The Straight And Narrow

There we go, I’ve been on the straight and narrow,
didn’t eat the wrong stuff, didn’t drink too much, yet
my right foot hurts and my neck is stiff, lying down
is once again impossible, I’m tired, yet sleep is out
of the question, I’m not in the mood for more reading,
the soprano blaring on the radio is too much for me
and Nici is usurping the TV, my new notebook does
not look inviting – I want to sleep, to rest my weary
head on a pillow, but the pillows feel like stones and
the mattress is made of rock, I’m going to dig in my
home pharmacy and take one of every kind of pill
until something works or my body is carried out of
here – but with needles and pins in my toes and my
insides unstable like this, I can’t get through the night,
if worst comes to the worst, I’ll get sloshed; apparently
there is a dimension right around ours where the mind
of the unconscious roams, if we drink or take drugs,
our mind goes there, doesn’t sound fine, but anything
will be better than this, I hate it when I’m sitting still
but my insides are moving at a million miles per hour
while my head gest ready to implode, this is the height
of uncomfortable…

Hope And Determination

Though I can’t stand out for integrity like religious
saints of old, I have the same capacity for bringing
suffering upon myself – dinner today was a killer,
though you were so happy in your creativity, Nici
as professional as a real cook, the atmosphere of
joyous insouciance, I loved the festivity, you enjoyed
using your cookbooks, not really understanding why
I regard them with a wary eye

As soon as the worms started crawling in my head,
my neck stiffened and nervous system malfunctioned,
I knew again why I can’t become a good cook, why I’m
scared of food, overcome by the way food turns upon
me and cause suffering – I could have been such a
normal person, could have groomed myself and have
friends, lived a normal life, if I were not chained to the
allergy and concomitant fear

Chemical imbalance changes me into a monster at times,
then again into a martyr, without spiritual endurance, no
religious fervour or recourse to uplifting practices, where
I dreamt of excellence in my youth, striving to be creative
and live in loving kindness, I became a recluse, living
between office and nuclear family, needing the safety of
routines in order to function, being a half-baked translator,
fleeing unsettling texts

Fleeing reality – only hope and determination
sustaining me…

No Spiritual Respite

Now’s the time to test my resolve, unable to sleep,
the direct result of my idiotic choice to eat what the
rest of the family had: hamburger patties, determined
to enjoy the illicit pleasure of white rolls also;

bravely announcing I’ll take my punishment – but now
that I’m in the situation, unable to bend my neck or sleep
at all; painkillers unable to stop the pain in my head, once
again it is painfully clear that dietary rules

are my only recourse for a better quality life, I stare at
the picture of purple fairies without seeing anything,
untouched in my steel cage of painful bars, wondering
how to apply positive teaching that the right attitude

would take the pain away – clearly I cannot master the
right concentration on a subject of meditation, I remain
in my own earthly frame, bound to this moment without
escape, stuck in space-time

the only explanation that I must have chosen suffering
before coming to the earth plane, otherwise quantum
physics and New Age theory make no sense – frankly,
right now nothing makes sense

definitely not the heavy pain in my stomach or the
iron steel tightening around my head, having failed to
master religious ecstasy, there is no respite
of a spiritual kind…

A Fairy Ring Dance

Then Sophia replied: Dear Karl,
I am safe, look, nestling next to you,
forget the nightmares of the bad times
and let’s set off into the woods to chop
some wood and build a log cabin to stay
overnight and listen to the wood sprites
and other fairy creatures dancing – maybe
they will invite us to the dance, we shall
dance in the fairy ring, and have such a
good time!

The advantage of past bad experiences is
we know we are both brave and love each
other more than anything or anybody else;
let’s be proud of ourselves and each other
and forgive our tormentors. Those people
must really hate themselves to be able to
treat others so badly; those manipulative
courtiers give me the creeps – let’s enjoy
our happiness and freedom and celebrate
with all the wood’s creatures!

Yes, said Karl, his eyes lighting up, this is a
brilliant plan, I can’t wait for each delicious
moment of this experience unfolding!

