Storyteller’s Voice Gone

Finally, after a long, long time, we saw our friends
again, met new people, Bets resembling Shirley
while Dirk is a bit like Witte, Jannie a stern father
Dylan a mischievous boy, Nathan an adorable baby

When I explained about the importance of stories
and beads on invisible strings, Bets said I was too
busy, too restless for her, but she remembered the
story of the magic pencil we read at school

She also knows Staal Burger, then Lieb played music
by Amanda Strydom, reminding me that Ay Marieke,
Marieke was my favourite song, we argued about the
merits of Hennie Aucamp versus Koos DuPlessis

I insisted that Winternag by Eugene N Marias was the
most beautiful poem ever written - Lieb preferred Lost
Wanderers* by Koos DuPlessis to Mabalel or The Rain
Dance* in Dwaalstories* by Marais, as we pulled away

I recited Oh River Deep And Dark* – song of Juanita
Perreira in Magoeba’ Lions* - finishing with The Lonely
Girl’s Song* - the storyteller’s voice gone, the wind
crying because it is all alone…


*Lost Wanderers = Kinders van die Wind
*The Rain Dance = Die Dans van die Reen – Lied van Jan Konterdans
*Dwaalstories = Stories told by Jan Konterdans
*Oh River Deep And Dark = O Diep Rivier
*Magoeba’ Lions = Die Leeus van Magoeba – Eugene Marais
*The Lonely Girl’s Song = Wat word van die meisie wat
altyd alleen bly? Sy hoor nie meer die koms van die jagters
nie, die stem van die storieverteller is dood, en die wind
huil altyd om hy alleen is….

Heaven is Mine

Pessimism is hell, on the down part of life’s
escalator looking at pessimistic theories in
detail, pessimists create hell for themselves

When there is progress, they see degeneration,
when there is steady state, they see stagnation,
when things change, they fear extinction

When looking at the high age of the universe and
evidence of previous global catastrophes when all
was lost, just to find we are still here, I realize

There is nothing to fear, we are still going strong, new
life continually being born, nothing man has ever done
managed to destroy the earth, not even nuclear war

Even when previous civilisations were lost, new ones took
their place, pessimists cry about everything lost without
realizing that new things take their place all the time

Though I hate being exposed to their corrosive ideas, I
smile in joy, having been victimised in my youth when
pessimism was the staple of life, I have learnt

Simply by accepting the universe as benevolent and
not seeing it as a vale of tears, I left the hell of pessimism
and started living in the heaven of optimism

The world is a product of the mind and one day all will find
hell is a mind-state thought up by pessimists who want to
force humanity into despair

Following the evidence and theories of optimists, heaven
is mine, up the down escalator I go, good-bye!

Up the Down Escalator – Why the Global Pessimists
are Wrong, Charles Leadbeater, Penguin Books, 2003

Missile of a Spirit

There is no help for it, I have to admit
attempting to exist in a somnambulistic
state of spiritual bliss is not working any
better than a state of arrogant happiness

I tried to preserve my peaceful state of mind
by tippy-toeing around things that irk me from
time to time, spent the evenings lying in your
lap in front of the TV, smiling in vacant apathy
hoping dutifulness will carry me right through
my morbid document

No such luck, already the chains of reality are
strangling my spirit, I need a change of mind –
right to my underground aggressive state – to
carry me through the smallness of my life, I
have to find a grand vision, inflate my soul
with the fantasy of a grand mission

Just being a government official who cannot
fly as Douglas Adams described Arthur could
like Angela Langsbury does in Bedknobs and
Broomsticks, like Esmerelda Weatherwax
in Witches Abroad, like Mary Poppins
does all the time

Is not good enough for my adventure-
loving, challenge-seeking missile of
a spirit, sitting here is like
being buried alive...

Filigree-Finesse

Words of filigree-finesse touching
my heart like the sweetest caress:
when pain is intense, pleasure in-
tensifies commensurately

As spiritual entities when we imagine
light as waves our consciousness and
beliefs determine the outcome of
world events by setting expectations

Thinking of waves, light appears as such
repeating the exercise while visualizing
light as separate particles, discrete
points appear on the other side

Believing our feelings unsafe, we block our
power, we are free to believe anything we
wish, everything being a reflection of
our own consciousness

Choosing to be at peace with everyone and
everything we make peace with ourselves
words of filigree-finesse, so beautiful
my soul comes to rest…

A Protagonist with Narcolepsy

A sleepless night, turning over and over on the cold
hard floor, now my head is lolling, my eyes cannot
stay open, even words of filigree beauty are losing
their allure, even new ideas of the sublime cannot
stir my soul anymore, cannot suppress this fatigue

I need rest, sucking boiled sweets and swallowing
pills by the hand-full cannot make up for the sleep
that was missed, everything worsens the situation
even reading an amusing scene cannot keep my
thinking powers from disintegrating, how can I be

Authentic and honest, confess my problems and
still remain the incumbent of my post, if this were
a James Bond movie I would have been playing
the role of a protagonist with narcolepsy, it is
most disconcerting to find I can fall asleep

Sitting in the chair in front of my desk, Alice would
have found something to eat and drink to change
her inner being from a state of mental slumber to
acuity, but the peanuts I chew assiduously are
no help at all in changing my mental powers

Passing out in my chair is the only solution, stuffing
Vicks in my ears and swallowing painkillers by the
dozen is useless, the pressing pressure does
not let up, how many more pills to stop me
suffocating…

Own Impossible Self

I cannot understand it, the pessimism
of other people is totally different from
my kind of pessimism - people believe
technology and society are destructive
and threatens their wonderful selves

While I am convinced the world really is
a perfect place, order incarnate - life is
getting better and better and the only
problem is my self, my state of mind is
out of control, to be adapted manually

Because it always returns to despair-
progress is fantastic, my fellow human
beings are marvellous, hardworking
well-adapted people, but I must keep
inner turmoil and imbalances hidden

I hate reading Leadbeater’s delineation
of pervasive global pessimism, its causes
and manifestations; because I prefer a
positive perspective on our enchanting
universe - it remains my anchor when

I cannot sleep, have backache and cannot
concentrate, words make no sense, being
physical becomes an uncomfortable state:
why living is such an ordeal I cannot say
I need to approve of consensual reality

In order to survive my own impossible self!

Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly

Alice looked at the jumping Kangaroo
and asked the Caterpillar, Could I climb
upon its back and go off to see the great
Australian outback?

