The Only Necessary Truth

*

“That which works for the individual is
the only truth necessary to
function in Life.”

I assume everything is potentially true
we create truth by realizing a possibility
by taking potential and fulfilling it
through dedication.

I believe all truth is self-created, that is
why it is imperfect, open to use and abuse
and we are free to improve upon it
indefinitely, eternally and infinitely.

Reality is an illusion created through inter-
subjective consensus - only human consensus
determines what we call “truth”.

We are free to assign meaning to life, decide
what that meaning should be, or leave life
without meaning – a question of choice.

Life is as neutral as any object in life, a knife,
a pen, a gun, a theory; we are free to assign
meaning and use it to benefit or harm life.

Nothing, not even reality or the universe, comes
pre-packaged with meaning, we decide what
meaning to assign to it.

The origin of all beauty is in YOU, in your MIND
whoever has a different opinion cannot be
convinced by any argument of objective
reality or the ontological status of
assumptions, that you are more
right than they are.

I appreciate a beautiful viewpoint and make the
harmonious, loving aspects true in my life, simply
because I am attracted by personality and taste
to it, not because it is ontologically more true than
negative, cynical, despondent, material, religious
or spiritual viewpoints.

The only criterion the individual uses to determine
truth for her/himself is utility – what they can do
with the truth, and pragmatic considerations,
how much easier or happier or better
application of the truth
makes their lives.

I find applying a loving viewpoint works beautifully
makes me happy and brings success, therefore
I agree with a spiritual philosophy and
structure my life along these lines.

But I know this philosophy is ontologically not more
justified or more true than any other –
NOTHING can provide proof
of that nature.

*

Serve The Privileged

*
Self-righteous people dream luxuries
insist on pension increases, oblivious to
underprivileged needs

self-centred people assert the President
satisfy desire for more provisions
clamour for more than there is

unconcerned that the unemployed
survive through crime, illegal needs
and dreams, condemned to go without

rich demand more benefits – how can
I presume to relay trite, self-centred
requests of the replete

underprivileged cannot eat, nowhere
to sleep - yet affluent complain they cannot
travel, need medicine as they grow weak

I cannot force myself to serve privileged
greed while homeless starve, people
live in opulence ignoring the plight

Of the slums...
*

We Are Wonderful

*
“The attempt to stamp out our identity
was our real downfall, the contents of
our thoughts are broadcast openly”

Free expression is my goal, joy is best
attained in happy mood, free from raw
constraints’ reality, mind immersed in
heart to free feelings suppressed by
exigency, satisfying desires to find
meaning in deadly routines

A vision of an alternative reality in which
the mind is free, in which we do not need
drugs to escape the criminal regulations
of the structures of civilisation; where our
natural integrity shines visibly, where the
contents of our thoughts

Are broadcast openly, based on the liberation
of our instincts for the first time in this material
universe, humanity freed from all repressive
measures, discovering we are wonderful
our natural proclivities are beautiful, the
attempt to stamp out our identity

Was our real downfall!
*

Shantaram Man Of Peace 1-404

*
“...the systems created by civilization is the villain,
laws create criminals by outlawing fulfilment
of human needs - except for the rich...”

[pp. 270-404]

Reached p. 404, juxtaposition between love –
which always kills romance - and imprisonment
of the man called Lin, the author, he receives
a beating

I can look back with him, but in case of pain in
present tense, I can’t go on; the only pain I can
contemplate is my own, when another one
is suffering

It becomes too much – the woman he loves sud-
denly losing him, I can’t stand the feeling,
Lin Shantaram, Man Of Peace, author
of so many good deeds

Beat by police on page 404 – I can’t go on,
stopped to cry until I’m calm enough to be-
gin again, it hurts too much, give pain to
me in retrospect

NEVER use the present tense!

***********************

[p. 83 – 370]

Reading in a mad, glutinous way, the author
a philosopher-poet, I can digest everything
I detest because he presents every event
within a perspective of enlightened com-
passion, an empathy and loving instinct
stronger than the suffering life forced
on him

Describing a painful life journey from the
vantage point of victory and the magic of
courage and wonderment, celebrating the
sensual beauty of life compared to cynical
opportunism and the dilemma of making
choices, taking action, in a corrupt and
immoral world

Without principles except survival and expe-
diency, without help or guarantees, following
his heart, raw, hurt, loathing himself, yet his
actions were perfect, even though he and
everyone else was cynical and tough,
seeking escape

His honest bumbling did so much good, the
systems created by civilization is the villain,
laws create criminals by outlawing fulfilment
of human needs - except for the rich...

*****************************

[p.35-82]

This is a song I can listen to
this is a voice that presents
the depravity of the world
suffused in a soft golden
light of understanding

This is a stream of conscious-
ness that reverberates with
love and insight, that perceives
the beauty enclosed within
suffering and filth

That extracts jewels from apparent
ugliness and highlights the deeper
meaning of gory scenes, the author’s
beautiful mind presents the truth we
are helpless to change

In such an endearing way that the cost
of knowing is willingly paid by the reader,
his soft eye sees the miracle and wonder
within the ostensibly corrupt and dishonest
system and relays the whole spectacle

With a sweetness that soothes the sting of
knowing before the pain really starts, he
cushions the fall into reality by the soft
touch of an affection for humankind

All its ruses for survival, all its attempts
at spreading goodness, and I love it...

************************

[On starting the book, pp. 3-35]

Reading Shantaram, I am impressed,
he introduces his tale by realising he
is free while being tortured, freedom
represents a whole universe

His eyes zoom in on the happiness of
people living in slums, women ethereal,
his mind fastens on the wide, radiant
smile of a Bombay guide

He finds in him a marvellous friend, he
trusts the hotel owner on instinct, be-
comes a trusted companion, he sees
the attractive, inviolable aura

Of a beautiful woman, loves her on sight,
recalls Sanskrit legends about a destined
karmic connection, souls enraptured,
loving every thought of the other

Legends also warn fated love may be the
obsession of only one of twinned souls, he
describes a love affair with the city of Bom-
bay – the delight that sings in his feelings

Enchanting my mind!

Gregory David Roberts “Shantaram” Abacus 2004
pp. 1-404
*

Own Heroic Mission

*
Moved on, another phrase to contemplate:
“If receiving is your aim, you will be living
a life of constant deficiency” - wondering
whether it also applies to receiving stories

If I start pouring stories into the emotional
stream, would that mean finding my own
heroic mission, would I be giving my life
to others - serving in a Kalkutta hospital

as sister Theresa did, does not come na-
turally to me, my three-night stint in
the septic ward of a city hospital was a
big disaster, I pricked my head

with the hatpins used to affix the head-
gear so blood streamed down my face,
working in an old-age home when I was
sixteen did not invite future investment

wiping bottoms for the incontinent made
me draw up a living testament, never to
live if I cannot be independent; trying
mission work left me despondent

Social work amongst the poor instead of
telling them jokes or singing to them, did
not work out; so here I am - stuck with a
miserable document…
*

Stories Unfolding

*
My latest meditation on the inapplicable
recommendation of a spiritual teacher who
believes love can fix anything – oh how wrong
he has been - suspicious and doubtful in the extreme,
undercover poet, licensed to drink, but, alas, not to think

Chained to a boring text, my positive
book does not offer a recipe for success,
reading that ‘Giving love with no expectations,
without conditions, you will feel full, not empty,
blissful, not miserable’ does not help

The text is not lovable, the font is small, the
message boring, no interesting ideas, I am not
like Vetinari who reads music notes for a treat
instead of listening to the music - I prefer
sounds to printed symbols

Have to conjure a vision, but nothing prepared today
as soon as my mind is floating on an inner dream, I
can deal with the time thieves using boring official
messages to stifle innovation in the spirit of
assembly line standardization