And laughing like two children, holding hands
while they wandered into the woods, they set
off to organize a dancing party with the wood’s
enchanting creatures…

My Brother Down Under

Where is your fighting spirit - I miss your angry
confabulations about all kinds of irksome poetic
devices and society’s more idiotic manifestations,
peace and forgiveness are good; but very boring
once we have been steeped in the syrup, sugar and
spice of loving, disembodied entities and so-called
higher intelligences

I’m oversaturated with their peace talks and have
no time to stalk the Internet for manifestations of
stupidity to be found there to one’s heart’s content;
no money to wade through more honeyed verses to
get to the ugly and mean; I’d better go look for a war
somewhere, overfilled with goodness we need the
bitter and sour for some balance

Have you raised a fist yet, such calm forbearance
as you’ve shown must sometimes be interspersed
with some rebellion, otherwise you’d turn into a saint,
and I can’t relate to saints at all - From a feisty Alice
in Challengeland…

My Guiding Light

Tiaan, you’ve become big and strong, but
your eyes are still young, so innocent and
impressionable, you have been exposed
to pictures on the Internet, and suddenly
knowing is bigger than you, and I crave to
hold on to you, to keep my little boy safe
from the world; yet you are too big for my
motherly embrace – only by keeping a
vision of you as safe, successful and brave,
can I sleep at night, only by praying that
your guardian angel will never forsake you,
can I see you off at the door – my vision
is firmly in place, the prayer never leaves
my heart – you look so grown-up and smart
in your school uniform, suddenly you’ve
been taken up in a time warp – but you
are vulnerable underneath the smart new
exterior, and I love you so very, very much;
and the vision of your elfin face happy in
laughter is my guiding light…

Something Worthwhile…

Ma foi, vraiment, je ne supporte plus ce jour!
Why is everybody universally quiet, why doesn’t
anybody send me a message, a good joke or two,
give me something positive to do, read the expres-
sion of noble sentiment, anything but looking
at my document?

I’ve researched and researched everything, going
over and over the same ground, tried every possi-
ility, quite convinced it is as bad as I can get it, using
my unerring for the wrong word choice, making sure
I’ve got everything out of context, I can’t make
it worse, now it is time to focus on

Something worthwhile….

Drawing On Computers

When we first started to use a computer,
I was so impressed with the possibilities,
making drawings with the mouse, it wasn’t
to scale, but it was enjoyable all the same,
this one I kept because afterwards I couldn’t
do it again - never duplicate the same technique
and make another one…

Time Turns Into Molasses And Treacle

When inactivity forces one to live in the head,
when all has been done and said, when there
is need for change of scene but no power to
bring it about, the movie projector in my head
having been stopped, dredging up no more
memories, creating no more dreams

Enclosed within reality without the power of
meditation to help me through this boring spell,
in the general chaos, hammering and plaster
and noisy air-cons, I had my illegal sweet treat,
now it’s time to pay-up; holding my head upright
while falling asleep; the air’s getting thick

The flow of time turns into molasses and treacle,
I’m stuck in this moment and cannot move forward,
backwards there is the funny scene in Maskerade
where Iodine tells Peccadillo it’s hard to leave him,
every time I read it I laugh and hubby complains -
You cannot laugh every time! – but I can

Just as he listens to the Springbok’s victory game*
again and again… maybe I should go back to my
book and risk laughing at work, the old man sings
Questa maledetta in a tenor voice and Agnes re-
peats it in tenor also, the pianist leaning his head
on the piano, trying not to laugh

Then she must sing it like Christine and she does
Kwesta!? Maledetta!! the pianist shaking as he
holds in his laughter, he meant she must sing
soprano - getting it right – and for that reason,
the old man was killed, he believed in voices
while the opera ghost believed in looks –

Even if his vacant Christine resembled a
rather pretty bowling ball…

* On Saturday 22 November the Springbok rugby team
won against England

Terry Pratchett “Maskerade”, p. 101 & p. 35

Crystal-Clear Understanding

To All My Crocodilian Brethren:
I would give so much for the beauty of
crystal-clear understanding, respecting
the privacy of others mean that I may
not continue sending e-mail messages
once they have stopped replying, now
I don't know what is happening - if cor-
respondence friendship is THIS difficult,
it is no wonder that one-to-one conver-
sation is useless; when we have words
typed in front of us and cannot under-
stand each other, how much more im-
possible when the words are flowing
around us in fleeting melodies, in rolling
thunder, explosing in lightning feelings,
bringing sadness like falling rain of tears;
all communication seems like a non-sequitur
NO pertitent information ever gets conveyed
and NO understanding ever is created - what's
the use of the mammal brain when we operate
like mute crocodiles anyhow?