The Caterpillar puffed and said, No, I think
you had better climb upon a Unicorn to go
see Big Ben on the Tower of London, greet
the happy Tuna Fish

Splashing in the sea and ask the Owl to lead
you to the pretty Butterfly who waits for me…
Alice looked at him sagely, the lovely Butterfly
was obviously his lady-love

Alice knew all about that tragedy, how Sharpless
never warned her that her captain, returning to
Japan, was already married to someone else
and she prepared a feast for him

When Madame Butterfly saw his bride she cried,
fell onto a sword accompanied by the Humming
Chorus, and Alice asked, Dear Caterpillar, can
Sharpless warn Madame Butterfly this time

Or will she die again? The Caterpillar, happy things
on his mind, not thinking about Puccini at all, irately
replied What are you talking about, child, the lady
Butterfly knows she has to wait for me

As soon as this hookah’s finished, I’m off to see my
bride because she is my epiphany – hearing this,
Alice was stumped, deciding she preferred Gilbert
and Sullivan to Puccini any day

She loved the Very Model of a Modern Major-General
staying close to his desk and never going to sea –
much better than Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly…

Run Up The Down

“Up the Down Escalator” by Charles Leadbeater
he says we need more globalisation, not less, more
decentralisation, not withdrawing from each other
again, delineating the whole universe of pessimism

His treatise is getting me down, reading of all the
pestilence and Elend of mankind and the sour self-
fulfilling delight of professional pessimists in predicting
the demise of the technological society and civilisation

I wish these people could band together and write a
new chapter for the Biblical New Testament delineating
a modern Apocalypse and withdraw their self-congratu-
lating prophecies from my little world, I wish I could stop

Reading this book, Leadbetter will get to the positive
opposite but to get there, we have to march through
wastelands of desert opinions and share the pain of
every negative thinker – I know I can lay it aside

But I never shirked in the past, suffered through Alvin
Toffler and Heidegger, plumbed the depths of depression
and always survived, I have forgotten how difficult to control
my mind once it starts fibrillating under despairing perspectives

As long as I continue blindly, cover the wounds in my heart
with my hands, not bleeding to death as I read, I will get to
the positive end and rise up in joy, as long as I complete
the run up the down escalator with Leadbetter…

Sweet Bewilderment

Discovering why Michelle likes the character
of Death so much, reading Mort, the story of
Death’s apprentice chosen so Death could
experience Life as he hands over the job

Leaving his dark domain to Albert, Mort and
his daughter, Ysabell, discovering Death’s
childlike innocence and wonderment on
observing life from outside without

Human capacity to make love or have fun
yet after imagining himself into hangovers
he feels glad to be alive – beautiful
contradiction in terms

Ysabell’s morbid fixation on star-crossed lovers
Terry Pratchett’s common sense dismissal of
so many Gothic romances pointing out more
people have been born than died early on

The Romeo-and-Juliet’s are the small minority,
the rest of humanity breeds like flies, no need
to cry over those who prefer to weep and sigh
instead of getting on with it – I LOVE this!

Death is a most endearing character and my
firm favourite from now on, the others will
always enchant, but Death is at the top
of the list, his sweet bewilderment

caps it all…


“Mort – A Discworld Novel” Terry Pratchett
Corgi Edition 1990

Just a Melody

I know you are being honest when
you say the words I love you, love is
abundant and we live in love, it is the
beginning and end of our being, it is the
essence of our soul and it is so easy

To love one another, the intrigue lies in the
control of the role that love plays in guiding
the acts and events of our lives, love without
wisdom and self-discipline leads to ruin and
confusion, you love me

Like you love all beautiful things - without in-depth
knowledge of my darker side; and I love you as a
poetic stranger who uses words as his tools, I see
your outline only - beautiful - but know not who
you are, what you think, where your thoughts go

When you are not thinking of me and without the
requisite knowledge, our love is feathery light and
dainty like fireflies, shimmering on dark, velvety
nights, but without substance, like all the dream
poems you write

I quickly took a look at your poetry and found only
a voice, lovely, sweet, a delight - nothing more - and
I realized, I am just a voice to you too, soft and unreal,
no substance within, just a melody, and I love such
exquisite melodies, enchanting the ears

It will take many years for the accompaniment to begin
the violins to sigh, the plaintive call of the wood
instuments, falling and rising chords...

Fun Most Superb! (Rev.)

The ‘wonderful world of childhood’
is really quite awful: the same world
of grown-ups written big, everything
is MORE* - in a negative way

Mad with terror, without compass or guiding
light, children interpret the world, choose for
or against disciplines and for the rest of their
lives pay the price

Learning which situations and places evoke
certain mental states, which they prefer to
retain and which to discard, childhood is
such a sorry state

Prey to aberrations of parents and siblings
suppressed by society’s neuroses, so much
better to grow and broaden horizons, make
up one’s own mind, choose one’s own star

Create one’s own visions, dream, learn and
seek wisdom, do one’s own thing – Pratchett
buries profound insights in a welter of imagery,
similes and striking comparisons

Needs many readings to elicit the gems
he scatters throughout his texts, though he
laughs at foibles, absurdities, his beautifully
carved characters are full of integrity

Delightfully eccentric, describing experience
as I feel it using hyperbole and hilarious
metaphors; his lessons in Particle Physics
and comments on modern Cosmology

Become wonderful games, puzzles to be un-
ravelled by reading scientific material which
acquires a new glow that changes them into
fascinating tales making me laugh

Changing everyday life into fun most superb!


* Quoted from p. 253, ‘The Hogfather’ – Terry Pratchett,
Victor Gollancz, Sixth impression 1996

All Our Dreams

Longing for a state of mind, not for a place
and time, I am surprised – Terry Pratchett
said that – every aspect of reality is meant
to evoke a state of mind

Every place gives rise to feelings, I was
flabbergasted as a child to look on ugly
industrial places because they evoked
sadness and pain

Overcome by being part of a family existing
in cynical disillusionment where respect was
an unknown concept, then you taught me the
value of making choices

When we know the consequences of every decision
and thought - I found dignity and peace in your care
you are a fortress, a safe refuge, when I look at the
bright butterflies flirting through life

I realize I cannot join them, freedom means danger
and loneliness, long quests without any guarantee of
success, but when this life is over, my spirit shall
discover non-physical dimensions

Where we shall experience new forms of consciousness
we need not incarnate on earth, we can journey into
alternative realities where all possible probabilities
are realised

Where all our dreams are waiting to come alive…

Warmth And Delight

Tiaan came home with a yearbook
glossy, big, as thick as a telephone
directory, his smiling face next to his
prize-winning essay

No photograph next to his science project
if only they had made it less glamorous, more
legible, I would have been able to read without
pain – shiny A4 pages

I am so proud of that smiling face, the story of
murder and revenge that he cooked up - made
me think of my own matric essay, repeating the
themes I loved so much

And my matric speech; did not prepare - simply told
my teacher about my love for Russia and all the
dreams I cherished about it – today I still fear
the smallness of reality, the cold

Seeking warmth and delight in dreams - like I did
when I was small…

Ek Moes Nooit

My geliefde skrywerpredikant het dit mis
as hy dink dat ons gunsteling tintelende
troetelsondes ons vreugde bring, Bitterals
is reg wanneer hy sê dat ons die sondes
wat ons doen nie eens geniet nie, ons is
net vasgevang in rituele roetines van on-
heilswerke en wonder daarna wat ons
nou weer besiel het

