugby, it will help me doze off, upon waking

I shall try again to do something useful with my books….


Saturday 3 November 2012

A Small Glass Of Champagne

You atoned so sweetly, prepared a fun meal,
hamburgers with salad and cheese, ah, Mein
Herr Marquis, you are sweet, dancing around
in the kitchen, serving everyone - everything
placed on the griddle, kids happy, all forgiven

How could I even have doubted that you would
come around - Sean Connery blew up the evil
Fatima Blush - this is a fantastic evening, no
more complaints, a small glass of champagne
to celebrate all these peace offerings

Tomorrow Michelle from Merryhell will send me
a book by Sir Terry Pratchett - life is perfect –
I’m nearing the end of my small-scale irrigation
document, James Bond is blowing up ancient
stone temples, ah, Mein Herr Marquis

We shall have some music - Ah, wie ruhrt mich
dies… [Die Fledermaus]

Cello More Important Than Life

Your righteous indignation at my making two mistakes
that merely disturbed your complacency authorises you
to swear at me and sets you free from any need to apologise,
in this house I must reiterate how sorry I am and write letters
explaining why I messed up and became guilty of high treason
and should be shot for multiple shortcomings, the situation is
so bizarre it makes me laugh – Mein Herr Marquis, ein Mann
wie Sie … drum verzeihen Sie wenn ich lache – ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha [Die Fledermaus]

Your injured dignity forces you to ignore me pointedly – fine,
after laughing to my heart’s content, the screensaver that gives
meaning to everyday routine, Timothy Dalton as 007 - The
Living Daylights - keeps my mind occupied; while you steam
and froth at the mouth, presenting like Le Malade Imaginaire
of Molière, waiting to execute me with the guillotine of your
tongue - I happily watch 007 rise to the occasion as he con-
fronts the KJB - while you prepare the devastating speech
that is meant to change me into Quasimodo himself

I am walking the grey steets of Russia in 1987, a cello is clearly
more important than a life, once again the situation is clear –
yes, your discomfiture is more important than my work or life,
James Bond puts it all in perspective, having just used a laser
light on an official car, yes, this is life, as long as the imagination
can take us away, reality is just the trampoline providing lift-off
into the sky, sorry Mein Herr Marquis, a tragedy in the  land of
ice has taken me away, the cello has taken a bullet and they
just went through the border post  - safe in Austria –

While the KJB is getting ready to launch new attacks on everyone

Frozen With Flowers (revised)

Sitting among flowers burning with joy
of life – even the small purple ones have
yellow hearts, orange flowers seem warm

Yet it feels as if they are frozen as I sit in
the cold, then the dream – an Ice Princess
sitting atop a glass mountain

They’re her only reminders of the real world,
a heroine and a prince will not come, for
all eternity the Princess sits among frozen

Beauty of long ago with ice-covered flowers
from when she still believed an inner world
of love could be realised by wishing for it

They are frozen tokens to keep her company,
she is happy, the ardent longing to find ideals
and fight for them have also been

Frozen with flowers...

007 As Moving Background

At least this nondescript time is lightened by a new craze
of mine: full-cream milk powder, a lifesaver, coffee tastes
like heaven, and real butter on everything, it means I eat
less meat, hope more animals will live because of this, at
present all I read is hurricane Sandy & work documents

Life would have been unbearable if it was not for a James
Bond movie series with scenes I love and hate, the TV is
left on, volume turned down to give a feeling of freedom
when seeing something interesting in passing, enjoying
007’s adventures as a moving background to my life

The more recent movies lack the theme music and cool
humour of the first Sean Connery reels, the recent films
contain scenes too bland and boring to watch - perfect
as a fantastic screen saver when life starts wounding
down and nothing remarkable is happening

Wednesday 31 October 2012

Flowing With Metred Timbre

I thought the passage of time would have sweetened
bitterness and brought you peace of mind; they’re still
yours, every single one – although no-longer in your
home nor in receipt of sure-footed guidance

You have another to care for, to give your best, reap
benefits of lessons learned; you have admiring eyes
watching every step, rooting for you and because the
reason for your loss – strong, self-confident decisions

Left little room for others to assert or insist on their
independence, the forceful aspect of which makes a
grand leader of you, an ideal person to lead the way
into the artistic future

