Terrible Secret [R]

I had forgotten - I was Dr Jekyll - with a dark
and terrible secret: Mr Hyde lurks within me,
ready to pounce when I least expect, & when
he gets out with his Dionysian joy in creating
new and unheard-of things, changing worlds
into dreams, he writes creative texts that can
not be accepted in technical & legal contexts

Dr Jekyll’s absolutely shattered when dealing
with the mess left - the headache - heartache
so unbearable, the humiliation of showing the
world my dark side: routine boredom leads to
tragic creativity injuring Jekyll’s reputation as
a responsible member of society once again,
accusations threatening early assassination

Unable to account for the bold lines & strong
text changes, my Dr Jekyll can just helplessly
explain the black hole in his brain, wishing his
alternate selves were better behaved - kinder
& conventional, not creating problems for the
unsuspecting members of the long-suffering
language-practitioner fraternity…

[STORY:

I have many alternate selves - you already know about
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - the black hole in my brain and
mind, Mr Hyde always creates fabulous translations by
summarising the source text and making it better and
when my colleagues hand back my work with every line
changed, I realise Mr Hyde did the work and Dr Jekyll
will take the punishment. Poor Dr Jekyll spent the day
suffering, realising the terrible mess in my work station
should have alerted him to the presence of Mr Hyde –
but too late - in any case - this is Dr Jekyll's offering
explaining his injured feelings & contrite misgivings.]

Incorrigible [R]

Oh, I wish someone could teach me English: working
in an assembly-line government unit, it would help so
much if I knew how to write proper English, if only to
relay other languages in a perfect way - such as my 

Accomplished superior seniors can, it’s a pity that all
my alternate selves are incorrigible in the extreme -
finding it impossible to convey any text according to
the rulebook that reigns supreme in the life of every

Well-adjusted, gifted rule-bound editor, especially
given the amazingly beautiful and clear-cut, stream-
lined source texts which thrill the true official to the
bones, but which my alternate selves can’t fathom

Sentences – atrocious, pronouns – disgusting & all
verbs shocking with terminology a hanging offence,
the original text could only be saved by rephrasing
everything: who assigned a complete Taugenichts

To work for the poor, unfortunate soul who presented
such a lovely source text explaining why he’s so lost,
so sad, so victimised in his victimhood, my version of
his sad tale was taking this poor, unfortunate soul

To destruction, luckily the rulebook-coterie came to his
aid with a pristine depiction of all the crimes committed
against him in flowing lines of the purest poetry, perfect
in syntax and meaning, lovingly created to caress the

Eye and ear of the reader and please the palate; some-
thing I could never accomplish in a million years…

Buy Fly Spray

So you start a list of things 

to do with an opening item 

‘Write A To-Do List’; it’s a 

moment of consequence, 

stirs immediate feelings 

of accomplishment and 

imminent prospects 

of dizzying success 

Something bugs you, 

non-specific, an irritation 

like an annoying fly 

buzzing randomly – 

though not too intrusive; 

you place the opening 

item centrally using 

capitals and bold type 

On second thoughts, 

increase to size 20, 

underline, add highlighter: 

look at that, desired impact 

achieved, it’s formidable! 

buzzing gradually 

dwindles into awe 

of rapt silence 

Now who is it says you 

can’t get things done 

without a plethora 

of avoidance strategies, 

ingrained procrastination 

and creative diversions – 

see, there’s the proof 

 – with grandiose buzz 

And that reminds me: 

‘Buy fly spray’ 

© 17 February 2012, I. D. Carswell

Best Outcome [Rev]

Aha, finally I know why the Lord and Master 
of the Crocodile Castle’s been so unhappy 
for three years in a row - and so I can pray 
for the best outcome. After all the atheists 
& agnostics have had their say; I don’t know 
what is the Power when I pray - but despite 
their direst predictions, my invocations are 
heard - I suppose it is because I’m a real 
pain when concerned, so upon asking for 
protection of my comrades I know the best 

Outcome will be realised; and as my sis the 
haughty Duchess on her cloud of peppery-
tongued anger and her Petruschka, the very 
marvellous puppet of Russian theatre, are 
visiting real soon, I think it would be a boon 
if I can use my enforced bus voucher to go 
down to the Cape and return with their help,
or vice versa, go down with them and return 
to home with the voucher, whatever the final 
solution; it would make up for my losing the 

Money only to be redeemed by a bus trip; so 
“Here I go, singing low Bye, bye sweetheart” 
“I’m leaving on a bus trip, don’t know when 
I’ll be home again” chocoholic mom and dad 
will feed me the best chocolaty sweets; how 
great that is, still having parents being 55 
myself; let me dream on this & create such 
a great experience with the Duchess and 
her cute Petruschka - while the Lord and 
Master of The Crocodile Castle refuses 

To budge, of course….