Ek is altyd nuuskierig en wil elke sonde
darem een keer uit probeer, sekere sondes
laat so ‘n bitter nasmaak ek is kwaad vir
myself en besluit om nooit weer so voor
op die wa te wees nie, dis baie lekkerder
om die smal pad te bewandel as om langs
die breë weg af te gly na die hel van
selfkastyding

Die beste is ek het dit nie geniet nie, ek kon
liewer my boek gelees het, dis baie beter om
te sien hoe ander siele hulle troetelsondes
geniet as om my eie tyd te mors, omdat ek
vasgevang voel tussen die duiwel en die diep
blou see hardloop ek vir myself weg - maar
die selfverwyt gaan saam waar ek ookal gaan:
Ek moes nooit met my suster gestry het nie…

Heartbreak And Pain

A teenager is a being that lurks in its room, it does not
appear except to inhume its meals or carry out a certain
job imposed upon them by an irate parent who cannot
understand why parental presence is become anathema
to them

Tonight my heart is heavy when I realize it is exactly what
I did when I was that age – but I had an excuse, we lived on
a large plot of land and we had a room outside, next to the one
occupied by my brothers, yet Nici lives in the old master bedroom
of the house

Now she refuses to come out, she lurks in her room after moping
about the house complaining of being overweight when she is as
thin as a rake, Tiaan spends his time in the gym, both have to stay
at school until we pick them up at four in the afternoon, when I was
small I used to lament never seeing loved ones

Now that I am grown-up the same thing happened again, I could not
be a homemaker given my background and temperament, today they
are almost grown-up and I realize that I had spent too little time with
them – yet when we were in the situation with them being small with
voices as thin as reeds cutting through my nervous system

I did not enjoy their lovely young beings as much as I might, I only trust
that one day in the life hereinafter I shall get better acquainted with my
own kids, this earth life is not suited for that purpose at all - after school
I wanted to get life over without heartbreak and pain, never wanted
a family or entanglements

It did not work that way for me, trying to flee from all forms of life I fell
ill - today I am involved and the pain of kids growing up and dream of
leaving is breaking my heart – I could not stay on the outside; lone-
liness was killing me, better to jump in and drown in the pain than
trying to stay safe on the side

Still, I wish for the different world described by Neale Donald Walsh -
or the kind of differentiated reality so beloved by the Seth, the non-
physical personality channelled by Jane and Rob…

Sensuality in Living

Life is a sensual, emotional experience to me
and I describe what I feel, communication is
the most wonderful thing on earth, a kind
of externalised telepathy

I regard my favourite authors with adoration
as if they were mine to love and defend and I
work hard at keeping a distance between me
and other people

In order to retain my spiritual and mental freedom,
people regard those who think differently with dis-
dain - I cannot deal with perpetual censure, I offer
the world my laughter and smiles

Keep my sorrows and tears to myself and express
my feelings on paper just to let off steam and pre-
vent my thoughts and feelings from boiling over -
this does merit the esteem

Of the academia or the people who read for fun
but enables me to live my life without breaking
down - writing is a great blessing when it helps
us to survive our lives…

Incongruous

Sitting at work and reading about preparing
for death seems rather incongruous, I must
admit, yet Seth is much better company than
my document

Last night my bed was hard because I could
not fall asleep, could not offer my services to
the nightly brigade who conducts spirits about
according to Seth

But if I am so loath to teach people on earth -
why would I be interested in dealing with souls
I suppose I am not a good spirit helper in Seth’s
terms - preferring to

Find my own way and leave other people to their
own devices also, enjoy climbing the mountain in
the wrong way and falling down, learning through
own experience…

Alienation Complete

Isolation sinking into the deep, a short respite,
come up for air, a kind word, a game here and
there, trying to share the joy that we can create
when words come out to play

Yet it does not last long and down I go again, the
sharp stab of sad thoughts in my head, alienation
complete, entombed behind a wall of sensory
collapse, no brain cell operating right

No neuron firing well, ah well, I shall appreciate
feeling like a worthy human being again as soon
as this passes, sometimes once a day, sometimes
more, were I normal like everyone else

The world would have missed a depressed clown
in me and it takes all sorts to make a world, I forge
on trying to anchor my life in my document though
the impersonal lines are shortening my breaths…

Beautiful Droplets

Taking joy in inner reality, a little boy
running about with a heart overflowing,
reaching and touching every flower until
he comes upon a shower

A fountain of water - a rainbow of waterdrops
splashing with power - overcome by a desire
to own and possess the beautiful droplets but
his little hands only start to glisten

As he grabs, the water running through his fists...

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

Sing me song of eternity, sing me the infinite music
of longevity, make me a rhyme that chimes and fills
the soul with the heady wine divine of inspired verse
beating a rhythm in my heart, moving me to tears
through the power of my ears...

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

Inner Meaning

A dignified Knight covered in shining armour
on his white horse, a dignified Knight who has
to make his lines more choice because Alice is
tuned to a strange new wavelength and the way
you talk creates a disturbance that makes the
broadcast grow faint – the nectar is, indeed -

Soft and beautiful words, pure and enchanting
verse, not anything physical and textured at all,
only magical symbols, a symbolical Knight on
his allegorical horse storming the citadel of the
windmills of space and time, drinking tea with
the queen and playing croquet with Alice

Nothing more, while spreading a net of lovely,
sweet-flowing harmonics – and Alice wants to
know, When does the song begin, where is the
tune, where the melody and lyrics, when will the
Knight begin to sing, filling cold picture words
with inner meaning?

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

Peter Pan in green jumped up and down,
he wanted Wendy to hand him a crown
after he had donned a mermaid’s tail
but had failed to enchant an angry
mermaid from another universe

Wendy was stern, but Alice laughed
and made the moment last by pulling
faces at Peter and joining him and the
lost boys in a gang in the Old Hollow
Tree, Tinker Bell was jealous of course

And tried to pull Alice off, put Alice sat
in the magical chair and continued to stare
at the lovely tricks and happy antics of Peter
Pan who always tried to dare Captain Hook
to take him on with a song

His cadenza was clear, no influenza disturbing
Alice was bewitched, this was magnificent fun
although Peter Pan kept looking for his horse
and his myrmidons all the time…

Frozen, Fossilized Blood

My latest foray into the unknown territory
of a new salad at our favourite eatery has
disastrous results, ears singing and head
filled with concrete

Normally it is filled with cotton-wool which
is bad enough, but turning my head into a
fossilized concrete casting is just too much
a cold hardness

Leaves me colder and more meaningless
than is usually the case, I have lost the last
vestige of conscientiousness, now all only
see a psychopath in my place

This cold psychopath always messes up my
life, does not move the stones of my Sisyphus
task, simply sends all kinds of hostile beams
to all my friends