I can only work mechanically when listening to
stories unfolding in my head, characters giving
love, feeling blissful, if I can conjure Wall.E
meeting Eva to lift my mind away from the
confining dimensions of visible reality

I shall be on my way…

*
References:

Terry Prachett, the Patrician Lord Vetinari
Time Thieves – Michael Ende ‘Momo'
The movie Wall.E
*

Sugary Things & Doleful Soul

*
I know how to survive anxiety
that knots in my stomach, eat
a chocolate for quick release
of energy to help me breathe

Insulin upsurge balanced with
a sweet drink, concentrate on
work at hand, no metaphysics
ignoring ontology

Start repetitive action, let my brain
relax into the rhythm, focus on the
joy of eating sweet sugary things
delightful immediacy - although

Reality does not present evidence
of good intent, it does not threaten
at all, therefore I assume all is well
even though my heart

Is heavy in my breast…


My Doleful Soul

Marvelous, in the jittery phase of over-insulin
at least physical symptoms are more interesting
than sitting like a statue registering nothing -
feeding myself peanuts with jerky movements
another chocolate or sweet juice and I might
pass out, that is always fun

That one has to go to such lengths to lighten
boring life with exciting events, I really should
look for a more adventurous job, riding the lift
with harassing security guards and singing
songs on the stairwell is no way to live a
glamorous life, no wonder

The naughty James Bond girl refuses to come
to work with me, sitting like a prisoner, immobile,
my head tired of doing all the traveling while my
body is held in the stocks by super-boring docu-
ments, spirit to be enthralled by fantasies, or
it runs away saddening my doleful soul…
*
Eyes out of focus, another exciting sugar
effect, ears ringing, at least all these physical
symptoms make it clear I’m alive and not yet
one of the living dead, without these bodily
upsets informing my mind there is a body
attached to it

I would not have known that I was a human
being, sitting catatonic I might have thought I
am a spirit, the figment of a soul - yet, why
should I live in suspended animation, why
do I experience continual alienation

Why can’t I lead a common sense existence
doing logical things and having rational
conversations, why do I always feel
the world is too small and that I
cannot be at home on earth,
could it mean time was
wrong

For my birth?
*

Idiot Idealists

*
I am washed out, wrung out in the
machinations of changing my mind
into a laser beam for dissecting a
threatening text compiled by the
Karl Marx of the 21st century

Promising to unleash murder and may-
hem on humanity unless his ideas on
monetary reforms, freely available at
his Internet site, are applied, with a
billion dollar furnished mansion

to entertain potential investors in
magnificent style, if the Presidents
want him to stop his threats they
must pay him an astronomic bribe–
I am flabbergasted

Will idiot idealists never learn
all superficial reforms
always end in
disaster?
*

We Are Monitored

*
Alet and I discussed the fact
we are monitored by computer
and on camera, Godzilla Firefox
lamenting we forget the camera’s
eye upon us when we turn our back

We do things the watchers would
not want to see, lift away irksome
clothing, digging in a recalcitrant
nose; concluding it’s just retribution
for those who leave us no privacy

to see such gory scenes, I am
always greeted Hallo Margaret
when I Google or Yahoo – how
did the pestilences know it was
me and how should I win back

my privacy; cannot look at weird
esoteric sites, The Eye of Thoth
and all-new universal religions,
without the rational world
smirking at me!
*

Confident Heart

*
There is a world of magic out there
and I am sitting here with no magic
in my vicinity, imprisoned, as good
as buried while still alive, no song in
my heart, no dream between the
visible world and me

All I can see are documents, meaning-
less, no hope in anything, feeling this
miserable, crying surreptitiously, I will
erect a bulwark to protect me from this
feeling, start from scratch, my fortress
down, breastplate lost

Compass spinning, gyroscope swinging
wildly - but I know I shall overcome the
desolation in my mind, I have done it be-
fore, it takes some time, slow everything
down until time and place disappear, wait
to reach the centre of the inky blackness

Waiting there till prescience provide
luminescence and the vision needed to
guide my feet, no more crying, no more
fearing the godforsaken blackness of
despair, finding peace in trust, knowing
visions shall return when summoned

With a heart full of
confidence!
*

Like A Fiend

*
I am looking for the self-confidence
and trust I lost when the dream stopped
eyes confined to sensory reality, I cannot
breathe, there is no space for me, nauseous
with fear I am sitting here

The image of this world will suffocate me,
I decide to evacuate my body, I cannot stay
here, head contracting in pain, I shall serve
as required, but my visions will make my
arms strong, protect my thoughts

Provide the oxygen, be the sweet nectar
that fills my heart with joy I need to smile,
without a happy idea time imprisons me
in an empty, dark place, once the vision
is in place, I shall work like a fiend!
*

Too Upsetting For Words

*
Translating the script of a James
Bond movie, a delusionary character’s
plot to upset the global economy, the
President must provide him with funds

A mansion with swimming pool and the
ear of the media, he forgot to mention the
beautiful girls, he wants to organise world-
wide demonstrations in aid of his plans

Where is Broccoli when we need him, this
script is atrocious but might work for aught
I know, but please, put the mad author out
of his misery or release me first

Such effrontery is too upsetting
for words!
*

Answer ‘Afterlife Experiments’ No

*In ‘The Afterlife Experiments’ Gary Schwartz
surmises evidence that life and love is eternal
would change humankind – I have news for
him, knowing something does not change
anything, only deciding what to do with new
information determines what humans become

Humankind has reacted in the same way to
changing beliefs during all the ages, people’s
minds look for an opportunity to cash in on
any belief, make use of any ‘truth’ to make
money and enjoy life, seeking fun or feeling
better all the time – a belief in life after death

Based on experiments will only create more
opportunity for enterprising humans to part
gullible people from their money, politicians
will use new-fangled religions to govern
people like sheep; dabbling with anything
beyond the reach of the senses

Is a brilliant mechanism for misuse, if we
cannot use our senses to test it, personal
experience should remain subjective,
limited to the individual who was lucky
enough to experience epiphany, if not
the non-sensory becomes a yoke

People forced by threatening visions of
eternal life, yet unable to love – as most
of us are – to try and get along with others
will not love more, living in love is a per-
sonal choice, does not include trust; only
an idiot would trust humans en masse

With custody of valuable feelings, life is
a sensory experience to be engaged in
freely, allowing that 75% of what we see
will never appeal to us, but not worrying
about it as we enjoy the 25% that
appeals to us individually!

*
Gary Schwartz ‘The Afterlife Experiments’ Atria
Books, 2002, Preface p. XV – The answer to the
questions posed is an unequivocal NO. I enjoy
reading about the experiments, but belief in
them changes nothing.
*

Primitive Emotion, Irrational Devotion

*

A financial letter to translate, can’t concentrate, to
focus my wandering mind I looked at the account
of a savage young man faithful to his love

His wonderful girl at the third telegraph pole, waiting
as he instructed her to - she’s dead, died in a fire,
but he savagely said

She must wait for him when he left for the army
when he returned her spirit informed him she had
never been unfaithful, could not help dying

Asked for permission to leave; he replied ‘Wait
until I finished my life service’ - she would not
escape from him - and she smiled

He still greets her at the telegraph pole every evening
I cry every time I read it, beautiful pain and mystery
of irrational devotion to love

Such bravado, gallantry, integrity, loyalty to her
limpid eyes clear as water; such utter sadness,
such noble beauty in primitive emotion

What an introduction to The Little World of Don
Camillo, my heart is putty in the hands of
an author like Guareschi!

