Blow the Universe Away

In an act of defiance I refused to fill out the
form required for official travels, tomorrow I
must hand it in, feeling even less inclined to
do so, why do I make life miserable for myself?

If I don’t fill it in and I am sent somewhere and
cannot go, my boss will be angry; yet the meek
way in which everybody accepted to do it still
makes me angry, if only I could become

Master of my own fate and subdue the rebel living
in my body, my life would be so much easier… I’m
not in the mood to do anything I should, I have
neither warm inspiration nor cold motivation

Feeling bored and listless, to sit at my desk tomorrow
seems like a death sentence – what’s wrong with me,
why can’t I become an acolyte of John C. Maxwell,
accepting my duty stoically?

According to him emotions are there to be ignored
and overcome, according to my guru, emotions are
given for fun - I’m a fun person; all this ignoring and
killing emotion isn’t working for me

Let’s hang Maxwell and everybody who preaches
morality, let’s live one perfect day - then blow
the universe away!

Adding My Tears…

It’s raining
feel like adding my tears, it is so
depressing sitting here, finished my book –
though I try with all my might, can’t lift my mind
out of the darkness inside, closed the door on
the book’s light, left my soul at home, living as
an empty spirit without becoming a dream is too
much, looking for a vision on the Internet, nothing
resonates with this moment in time, my own story
has been infused with new life by the book
I finished today, yet I’m limited to my physical
existence right now - cannot transcend this
moment pf claustrophobic catatonia by
taking mental flights

Confessions Of An Aficionado…

27 January 2009 –

…of culinary delights…

There, I have blown it, ate a healthy breakfast
at the Wimpy and the factory in my brain closed
down for the day, the machines responsible for
ethics and duty completely swamped by a
chemical soup leaving a Phineas Gage clone
in its place, bereft of interest and responsibility,
kept standing only by a genetic predisposition
towards pride only, unwilling to divulge to others
the extent of the damage done by eating a
breakfast of muesli and fresh fruit in an attempt
to counter the effect of eating badly prepared
restaurant meat last night, now life is become
a fight against nihilism and lassitude...

Love Song for Akon

Long before Akon landed on planet earth,
Elizabeth was conscious of his existence,
she saw her studies in meteorology as
preparation to meet him someday…

She loved him from a distance, she loved
him for so many things, for opening a space
in which he classified the thoughts she brings,
for understanding what she means, for keeping
her at a distance – yes, even for that reason
she loved him, the mystery enthralling her,
keeping her excited in suspended animation,
he never demanded anything and the gifts
she sent seem to meet with cool negation –
but she dreamt and kept a special place
in her heart just for him, should he one day
reveal her intuition had been right, she would
allow the feelings out, should he reject her
surmises as wrong and unprofessional,
she’ll reserve the story for eternity and
another set of characters who surely will
fulfil their dreams….

Maybe one day someone will understand the
science Elizabeth learnt from Akon on Meton...

Silence To Reach For Peace

There comes a time as my mind follows its
orbit around the centre of shining knowledge,
when I need silence to reach for peace be-
yond the turmoil of sensory stimulation, you
watch TV until you go to bed while I have to
flee to a sanctuary of quiet where the
thoughts in my head can rest

Reading my favourite books until all interest
wanes, turning back to the Bible, following the
well-known routes to retrace the steps to a silence
becalmed, sitting alone without distractions,
searching my feelings to determine progress
in creating meaning, adding the wisdom of
spiritual texts to the human message

Of destructive righteousness found in the Bible,
reaching for a nobler love than depicted in a jealous,
vengeful God who demands a ransom for sins of
all kinds, an all-too-human local nationalism, but
based on the most beautiful ideals humanity has
ever constructed, finding my safety in Psalm 91,
even if ten-thousand people should perish

I shall not fear when I trust in the Benevolent
Goodness and Love of Superconsciousness…