Even my brothers are scared of me when I am
like this, my colleagues don’t get to see me as
I hide in my chair, I must try to call back my
own spirit to my soul

I need to find a pill that will crack open my skull
to let oxygen melt the frozen, fossilized blood
and set me breathing again…

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

No wonder I feel so bad, I must translate
a mental patient’s letter to the President
in which he demands to be given land in
which to erect his own holiday resort

Please, Mr President, remember to foot
the bill - the other day a lady requested
a second-hand vehicle while another
insisted on a special driver’s license

At your earliest convenience, Mr President, a
sarcastic character sang our leader’s praises
in terms so insincere, I nearly exploded, all to
offend in the nicest terms

I wish I could summarize these missives of
mischief and send a reply – let well alone and
be insane by yourself, why waste our time with
your delusions – just write a poem

Let it all come out in a Vogon effusion, blow the
brains of culture vultures, join the rest of the
scourges of Internet society…

Emotional Roller-Coaster

An emotional roller-coaster day, delighted on
discovering a story reminding of Pride and
Prejudice by Jane Austen, then shocked on
reading of the kind of cheap intrigues I refuse
to contemplate, I never watch movies or read
magazines that thrive on nastiness

Descriptions of deceit awakened memories of real
life experience, I started to feel nauseous, found
relief in sobs, then learnt mother’s ankle did not
heal, four months in a wheelchair ensconced in
plaster of Paris, she is weak and feels ill, painful
news - made me feel worse

As soon as the throbbing and nausea allow, I shall
read my book on Cosmology to calm my feelings -
must immerse my thoughts in other things, all
people know emotions are a waste of time, read
too many things that stirred my emotions today -
you laughed at my being upset

I am childish and it is useless, you say, and you are
right, I should be sensible, concentrating on duty
and work, lists and documents, blank out the rest
of the world, ignore memories, forget everything
in doing the job at hand – though easier said
than done…

Everything

Wanted Nici to watch TV with me, she
came up with You Don’t Mess with the
Zohan - Adam Sandler - it is such fun

Secret Service Israeli - a brilliant social
commentary with Israeli and Lebanese
singing glass windows into explosions

Both Lebanese and Israeli people con-
cluding they are equal in the great Ame-
rica when everybody messes with them

Because they are foreigners from the
Middle East - You decided unilaterally
no more dogs on our cream couches

Washed into glorious brightness and
the dogs are confused – so are we –
who fits in where – I want the kids

To watch TV with me while Tiaan
prefers playing computer games
Nici prefers watching Anime

I can see why they will want to leave
home, we have nothing in common
except the need for money

To do all the things we dream about –
I love their company so much, it is
great to have them in the house

Even if they are the circus in the
background– they are
everything…

Love Swirling Around

I found you outside - helping Tiaan with his
project for school while I lay in the sun, reading
a book - fantasies swirling about - and I felt the
love all around, your love for Tiaan making you
help him - an echo of my father’s love when we
were at school, he always busy outside

Ploughing, working with wood, while I was helping
grandma, mom self-contained in her own universe
big brothers moving around like gods on earth - and
I smiled, the rose of delight and content unfurled in
my heart; why should I cry for not being a good
bureaucrat when I have you and the kids

Love swirling around as it did when I was small, I
wanted a happy home and that we have done, all
I can offer my colleagues is love, doing my best
and trying hard, the rest is out of my hands and
though intellectual inferiority is the price I have
to pay for domestic bliss, I pay it gladly

I accept pain at work: the allergy led me into the
magic of words that play and sing, brought me
love as the most important factor in life while
exacting a price - making my brain sluggish
and slow - yet I am privileged because I
wanted you and the kids to be happy

The rest does not count, though I failed to live up to
the ideals of my colleagues I have not failed at home
this is my base, I want to lie in your arms as you watch
your favourite sport, knowing my bad work report does
not reflect who I am as it only indicates a malfunctioning
brain - if this pain keeps my loved ones safe

I shall accept the sacrifice with very good grace…

Return to the Cathedral

The Little Alien in my head is safe, I am
withdrawing completely, relinquishing
things, the sharp pain in my heart and
head will be deadened so I can do my
little bit of work, make a list, eat without
falling ill, talk without feeling anything

I feared losing the Alien Being in my head
sitting up there rhyming my life - but as
long as I withdraw from existence and go
underground burying the essence of me
so my life is not extinguished, I can carry
out my duties without losing my being

I have done it before, a deliberate decision
to give up dreaming trying to function better
led me astray, I cannot fit in, come what may
a false sense of security led to my lowering
my guard, I forgot to wear a mask, I am
sinking, leaving a machine in my place

When the process is complete I will be safe
I have learnt not to trust in anything except
solitude and contemplation, I was too happy,
too delighted with my little life, now that it is
gone I return to the cathedral in my mind
and the robot will deal with life without

Hurting and bleeding all the time…

Crystal Heart

I feel just like Tiaan after a bad cricket game
every day his lips in a tight, embittered line,
a sad teenager is just like living with death
itself, when he gets into the car the tem-
perature drops, I act stupid just to make
him laugh in spite of himself

Here I am at work embittered, suffering because
I lost my self-esteem also, I dreamt of giving a
better performance, then discovered my work
has no value at all, this painful realisation des-
troys my concentration, my heart is broken as
Mr Mohapi remarked on beholding

The scratched crystal heart in the little blue bag
you gave me as a token of appreciation, I am
consumed by a guilty conscience – I failed in
combating my inability to do routine jobs and
have not lived up to your expectations, I feel
much worse than Tiaan ever could

But no time for sackcloth and ashes, we must help
him to regain his self-confidence – I hide my
own fears, withdrawing from life…

[I thought I could make up for my shortcomings
by trying my best in whatever tasks I could master,
but it is not working, knowing that I am actually
hindering my colleagues instead of helping means
my life is meaningless and I must try harder to
overcome my love for the rhythm of lines which
determines the beat which dictates the choice of
sound which requires the right number of syllables
in all the terms to keep the time sequence right
which means my work is all wrong… we have
to relay meaning, not create a melody…]

Eine Schauergeschichte

Hermien reported writing a poem about a
mouse in German class, rhyming words -
I loved the idea, started playing with my
German dictionary, delighted by terms
such as ‘die Sprachmelodie’

‘Die Spitzengeschwindigkeit’ and ‘Spindeldürr’
any story about a mouse would definitely be
‘eine Schauergeschichte’ - I dreamed up my
own ‘Deutsche Gedicht’ on a mouse in the
house and the shock it entailed:

‘Ich habe nie geglaubt es könnte einmal ein Maus
in diesem Haus von mir gebaut, aber liebe Frau,
es ist genau was geschehen ist, welcher Graus
ich sah die Maus mit meinen eigenen Augen und
ich schrie - Heraus! Heraus!