Giovanni Guareschi ‘The Little World of Don Camillo’
Reprint Society, Victor Gollancz, 1853
‘Third Story’ p. 32-41

*

Juxtaposition And Dualism

*
Pratchett’s Unseen Academicals was a
joy from beginning to end, the author is
a prince among men

Ridiculed fashion items like six-inch
stiletto heels and all kinds of bling,
empty-headed models

Remunerated exorbitantly for glittering
while toiling labourers doing necessary
things are paid next-to-nothing

Pratchett’s depiction of the Discworld
is bathed in a golden light of happiness
everybody joyously engaged

In activities normally depicted as unmitigated
misery, but Pratchett makes war, suffering
and sorrow seem so exciting

Some characters lead such deprived lives, the
Orc, the night-kitchen cook; yet no-one ever
shows signs of depression

Citizens of Ank-Morpork have amazing joie-de-
vivre, his main characters, Nutt the Orc and
Miss Sugarbean

Have fantastic work ethic and integrity, does
Pratchett realize how much the uplifting attitude
of his main characters

Contrast with his cynical omnipresent narrator
perspective, does he see the juxtaposition
between two aspects

His protagonists acting with integrity and his blasé
narrative voice, the dualism must cause a war
in his mind – verily, I suspect

That is happening at present – Orc and Miss Sugar-
bean represent the seven dolls of Capitaine Coq*
who got out of control

While Pratchett is telling a world-weary tale of human
nature, his characters are presenting a morality play
he cannot subdue them

Pratchett cannot impose decadence on his fictional
characters, they are whiter than snow – how much
does this irk him? I would love to know...

[Thank you Michelle Narayan for lending me this book,
a belated birthday present from your cousin in the UK,
you reread twice, I agree, once is not enough, I want to
make notes to remember his witticisms and criticism
as long as I can...]

Terry Pratchett ‘Unseen Academicals’ Doubleday 2009
* Capitaine Coq - One of the seven puppets in Paul
Gallico's book "For The Love Of Seven Dolls"

Never Sing In Public

*
Listening to my voice recordings,
kept to remind me never to sing
in public, sounds awful, to think
I inflict this on my family

It is a wonder they still tolerate me
now it makes sense why Tiaan al-
ways offer me pills to silence the
noise, my voice sounds terrible

I shall sing softly to myself, never
expose others to this; this dark day
of punishment has been saved by
Pratchett - Unseen Academicals

I love his irreverent definition of
poetry: get a girl kindly disposed
to make her take off her vest
comical humour at its best

I love his critique of society, beautiful
Juliet paid for causing dreams, no brain
required; soccer hooliganism, men with
whips creating fighting machines

When humanity does away with whips,
rules and regulations, replacing it with
respect for freedom -

A new civilization would come about for
the first time - life would become
worthwhile for people like me...
*

Sound Of His Voice

*
I gauge hubby’s state of mind by
the sound of his voice, watching
James Bond with the kids who
do not care about sound

Nici says Pierce Brosnan is the only
handsome James Bond - watching
‘Tomorrow Never Dies’ with them-
Brosnan does not do it for me

His voice is too thin, Nici loves him
because he has less body hair than
my hero, Sean Connery–Who cares?
Sean had the VOICE

And that is EVERYTHING!

* ***** ***** ***** ***** *

Watching TV with the family, keeping my
hand on the pulse of current entertainment

While people seem to become less studious
when inebriated by alcoholic beverages

I become more conscientious and academic
though my field of study is popular movies

And folk songs -I see why civilization survives
by ignoring all intellectuals, their negative take

...on EVERYTHING!

* ***** ***** ***** ***** *

The Three Musketeers

*

The Three Musketeers – Tiaan, who had
his arm in a sling, me who likes hunting
and hubby, always engaged in rational
thinking, sallied forth today to buy ear-
phones so I can play with music and
sounds

Now everyone must duck and dive to
escape the noise that I make as I sing
with myself, so glad Terry Pratchett only
objects to people singing with their mirror
images and Mr Robin-in-the-hand, but
approves

Of people singing in harmony with them-
selves like Agnes Nit did when she sang
and Perdita, living within, joined in, I think
the naughty Bond-girl joined me, she is
invisible until I have seen a Bond-
movie

Then her image pops into the mirror,
rejoicing in the life
I hate to live...

[Seems like I escaped the scourge of Mr Robin
and other woodfolk appearing, I am glad to
report]

Sing For Myself

*
New headphones, soft sponge covering
my ears, discovered how to make voice
recordings, sang Webber’s Phantom and
and crooned Whispering Hope, Abeheid-
schi Bumbeidschi and Dominique, strange
little voice vibrating alone in the air like a
disembodied spirit

I tried to anchor myself, bring the diaphragm
in play, to my infinite delight sang a duet with
myself, just as Pratchett said, NOT with my
mirror reflection, but with my voice on tape,
what fun, playing sing-a-long with myself,
I love recording devices of all kinds –
though I’m too shy to sing for others,
I can sing for myself!

A Strange Conductor

*

Words to me is a form of music
every language sings in a different
key, harmonies of chords, fifths and
fourths, sadness singing in a minor
key, rhythm all important, tone
and metre

But I live in an environment where
words are not allowed to sing, sound-
less symbols carrying silent messages
forever dumb

Yet my brain is a strange conductor that
lines up words in singing rhymes and
funny limericks and will not back down
when told to seek meaning
with military

precision…

Words Twirling In a Tune

*

For years I lamented the fact
that I could not motivate myself
to master the self-effacing art of
being an efficient government official

Expressing the meaning of a source
text in clipped, precise English; I felt
like death when my brain followed the
rhythm and metre of the sentence

Singing words as melodies in weaving
lines, instead of meticulous meanings

I cannot embrace the reality you rejoice
in because if I do, I will accept my failure
as administrator as the final definition of
me and my life – and I believe

Life is so much more than the facts that
define the failures of my life - my mind
loves to offer me words twirling in a tune
I refuse not reject myself for that offence

I love my brain and all its aberrations, I set
my brain free although it refuses to follow
the rules and regulations of official life; as
a child I hated my brain for letting me down

In becoming successful at being small, today
I embrace myself as I am, this is a fantasy
come true, fantasy means everything
to me and I shall remain loyal to it

Because it brought me happiness as well as
you, my brother-in-arms, who opened up
a universe of understanding for my
non-standard behaviour!

Successful Nonentity

*Why preach reality to me when
It indicts me for my failure to
succeed as a nonentity?

Childhood condemned me to
a life of misery, a low-paid job,
dealing with allergy

Fantasies of fairytale allegories
enabled me to change my fate
and create

New visions in spaces between
the requirements of mind-
destroying devices

Fantasies help me overcome
the failure of being a brick
in the wall

Make me strong when punished
for being different, create the
belief

I have a right to shortcomings and
strong points - Life is based
on the irrational fantasy

The pain and insanity inflicted by
rational reality cannot keep us
down - this produced

The world as it is - as well as
you and me!
*

Ascend In Fairytale (Rev.)

** The crocodile spirit drowns soul in
fantasy to release its mind from gloom
but magic claims a price, allergy grows
worse as the spirit breaks free
through enchanting words

Crocodile returns catatonic, immobilised,
thanks fablers for creating fantasies
relieving pain passing crises in high
jumps to heavenly realms

Poetry’s magic too dangerous flying
high plummeting to earth returning
an ungainly reptile after soaring
in the sky like a bird

Rather to ascend in fantasies that
never end in disappointment when
reptilian reality asserts itself

***************************************

Why did the crocodile lose itself completely
in Terry Pratchett’s narrative?