Fairies Flying About...

And the fairies flew about at night, amongst the stars,
amongst the moon so bright, glimmering and shining
lights, bringing dreams to children everywhere while
authors like Lewis Carrol and Hans Christian Anderson
smiled in the new dimensions where they had gone to
continue their fairytale life and original thoughts on
innocence and learning about unearthly life…

Adulation For fashionable Cynicism…

Just when I thought the situation untenable,
impossible for the hero to like the heroine,
suspecting the story’s creators couldn’t infuse
her character with redeeming aspects –
conceding idealism was an empty dream

They restored her admirable qualities in “My Fair
Lady” tradition, I was mesmerized, so pleased with
the plausible twist of events, deliciously delighted
by her integrity – my highest ideal, my most
wondrous dream

The evening becoming a renewal of my own pledge
to remain true to the my childhood dreams; not
succumbing to current materialistic cynicism using
ideals as ploys to attract the unthinking masses,
unwittingly providing ordinary people

With positive energy to face their lives with courage
and vitality while bleeding inspiration and greatness
from the thinking classes through their adulation for
fashionable cynicism…

Cantabile Discussions, Pianissimo Remarks

Drifting quietly at work, the cantabile discussions,
pianissimo remarks of my considerate colleagues
forming a strange background to my tired mind that
cannot be forced to focus on lists and statistics, all
meaning and significance of symbols flowing away
until only lines and smiles, forms and sounds can
calm my disheveled thoughts

Listening to the music of James Mokotong while
following the trail of the fairies traced by Google,
checking on opals as the king of jewels and stage
costumes in between, made it seem as if time started
to fly and ere long the long, buzzing afternoon was at
an end and I took my dying succulent – too little sun-
shine for my desert friend – and fled home

Singing “Blue Spanish Eyes” as I went, feeling the
need for a nostalgic atmosphere to enrich the day
wearing a shroud of rain clouds blue and grey…

We Cannot Escape, Try As We Might

Leading a good life, happy in content, treated
with respect by my beloved, peaceful work every
day, my only addition in visions to this life is the
requirement for more adventure and challenge
more daring events and excitement

All attempts to add something more has not yet
borne fruit, refusing to engage in dodging falling
pianos may not be most dramatic way to go, with
all so peaceful and safe life can be so boring and
stiff, I don’t know how to be foolish and innocent

Seeing pianos falling everywhere, knowing the result
before I start makes life so predictable, cannot suspend
judgment for adventure’s sake, cannot engage in
stupidity knowing the foregone conclusion,
cannot act the ingénue while I know

Every action has a counterbalancing reaction, every
change requires a certain price, calculating the price
and knowing humankind does not have enough to pay
for such momentous events, our minds too limited,
the scope of our imagination too small

I remain in this small, limited world created by intersubjective
criteria and irrational rules imposed by people on people,
a world without god’s rule because we are the creators our-
selves and we have given our power away a long time ago
and now, having sold ourselves to human powers

We are caught in a trap of our own making and we cannot
escape, try as we might…

Monday 10 November 2008

Maybe when I’m ensconced in the allergy, I’m learning
what it is to be dead, can’t think about duties or numbers
or responsibility, I feel nothing – as Death explains in Wyrd
Sisters – a dead person does not have the glands to secrete
hormones that register emotions, right now all my adrenaline
is all used up in mental flight from the all-destructive allergy,
I feel nothing about nothing, except that my head has turned
into a steam locomotive building amazing pressure and ready
to explode, I should never have eaten three kinds of allergenic
foods in a row, now no pill can fight the symptoms or stop the
pain; eating is the best way in which to punish myself, it’s kind
of unfair that the activity that ensures our survival should be
the cause of my chronic suffering; it is not as if I can stop eating
at all, I tried it before and while the headache and muscle
pains were gone, I was too tired to carry on; I wish I could jump
right into the middle of next week and feel immediately better,
renewed in body and spirit, clear of thought and mind;
right now the steam locomotive is picking up speed down
a steep ravine; crashing again, when shall I learn - if
food’s involved, probably never, I think…