Your loss is immense and we expect you’ll never stop
crying for them – only please take note of bounty
that life offers you, don’t ignore the friendship,
beauty and songs to be sung by you that await

Live for futures while paying homage to the past,
take hands that reach out to you, rest in grace and
welcome extended, take full draughts from the
cup of approval offered by those

Who love true creativity and know the price you paid
was too high, nothing can recompense loss of what
you loved most yet the only way to grow is through
this experience, analyse the event

And render it into your musical words flowing with
metred timbre to share what you have gained in
the most beautiful lines others have ever read…

Giant Web Of Awareness

No use joining the family, no chance to offer my
opinion on modern music, I was told to wait until
they had their say - was never given a chance to
contribute anything, fighting back by increasing
the level of noise, brought the radio into the TV
room playing Verdi Il Trovatore, the TV on with
lions’ growling, crocodiles floating ominously
alongside on Animal Planet

Thrown open windows and doors to hear the sound
of rain falling outside - an explosion of noise to help
me keep my poise and not get angry with the talking
voice that leaves no room for brain-dead morons like
me who fall silent under rebuke, let me not open my
mouth, frogs and snakes might jump out when I’m
angry - let me dream of beautiful jewels coming
out of it instead - if I wait long enough

And then express myself with more self-restraint, mean-
time the radio is playing ‘Oh no, don’t let the rain come
down’ in contrast – looked up to find the TV already in
Wildest Latin America with adorable baby crocodiles
while the adults catch giant rodents on the banks of
Lake Orinoco - Venezuela - consciousness every-
where, I shall never fear the world will end with
my death, consciousness lives in a body

Just temporarily, the world goes on because every
particle, atom and molecule participate in the giant
web of awareness…

Glitter Falling From My Hair (Revised)

Am exhausted, sat thru’ two James Bond movies
non-stop, Pierce Brosnan in ‘Goldeneye’, but only
watched intermittently as I miss Sean Connery’s
mischievous, amused smile, then ‘A View to a Kill’
with Roger Moore – too many twists in the tale,
woke when he carried the leading dame down a
ladder from a building on fire, she glued her shoes
to her feet - wore them right into a flooded mine
and out of it again

Found a program on sea life in Wild France,
lovely jellyfish – selling my soul to the devil by
watching too much TV, glitter falling from my
hair on the keyboard while typing – this morning
sprinkling my hair seemed a good idea, now I
remember a stand-up comedian complaining
about glitter falling from Christmas cards and
the irate receiver hoovering the carpet, maybe
this is too messy, even for me

It’s raining once more, a show of clouds earlier
today brought positive results; time to join the
family who’ve watched a rugby grand final, I
still think I had the best deal with 007

Superior, Amused Cool

Friday night should hold some enchantment
but when my computer at work got angry at
me and refused to send finished documents
to my colleague, Friday night lost its shine -
nothing I did afterwards got it back

Learning passé composé for the eventual test
does not hold any charm so I did not even begin,
fixing the house does not seem very inviting –
in the end I settled in front of the TV watching
anaconda’s, dingo’s, tigers and hawks

Devouring their prey – I had a choice to watch
cricket of course, just join my beloved at the big
screen TV, but this does not appeal, I only take
him a glass of wine from time to time and the
night is all mine - but it’s energy I lack

Maybe dinner should have been more than a
chocolate with nuts, egg on rye and a cup of
coffee, yet I cannot be inspired to prepare a
meal for myself, it is self-help tonight - the
others got a takeaway - fish and chips

Not an option for me at all, staying away from oily
foods means no stomach-ache, though boring it
is better than suffering - now the seal looking like
an aquatic ballerina is unmasked as a ruthless
killer; the electric eel is stunning its prey

With a high voltage shock, a polar bear takes on
walruses - I might just as well been watching a
James Bond movie, this only lacks the iconic
theme music like ‘On Her Majesty’s Secret
Service’ with George Lazenby

It was a huge disappointment – later tonight
Pierce Brosnan will entertain in ‘The World is
not enough’ - as long as they play the theme
song, the movie will be fine - without it, the
superior, amused cool is gone


[Friday Night 25 October 2012]

Head Filled With Nonsense

Reading and repeating, letting the words wash over me,
trying to make sense of long sentences containing every
thought the original author had in his head, his suspicions
about the probable crimes of the miscreant he had set
himself to prosecute:

“For undue influence or real or supposed links to a public official or equivalent
who reportedly accepted directly or indirectly advantages with a view to obtain
rights or advantages for a third party, even if justified, and undue use of public funds

AND using his position to obtain unjustified advantage for himself or a third party
to the prejudice of the administration and contravening the regulations governing
such transactions with a view to realising advantage or loss

AND the flagrant participation in abusive exploitation of a dominant position in the
internal market or a substantial part thereof and (exhaling and taking a deep breath)
complicity” – THERE, the words have washed over me over and over

And with my head filled with nonsense and legalese, my
glasses askew, scientific left halve of the brain burning in
overdrive so that I’m in very real danger to become a
statistic of spontaneous human combustion – though
my colleagues need not fear

Everything will be intact, only my smoking shoes will
indicate where I have been before the angels of mercy
took me away from this misuse of language that could
have sung the most beautiful songs…

Work Chronicles - 26 October 2012

Since taking possession of a colleague’s old
chair without armrests and attaching my very
expensive physiotherapist cushion to the back,
I’m sitting like a normal person with only two
books, one on Astrology and the other French
Grammaire, to prop up my keyboard; I keep
the high stool on which I sat for so long as a
talisman - should the problems I had come
back and I need to sit high again

We all complain we sit in the cold of the North
Pole with the air-con on freezing but as some-
one remarked, when we complain to manage-
ment, they turn the temperature colder and wait
till it is very warm, then turn it off completely and
we cannot breathe without fresh air - nor work in
the stifling heat, stoically wrapped in our blankets
and wearing woolly socks with thick-soled shoes,
not exactly fashion magazine material – yet

We are all here in the open-plan office – except
our Madame Olympia whose special enclosure,
sound-proof and separate from the rest on this
floor, is empty; we suspect she is suffering from
claustrophobia as we ourselves would if we were
to sit there, though she has her own separate
air-con and can turn it on warm while we shiver
out here – in spite of our ice-trap, we are here
and she does not even call with an excuse

The psychiatrist will probably say sensitive people
like Madame Olympia are too good to mix with
insensitive barbarians like us who can work in all
conditions – Sir Hillary would have been proud to
have us accompanying him on his trek up Mount
Everest, we would have put the all the Sherpa’s
to shame, if we were in the trenches in WW II we
would have won the war single-handedly - so it is
easy to see why Mme Olympia cannot be

Among such strong frontier officials like us!

[Work Chronicles Friday - 26 October 2012]

Dance With Nutcracker Prince

My guru recommends positive, joyous
anticipation, promising the universe is
abundant; it struck me that on October
the tenth I ordered a Nutcracker ballet
DVD with Mikhail Baryshnikov, no less,
in the leading role, and it is already the
twenty-sixth 

I had better do research as to why the
dear Mr Plaatjes in charge of my quest
has not produced the desired DVD as
yet, given that he is the hands through
which the universe will provide -- and I
am the orchestrator who said I wanted
to watch   

The Sugar Plum Fairy dance the grand
pas de deux with the Nutcracker Prince

 

The Sprites Depart Smiling

‘España, rhapsody for orchestra’ by Chabrier –
my father’s song, one day he brought home
a vinyl record with this lovely music and we
listened enraptured, afterwards played the
record over and over, never grew tired of it

The introduction is a promise of enchanting
things to come, the music an opening into a
new world, musical themes as dancing sprites
appearing and disappearing, calling on listeners
to follow, my mind leaves my body to go along

The melody tracing a spiraling dance in which
the sprites float high above the ground within
vertical circles moving forwards in a horizontal
line weaving new themes,  harder and higher
goes up while slower and lower comes down

All increasing speed to reach the ecstatic end,
a joyous last bow, my mind returns enriched
while the sprites depart smiling, all of us
breathless, satisfied with the dance that
has been...