Food intolerance is manifesting in muscle
weakness and nervous system imbalance, I
ingested processed meat with lots of chemicals
for two days consecutively and it cost me my life

The crocodile immersed spirit and soul in fantasy
to lift its mind out of physical misery; the magic
exerts a price, allergy symptoms grow worse as
the spirit breaks free through enchanting words

The crocodile returns in a catatonic state, muscles
too tired to move - I can never thank storytellers
like Terry Pratchett enough for creating fantasies
which override discomfort and disability

Bringing symptomatic pain relief; reading prescribed
books in my youth made life unbearable, now crisis
times pass in high jumps into heavenly realms; poetry
is even more powerful, but it is too dangerous

I fly too high then fall too hard down to earth, the crocodile
cannot adapt to being an ungainly reptile after flying like
a bird in the sky, it is better to ascend in fairytale fan-
tasies that do not end in SUCH disappointment

When reality asserts itself!

Web Of Illegal Bewitchment

*

*

I thought I could escape the bane
of getting caught up again by reading
slowly when beginning Terry Pratchett’s
Unseen Academicals

I thought watching the No1 Ladies Detective
Agency would calm my mind down – I was wrong
I haven’t been able to gather the scattered rays of
my attention, my mind is gone

Somehow Pratchett’s web of illegal bewitchment
woven with good cheer and charm and adorable
similes, has augmented the desolation in my head
I cannot function at all because

Time has come to a standstill, there is only this book
of magic, total confusion and the shrilling in my ears
nothing in between, I can’t do anything, the nervous
tension stretching to breaking point

Desperately I sit at my desk, staring at my document,
every word I type seems to take a hundred years
because the flow of time has stopped, nothing will
make it start up again – the pain in my head

Is increasing, if only I could cry in a desperate attempt
to jump-start my frozen brain…

*

[I started reading Unseen Academicals
and what little sense I had, I lost completely.
I can’t move forwards or backwards or sideways –
the book is alive like a burning charm in my head
and I am burning up – excited and full of dread.]

Deflate Bubbly Thoughts

Can’t sleep, lost concentration on routines
today, escaped by thinking exciting things,
started reading Terry Pratchett’s new book,
watched TV, ‘The No1 Ladies Detective
Agency’ – presenting human foibles
infused with love

I have letters to translate, need to deflate
all bubbly thoughts of fantasy in order to
concentrate on boring tomorrow

Without sleep I become hyperactive to flee
the fatigue; allergy is very strict, makes me
feel guilty about everything, forcing me to
seek deeper meaning in all phenomena

Perpetual insomnia, night after night, changes
me into a crocodile surviving on fantasies to
escape the reptilian inability to fit into modern
society because I am bored

My epic struggle against the feeling of
boredom a never-ending struggle
against myself...

Brave Literary Attempt

Shared my stories with Alet
a fantasy of a government
official off to attend
a convention

Derailing the scene by her
having all kinds of exciting
adventures, the stern, grim
convocation

Turning into a fairytale of a
damsel in distress, a brave
literary attempt destroyed
as we digress

By creating a melodramatic
scene in which the heroine
is unmasked as a female
phantom of the opera

The scars to her soul turning
her into a stone, ice-cold and
without feeling, no sympathy
for human beings

As her soul had been turned
into a snowflake when she
was small by events beyond
her control

But as Alet and I envisage the
scene of her hitting the head
of her victims into a pulp while
screaming

‘I order you to be my friend!
Be my friend, you scum, or
die! – drawing an axe from
her handbag

We roll around laughing so
much, colleagues threaten
us with eviction!

Am On Autopilot

Oh wondrous pain, ice-cream caramel
for breakfast, wiped the files in my brain
cannot prioritise, mind resonating with
nothing, gone all emotion, I am a
crocodile, feeling extinguished,
flying on autopilot

Following a preset course developed by
my crocodile brain when I was a child
facing a meaningless world in which
I saw no place for myself, pride
became my guiding light

Isolation and independence, providing
in my own needs - dreaming dreams
the only way to transcend the pain of
existence, pitied and feared the
animal kingdom

I thought they existed in pain like me
while they were not free to overcome
such misery through fantasy visions

Distraught I regarded awareness with
awe as the most horrible aspect of life
knowing pain and suffering, my only
delight was to become someone else

There are many in my repertoire, yet
the allergy wipes them all out, leaving
the crocodile to deal with the world,
escaping into abstract thought and
into music

Today I believe life is supposed to be
fun, the crocodile is an aberration -
thank heaven for that!

Hypocrisy Tally With Reality

Time to prepare for tomorrow, to change
my dial from happiness to sorrow, getting
ready to charge the next hurdle, the ubi-
quitous production sheet, the bane of my
administrative life, accounting for every
moment I’m alive, every thought in my
head, justifying all to the thought police

Explaining every step I took, trying to prove
I am a soulless human being only existing
to serve, yesterday’s bad news made me
feel miserable enough to tackle my boring
document, tonight I have to scare myself
into doing my duty if I want to feel worthy
enough to breathe in peace

I can only bog down and do meaningless work
once I achieve a feeling of peace with being a
nonentity, I am getting ready, logically no inno-
vative being would ever divulge the thoughts
in its head, I must carefully weigh every word
that will be said, bureaucratic hypocrisy can
never tally with reality

Otherwise we would all have been extinct
already...

Delirious With Joy!

I am a phoenix, rising victorious from the
ashes left after the flames of my anger,
self-hate and mutilation, pain cleansed
a way to concentration, mind stabilised
at one single point

I completed my document, followed the
argument right to the end, at one stage I
realised what was happening, focusing
on one thing only, the rays of attention
usually scattering

In a million directions formed a laser beam
of clear understanding, fear and rebellion
cleansed from my soul, grim happiness in
my heart, mark phrases in blue, working
straight through lunch

Eyes focused and bright, when I reached
the end I was ecstatic, delighted, aglow
with joy - THIS is what life is all about:
meeting challenges, suffering and
sacrifice, then victory

My biggest fear is lack of focus and bore-
dom, when I succeed in giving meaning
to my little projects, I am delirious
with joy!

Burning Volcano Inside

Positive books recommend enjoying
sadness as much as joy, tonight I apply
their advice, trying to enjoy the tears I
cry, hoping to sob my way out of sad-
ness, facing a situation I cannot master,
trying to overcome fear of my incompe-
tence and lack of control, inability to
conquer the dark in my soul, the
rebellion against repetition

Why, oh WHY is it so difficult, why is it
so painful to conquer myself and draw
up lists, I am guilt-ridden, duties others
carry out with resignation cause war in
my heart, I can’t share the isolation of
fighting myself, I HATE my weakness
in not overcoming my character flaws,
every month the same macabre ritual
repeats itself, struggling to complete

Documents that bore me to death - as I
near the end, repetition of boredom and
meaninglessness handicaps my effort to
complete all my projects, only by hurting
and hating myself do I manage to become
so unhappy I finally do what I intensely
detest, losing my self-esteem once again,
yet for all that my passionate nature
never cools down

Burning like a volcano inside, fighting to
keep up appearances, seem one of the
crowd, not revealing the mutilation of my
rebellious spirit, confiding the pain to
diaries in words I have been assured
will reach no-one, I’m sick to death of
my false smile, wish I could show how
I feel – but that would be suicide...

Trying To Absorb Emptiness

My soft ear phones finally conked in
now plastic things are burrowing into
my ears, most ineffective, falling out
hurting my ears, the new bump on my
head is throbbing

Bumped my head on the steel girders
of the bed, now I resemble Frankenstein’s
servant monster, my mind shrunk to a pin-
point of light refusing to light up my dreary
document

I merit the services of a paid assassin to put
an end to my misspent life, paid to do the work
of the brain-dead without spirit or soul, but my
brain keeps firing neurons filled with fire and
life, bursting with ideas

I am a life-long convict on death row at my
bureaucratic desk, doing my best to look
mental death in the eye without flinching
or running away, my mind ran off today,
the empty shell that is me

Cannot keep my light-seeking eyes on the
light-destroying words in the papers pertly
parading in front of me, my back hurts –
I am a psychosomatic wreck, a soldier in
the trenches trying to absorb emptiness!