In meinem blauen Haus wird keine Maus erlaubt
- auf einmal schrie mein Mann – Halten Sie den
Hauch, senken Sie den Haupt - denn Räuber
hat die Maus geklaut - welch ein Traurigkeit
sagte ich schauerlich und lachte

Der Lauf dieser Geschichte ist so komisch, kein
Mensch wird mausen – aber es gibt
Schauergeschichte von Ratten
also meine Maus muss heraus…

Sizzling French Class

Now that was a sizzling French class,
Marali’s personality sparkled, her voice
a fine-honed instrument, her charisma
enchanting - I love such excitement

Her sense for accents exquisite, her imitation
of the Southern French accent done with aplomb
the class hung on her words, she showed us a
movie clip, bizarre, funny, brilliant, absurd

I had to leave early as hubby’s beamer was acting
up, yet I am delighted, our new French teacher is
dynamite, this is the stuff of life, I wanted to do
one more boring translation tonight, but -

After playing chauffeur, purchasing groceries,
dealing with Tiaan’s depression on his bad
cricket performance, preparing dinner and
cleaning the kitchen and floating on -

The after-effects of a super class, I cannot
start, life is so beautiful when special people
share their dreams and thoughts, thank you
Marali, thank you for being ideal…

Limerieke en Ritrympies

Ek probeer kort-kort om te hervorm
en my Muse dood te slaan, maar as
ek weer sien, het my Muse
weer opgestaan...

‘n Vertaler wat nie kan of wil vertaal
nie, nie kan of wil ophou smaal nie
omdat die gedagtes nie wil ophou
om deur haar kop te maal nie

Haar kollegas pleit vir medikasie om die
breinspasie in haar skedel bruikbaar
te maak, maar wat sy ookal sluk
sy leer net om harder te bid

Sy raak beledigend en ongeskik wanneer
sy aanmatigende briewe van die publiek
waarin die President en sy vroue en
kroos aangevat word

Moet lees en vertaal sonder om hul krag-
woorde te herhaal - my simpatie lê by
die objektiewe, rasionele, logiese
kollegas wat trots verklaar

Hulle voel geen gevoelens, beleef geen
emosies wanneer hulle koue woorde lees
en vertaal nie, al wat hulle ontstig is die
limerieke en ritrympies

Van hul tegniese-woordeskat- navorsing-
beperkte kollega wat haar dokument wil
rym voordat sy dit in prosodie en wals-
maat of ta-fe-te-fie oorvertel

Sy breek al die reëls deur die woord te kies
met die beste ritme en harmonie, slegs dan
beweer hul met gevoel, slegs dan raak
hul uitermate onsteld

En gil - VERGELD VERGELD – maar die
troostelose woorde in amptelike dokumente
wat die siel verskroei en die lewe vergal –
ag nee wat

Die het geen effek op hulle gevoelens nie
woorde is nie koud of warm nie, glinster
nooit in geur en kleur nie, woorde is
koue instrumente

Om die lewelose betekenis van
doodgebôre simbole
oor te dra…

Onderdanige Agting & Minsaamheid [Translated]

Ek moet bepaal, liewe Alice, dreun die Rusper,
is jou gesindheid amikaal teenoor die Groot
Kokkedore wat jou Prestasie Aanslag moet
evalueer en assesseer

Nee, U Hoogedele, antwoord Alice beskaamd,
my gesindheid is hoogs aangeklee in ‘n wye
pienk kaftan, so vreeslik groot die Sultan
het my uit sy paleis verban

Ek verwys in allegoriese taal na jou houding
jonge dame, wys die Rusper haar tereg, nie
na jou gewaad al dan nie; Alice maak terstond
‘n elegante kniebuiging om haar houding te wys

Ek is altyd besig om op my maag te seil in
deemoedige nederigheid, Wel-Edele Heer,
antwoord Alice dadelik, ek wandel rond met
my kop omlaag en lofliedere in my hart

Jy sit die pot mis, my liewe kind, probeer die
Rusper haar stortvloed woorde keer, ons be-
spreek jou agting vir die gesag van jou meer-
deres, die respek waarmee jy hul bejeën

Ek bejeën almal met onderdanige agting en
minsaamheid, U Allerhoogstigheid, antwoord
Alice weereens, as die plaaslike Harlekyn wat
versigtig trap en fyn humor waardeer

Probeer ek ‘n ieder en ‘n elk met frivoliteit vermaak,
ek gebruik ook die kuns van frenologie om hul toe-
geneentheid tot die bepaling van hul geseëndheid
uit te klaar en somtyds gaan dit swaar…

Dis sowaar bitter swaar om met jou te kommunikeer,
moet die Rusper konkludeer…

***************************************
A free translation trying to convey the spirit of
the poem, and not the literal meaning of every word:
Onderdanige Agting en Minsaamheid =

Subservient Deference and Kindness

I must determine, my dear Alice, droned the
caterpillar, whether you have an amicable
attitude towards the Higher Eschelons who
evaluate your Performance Assessment

No, Your Highness, Alice answered ashamed,
my attitude is very much clothed in a wide pink
cardigan, so very big, the grand Sultan exiled
me from his court

I am referring allegorically to your mind-set,
young lady, the caterpillar corrected her, not
your clothing in any respect, Alice immediately
curtseyed elegantly to show her mind-set

I am always leopard-crawling in humble humility,
Your Excellency, Alice replied promptly, I wander
about with my head held low and songs of praise
in my heart

You are missing the point, my dear child, the
Caterpillar tried to interpose, we are discussing
your deference for the authority of your superiors
the respect your show them

I regard everybody with subservient deference and
kindness, Your Highestness, Alice replied again, as
the local harlequin who treads carefully and
appreciates nuanced humour

I try to entertain all with frivolity and use the art of
phrenology to determine their willingness to assess
the degree of their state of blessedness and sometimes
it is very difficult indeed

It is really very difficult indeed to communicate with you,
my dear, the caterpillar is forced to conclude….

Atrocious Probabilities

A newspaper heading posing a question:
True Love - she seventy-seven, he thirty-
four; Paul Kruger, President who propelled
South Africa into self-destructive revolt
against invading England did not mind
sacrificing our people to his own dreams
while practicing nepotism to the Nth degree

The French education system is dysfunctional
yet they refuse improvement just like everybody
else – I don’t have to read books for fun, our inter-
subjective consensus reality is the funniest book
that ever was and I am reading on, though I have
failed in managing myself, the rest of the world is
mostly doing the same

Except for the young dancers on So You Think You
Can Dance who astound with humble acceptance
of criticism, learning and getting better without the
bitter tears I would have shed on being criticised
so much – this is a wonderful alternative reality
a superb parallel universe to whatever
other atrocious probabilities

Might possibly be in existence out there!