Notes in my Journal

Made three mistakes in imparfait, wrote elle venais instead of elle venait,
she used to come to see us - watching James Bond while doing French
homework obviously was not such a good idea, wrote il mentais instead
of il mentait, he used to lie, and worst of all, elle cruvait instead of elle
croyait she used to believe, it is sacrilege to makes such crude mistakes

Yet even while berating myself I’m in front of the TV watching Roger Moore
in Octopussy, while knowing that I had to look up nous riions, we used to
laugh and vous vous habilliez, you used to dress as I still don’t know these
verbs, I cannot tear my eyes away from these old Bond films, Q fishing
in rustic clothes while Bond calmly walks about a beautiful woman at his side

They have doubled the guard watching him but an attack is already taking
place and Bond escapes by diving into the lake and getting picked up by
a motorised crocodile… fantastic, now to get back to French and watching
the vegetables steaming in the kitchen - I don’t think so, tomorrow is
another day, the film and vegetables I can do, but no more French

Later tonight I will get it right, now watching Bond stuck in circus trains and
still coming out tops takes first place, I’m afraid to say….


Notes in my Journal 24 October 2012

Homage to First Dreams

Tidying my work station I look at all the books
around me, Explication de texte by Boilly-Widmer,
containing some favourites: Le Ciel est par-dessus
le toit by Verlaine; Ballade des Dames du temps jadis
by François Villon, also

Astrology, Palmistry and Dreams by Donald Law –
though I use it to prop up my keyboard – still, it can
be read should I want to look up anything about
Astrogenetics and sun signs - even The Children’s
Encyclopedia is here - for remembrance

Childhood’s fantasies brought me here, I shall always
pay homage to the first dreams I had of being able to
speak in many tongues, and the music of the songs
my mother made us sing as toddlers – Frère Jacques
and Muss’I denn…

Tidal Waves Of Legal Lists (Revised)

We'll never get it done; every time I get ahead
with a text my desk receives another one, but

instead of worrying my guru says we should
rejoice because it means we cannot get it wrong;
Looking up terms for sentences on divulging a
criminal's secrets - in one huge explosion of self-
righteous emotion I stagger under impact of laden
lines that leave no room for contemplation or using
a grammatical compass to gets one's bearings, the

subject is quite clear then disappears under new
nouns apparently applicable to other people - or
is it nefarious deeds that are enumerated here,
the context is not clear, without framework
for interpretation I am lost and spluttering,

The world does not hold enough chocolate and -
coffee to help me ride this storm, my guru's words -
are lost in this mélee, after four cups of coffee I -
open my second chocolate for resuscitation by -
the creamy texture, the sugar and nuts that make -
me feel like a happy, counting-my-many-blessings -
human being again…

Individuals Make A Difference

I’m in heaven, all my favourite elements blending together,
Sister Act on TV, a storm building outside, interminable
reruns of James Bond free for the watching, doing French
homework l’imparfait of being as - continuing forever

The rainstorm upon us, the grass seems to magically shine
illuminated from inside, the sky opalescent, the cloud-break
and rumbling thunder interferes with the signal, no more
Sister Act for me, the grass is glowing with magic power

As the rain slacks off the images return and I am ready to be
wooed by Whoopi Goldberg and her crew – I cannot wait to
watch Timothy Dalton afterwards in License to Kill, isn't it
wonderful how two diverse movies enchant the same mind

Both films present fantasy worlds in which individuals make a
difference in their own universes where all factors are geared
to bring out the best in them, Sister Mary Clarence and James
Bond, leaving me with the strong impression that my own life

Can also hold meaning in this reality where all things conspire
to promote our lives and give us the freedom to choose how
to try making our own mark in life…

Fresh New Feeling

What a surprise to come home to a bedroom
all light and airy with the promise of perfume
exotic delight in the flowers I put everywhere,
white sequined scarf draped artistically over
one chair, the pink scarf with silver lining
decorating the other one

My Malaysia bag with shiny purple sequins,
the pink pillow and candle holders you made
from rusted iron - suddenly the atmosphere
of the room is subtly changed, the black and
silver duvet a wonderful background - I love
the fresh new feeling it brings!