Love The Irreverent Character

I love the irreverent character
created by an attorney-author –
a clever young girl, clearly the
author’s voice expressing his
criticism of foolish youngsters
and society’s foibles, he uses
his extensive experience of clients
to point out strategies to meet life’s
challenges, and advises on what
men want in women’s conversation –
add to that the stars in the author’s
eyes, his fascination with My Fair
Lady - and you have a winning combination;
his marvelous comments on bad music and
melodrama, his philosophy to explain how
every public deserves the entertainment
it gets, are fascinating, based on the ob-
servation that every society deserves their
political leaders also; what seems to be light
entertainment is a marvelously dense piece of
philosophy presented in archaic Afrikaans,
I smile at every quaint expression –
one of the books I have treasured
since my early youth…

Morning At The Office

21 January 2009

I have been here for an age already,
yet with all this lovely time devoted
to rational thinking instead of trying
to work through a jumble of emotions,
I feel, therefore I am, every thought
is felt, coloured, vibrates to a rhythm
and sounds a musical note, faced with
an informative text only my emotions
are left dormant, a festering boredom
taking their place…

I’ll Never Die…

I suppose the best strategy is to read the books
I found in the library: The Power Of Crystals,
harnessing Crystal Energy to Revitalize my Life –
by Denise Whichello Brown – published by Silverdale
Books, 2002 – CARING for crystals is a lot of work –

then USING crystals on the Chakras – the Red Earth

Chakra stands for Survival and Security, if imbalanced

we are not grounded without a strong physical will to be

on the earth plane - Oh no, I can’t seem to escape the

earth plane at all, I have too much strength, courage and

stamina – I’ll never die if life continues this way!

I Should Learn Self-Discipline

Time to go to bed, no more fiddling the time away,
no more hiding from sleep, though I cannot see sleep
finding me tonight, I’m ready to return to colleagues
and have some fun, but reading glasses I have none,
to be collected next week, I shall still have to suffer and
weep for struggling with small writing, esoteric books
say we create a safe universe by thinking of security,
I wish I were secure about my own fallibility, I wish I
could predict how my mood swings will go and fasten
myself with a chain to a positive state of mind, a place
cast in stone, yet I know that by ten o’clock a blood
sugar low will demand I eat, afterwards a migraine
will follow, a delicate balance to be struck between
eating too little and having too much, starting with
adrenaline in seeing friends, then sagging spirits as
officialdom requires routine acts that irk so much
and I don’t even know why it should be so, John
Maxwell would have fired me without a scruple,
I should learn self-discipline, what a stentorian
leader he is, with him in charge, I would have
fired myself, I suffer from what my friend calls
an artistic temperament, hubby calls it self-
centered egotism, I must learn to do my duty,
I suspect only death will bring release…

No More Pictures - Why?

Blogspot has decided not to allow me posting
pictures no more, maybe because I'm not using
the spot correctly, just for personal archives
instead of interacting with all people alive,
such is the price to pay to learn "no man
or woman is an island"... and as I posted,
an advertisement came up - "Show off your
fans - show the world who reads you" - good
grief, bragging to your fans about your fans
being a fan and fanning and flaffing - um, I
can't, I hope to win the attendance of discar-
nate entities and angels and fairies and I
can't post pictures of them any more...

Icing Haunting Cake-Guzzling Crocodile

Illegal icing haunting the cake-guzzling crocodile,
relentlessly keeping the reptile awake, got into the
bathtub with the story of Cyril Bonhamy, the only
safe place as the kids took the laptop hostage, on
finishing the book the crocodile stormed out in self
-righteous indignation, determined to chronicle her
saurian sorrows electronically, chasing kids off

The crocodile has already read about a surprise
party featuring cake; a little boy playing detective,
in this story by Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy the whole
English police force is depicted wearing Father
Christmas camouflage to catch Christmas Crooks,
the image amazing the crocodile, making her wish
to join Cyril Bonhamy in his little world

Printed in nice, big letters, easy to read, time to move
on to the next book, leave the small printed book till
last, waiting for those reading glasses, between them
and wearing sunglasses, the crocodile will resemble
an owl on a 24-hour basis….

Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy “Cyril Bonhamy v Madam Big”
Jonathan Cape, 1981

Create To Taste & Dictates Of Necessity

On Akon’s planet Meton they're accomplished enough
to get rid of books, everything is taught by going on
field trips and observing the real object or event, all
history is conveyed by electromagnetic mirage re-
playing the event and each observer interpreting
what they see for themselves

Such is the message of Elizabeth Klarer; the incorrect
reinterpretation we face today could be solved by using
the same technique, each country presents the same
events in a different way, context and situation determine
what should be said, it is 1984 all over again; history books
were rewritten at a whim

The word is mightier than the event, Wyrd Sisters by
Pratchett also teaches that words create the world,
we don’t remember, we create according to taste
and the dictates of necessity…

Reworking It…

My latest protagonist is eighteen years old
and her beau is twenty-one, based on a story
read in a magazine when I was in primary
school, used the idea in an Afrikaans essay
when I was fourteen, still exploring the
ramifications of the situation depicted therein,
hopefully today I see more complexity and
derive more benefit from reworking it…

A Brooding Presence

Tiaan and I at home alone, treated
him at the Wimpy, a cheeseburger,
chicken with sweet chili sauce for
me, now I can’t sleep, asked Tiaan
about his dreams and his life, he
says playing rugby and studying
English

What an astonishing thing when
boys turn thirteen, braying for
laughter, face all unhappy, is life
that bad for a teen? Nothing seems
to satisfy him, we can’t hold a con-
versation, always banging something,
making strange noises

A brooding presence wherever he
goes, I feel guilty when I see him,
somehow we failed him, probably
by bringing him into this world
which does not cater for teens
except to suppress them,
he stalks about

I hope he settles at high school, make
some new friends, become human,
stop digging for things at all hours
of the night and looking like Heathcliff
after the loss of Catherine…

Radio Ga-Ga - Positive Mental Station

After following the suggestions in my positive book
I reach a state of happy anticipation, life is good right
here right now – until I eat allergy food, falling back
into the black part of my mind where life is the enemy,
yet staying on the straight and narrow is so boring, I
prefer the misery to grey neutrality, only wish I could
remain at a positive mental station when the allergy
kicks in, but no, the antenna in my head tunes to radio
ga-ga, blackest night and terrifying feelings of terrorizing
anxiety, my mind deconstructs and only feverish heat
smothered in cotton-balls remain in my head, I can’t
feel the positive things I’ve been thinking and no thought
rings true, except dark suspicions and strange flames
of self-hatred illuminating the seven dark nights of the
soul, time for drastic measures, rubbing Vicks all over
my neck and back, spoiling the sheets and ruining my
middle-class camouflage hair…

Prosody: Vocal Patterns In Language

Tomorrow hubby returns to work, I’ve got freedom
for another week, fix the children’s teeth, see an eye
care specialist, then back to the office, back to words
texts compiled without an eye to prosody, the vocal
patterns in a language

I may not render those original texts in prosody, it has
to be prose, I can’t write prose, can’t render the correct
equivalent of every term compiled with an eye to one-to-
one correlation, my heart wants to sing in prosody, looking
for patterns, words that sing

Every perfect rendition is a sad repetition of cold, unfeeling,
passionless words, wish Shakespeare would rise from the
grave and write all official texts in prosody, forcing translators
to render in prosody too – wouldn’t THAT be fun, instead of
looking up each word in ten different dictionaries and twenty
different Internet sites, specialized jargon and strange
Latin terms

Every translator easily finds everything while I muddle along
like a flat-footed duck on dry land, I can only soar on the wings
of a song, filled with passionate emotion while I harmonize
along; taking source text words without prosodic patterns
and translating them into prose seems so unnatural

Scatter brain patterns so they can’t reach alpha rhythms
when trying to match a minus with a minus; two minuses
never make a plus; but I muddle on, keeping up with the
Muggles, there is no escape except into my mind as my
soul takes flight, conjuring the New World of the Future

Along the lines indicated by Neale Donald Walsh, Wayne Dyer,
Robert Monroe, Jane Roberts and Esther Hicks…