Dreams Waiting In The Wings

Confronted with a stack of papers, a dispute
about land reform matters, each time I start
in earnest my psychosomatic headache ap-
pears, we need the living dead, a confirmed
zombie to work through these files

I cannot club my spirit unconscious every time
I wish to do my job, if only something could make
me angry or scared enough to find zombie words
the lesser of two evils, but I suspect life beckons
and beautiful words are waiting to sing

Lovely stories are waiting to be told, beautiful
dreams are waiting in the wings, ready to fill
the seeking mind, visions of a new world are
on the verge of consciousness; how should I
knock myself unconscious so that

I can use the magic of life and time to stare
at empty lines repeating themselves in boring
uniformity, how to enjoy my job, create fun for
everybody if I have to cut my wings
on a daily basis – no wonder

Humanity has become a psychological case to
be managed by chemicals and medication to
deaden mind and spirit, kill initiative, douse
the fires of passion before they start…

The Cheshire Cat Grinned

Alice remembered the lessons she learnt
from the Crying Mock Turtle, the more one
cries, the more one finds things to cry about,
the more one keeps looking at things, the
more one finds things one does not want
to see - like a bad-tempered Queen who
shouts ‘Off With His Head’ and flowers
chasing her off because she seems
to be a weed, not a flower at all

And when one is expected to play croquet
in high society while the game is rigged to
favour the Queen, one can never win self-
esteem, therefore Alice decided she would
focus on things that made her feel happy
enough to stay alive; concentrating on
celebrating life, off she went singing
‘Wake up, wake up, to the
morning sun

Tell me, tell me that you love me till the
day is done’ - the White Rabbit wrung
his hands, knowing the Queen of Hearts
would not approve, but the Cheshire Cat
grinned madly and moved his head in
time with the song while the Gryphon
ignored everyone making lists of
everything under the sun…

Magic In Places Bewitched

Alice walked into Cambridge following the
White Rabbit and so overjoyed was she to
see its academic glory in soft golden sun-
shine, she levitated immediately

The Rector saw her hovering with shining
eyes a few feet above the floor, in great
alarm sallied forth to bring her down,
not allowing such sacrilege

The law of gravity was strictly obeyed where
he had any say, but Alice’s delight on meeting
him, discerning the beauty of his soul, was so
great, her electricity lifted him also

Seriously concerned he begged her to let him
down, explaining Cambridge was respectable
all Mary Poppins gimmicks were frowned
upon, then a professor entered

A faithful intellectual who would sell his soul to
seem the most learned man around, seeing his
rector standing in the air, he knew he had to do
so too and up he went

Alice enjoyed the scene of magic so much, she
experienced epiphany, in came Terry Pratchett
for an appointment with the venerable hovering
rector, concluding that Cambridge

Had been influenced by Unseen University he
joined the three figures in the air and felt very
happy to be there, JK Rowling appeared for a
meeting, seeing Pratchett up there

She thought Harry Potter’s magic had seeped
into the place of learning and rushed to attend
the floating group, vaguely wondering where
her broomstick could be

As she would like to explore the university from
the air, wishing to see whether they had a depart-
ment for necromancy, then the rector addressed
them importantly: This is Cambridge

Things like levitation often take place but it is a
secret never to divulge, think of it as a mass
hallucination, never tell the media, you would
be locked up

We shall all deny this happened if interrogated,
Pratchett bowed and spoke up: Levitating here
is a logical consequence of stories by Lewis
Carrol et al

We need not worry that we would ever be believed
just write another book of fantasy, secrets are safe
because people only believe what they experience
for twenty years at least

Even then they are not sure unless authority give
them leave to believe, tomorrow we shall forget
that this ever happened, Alice laughed happily,
glad she knew the secret

How magic stays enclosed in places bewitched
like Cambridge university...

Mainstream Paradigm Experiments

When reading about supernatural, esoteric
and spiritual events, I hate it when all reject
each other’s evidence

If Mr Home is claimed to levitate, mediums
who produce ectoplasm reject witness
statements

If Peter Hurkos sees into the future, those
who levitate cry fraud because they can-
not do it

While alternative and pseudo-science groups
reject one another, they shall remain outside
mainstream science

I LOVE it that the mainstream paradigm reject
all statements that cannot be verified by sense
experiments

The use of our own five senses is the only basis
for inter-subjective consensus about what reality
should be

Unique personal experience can never be used
for that end because it cannot be duplicated or
verified

I love the infinite variety of individual events and
accept all accounts as true for the person who
had the experience

But refuse to join any promotion of such private
feelings, I cherish my own visions without
forcing them on others

I believe all groups have a valid viewpoint which
works if correctly used, mainstream leaves us
freedom

To enjoy our own experience without forcing us
to subscribe to an individual’s vision, the only
thing we share

Is sensory data, though I love your out-of-body
experience and subsequent witness about
its occurrence

I cannot join the group formed by you on that basis,
your vision is valid for you alone, I am happy with
all visions

Existing side by side so I can feast my eyes
and mind on everyone!

Comfort, Love, Cold Ideals

I did not leave the headache the same
my escape mechanisms worsened the
situation, I am supposed to catch up on
work or carry out domestic duties, but
with this kind of pain I am hunting for
medication and looking for beautiful
things that will lift my spirit beyond the
pain into another dimension where
physical conditions won’t count

The logical question is why not follow
a diet to evade the allergy, the answer
is such discipline kills all joie de vivre,
impinging on every move we make so
that even the good times turn bad –
therefore I accept the periods of pain
as payment for the good times, then
even the bad times are good, I read
books that transcend the pain

Listen to special tunes; music and words
are sacred to me, a special way to escape
my allergic body, I keep the avenue safe
by looking past everything that makes me
unhappy, the allergy makes me unhappy
enough; at things that make me think good-
feeling thoughts, I respect the right of
others to ignore my allergy in their
focus on things that they like

The allergy motivates me to take a positive
view of everything, I need all the help I can
get to guard against a mind confused and a
pained system I have been fighting since
childhood, as a child I set ideals above all,
as a grown-up I learnt to value comfort and
love more, being a fanatic fighter against
myself is the loneliest place I have been
- I prefer human society to cold ideals...

Empower Dissent

We can’t be forced to join what we abhor
I shall rejoice in the good luck of friends’
success in being bureaucrats effectively
without berating me for failing to succeed,
but such success entails an abnegation
of the me I know I am

I can’t conform in meeting norms, accept
the pain and shame of tacit punishment
conditionally to keep an independent mind,
I’ll never get the accolades I didn’t earn
while I’m confirmed the office dunce

Everything I do and say still contravenes
the rules of protocol; one day, maybe, my
writings will empower the dissidents who
wait for stirring words to make them brave …

What Will Happen Next

COMMENT: “Adding the argument of a computer
to your poem does not add credibility, I don’t feel
obliged to see the connection...”

REPLY: The analogy is limited but I love it – I did
not create myself and my darling computer did not
create itself, I am tabula rasa containing input

The little Alien in my head dictates what I do and an
unknown Consciousness with remote control dictates
what alternatives we confront

I open files and the Internet on my computer, just like
the thought files in my head are opened by the little
Alien and the remote control Consciousness

Information overload overpowers my brain, just like
my computer shuts down with all the information
files I open at the same time

I never master control of my own actions and decisions, I
feel like a computer being played upon by cosmic forces,
I am more of a computer than my computer

See the conundrum between the claim “We create our
own reality” and MY experience of the little Alien and
remote-control-Consciousness in control of my life

I interpret this to mean the little Alien creates my reality
by choosing between alternatives PRESET by the
remote control Consciousness

I determined the little Alien’s choices in my childhood
when I dreamt of having a loving, stable family; today
I watch these forces playing out their games

Unable to escape from THIS game of being ME with my
rock-hard decisions and loyalty to my self-chosen
rules – until physical death

I programmed myself and cannot break the rules I had
made up when I was a child - this is how
I experience life

The forces, the Alien and remote control Consciousness
created by me when I was small, are in charge of my
choices - I am waiting with bated breath

To see what will happen next!