Infinitive of Rire

After conjugating verbs in French class
seeking the infinitive of rire, nous riions,
but we did not laugh because we watched
a French film noire

A romantic series of pictures ending with a
lover telling his girlfriend never come back,
ne reviens pas - that is why I love you so
much, you are always loving

I feel safe with you, my youth was without
certainty and you arrived like a ship in a
storm, today I trust more people than ever
before and you taught me this

Thank you for the discipline you brought into
my bohemian existence so that I always feel
safe in an ever-changing world

Ride on Tiaan’s Bike

Went for a ride on Tiaan’s bike, the sensation of wind on my skin,
the wind sighing in my ears - only the seat is too hard, but it’s great
to ride a bike - felt so enthusiastic about life, adrenaline and self-
confidence providing inspiration to fix my room and cut my hair as
the hairdresser never does it the way I want. After jumping about and
playing around it is time to wash up and tidy the kitchen so we can
start making a mess again, preparing a late dinner as Tiaan is
working at the yoghurt place and will return rather late. Nici took
the photo of me with the safety helmet I wore for my bike ride, I
like a bicycle - but oh, to go for a spin on a fast motorbike-
holding tight as Petrus accelerates to 200 km….

Sunday 21 October 2012

Faith Overpowering Love

Unfortunately the author entertaining with her Gothic vampire
horror reached a point where the hero and his evil counterpart
became inexorably and inextricably entwined - just like Harry
Potter and Voldemort - the ending became predictable and
the sensationalism, always part of a melodramatic blowing
up of every scene while delighting in repetitions

Became a turning point for me, with the hero’s life as counter-
weight and the evil demon entering him, the story poised in a
delicate balance between the dramatic and the bizarre, crossed
the line, the overpowering descriptive adjectives and repetitions
of the same phrases overbalanced the scale on the wrong side,
though I shall remember the author’s beautiful idea:

- Faith is an overpowering Love -

Rain Messages From Him

The fitful rain makes me whimsical, outside the phosphor grass
glows with its own light, the turquoise swimming pool turns into
a jewel and the sky becomes a uniformly grey expanse, every
space is marked by perforated lines switching on and off - as
the rain keeps its fitful approach to falling softer and harder

Suddenly the sky turns into a shiny dome as the clouds allow the
sun to increase its power to silver incandescence, I put my book
down to enjoy nature’s show just for me - since we never go to
concerts, what happens in the garden holds my interest, fuels
my fantasy that the sun is my personal friend and the clouds

Bring rain as messages from him…

Sweet so I can have Peace

I feel terrible, the story I’m reading keeps me in suspense
because it does not make any sense, the unhappiness of
the characters suffering terrible passion and despair gives
me a headache, I don’t believe anyone could be so upset
without falling ill; authors always give their characters too
much to bear, I cannot imagine so much intrigue in reality
without complete physical collapse

I make things charming and sweet so I can have peace yet
still take note of what others do to break the boredom of an
ideal existence, too much safety is just as bad as too much
pain, though I am fanatically opposed to suffering, the result
is that we are enriched by the wisdom it brings and the new
perspective that grows out of it makes me see the interesting
world in a different way, variety is 

The spice of life - for me - at least...

Mad And Growing Worse

Lost sense of chronology due to food allergy, un-
balanced and feverish and irritable - awful to sit
still - as long as there is pressing work to do, it
is easier to ignore these symptoms

The quiet of Friday night makes it impossible to live
life within separate units of time, it feels as if every-
thing should be happening at once and since they can-
not given the limitations of my mind

I feel frustrated, cannot wait for events to happen in
sequence: when reading I think I should be watching
TV, when watching one thing I suspect I am missing
something important somewhere else

Or that I should have been reading an excellent book:
full circle, enough to drive one mad, and it does –
I’m mad and growing worse…


Friday Night 19 October 2012

Erased Without A Sound

Oh, woe is me, let all lament terrible destiny,
the awful fate encountered as I was doing my
duty: A sudden drop in blood sugar levels and
I cannot carry on with my lovely document, a
real challenge for innovation and wit, digging
into the past to find its equivalent - applying
it without forgetting to change pronouns and
verbs, past and present continuous tense

All things that my supervisor will check with
a terrible painstakingly scourging eye, but I
have to run - buy chocolate to lift me out of
this blood sugar slump, when there is work
I can do and this evil animal gets me in its
grip it is clear that life is not fair – yet who
wants it to be, being fair might just mean
all little people like me would be erased

Without a sound in the end - no, let me get
at a chocolate and be glad for all the undue
privileges we all enjoy!