Flee Being Me [R]

All’s calm, boring sentences without charm, life 
quietly continuing its languid flow - I’m checking
expressionless terms - suddenly all hell breaks
loose, colleague’s voice rising in cadences, I’m 
trying to find my IPod, unplug the earphones to 
find Chopin playing on computer adding to the 
rumpus, plug lost in growing confusion and a 
hot flush of frustration makes matters worse

Finally, plug located & La Cumparsita calms my
nerves - but after this fracas my concentration - 
always on the brink of extinction, is lost, a new 
me in a different universe: Will she continue with 
the grey translation or go Internet-surfing to find 
Seth explaining a self is infinite, extent limitless, 
as yet she’s typing notes on what just happened 
so I can’t tell what she’ll do next, but she’s very 

Compliant, quiet and self-reliant, I think she will 
continue where I broke off, live the life I have to 
flee being me…

Love Her So Much [R]

The magic of dreams, of consciousness, of having 
been taught infallible terms to realise visions; each 
time my laptop at home stops working & refuses to 
open, claiming flat battery despite an electric cable 
connecting it, I pray, using a still effective scheme 
taught me as a child, then remove and reinsert the 
battery, reconnect the cable & lo, my laptop opens; 
I can pour out joys & tragedies - the joy is my little 
girl’s landed a lovely job on a cruise ship - tragedy 
is each time I print the information for her I realise 

She’ll be gone for a long time; my motherly instinct 
makes me cry, already wrenching my heart to think 
she’ll be so far away, its terrible being torn between  
options: what’s best for my daughter and my desire 
to keep her with me where I can see and touch her; 
I know the same magic that keeps my laptop going  
will keep her safe, but oh, it’s such heartache when 
she’s leaving, her bright little mind formed more by 
TV and school than myself: No, not true, she walks 
about singing her favourite songs, smiling at those 

Others shun, she’s a sweetheart & soon everyone
on the cruise ship will know it; I do all my crying in 
advance so when the day of her leaving comes I’ll 
be calm & composed - she’s the sweetest wee girl 
the World’s ever seen - love fills my heart to over-
flowing - how much she means to me just sitting in 
her room pouting & publicly  castigating me when 
I’m too childish for her sophisticated taste, it’s why 
I love her so much it hurts…

Crocodile Princess [Rev]

With a box on my chair - the friendly one, not that menacing threat 
with four attacking claws rolling on one wheel towards me to prick 
my feet & scratch my legs ‘til I bleed; my back support is strapped
to my waist & I’m sitting down, my computer screen high, keeping 
neck-vertebrae safe - feet burning from standing in the morning, & 
scrubbing in the bath to change my barefoot Achilles heels into the
delicate pink feet seen in advertisements

Work on Boegoeberg reminds of sounds like Kelkiewyn, Kokkewiet, 
Bokmakierie & Piet-My-Vrou; a complainant’s endless list of injuries
suggests he protests too much - how can whole districts suddenly 
become predators & attack like a pack of wolves in central Siberia - 
what did this whining guy do to arouse a large rural group’s ire such 
they prevented him enjoying his right as a human being to water all 
the time. I always suspect provocation when one person claims to 

Be an innocent victim, decrying a whole group of evildoers; I wrestle 
his letter to the ground, reading between the lines, if NOBODY is on 
this man’s side he has alienated everyone; let’s relay tragic words of 
this tortured soul to sing his litany of self-justified accusation against 
the people sharing Planet Earth with him - let me finish this text and 
construct a production sheet to inform micro-managed Government 
of my every breath which is the Politicians’ way to count pennies as

Billions are unaccounted; I fought Portuguese terms to the ground 
& discovered Spanish is a big train smash even though my alternate 
selves came through from the stars and chipped in while they let me 
live in this universe as a happy crocodile who went to lunch crooning 
“The Hills Are Alive” to herself - practically feeling the perfect Mary
Poppins’ sparks - whirling around London’s Chimneys; a Crocodile 
Princess is in the sky with her, too happy to stay on the ground…