My Mind Session Ends

A computer is a perfect illustration of the
manifold dimensions of reality, each time
I click on an icon a new folder opens just
like memories in my brain

Too many folders open at the same time
causes malfunction, computer short-circuits
in synchronicity with me, all our documents
shut down leaving us a screen saver only

Mine is dark, I grab anything to reinstate the
world, keep a book about a trouble-shooting
angel with lovely illustration next to my docu-
ment for the moment my mind session ends

We waste a lot of time, my computer and I
moving between states of consciousness,
we understand each other so well – and
that helps so much!


Annie Dalton "Making Waves" Collins 2003

2. Quantum Physics Continued

Observing something small influences the physical
processes taking place.

Light waves act like particles and particles act
like waves (called wave particle duality).

Matter goes from one spot to another without moving
through intervening space (quantum tunnelling).


AFRIKAANS:
Wanneer kleinste deeltjies waargeneem
word, word die fisiese prosesse wat plaasvind deur die
die waarneming verander.

Liggolwe reageer soos partikels (deeltjies) en partikels
reageer soos golwe (partikel-golf dulaiteit).

Vastestof beweeg van een plek na ‘n ander sonder om
aan die spasie tussen-in te raak (kwantum-tonnels).

*********************************************


Information moves instantly across vast distances.
The entire universe is a series of probabilities.

Fortunately it breaks down for large objects as
demonstrated by Schroedinger's Cat thought
experiment.


AFRIKAANS:

Inligting lê GROOT afstande in ‘n ommesientjie af.
Die heelal is ‘n opeenvolging van waarskynlikhede.

Gelukkig verander die prentjie vir groot voorwerpe
soos gesien in Schroedinger se Kat-Eksperiment
– word vervolg.

http://physics.about.com/od/quantumphysics/p/quantumphysics.htm

Course In Quantum Physics

Wanted my friend to read quantum physics
she does not know what it entails, offered to
be Alice taking her on a journey to Quantum
Wonderland if she would jump down a Black
Hole with me, entering George Gamow’s
Tompkinsonian Universe to dance
with the Wu Li Masters…


What Is QUANTUM PHYSICS:

The study of the behavior of matter and energy at the
molecular, atomic, nuclear, and smaller microscopic levels.
In the early 20th century, it was discovered that the laws
governing macroscopic objects do not function the same
in such small realms.

AFRIKAANS: Die studie van die kleinste moontlike
eenhede waarin die sintuiglik-waarneembare wêreld
afgebreek kan word.


What Does QUANTUM Mean:

Latin for "how much" - the discrete units of matter and
energy PREDICTED by and OBSERVED in quantum
physics, even space and time, seemingly continuous,
have smallest possible values.

AFRIKAANS: “Hoeveelheid” - die kleinste moontlike waarde
van vastestof en energie wat deur kwantum fisika VOORSPEL
en WAARGENEEM word, selfs tyd en ruimte, skynbaar
aaneenlopend, het kleinste moontlike waardes.

http://physics.about.com/od/quantumphysics


“Dancing Wu Li Masters”

Gary Zukav’s humorous masterpiece, The Dancing Wu Li
Masters, is an acclaimed introduction to quantum physics.

Scientific American: “Zukav is a skilled expositor, any layman
would find his book enjoyable and informative.” The doors to
the fascinating, dazzling, remarkable world of quantum physics
are opened, no previous mathematical or technical expertise
required, a combination of depth, clarity and humor.

"Wu Li" is the Chinese phrase for physics "patterns of organic
energy" and "enlightenment" framing Zukav's exploration of
quantum mechanics and relativity theory.

The Dancing Wu Li Masters illuminates the powers
at the core of all we know.

http://www.harpercollins.com/books/


******************************************

1. George Gamow, John Hookham (Illustrator) “Mr Tompkins
in Wonderland” The Macmillan Company, 1946
2. Gary Zukav, “Dancing Wu Li Masters - An Overview of the
New Physics” Harper Collins e-books 6 October 2009

Previous Zombie Generations

Happily started reading ‘Making Waves’ by
Annie Dalton, good fun, a heavenly high
school for angels – until the angel went to
Jamaica to confront the sugar plantation
owners treating their slaves with utmost
contempt

Suddenly realising slavery was just as bad
if not worse, than concentration camps, the
only solution was death to escape from so
much pain - although modern society
changes us into zombies; at least we
do not suffer

The same physical pain as previous
zombie generations....

Annie Dalton ‘Making Waves’ Collins 2003

Slapende-Skoonheid-Sprokie

“Ek het my eie professor Higgins gevind wat tevergeefs
maar baie wonderlik probeer om my te intellektualiseer!”

Minda Joubert: Jou feëverhale verveel my beslis nie

Ek is bly om dit te hoor, in intellektuele kringe word
feëverhale afgeskiet as “opium vir die massas” en daar
word neergekyk op gewilde TV-series; tog word die “opium”
naamlik dat drome waar word, daagliks geïllustreer deur
glansmense wat ongelooflik gewild en beroemd word

Hulle boeke en flieks verkoop soos soetkoek, dan kry die
intellektueles skuim om die mond van jaloesie en skry-
wers van negatiewe, bitterbek-literatuur huil lang trane
omdat niemand hulle diepsinnige goed wil koop en lees
nie, terwyl die onintellektuele gebabbel van
glansmense verslind word

Die intellektuele suurkouse sit die pot mis omdat hulle mense
wil DWING om “goeie” letterkunde te waardeer – terwyl dit
mens depressief en sinloos laat voel en mense van hul drome
en lewenskrag beroof - almal soek die sleutel tot sukses in
die boeke van “celebrities”

Die aaklige voorgeskrewe boeke op skool verseker dat meeste
mense ophou lees nog voordat hulle begin het – gelukkig is my
leeslus en liefde vir feëverhale so deur my ouers geprikkel dat
dit ‘n BA-graad met Engels, Duits en Frans plus Filosofie
Honneurs oorleef het

Ek het na my universiteitsdae alle intellektuele dwinglandy
afgesweer en lees nou net stof wat my vreugde verskaf –
hoe’s daai vir opstand teen intellektualiserende sinisme –
en ek het my eie professor Higgins gevind wat tevergeefs
maar baie wonderlik probeer om my te intellektualiseer!

Aangesien ek hom in Vadertjie Langbeen verander het
het ek nou die voordeel van ‘n opheffende invloed wat
my heidense tendense probeer tem terwyl ek my lewe
op papier uitsorteer - wat kan beter wees as dit?

Net om ‘n mens met ‘n werk in ‘n kantoor te wees met ‘n
man en twee pragtige kinders is al klaar die vervulling van
‘n feëverhaaldroom nadat ek Sita se “Loon van die Sonde”
as kind gelees het en amper van onsteltenis die
gees gegee het

Gelukkig het Die Slapende-Skoonheid-sprokie wat deur
Tryna du Toit genadiglik onder my aandag gebring is
in “Groen Koring” my van daardie skok genees!