A Place Where I Can Confess

I’m leaving reality to live in a fantasy, à la Wurmbrand,
I’ve accepted that nothing ever happened according
to the stories and myths we’ve been told, so I’ve chosen
the most beautiful story – of an overall consciousness –
a long time ago represented by a godhead dying on a
cross – of unconditional love and forgiveness –

As the fantasy to guide my life, I’ve reached the bottom of
the dark pit tonight, my powers are spent, I’ve had enough
of trying to pretend that I can do what I cannot do, that
I can like what I detest – I’ve been playing charades, using
subterfuge to create the impression at work that I can sit
at a desk, with a boring screen, and a boring document

My emotions cold, my heart frozen, words ugly and false,
read prescribed texts and translate them into words that
Anglo-Saxons can understand – my powers are spent,
I have no more power in myself, I’ve got to let go of my
pride in prowess, accept I’m a fool, unfit for carrying out
routine tasks as best I can, after reading Stephanie Dowrick

It is clear that I cannot live up to my ideals of being a
person of integrity who does every job as it comes, no
matter how hard I tried, I end up dead inside, if I don’t
turn away from my job, lightning pain in my head kills
me, Stephanie says that is wrong, I should be able to –
with sheer willpower – carry out the job I’m assigned to

Hubby doesn’t want to listen, no-one else to confide in,
telling someone who does not feel the same thing is like
talking to stones, I’m alone, Wurmbrand said when they
had convinced him by brainwashing in prison that God
was dead, he tenaciously clung to the beauty of
the fantasy of there being a godhead

Who was more wonderful than anybody imagined possible,
he loved the fantasy so much, he preferred it to reality –
though tonight I feel as if nothing beautiful is true, as if it is all
a thought in my mind, I’m declaring with Wurmbrand – I’m
leaving reality, leaving all pain and deception behind, leaving
all empty cynical emptiness to live in a dream

The dream of a superconsciousness who knows about me and
who really cares, not cares like hubby who tells me the rules and
stops there, but cares enough to listen to my troubles, my sufferings,
to whom what I feel is important enough to help me instead of
shouting me down – ordering me to keep quiet, a place where
I can confess and feel better about being the dunce

At work...

Let Me Taste Freedom

Wednesday 5 November 2008

Dreaming a dream, I may not sing,
sitting with an expressionless face,
may not get up and dance, may not
laugh without reason, all working in
the same space

A lovely beautitude of quiet reflection,
a sacred solitude, when feelings surface
from time to time, running into the passage,
returning as quiet as a mouse, sharing a
communal work place

Leaving no space for individual rhythms
of life, I consider my colleagues and they
are considerate to me; heavens above, what
a way to waste one’s life, all to get paid to go
away on holiday…

Let me sing my song, let my thoughts glow within,
let the dance be in my heart, let me
taste freedom…

Soft. Mellow Afternoon

Tuesday 4 November 2008: A soft, mellow
afternoon at work, my angst stilled, anger
abated, restful the company today, Hermien’s
aggressive typing has stopped, Hanlie calmly
at her computer, June installing Adobe Readers
everywhere

The permit I’m reading nonsensical, emotion
non-essential to exist like a stone, lying in the
pool of the office, boredom encroaching, voices
raised in discussion - a restful background,
seems like my colleagues are also in need of

amusement, living life as a typing vegetable
not exactly my idea of fun or fulfillment, surely
there must be a way to colour such a grey part
of the day – but how, and with what?

We Shouldn't Be Here...

We shouldn’t be here, in the coldness of
officialdom, we should be busy learning
how to become passionate human beings;
how to give free rein to our feelings with-
in the boundaries of respect and freedom,
we should be out on the farms in Senegal
helping that community to survive, or in
Ethiopia, feeling the problems on our skin...