Wanders Disconsolately

Sitting on my own quiet island
in the middle of others’ happy
activity, clasped in the numbing
arms of the allergy

Stiff neck and back while the upper
lobes of my brain are pressurised
I cannot escape by hitching a ride
on anyone’s words -

music or dreams because my mind
is stuck on the lowest level of the
Dungeon Dimensions, pills have no
effect, my only hope is

Quantum Physics and concomitant
explanation of the world as hologram –
these scientific terms calm my mind as
it wanders disconsolately

Between universes, exiled from its own
happy station somewhere between
fantasy and reality…

Blight

Mind-blowing, the same group of customers
never yet received a reply to the endless steam
of letters inundating High Officials from Minister
to President, a repeat of the same complaints

They have no case, no valid argument, cannot
be served, their demands cannot be met, still
they continue their Don Quixote self-righteous
quest for their view of justice, every windmill of
official policy is taken on by them

We are paid to read the scripts they invent, to
translate their self-serving ideas and forward to
the incumbent of the High Official’s office who
ignores all with cold contempt – or red-hot
anger, how shall we ever know, no reply
pass our desks

I don’t mind playing hop-scotch for my livelihood
but to misuse language and time, money paid to
attorneys and advocates instead of taking care
of their loved ones - I cannot understand why
they waste their lives in this way

But no matter dear, this is the ‘blight
man was born for…’

Exiled From Beauty

Ten new letters to the President, while still
suffering the aftereffects of malva pudding
and chocolate cake, the pressure in my head
pressing me down into the thick black sheet
of reality’s trampoline

I can’t jump up and down to look at the rosy
clouds of dreams, stuck in the molasses of
chemical imbalances, fighting madly for es-
cape, afraid my mind seems too weak to
tunnel through this black hole

And emerge into a new universe on the other
side, can't fall through the rabbit hole like Alice
in Wonderland, I have to use the wormholes of
reality postulated by Einstein, moving in another
dimension outside temporal space

Oh make haste and send your message, Oracle
of Delphi, send it by telepathy to let my inner senses
know victory will be mine in the end, I shall not remain
caught in the snare of corporeal existence for too long
exiled from the beauty

Of the original melody that called the universe into
existence, still responding to the harmonics of
Gregorian chant and bel canto song…

Afrikaanse Wiegelied

2007

A Smorgasbord Of Tongues

I have learnt French songs de l'amour
and sang a song of heartbreak everywhere I ran
while funny German Lieder
were so much fun and made me laugh
and when I first heard Dalida
sing I love 'aHib in al-Harabiy
I was delighted by the guttural greatness
of such sexy sounds

But most of all I am enthralled
by my own mother tongue: Afrikaans
now that I am free to choose
which words I would like to use
I find the greatest words of all
is Langenhoven's Lullaby for Liefstetjie

Today I know exactly why I adore
the language I had heard before
I found a smorgasbord of tongues
that can confound and confuse,
bewitch and bemuse - and fill my head
and heart with sonorous sounds galore

I am a Melody

11 June 2007

Today I am the tune in Toselli's Nightingale Serenade
I am the fluctuating notes flowing softly up and down
quiet and happy in my mind - telling you about the
restfulness in my thoughts in the lower notes, then
reaching higher to explain the inner happiness where
I am expectantly waiting for a new period to unfold,
new dreams to take hold, new visions to fly me along,
a new challenge has been handed me and I have to be
strong and start facing this new adventure, knowing
all along that the pain of leaving the old dream
behind is giving birth to the new thought and theory...

Dancing

26 NOVEMBER 2007
"Invitation to the Dance" Karl Maria von Weber

And I couldn’t withstand it, the invitation to the
dance, I had to join in, dancing in my baggy pants
and I became the different characters, called
forth by every change of phrase, the pretty ladies
with wide dresses, the men with scabbards dancing
in a row, the flowers twirling slowly, the fairies
dancing in a circle, it was an operetta, I realised,
presented by young children - all dressed up and
dancing with their props, all was twirling, whirling,
then the short, strong movements of the “men”
advancing in aggression, the ladies with their elegant
strides, all turning circles, gliding round the stage –
then the stage became the kitchen, and I was back
again, happier than before, sure life must hold
some deeper meaning which I would find someday…

Spinning in my Head

26 NOVEMBER 2007

Thank you for listening
to me when the vastness
of space is spinning
such a fastness –
spinning in my head

when I’m balanced
on a tightrope between
grey realities and colourful
eternities, living the
bubbles of fantasy

your gaze steadies
my tread, helps me
to slow down, to stop
the kaleidoscope moving
in my head

to pull out a picture and
describe the view to you,
afford me a chance to see
the sights I always miss in
my fast flight between images…

Poetry Melody, Maiden's Prayer, Love

Poetry Melody

My mother is music, my father poetry
mother always played and sang to me
of fairies and prayer and love

My father told me stories of magical castles
and robbers and princes and castles and things
with his dreams so alive, so wonderful

I rhyme my father's words to the musical tune
that mother's songs composed in my heart
I wish that one day together they will find a way

To marry love's poetry with a musical melody
they both speak and sing of love so much, my
love for father and mother is growing so much

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

The Maiden’s Prayer –
A Loving, True Father
2 July 2007

My father made me a cassette
with The Maiden’s Prayer at my request
when I heard him listening to it –

my father’s love for me lives in that song
as I listened to it this morning,
variations on a single melody line, lines of
notes forming waves in my
mind – a piano playing repetitive chords,
like his repetitive words - never
varying the truth, as dependable as sunshine

Full of integrity, just as insistent as
these weaving lines – not once has he ever
broken his word, once given; not
once has he ever made false promises

A maiden never could have had
a more loving, true father; I sing along:
‘Ek onthou, ek onthou, ek onthou,
ek onthou, ek onthou, ek onthou- elke woord!'

(I remember every word)


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

Love Untainted
2 July 2007

Listening to Mozart’s Piano Concerto*
on the radio – violins are the light
of stars flickering, shimmering, the
piano says of the birth of a beautiful
love in the heart of a man; maimed in
its manifestation by callous hands,
its beauty never reaching the heart
of the beloved one. That love is still
untainted and as sweet as this lovely
composition: will the love of my father
for my mother endure until its revelation
in the life hereinafter –
enduring unto eternity…?