Exemplary And Lavish Extravagance

Aaah, Madame La Pompadour needs time off
from the office they had built her, soundproof,
air-con, and everything she wants inside, today
she plays chauffeur to the children in her neigh-
bourhood and visiting her mother in the old-age
home - she condescendingly told us - though
there is really no need why we should know
where she is, she is the free incumbent

Madame La Pompadour suffers agoraphobia
at home and claustrophobia in the office, her
problems are debilitating; she needs a bigger
office of course, with user-friendly interior
decorating - I sigh in admiration, such a very
exemplary and lavish extravagance, with the
cool presumption that a James Bond would
envy her, she does what she wants

Madame La Pompadour looks down on the
mundane civil servants - us - who man the
open-plan office, why should she earn her
salary like a slave when she gets it without
ever leaving her house?

The Awful Dance (Revised)

I changed into a road-hog today, became guilty
when a black car swept into the right lane where
I drove peacefully in a Zen trance – then slowed,
other cars passed on the left, this unleashed my
anger and when the miscreant car signalled left
I accelerated to pass and guess what: the pest
turned back right in front of me

After repeating the awful dance, me trying to
overtake on the gravelly roadside, fury made
me blind, finally it left and I ended up seething
behind a slow bus and swerved right in front of
a frowning lady driving a white monstrosity who
hooted at me, I waved in apology but her frown
stayed frozen in place, I sighed - the ugly black
car had ruined my peaceful identity…

Beings Existing In Visions

Reading on while my inner Agony Aunt rants again:  the
style is pure melodrama, the descriptions and the minutia
of noticing every aspect of every face - the oversensitive
reactions, if we lived like that we’d be fatigued spending
our energy being conscious of people and the adolescent
conviction that a love will endure forever – I know better

Irrational youngsters unaware how lack of understanding
and bad communication destroy the loves we harbour in-
side, the story only shows young people living in the throb
of the moment but ignorant of the facts of life, I stifle the
voice of my Agony Aunt - dive into the action again, after
expressing her concerns she falls silent; I live the fantasy

The child within me refuses to heed realism, preferring to
enter a trance and enjoy the romance as only the very in-
experienced can - I give in to this delightful feeling and
ignore the complaints from my rational mind, it is ever so
enjoyable to follow my heart, besides, I’m always willing
to pay the price when I transgress, crying afterwards

As long as I accept the inevitable punishment I shall be
free to enter the Wonderland, see the bizarre and follow
the burlesque where my soul finds strange new ideas
and delights in the dream of eternal love – I shall pay
whatever the cost to share in the vision of such
heavenly beings only existing in visions

My Idea Of Bliss

Explained to my colleague my idea of bliss, giving
up meat, finding the taste revolting, eating butter
on rye crackerbread and drinking milk powder in
coffee - she frowned and told me this would be
fattening, I would grow as round as the earth

Yet before doing this I ate the right food on my
husband’s safe food list and had to watch my
widening girth; now I don’t fear the enemy in
butter and milk, as long as I have no hunger
pains to plague me all day, no headaches

No allergy symptoms at play, I am content to
leave the meat on my plate, if turning into a
vegetarian is the next step in healing from
aches and pains, I shall rejoice, eating
creatures with higher consciousness

Just seems so wrong - I’m holding thumbs
this healing goes on…

An Eternal Étudiante

Ah, tiara on my head, approved by my colleagues
I opened an SMS to be informed our class has been
cancelled for this afternoon, now doing sentences
we would have done in class but there is no joy, one
needs an enthusiastic trainer to suffer repetition of
grammar rules in meaningless sentences

The only fun I have is to change my name and address
in an application to become an actress - comédienne -
yet I could never could be one, when strangers look at
me I sprout horns and turn into a hunchback – I might
get a role as the Hunchback of Notre Dame but this is
hardly something on which I wish to base my fame

So I shall remain a traductrice, an eternal étudiante

“traductrice”  = translator
“étudiante” = student

Dreams I Had As A Child

Hastily swallowing delicious coffee, tiara
on my head to play at being a Shadowhunter
before leaving for class, you probably wonder
what a tiara has to do with a series on vampires
and Shadowhunters, my reply is that the culture
espoused by the author , of beautiful shimmery
clothes, Isabelle’s evening dress and the wedding
gown on the Internet based on Nephilim fashions,
reflects the dreams I had as a child, wearing wide
Marie Antoinette skirts with a small bodice, so let
me play my games in peace, I am a child at heart
always reacting with wonderment when authors
succeed in reaching a dreamy new universe…