This is where I long to be... Lambertsbay...

Saw the most beautiful turtle wandering about, eating flowers,
in Clanwilliam, another beautiful jewel of a place in the
wonderful Cape...

I want the feeling of freedom, a drink on the beach,
white sand, blue sea, sea-gulls above...

This is where I long to be, and this is where I’m not
Lambertsbay in the Cape, on the beach,
an open-air cafe...

Goodness Leads To Epiphany

I’ve been lucky enough to have my hair cut
by a complete idiot, on perceiving its quality
and texture she cut it in layers – now I have
nothing left, can’t create a style, looking like
an idiot myself, enough to spoil my day

Dishes first , then catching up on the work
of today, when the going got tough I couldn’t
find the right terms, frequent upsurges of ad-
renaline in getting angry at being frequently
interrupted by an inconsiderate colleague

Took my little powers of concentration away,
sitting like sardines in a tin can one can’t sit
back and enjoy solitude, leaving me no energy,
growing feverish and hot, once a kind surgeon
offered to remove one adrenal gland

To lessen the adrenaline rush cause by any
emotional change; saved by a second opinion
advising me to make peace with chronic head-
ache caused by my volatile nature, my only re-
course practicing self-control and subterfuge

The advantages are HUGE, a little goodness leads
to epiphany, so I’m willing to pay by suffering the
feverish anxiety caused by things going awry,
hiding the discomfort of fluctuating moods as
best I may

Never sure that I will be able to complete any job,
trying to create an upbeat mood superficially by
focusing on positive thoughts only, writing a
few poems during the day…

Written In Fever And Blood

I stare at the text until my head aches, but
the biggest pain is in my heart, heartache
is not recognized as a valid complaint –
while heartache is my problem, I can’t get
any help; struggling on, lagging far behind

I’ve been given a list of rules entailing that
I study my translation to make it faithful to
source text, the result is noises became
monsters, I have to isolate myself with the
text until my work is done, I’m running

down the passage, running form the pain, the
hurt of the documents, the accusation – cannot
concentrate, my mind fluctuates moving in and
out of existence, when I tell anyone, they say
it is impossible to suffer this way

Once everybody has consensus that my problem
does not exist, I can’t bring it to anyone’s attention
I’m giving up on life, I gave up a long time ago to
try to explain how I feel – the feedback is – it is
impossible, no-one can feel like that

so I keep quiet and carry on as best I can, covering
up the fact that I’m feverish and tired day, escaping
briefly by writing a few lines of poetry, then sitting in
my chair until I can run down the passage, sing on
the stairway, inferior and stupid because

my secret suffering is not understood – why should I
try to communicate with strangers - fathom meaning
in what they say, when ALL who know me cannot
begin to understand my emotions and experience
the reason I suffer when I try to edit two

boring texts – the original in the source language and
my bleak translation, written in fever and blood…

Nici’s Western Cape Flower Pictures….

Mice Bush Hidey Hole restaurant on the beach...

Where Nici took flower photos...

Life Can Start Anew

When nothing makes sense because I cannot make a
difference - at least, not a discernable one - then it
pays to remember Paul from the New Testament;
we are persecuted but not hopeless, we are suffering
but not destitute - his fire burning within; we have to
find our freedom within ourselves; when circumstances
get me down, I read Ecclesiastes: There is nothing new
under the sun, it is all a repetition of what went before;
then the part I adore: So let us enjoy our lives while
we can, as joy is the reason for life - I wish to add to
that: For that reason, let's blow up all governments -
as a matter of fact, let's detonate the H-bomb and get
rid of this planet and maybe the solar system so life
can start under more auspicious curcumstances in
a better part of the multiverse...