*Concerto No.21 in C

Kwinte En Kwale

Bitter teleurgesteld in myself, diep bedroef
baie jaloers op elke mooi mens wat vroeg
tot sterwe gekom het voordat die kwinte en
kwale van die ouderdom hulle selfbeeld en
lewensvreugde kon bederf

Ek kan skaars die erkenning maak, maar die
hoop op bevryding van selfkastyding dwing my
tot belydenis – ek snork as ek slaap - kan my
niks meer onromanties voorstel nie, skielik het
ek ‘n nuwe selfkonsep

In my gedagtes sien ek die heks van Hansie en
Grietjie as ek aan myself dink; met die gesig wat
uit die spieël na my terugkaats, kan ek nie iden-
tifiseer nie, ek ken myself nie meer nie, ek wil so
graag die Tydelike met die Ewige verwissel

Voordat my aardse tentwoning vervalle is en die
malers stomp geword het – behoede my van bruin
seerowerstande – en die voet oud en krom nie meer
wil loop nie, die vingers dom, die kop dof en deur-
mekaar, ek wil ook vroeg heengaan

Sonder om jare om te sukkel, moeg, oud en kruppel…

Care-Free Bohemian

I love all things spontaneous, mother a glorious
Leo - no planning - Dad a sanguine Sagittarius
who never suspected that planning existed -
my Bohemian parents bankrupted through
their Mad-Hatter schemes, finding Christ’s
life a perfect example not to provide in their
kids’ material needs

One brother an abandoned Aries, the other a
dreamy Aquarius living on the rainbow, though
he claims it does not exist; my Cancer twin and
youngest sibling unable to organise - although
longing for a stable life - I nearly expired, but
was helped by Tannie Yvonne and Prof Piet
DuPlessis to survive when I fell ill

Then Martin appeared, a Scorpion stinging to death
all who seemed to have hurt me; an eternal Phoenix
planning my life from a to z, though I complained when
regarding my previous Bohemian life - I could not live
Christ’s principle of no planning for tomorrow; my
parents lost home and income, making me realize
the importance of planning

Though I lament loss of freedom, I know that without
you and your rules, I cannot live - being a Bohemian
is wonderful - it’s great to feel care-free, but I am not
strong enough to live the Christian life-style; though
being an outsider in Puritan middle-class, I am
very much obliged that you arrived to anchor
my free-floating, gyrating mind

Providing order and rules -- though I long for
other Bohemians, I cannot live
without discipline and
healthy food…

Shine Returned

A perfect Saturday night, while you and Tiaan
are watching comedy shows on TV and Nici is
sleeping in her depression because she should
be learning, I am typing my translation, having
already slept on the couch during a boring show

We had our first real rain storm of the season, thunder
and lightning and wind, I read a few lines in ‘Wrinkles of
Time’ by George Smoot, but tonight - the wonders of
Cosmology fail to stir me, I shall return to Pratchett’s
Hogfather after this

There is a cold feeling of steel in my soul after spending
the evening translating, the same embittered resignation
of my school days when I spent weekends learning the
names of composers and their musical themes
playing them hesitantly on the piano

Wishing I could flee to a place where one could have fun
later I found that the kind found in night clubs and dances
were not for me, I even ran away from socials at university
to read my book somewhere in private

I love having a circus of activity in the background, the more
the merrier, as long as I can do my own thing – tonight I feel
down, ate too much chocolate cake and paying the price – but
I am surprised and delighted – the shine has returned

Music sounds sweet to me once again, I know whose words
have brought about this beautiful change, I am drifting off on
a soft, enchanting cloud of astral delight – nothing like the old
wild explosions that left me bereft in the end

This is something new, more lasting, more in line with the
precious gems I am amassing for infinity…

Shining Self-Consciousness

I like covering myself with a word-woven cloak, I
love the shining facets of crystal ideas in which
I can bury my fears, I am overjoyed when you
wish to make the journey with me through the
strange country inside my mind

It is liberating to be able to explain that life feels
like hell after I failed to relate all the ups and
downs - love and hate - joy and sorrow that
ebb and flow as a mighty tide in my
soul, washing through my life

I have a new vision - to embed in the heart of
someone special who tries to understand part
of the riddle, decipher by using my symbols
and code – someone who is the world’s
most unique crystal

Having been endowed with a shining self-
consciousness, forming a hoexahedron
with me…

In a Quandary

I am in a quandary – talented language
gurus earn their bread by making tents
and those of us with time and good intent
try our best to fill the empty space in which
the echo of the lonely reverberate

Yet we fail – when shall those who can sing
be allowed to rhyme the beat that charm with
new content, when shall the dance begin again,
one-two-three, without ending with a thud as we
fall face-first in the mud?

Let the song-birds sing to awaken gods from
unwonted slumbering to let them open
the show again…

New Space For Joy

I believe every disappointment is the starting
point for some new joy, I believe pain is used
to polish the rough marble of our selfish selves
I believe that all experience is to our advantage

Seth says we change with every breath, when I
see this new face supposed to be mine, I agree,
when I looked at my own endeavours to reflect
the light I thought was beamed to me

I can see I tried my best to differentiate between
everything, when I replied and was told that I was
wrong, I rejoiced in my sobs because I know it is
good to open a new space for joy

When I collected Tiaan from school and he played
my favourite song I cried, you laughed at me, we
have him home for three years more, but this
holiday was a wake-up call, made me realize

I shall have to rebuild my life without Tiaan’s slap-
stick comedy and Nici’s superiority, no-one to make
me laugh about my own pedantic self, no-one to hide
my mug when I am making tea, to laugh at me

I always cry long in advance about future tragedy, I am
crying now, when they say goodbye one last time, I
shall be resigned – I hope and pray…

Inner Freudian Mess

I have a personal code, symbols to depict the
schism between false polish and inner beauty,
describing my family as savages because they
are uninhibited, Grandma Alice tried
to teach us restraint

My mother, the Queen of Hearts, instilled self-
dicipline; but my dad, Conan the Barbarian,
growing up among Africans with the same
happy freedom, let it all hang out, my
brother Attila the Hun

Followed his example, I can see that primitive
man does not belong in polite society - but
refinement is mostly used to hide a lack of
morals and ignorance of ethical principles -
I chose being uninhibited myself

Living in African society I love the natural
flow of human nature, cannot fit into boring,
high-brow society where polish and finesse
are used to hide the inner Freudian mess
that usually marks

Highly educated, cultured homo sapiens…

Brain Alien

Got hold of a needle and thin, strong
fishing line to stitch Tiaan’s satchel
together again, enjoying it so much,
dug out my blue felt square, purple-
sheen sequins with its auric feel

Without pinning the sequins in a
pattern I began - I have no pins
and made a mess, every sequin
moves at every stitch I make -
the end result does not

Create the ambience I visualise for
my auric light – I sighed, wearing my
blue apron I was dreaming of adding
a soft amber hue to my aura’s shine -
but alas, lacking planning

As per usual, when I try to plan I feel
hemmed in, jump in spontaneously and
make a total mess, I always have to begin
again, when reading books I do not mind -
rereading is so much fun

But crafts I cannot master, the planning stage
irritates me terribly, I almost run away when
planning is to be done, forced at school to
plan an essay, I wrote it first and devised
a plan from the end result

I like being surprised by what comes out of
my mind, my brain contains an alien who is
separate from me and sends up the
strangest things – how could I
tether him?