Mould Lines The Way You Do

When I sing your praises and you sternly
admonish me saying you are not as good
a poet as I profess, I am glad - humility is
the greatest asset and only so will you
continue to learn and grow

You will have to take my praise in your
stride because I cannot stop effusing
about the way you write enticing lines,
it is a test of character as it is difficult to
keep calm when compliments

Keep flowing in - you first spoiled me by
seeing something in what I write and now
it is my turn to explain how the songs you
sing sway my head and make me wish to
clear my voice to sing

In the same beautiful key, to mould lines
the way you do until the final product is
straight and true

Driving To Work (Revised)

Took a scenic route to look at jacarandas
in bloom - sadly their purple was stripped
by last night's rain, stuck behind a slow-
moving police van, no chance to play Grand
Prix again

Next time I'll keep to the highway, people
claim they see deer and giraffes in the
sanctuary next to the road, I would love
to see any but am always racing - it'd be
so such fun

Currently I have to watch other cars with
a hawk's eye after a crash yesterday, two
drivers not looking at a roundabout went
for the same spot, now I glare at drivers
with laser eyes

To make sure they are clear before I drive
off; I love my little Suzuki too much to take
any unwarranted risks' - speeding only on a
straight stretch of road is allowed in my
history book

Pretoria 17 October 2012

The New Tiara

Inspired I tried out the new tiara I bought
at the Chinese shop – yes you guessed right,
it is a shiny Alice band and changes me into
a Shadowhunter immediately, carefully I put
it aside, tomorrow I shall be a Shadowhunter
again, but only at work where nobody knows
these wonderful books, as long as the dream
stays in my heart and I can fabricate symbols
from small, cheap little things, even my drawer
is neat, I had to live up to my new dream, it is
such fun to use my consciousness to contain
the playful worlds found in books where they
cannot cause harm  - my tiara is waiting for
me, tomorrow the play starts again…

Breaking Rules For Love

Waiting for the glory of the Vampire book at home
in which Shadowhunters live in glittering cities only
reached through secret portals, add a heroine who
has the ability to create powerful runes that give
her unheard-of power

Also add an evil clan of power-mad governors and
the recipe is perfect to delight, the debate between
choosing for justice and breaking the rules for love
continues unabated, when the cherished friend of
the hero’s beloved is threatened

Our hero is ready to lie down his life, the heroine
runs around havoc following in her wake, every-
one trying to keep her safe - taxed to the end of
their endurance, her childhood friend kept from
death by the one who stole her heart

The moral crisis is fascinating and the action is
non-stop - I am breathless while reading – my
world gone, my spirit roaming in the storybook
universe, no phenomenological experience can
keep my heart chained while I’m reading

Later comes the trauma of the book ending, it
will feel as if my heart contracts painfully, but
dealing with this loss has been the story of my
life, every new book in my hands leads to yet
another heartbreak in the end

Yet I cannot stay in the small reality within which
the five senses keep us imprisoned - my whole
being yearns for those unseen landscapes of the
mind forever invisible to our physical eyes -
the dream is everything

Melodies Without Sound (Revision)

The first time I was asked for my ideal I said To
become Faust and learn everything there is; by
dramatic phrasing I meant being a student for-
ever- she derisively replied, Get real child, what
a pretentious ideal - I was deeply mortified

Studied philosophy, science, quantum physics and
relativism, wondered about astronomy; astrology
explained the characters we deal with in life; read
everything that evoked my curiosity, unsure where
the quest would lead - the joy of doing it an end in
itself - and while stimulating discussion is limited

I write to clarify emotional problems, practise the
art of expression and learn to use sonorous words
to create melodies without sound, learning from
the poet I most admire because - HIS  poetry
sings at all times

Multifarious Perspectives

After this wild ride on the waves of emotion and passion
I can hear my second and third thoughts again, I can see
the multifarious perspectives and angles and questions
involved, the authors use illusions to present the choices
to young readers

Choose, your life or your love, your love’s favourite or
yourself, choose whether you are willing to sacrifice
yourself on behalf of your love, quietly serving behind
the scenes – and the result of these choices are enacted
for us, now I feel enriched

By these glamorous stories of valour and courage which
are emphasised in defeating attacks by demon powers –
and in deciphering the deception within the powers-that-be
trying to formulate a life-strategy, making sense of the
chaos our senses discern

In the magical world around us…