Humanity’s Freedom

......... 22 October 2008

A monstrous rebellion because I hate sitting here
without context, except the fact that I must earn a
salary, learn to be tolerant and supportive, learn
consideration and the ethics of hard work, I’m an
unethical villain, dreaming of joyful existence and
loving kindness in freedom, not tethered to a desk
and monitored every step - what did you do, where
did you go, what did you think, did your thoughts
conform to our policy, no dreaming, no hope, no
scheming, simply emotionless devotion to formal
rules where only the letter of the law has any say,
while the spirit of the law is carefully smothered in
an attempt to quantify the human spirit, all souls
made pliable, the imprint of brainless, mindless
bureaucracy forced on to it, irrelevant procedures
with no other meaning than subjection and the
destruction of thought forced upon us until the
mind is distraught, the personality splits into a
million different sunbeams setting off on their
own to find a spiritual home in realms beyond
the visible, audible, tactile, olfactory spectrum
that subjected a whole civilization, an unsated
Moloch insisting on destroying the
last vestiges of original thought?

Hooray for the criminal culture where initiative
is safely wrought, hooray for renegade corners
in our society where independent thinking can’t
be stamped out, where the redistribution of
wealth takes place democratically, where no
outside authority can impose soul-destroying
discipline, hooray that the government can string
mindless officials by the million and dissect our
innards without touching a hair from the criminal
horde who happily cavort everywhere, overcoming
every device and security system ever devised by
official powers, hooray for independent thinking and
pragmatic thought because the official criminal state
has annexed all traditional ethics to subject all its
citizens, morality has always been the yoke used
to govern the masses, the handmaiden of powerful
institutions, kings and queens, the very rich, religious
powers using superstition to control everyone,
recommending faith, trust and belief without proof
as the way to heaven so people will forget how
to use their own intelligence and thinking powers,
hooray for the criminal element that ensures
humanity’s freedom for evermore!

Put Up My Feet

I want to put up my feet, lie back in the sun,
think of the beach, find my soul, seeking words
of encouragement to keep hope alive while life
sets requirements I cannot meet

I want to find a hidey-hole where my thoughts
can be safe to roam and to play without falling
into the black hole of fear that opened up in my
heart as I lost the ability to

Conquer bodily weakness and hold on to a frame-
work within which awareness makes sense – a
super-consciousness that is benevolent allowing
us the freedom to mold

Our lives with the choices we make all the time…

Live By The Sea

Oh, my request is – let me live by the sea, let
me complete my experience of life at the sea-
side, on the beach; let me become a beach bum;
let me flee this life that I lead and become someone
else – someone more free, someone who feels good
just sitting and breathing, not having to fight against
feelings of meaningless life every time that I eat and
my body reacts with symptoms that would drive a
saint insane; that would drive a spiritual writer like
Wyane Dyer to demon drink and make Terry Pratchett
hang himself in grief! – that makes Harry Potter’s
suffering under his loving Uncle Vernon and dotty
Aunt Petunia seem like a Sunday school picnic…

Presenting Visually

Flowers of Namaqualand
Nici enjoyed taking photographs, she likes playing with
a camera, even won a prize at school, not wishing to
write down her thoughts or describing the beauty she
sees – she prefers presenting everything visually…

Smiles And Crutches

Nici and I could smile while we wandered amongst
the wild flowers, but Tiaan was wearing a frown,
he had to hobble everywhere and those crutches were
tiring in the end, but the flowers touched our hearts
and made us see beauty in a new way…

The yellow flowers changing the fields into plates
of sunshine, flowers in Namaqualand are divine,
creating a flowery paradise that shines…

Here’s A Toast

Went down to the coast,
here’s a toast to a special
place called Muisbosskerm,
though we couldn’t eat there

...in Lambert's Baai...

It was quite wonderful to enjoy
the sublime white sand of the
wide beach, see the lovely blue
sea, enjoy the beauty of tranquillity

And shimmering sunshine illuminating
nature pristine...

Tiaan went about on crutches, even hobbled

over the stones on the beach, the plaster
comes off within two weeks, then he’ll be
free to walk, jump and run again, six weeks
in plaster was more than enough!

Facing Sparkling Sunlight

I donned my Kruger National Park hat to face the
sparkling sunlight, enjoying the bewitching caress
of a myriad flowers in rolling fields of soft Cape
gorse and succulents; all indigenous and unique,
how lovely the bounty of beauty, filling my soul
and bubbling to overflowing!