New Romeo-Juliet Theme

A glorious new take on the Romeo and
Juliet theme, Capulets and Montagues
represented by the CIA and Fulcrum
Romeo alias Chuck and his beloved
CIA bodyguard Juliet called Sarah
are fugitives from the Capulet CIA

Romeo’s college sweetheart, a Montague
called Jill on the Fulcrum side, has to flee
the Montagues also for having helped the
CIA Romeo who let her go free in an act
of loyalty, this made the head of the CIA
Capulet-clan decide to get rid of Chuck

Instructing his bodyguard Sarah to bring
Chuck in for imprisonment, a true Juliet
she chose to run away with him; thus this
Romeo Chuck is on the run with the CIA
agent Sarah, a beautiful blonde Juliet,
and Fulcrum agent Jill is on the run

Set free from the CIA by her college love
Chuck, this Juliet, a beautiful brunette, is
all alone, how shall things turn out right
when Romeo faces two Juliets, one who
saved him from the CIA, the other who
saved him from Fulcrum?

Brilliant, using the Shakespeare theme to
create a new variation on the love-triangle
scheme, I love this fairy tale, proving that
possibilities for innovation are infinite,
just like quantum physicists say!

Capulets = CIA
Montagues = Fulcrum
Romeo Chuck Bartowski
Bodyguard Juliet = Sarah Walker
College sweetheart Juliet = Jill Roberts

Freedom Is Everything

My department revels in diabolical schemes
a thank you letter for doing my job, average
performance of relaying boring documents
in a heathen script, producing assembly line
Victorian English renditions of words killed
through use without accomplishing anything

not conveying uplifting theories or useful
ideas, with the ashes of being average in
doing nothing in my mouth, I sit in my chair
and revel in the idea that I work in heaven,
given my colleagues who suffer my unholy
presence in their carefully constructed

haven of total control, they should have
kicked me out ages ago as being unteach-
able, it goes to show that the supernatural
is operative in my life, magic powers are
active on my behalf to make space for me
in sensory reality where I don’t belong

I have to nail my consciousness to the ground
stay away from my natural habitat, dreams and
visions, in order to live within routines based on
subjective beliefs; I accepted this hateful letter
congratulating me with being a brain-dead human
being with a dead-pan face, I cannot revel in

the success of creating an imitation of a totally
colourless, catatonic, word-destroying human
being; the letter is an insult which still preserves
my role in the game of charades that allow me
escape by motivating me to fight against the
chains and manacles that chafe every day

I cannot give in and become a good official,
however much I crave accolades, I cannot
sell my soul, oh wait – I’ve given my soul
away ages ago when I decided that
freedom is everything…

October Jacaranda Season

I looked at Pratchett’s description
of boredom attentively, the way
carpet stuffing fills the head and
the mind turns to mush – it is
happening to me

I am stuck with a job to do and
La Traviata on headphones
in my ears, my head stuffed full
of cotton wool, everything seems
such a waste of the beautiful life
coursing in my veins

I want to be outside feasting
my eyes on emerald sheen
of plants after rain, small
white flowers of jasmine,
purple remnants of an
October jacaranda season

but I must remain in my seat
create the impression of reading
boring documents and relaying
their content in Victorian English
in the South African emulation
of UK spelling checkers

even my imagination cannot help me
escape, I am leaving right now,
I am going to run a while before
continuing my charade!

Jul Klein Sonstraal

Aan Marié en Nico

Die mooiste, soetste, wonderlikste wete:
Jou babaseun Max Anthony, is hier, die
vreugdevure brand, die wonder het weer-
eens geskied

Klein Max Anthony is die gawe, ‘n seunskind
wat sy ma se hart steel, ‘n terggees wat sy sus-
sies vermaak, ‘n ondeunde klein rakker wat sy
pa se lewe omkrap

Terwyl sy pa se hart van dankbaarheid brand
Mila en Maya wil hul lieflingboetie vashou en
bederf, die huis sal nooit weer stil wees nie, Max
Anthony is hier

Die avontuur het begin, wees sterk, hou moed, ‘n
klein babaseun word te gou groot, vingers in die
muurprop en stofsuierperde en boomklim en val -
die mallemeule van die lewe

Het begin draai, geniet die rit, van nou af is
Marié, Mila en Maya – en Nico! - die
toegewyde slawe van Max Anthony
hul klein sonstraal!

Aan Marié en Nico

Max Anthony Drie Dae Oud

Mila het lank gewag vir jou, Maya het verlang
om jou vas te hou, Ma Marié het vreugdevol na
jou aankoms uitgesien, Pa Nico het opgewonde
vertrou, jou eerste dag in intensief

In mamma se arms wag jy op pappa se koms,
mamma straal, Mila en Maya dink jy is die
wonderlikste pop om mee te speel, warmte
en sagtheid, die ongelooflikste blydskap

Jou sussies wil jou troetel en soentjies op jou
koppie neerreën, hulle wil jou bederf en warm
toedek, mamma wil vir jou stories vertel en
liedjies sing, pappa bid vir jou veiligheid

Sien die toekoms groei in sy seun, sy hart swel
in sy bors, sy oë blink en sy lag weerklink, blou
kabouterklere vir jou, mamma druk jou sagte
lyfie styf teen haar vas

Sy sal jou aankoms vir ewig onthou, eendag as jy
oor haar troon sal sy die soetheid van jou aankoms
herroep, as sy jou sterk seunshande aanskou
sal sy jou klein vuisies steeds voor haar sien

As jy met groot skoene deur die huis draf, sal sy
jou klein voetjies steeds daaragter gewaar, as jou
diep stem dreun, sal sy jou kleintyd
koester in haar hart

Good To Be So Bad

I’m reading a fairy tale I got
from my dad, he told me the
story beforehand, Polyanna
and Daddy-Longlegs
combined

I told him how I battle at work
trying to concentrate on the
mundane with the brain I
got from him; he always
changed jobs

I explained how making lists
creates the desire in me to
break nonsensical rules as
he used to do; he said he
always resigned

After breaking the rules – but
I have been a Government
official for twenty years, with
my inheriting criminal
ideas from him

And inability to suffer boredom
from mom - she changed jobs
every five years, I vainly try to
focus on routines and
statistics

But it might be good to be so bad
Jack the Ripper killed disadvan-
taged young women, in this
way he made society aware
of their plight

Which led to social reform, maybe
my inability to make lists, follow
rules, will also lead to reform;
management might realize
they are creating

Hell on earth...

Our Own Heroic Universe

Went for another romp in James Bond’s
magical universe where Q descends like
a genie out of a bottle, Moneypenny is
the fairy godmother

The princesses are all beautiful women
loving James Bond for his charisma and
bravery, above all, loyalty to his cause,
he represents a whole universe

Some complain they cannot see in what
his power lies, I see it clearly when magic
enfolds him like a cloak, crime and events
orientated in such a way

James comes out tops because his single-
minded devotion to destroying his enemies
makes him the lucky prince, we are all
attracted by such a mesmerising story

Popular movies speak to the collective
subconscious by which the majority
are strengthened and individuals
believe that they are important

My fairy tale world cannot stop at Hans
Christian Andersen, it is enriched by
Ian Fleming and Broccoli who knew
how to present heroism

So that we enjoy trying to create
our own heroic universe...

License to Kill – Timothy Dalton

We Are Free

Mankind is said to be fallen, human race
corrupted by Lucifer’s whiles, world lost,
yet reality is man-made and exploited
by people with ulterior motives

Unprincipled people use creeds – religious,
scientific, material, spiritual, to reduce us
to slavery, no system guarantees goodness
or changes our ability to choose

We cannot control how systems and beliefs
are used, creeds become what we use them
for, people with integrity find love and
sincerity in everything

I admire all who beautify the world through
bravery and loving deeds and accept the
freedom-enhancing aspects of religions,
rejecting claims of exclusive truth

Anything can be realized by me and you
we are free to create and enjoy our
own visions and dreams...