Wordmakers

- We cannot say what we think for fear to
offend, we study and make up rules and
regulations, protocol and etiquette, to
determine what to say when -

“Your desire to come up with new words
struck me, according to a book I read,
poet means 'maker'- it was the poets
who originally were the wordmakers”

You understand perfectly why I am a
total disaster as a translator and a poetaster
writing prosody as a poem-maker, I want to
make up new words and then get bad marks
for my written work because I did not look
up the right word in the right dictionary that
is more pedantically correct and authorative
than the source I came across - I cannot care
less, as long as the client gets an understanding
of the content, I have done my best and want to
get on with the rest of my life - which is singing
a song and dancing along...

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

We are all liquid love and feelings on legs
that make us vibrate, creating a telepathic
connection that we pour into words, when
we speak we wear a mask composed of
inner messages as we try to divine and
define the needs and wants of the other

We cannot say what we think for fear to
offend, we study and make up rules and
regulations, protocol and etiquette to
determine what to say when

Never to unsettle or scare anyone, we are
playing charades, when we finally want to
express our true nature and thoughts on
paper, we find that we don't know our-
selves and the feeling we thought we had
is all gone, only the mask is left...

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

You bring strange elements into the dance so that
the universe becomes subject to thoughts and I
awake from the trance to contemplate meaning
of things like being beyond reality

The dance stops and reflection becomes
paramount - please tell me where
your deep thought
is taking you...

Beautifully Improbable

I love the enticing ambiguity of mysteries
true science evokes awe and exploration
over dogmatism, there is not enough
data to rule out any possibilities

Beautiful religious stories crystallise hard-
won wisdom, but religious structures are
based on personality cults, we know too
little to commit to atheism

So what if we were planted by aliens, who
cares whether there are civilisations in a
myriad spatial dimensions, whether we are
nodes in a cosmic computational device

All such debates are limited, the goal is not to
fight for one story in the absence of evidence
everything shall be explored and celebrated
in ‘possibility space’ - the entire

Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition, Eastern
religions, atheism, all things wild and wonderful
and beautifully improbable - in the absence of
data nothing can be ruled out of space

Possibilianism shines an open-minded light
in possibility space to explore ALL new ideas
and unconsidered notions, representing the
heart of real science - holding

Limitless possibilities, working to see which is
most supported by data, when data-gathering
is impossible ALL possibilities are retained, at
first anything goes, then science

Rules out parts of possibility space and rules
in new parts, the world contains much more
magical exploration of possibility space and
I find doubt delightful more often than not!


[A summary of an article by David Eagelman]

Beyond God and atheism: Why I am a 'possibilian'
27 September 2010 by David Eagleman

“When it comes to the big questions, why should
we have to either deny God or believe? Surely
good science doesn't so restrict us”
says David Eagleman

(I did not know what to call my collection of lovely
ideas until I came across an article by David
Eagleman making it clear that I am a
Possibilian following Possibilianism!)

A Wonder

Stuck, cannot visit Thea, the road to
Newcastle riddled with potholes to
such an extent, we cannot take a
chance with a conky prop-shaft
to be replaced

Your brain conked out, you passed
out on the couch, your heart too full
to contemplate not seeing your sister
again; we are so isolated, on our
own, the kids the only people

We see besides our colleagues - we
are both guilty of isolation, while I am
more to blame - I wish to meet people
who love reading and poetry and they
are so few and far between

There is little chance of meeting them
here; I want to sing in a choir, but only
once the kids have gone - no driving at
night – so that cannot happen; I love the
company of language people

But they are dedicated hermits - like I am,
I am scared of the computer savants that
you work with every day - we have each
other, if nobody else, we never lie to one
another and we fight for the kids

This is accomplishment enough - a wonder
when we regard the beauty of Nici and the
sharp wit of Tiaan, their emotional IQ which
is probably due to taking care of their mom
is very high, my clumsiness had good effect

If I understood the psychologist aright…

My Son’s Chauffeur

Tiaan playing cricket again, grand
opportunity to be my son’s chauffeur,
I only regret way it is done - I charge
home, full-speed, glad to escape
from my personal Alcatraz

Then turn right around and charge
straight back to town to collect our
cricket hero from this sporting event
it makes me so angry when he does
not call me while I am still in town

Why wait until I have made it home
and then make me repeat the trip with
an angry heart? I shall stay in the office
and drive straight to school to look him
up, ascertain the time

I shall not play the fool again,
not today…

Helping a Teenager

Went to visit Nici in her sauna of a room
she is writing an essay on eternal war and
its possible end for school tomorrow - to
help a teenager is almost impossible

When I offer ideas she rephrases in the
long-winded way of the very young who
has not yet learnt to cut through to the
essence in the straight sanitary lines

Of our bureaucracy’s inimitable style, she
has the Reader’s Digest Encyclopaedia in
her room but claims it is used for pressing
flowers only, when I tried to look up dates

Of World Wars One and Two to illustrate her
claims, I found the brightly illustrated book
useless – perfect for flower-pressing and
nothing else, we had to use the Internet

She asked me to hide her Anime because she
cannot tear herself away to start on her home-
work early in the day; I know how it feels, I also
battle to tear myself away from poetry

Earlier today I learnt that Tiaan’s school made
them study plays on suicide, characters taking
ant poison - I ask you, what is the elevating
aspect in that - afterwards pupils hate

Literature with a passion…

Compose a New Melody

Kept going all day, physical activity within
my own time and place, never withdrawing
into the small space at the back of my mind
not communing with my inner voice, no visits
to the inner place where beauty resides

Tonight I am paying the price: fatigue without a
means of escape, the door to my inner spirit is
closed, I want to withdraw inside and evaluate
my life, but I’m stuck on the outside - the usual
reaction to unhealthy food keeping me awake

I looked for a song to fill my heart but found myself
in an unmusical space where disharmony reigns, I
have to compose a new melody to recreate my being
and bring back my freedom; watching TV, a long
fairytale which makes no sense at all

The words that can convey the glory of Cosmology,
the way the universe came into being, the magic of
Quantum Mechanics, interaction of quantum energy
and matter, Astrogenetics and Astronomy, particle
Physics, particle accelerators that annihilate

To study traces of the fundamental forces –
all fail to stir my imagination, the pain in my
system stronger than spirit, must live through
this mechanical breakdown to get to a new
shore where life will begin again…

Images in my Head

Eating fresh strawberries with sugar for breakfast
not a good idea, felt sleepy, fought back with soup
à la grandma Alice, felt worse, after washing garden
chairs, tackled my documents, I am aghast, retyping
a bank statement with columns of numbers and all in
miniature font?

Alas, no chance, my poor, unsettled mind would never
allow me to accomplish such a terrible feat, I look at my
square of powder-blue felt with the purple azure of sequins
and lose my sense of chronology, I cannot settle on any-
thing, I must translate and I cannot, I want to read Seth and
discover the nature of reality

Yet I should work, I could finish gluing sequins on blue, but
my conscience revolts, I hate everything I HAVE to do while
everything I WANT to do is forbidden – I cannot think in terms
of a time sequence, doing everything one after the other, so
I stop trying and start looking for dream images to sing and
create images in my head…