Infinite Glory In Dainty Finesse

The beauty of Namaqualand’s Wild Flowers
cannot be described in words, the dainty finesse,
the delicatesse, the fragility, the overpowering
sense of nature’s bounty, the wideness of God’s
infinite glory, superconsciousness smiling in
awareness of magical smiles depicted in the
sweetness of colourful flowers…

Things Turn Out All Right

An attack of anxiety, no more waffles
for me at Kingsley, I cannot fall asleep
in my chair with all eyes upon me, can-
not play freely on the Internet, cold
fingers enclosing my heart, the future
looks dark, how shall I get through the
day if I have to concentrate on a docu-
ment, no more recording thoughts or
looking at Slaughter Engineering or
aliens in underground bunkers or crop
circles or Russian research on genetic
Internet

How shall I survive not closing a door
and thinking my own thoughts, keeping
up my head, not wilting when suffering
allergy - suddenly I am beset with a self-
destructive desire to eat all the wrong
foods, longing for bread that makes me
hyper-active and noisy before dropping
off to sleep involuntarily - no escaping
the boredom of life by eating chocolates
and passing out with fluctuating blood
sugar levels - no more dancing and
singing in my office

At least, the acoustics on Kinsley’s staircase
is good, tried it out, sang aloud while walking
from floor to floor, greeting all security guards
and explaining my mission – to reacquaint
myself with the rest of the Department Arts
and Culture; when I mentioned floor six and
Language Service; smiles appeared, then saw
the same security guard we had at Metropark,
moved with us to Arts and Culture; mockingly
threatening me to beware wandering off into
enemy territory instead of staying on the six
floor as duty prescribed

I shall tackle the tomorrow’s problems tomorrow,
with all the goodwill I met today, things are
bound to turn out all right!

Never been part of a peer group...

Never been part of a peer group
used to feel sad being an outcast
through small acceptance gained
confidence in being who I am, an
isolated thinker and dreamer

I refuse to change my viewpoints in order to
gain acceptance because my theories bring me
much joy and inner fire – being a pragmatist
measuring value of theory in terms of usefulness –
my theories are so beautiful; bring all the advantages
I am looking for...

Kids At School

Kids at school were having fun, all except one,
a face in which unhappy eyes beg for release,
why would this little one feel such a need for
escape from the general melée, why does she
seem to feel imprisoned there –

Could she be plagued by deeper feelings, by
other-worldly consciousness while
the order is - prescribed fun?

Notes 1981 To 2004

I kept my old diaries and made notes in them,
the ideas in my head as in writing French on
Friday 1983 and Saturday 1984, and when I
came across Carmen’s song Habanera in 1986
I noted it down, as well as the words of Hannah
in Die Lustige Witwe (The Merry Widow) in
the year 2004…

No Electron Orbits

I love the Internet, I love the discoveries
I make there, turning everything I was
taught in school and that is preached in
the Time Magazine and the Times
Literary Supplement on its head:

THE DIVINE COSMOS, CHAPTER 2:
LIGHT ON QUANTUM PHYSICS

Quantum physicists observed
the atom’s “electrons” are not
“points” at all, but form smooth,
teardrop-shaped “clouds” - the
narrowest end converge upon
a tiny central point - Dr. Milo
Wolff makes this perfectly
clear on p. 122:

There Are No Electron Orbits

The notion of electrons
traveling around a nucleus
like planets around the sun
is a terrible blunder - - and
dr Milo Wolff tears it asunder

All calculations and various
experiments show - there is
no satellite-like orbital motion
in the normal atom, there are
standing wave patterns instead

Entirely spherical, the center of
the electron and the proton
patterns is SHARED – such
is the situation of H-atoms
in the universe:

Blessed with spherical
symmetry, not orbits
at all!

http://divinecosmos.com/index.php?option=com_

content&task=view&id=96&Itemid=36

Completely Wonderful

What really catches my attention
is how all is speculation because
nothing can be proven about the
crop circle phenomenon, which
simply means that where we have
been able to establish a consensus
inter-subjective regarding limited
sensory evidence

Humanity cannot reach consensus
about invisible dimensions, extra-
polating from the fact that the sensory
world is an illusion, that microscopes
and telescopes prove the distortions
registered by optical observation,
as well as that people can only see what
they expect to see, can only hear

What they have been told is possible,
it is quite clear that the sensory world
consensus is just as relative as the
non-sensory spiritual and metaphysical
dimensions, therefore the joy blooms
in me: We can change everything
that forms our reality because people
like us brought it about and we have

The same power to create totally new,
completely wonderful realities!