Dream Of Being Content

I battled all day and lost, tried to
concentrate on sorting documents,
my mind never succeeded in bringing
order to the mess on my desk

Came home thoroughly saddened
by my failure of a day, inability causing
fear to build in my head, listening to an
old radio programme brought calm

Then played the first recording of Susan
Boyle’s lovely voice, suddenly feeling that
dreams can come true, though I am confu-
sed as to what dreams I should cherish

When thinking of something wonderful, I grow
scared as it unfolds in my thoughts, dreams
of success scare me - I dream of being
content with whatever happens...

Laugh Out Of Depression

When I was at school I often felt
like this – filled with emptiness –
then I used to read old Reader’s
Digests and magazines, library
books, poetry anthologies –
anything to pass the time
until I could feel better
again

When I was small, I climbed a tree,
sat on the rooftops, read the En-
cyclopaedia; as I grew older,
I read books prescribed at
school, most of them were
ever so awful – in order to
pass through feelings of
black meaningless
misery

No solace in human company, to-
night I made notes from Carpe
Jugulum, started on Anastasia
Morningstar; hubby enraged
about bungling at work, a
cricket game gone awry,
I have been alone in
myself all day

Emptiness in my heart,
nobody filling the
hole left by the
feeling of
nothing-
ness….


******* ******* *******

After dinner I feel better, listening to
Staal Burger, warm in the happy
knowledge that Alet ordered the
DVD of the Daan Retief movie,
I can’t wait to laugh again, the
first time I saw it, I laughed
myself out of depression...

Adrift In Dreams

After spending the day playing with
notes jumping to rhythms and fitting
words to the tunes, I am adrift in a sea
of dreams, combining harmonies with
meaning changed my focus completely
I cannot concentrate, the bane of my life
is a mind brimming over the sides of my
little world…

Songs Sing In My Ears

I love my family, I love my kids, I love
seeing their faces and hearing their
voices and holding them

I love hubby and all his schemes and
his plans for improvement and the way
he forgives

I love my mother and her hare-brained
ideas, I love my father and his notes
and his songs

I love my sister and her belligerence, I
love my poet friend who creates dreams
fragile and sweet

I love my colleagues who work so valiantly
design new forms and always help me to
conquer my fears

I love my brother and his love for words,
I love it when he cracks his whip
so that terms

Line up for him, I love his dismissal of things
that cannot be known by the senses and
sibling understanding

Of the games that I play; I love that we share
genes so that he understands everything I say
when I am confused

I love this beautiful world of music and sounds,
symbols and ideas, I love the love that I feel
for everyone

And most of all, I love the love they give me
when they laugh at my ideas, I love
eyes that are happy

I love songs that sing in my ears….

Ah, Delicious Theory

Ah, delicious theory and sweet contemplation
giving birth to scientific progress and innovation
I adore learning more about visions, such as

Descriptions of earth-shaking events encoded
in the first five books of the Bible - the codes*
inspire my imagination to investigate

All speculation offered by quantum physics on
consciousness and awareness and sub-atomic
particles in communication

Experiments indicate our human minds,
functioning like laser beams, constitute
our holographic universe from vibrations

These ideas provide perfect explanations for the
Bible Code phenomenon, observation creates
and changes what is observed

Therefore the human mind is free to create a Bible
Code also, these theories are exciting and extends
the range of my dreams

Enlarging the range of awareness unto infinity, M Scott
Peck describes the mind as a permeable membrane*
penetrated by Karl Jung’s collective unconscious

I rejoice in this enhancement of immaterial existence
forever invisible to the five senses, leaving space for
ALL probabilities

As long as we are free to study all theories and
respect contrary viewpoints, we can all enjoy
a magical existence of

Infinite visions and dreams…

*Jeffrey Satinover “Cracking the Bible Code”
*M Scott Peck “The Road Less Travelled”

Insatiable Crocodile Appetite

Alice twirled a few times, then demurely
sat down on the toadstool assigned for
her personal use, wondering desperately
what she could drink or eat

To stop the waterfall cascading in her head
guiltily conscious that eating ice-cream for
breakfast, topped up with coffee and a hot-
dog, was probably the cause

Of the volcano erupting in her mind, short-
circuiting her brain; groping for the mental
switch to change the frequency of her mental
radio as the static swishing in her head

Turned her into a crocodile, immobile in the
arctic cold; just then Shere Khan caught the
crocodile with a charming smile - You have
changed into a saurian, my dear

what a delightful way to spend the day, I shall
tear you limb from limb in impressive mammal
style, proving crocodiles have no right to survive
the radiation that killed the dinosaurs -

With this Shere Khan set Alice’s crocodilian mind
alight, her languid jaw opened by its own volition and
she hissed - I’ll have you know the dinosaurs were
killed by maize-induced pellagra one and all

and a shameful sense of fashion, if only they had
learnt to imbibe alcohol topped with chocolate,
they would still be here! – Indeed, my sweet,
Shere Khan trilled, how can you be so sure?

- My crocodilian clan was there at the time, we
saw the errors of our ways and changed from
giants into trunks on legs, and we are better
than mammalians any time!

At this sacrilegious statement Shere Khan
stoppered his ears getting ready to tear up
the Alice crocodile, but the Angel of Mons
descended in a thrice

And smote him mightily saying - I was summoned
by Mighty Oats from Carpe Jugulum to save you
from Jungle Book, what are you doing here? – I
ate and drank magic potions in Wonderland

that turned me into a crocodile, then I fell into a
dark hole and exited in this universe, but I would
rather be in Indra’s heaven to see his holographic
pearls to feed my insatiable crocodile appetite

for all things wild and wonderful…

A Spoonful Of Crime

Alice looked up and saw the caterpillar lounging
on his mushroom, dreaming – she tiptoed to him
and woke him with a kiss on his forehead; he
looked up and admonished: “Where have you
been, I missed you!”

Alice curtsied and said: "I missed you too, Mr
Caterpillar, I got a job as government official
and did some assembly-line translations and
was stopped by a metaphysical conundrum.”

“Explain yourself”, the caterpillar ordered her,
and she continued: “Nothing I do is ever true
as in having happened unless it is registered
in a list, every list must be taken up in a bigger
list and every month we make a list of all the
lists and every three months we write an account
of every list that is part of a bigger list –
and it is confusing…”

“Sounds perfectly rational to me”, said the
caterpillar, “there’s no difficulty to see.”

“But I need to feel that I can be me without being
enlisted and recorded, described and sorted in
fifteen lists, I want to breathe without counting
oxygen molecules!” Alice insisted.

“That is easy to arrange”, the caterpillar airily
indicated, “when it is illegal to breathe without
official authorisation, becoming a criminal and
undercover spy is your only survival and life
becomes a piece of cake!”

The caterpillar blew a smoke ring, looking
triumphantly at Alice.

“Terry Pratchett would object, I know”, said Alice
sagaciously, “but a spoonful of crime makes the
administrative medicine go down, and living without
a list is the highest offence in a bureaucratic system.”

The caterpillar laughed and waved a kiss at Alice.

“Now you know the trick, go off into the wood, find
the Wolf and Red Riding Hood and join Robin Hood
in robbing the bureaucrats of all their controlling lists
– and have fun!” he told her happily.

“I shall also jump on a Merry-Go-Round and start a
race against the Work-On-Hand automatic list and
have it count all my rides, then go off to the library
while turning cartwheels!” Alice added as she danced
away and the caterpillar continued
his smoke-filled dream….

With reference to characters in:

Lewis Carrol “Alice In Wonderland”
Terry Pratchett “Carpe Jugulum”
PL Travers “Mary Poppins”