Otherworldly Dimensions

When all else fails, when silence descends
the world comes alive again in the magic
and mayhem of modern mysteries, the
marvels of crop circles in England

The unending debates, the suspicion
that the universe is so much bigger than
limited sensory evidence can reveal, the
comedies played by hard-core materialists

Trying to anchor themselves to the smallness
of human retina vision, limiting life to the marks
of miniature quarks left in large hadron colliders,
their skepticism that leaves them without the power

To discern any unexpected evidence of otherworldly
dimensions, I prefer being a dreamer who believes
in unseen spiritual spheres rather than sinking into
the black hole of eternal cynical skepticism

Scorpion-You And Cancerian-Me

I know Scorpion-you can’t help it, when I say and do
the wrong thing, you have to sting, and Cancerian -
me can’t help being sensitive and hurting inside, we
are not a very good team, Scorpion stinging all love
and ideals all the time; Cancer trying to pull deeper
into her shell…

Superclusters In A Bubble Universe

Playing at being an astronomer studying clusters of
stars, Virgo and our own Galaxy - researching the
theory of Star Octahedrons in Superclusters in
an exciting bubble universe

Studying the five Platonic figures with reference to
John Keely’s vibratory physics; augmented by Lyall
Watson’s pyramid ideas and David Wilcock’s
sun cycles and astrogenetics

Formulated by Maurice Cotterel; while dabbling with
astrology found in Linda Goodman’s exquisite terms,
determining the relevance of Zechariah Sitchin’s
Sumerian clay tablets

Bewitched by books and imagination in my fairy tale
life, changing into many people, becoming a poet to
praise the wonder and delight…

Diaphanous Wings Of Dreams

Dreaming of my own Phantom, dreaming
that he will come and sing a song with me,
teaching me to sing a sweet duet with him,
dancing an old-fashioned minuet, before he
fights a duel with the Vicomte de Chagny

I’ll choose the Phantom every time, to re-
deem his soul by endless love and tender-
ness, by meaningful discussion of life’s
mysteries, by kissing his scarred face,
the symbol of the scars in his heart and

Soul, redeeming him from cynicism and
bitterness until his eyes shine with new
glory; until he knows happiness and joy
and become the personification of good-
ness and beauty, until the songs that play

In his mind takes him up into the celestial
spheres high up above, until new melodies
of infinite sweetness and delight change
me into a musical theme and I float off
on the diaphanous wings of dreams…

The Rutaceae Family

The importance of Measures Phytosanitary may
never be underestimated

All shall be complemented by the right Plant Health
Glossary, pre-clearance and

Additional declaration shall be required, no
Xanthomonas citri in the parent trees

The blood-line must be pure, no muggle trees shall
be tolerated, only full-blood

Citrus in the Rutaceae family will be imported, having
received the Dementor kiss of death

Seeds sprayed with hydrogen peroxide and
fumigated…


I must make a note for future reference, this kind
of document will become a repeat experience; but
blogspot is as italicless as I am myself:

L08 0369 REP FRE

Blue French = Red English
Prohibition des = Prohibition from
Matériel végétatif = Plant material
Declaration additionelle = Aditional declaration
Latin disease in italics Xanthomonas citri
Permis préalable = pre-clearance certificate
Existe = Occurs / is present
Établissant = Stating
Sera décrit = Shall be described

INTERNATIONAL STANDARDS FOR PHYTOSANITARY MEASURES
(Canada) Plant Health Division - Glossary of Terms

Being The Dunce In Class

I believed in illustrating my notes to make
the time pass in class, somehow it seemed
like an eternity from when a lecture started
until we reached the end, and having done
a reading test and received such bad marks,
I was resigned to being the dunce in every
course I attended…