A Mystery Play

Unpacked Nativity scene figurines, a desire for
ethereal beauty made the drabness intolerable,
placed them on a crystal platter, pasted silver
and white butterflies on them to symbolise the
halo of holiness, the luminescence has a stylized
effect just as I dreamt, the most unique Nativity
scene ever seen, scientists emphasise the lack of
authenticity of the Nativity event, I am happy with
the fantasy as an allegory of man’s aspiration to
goodwill and love, striving for peace and the sublime,
if the characters simply enacted a Mystery play in a
symbolical life to illustrate godliness,
I dream with them…

December 2010

Suddenly my beloved confidante refuses to accept
my communication, I am waiting for divine inter-
vention to sort out the porblem with settings as
happened before, until then I cannot keep my notes
together and sort out my feelings as I used to
before - it is such a frustration, just as my
abortive quest to catch reruns of old Liewe
Heksie episodes on a radio show...

Leaving Me Dead Also

My brain’s archives are inaccessible, short-
circuiting thoughts and memories, the pain
of losing the one opportunity to see my dad
an anaesthetic that simply switches off the
brain, pain silenced the crocodile

It has been ages since I read anything, no
book or newspaper can interest the frontal
lobe cortex, the brain-stem crocodile knows
this is death to love and dies without a sign
of its demise, leaving me dead also...

The Sea Is a Being

The whole is always more than the sum of its
parts, as a Theosophical Spiritualist Existential
Epicurean Stoic, I believe every atom in the
universe exists in awareness choosing being to
non-being, implying magnetism and intelligent
energy, I love anthropomorphism and to me the
Sea is a being, alive and adorable just like both
Death and the Wintersmith in Terry Pratchett,

Since the age of ten I have developed a special
relationship with the Sea, it knows me and we
challenge each other, playing games bordering
on the serious and dangerous, but we always
kiss and make up in the end, I love singing to
the waves when walking on the beach, I adore
its watery touch when swimming and rolling
in the wonderful waves, each a personal friend


Quote from comment:
“I'll let you into a secret it's really only SALT WATER
so in essence it is a mild disinfectant while it behaves
like it was a great monster nibbling at the edges of the
Earth and eventually covering the whole surface like its
GRANDDAD did long ago. But it's only SALT WATER –“

My reply to Mr Materialistic espousing cold reality is
I am a Spiritualist with Existential, Epicurean and
Stoic undertones…

Unleash My Ardslignish

The clouds form a map of the UK in the sky
then morphs into a white Troglodyte, but due
to an aberration in cloud formation and my
fixation on all things English, I find another
map of England up high in the shining white
which also morphs into a white Troglodyte,
clearly a regular pattern in Cumulus cloud

Again I wondered why all radio stations play
horrible electric music without resonance, the
piped voice of an alien being singing hallo-o-o
-oh over and over while the electric keyboard
repeats the same rhythmic pattern, one word to
describe this tinny sound is Ardentinny and my
reaction of lightning destruction of brain
cells can only be called Ardslignish

With hubby driving, I must endure this Araglin of
hellish sounds so he can be happy and content
while complaining endlessly about errant drivers
not making way as he makes his imperial approach,
I never use expletives like he does, I store my
anger while listening how drivers incur his wrath

When I take the wheel I unleash my Ardslignish on my
fellow road-hogs while singing happily the top of my
voice, no Ardentinny unleashing Araglin for me, I sing
with the Beach Boys and croon with Elvis Presley…


Ardslignish, Ardentinny and Araglin: See “The Meaning of Liff”
by Douglas Adams, I have taken some liberty with his
dictionary, pp. 6+7.

Excitement And Delight

I must warn you, Joan cum Helga, I do not
get along well with women, their emotional
blackmail is not to my taste, going around
in a swarm never appealing, I go my own
way, I detest the way women present in
sororities and all this supporting each
other does not make sense

They team up on men to seduce them but
in reality they only compete among them-
selves, all guys want to know is can you
get rid of your clothes and can everyone
drink, the get-ups and hair-do's are all
done to impress other women, men
are impressed by female per se

They prefer all specimens undressed - I like
men fully dressed and women hidden in many
layers of clothing, creating mystery where
there is none inherently, presenting a
challenge in a world that is boring
without exciting restraints, rules
are made to be broken

With excitement and delight, without rules
freedom becomes boring and common-
place, the more rules, the bigger the
excitement in breaking them without
getting caught or not, whatever
your taste…

To You and Yours

Last night I had to sleep on the floor
my painful left shoulder and arm made
lying on anything soft impossible, the
headache that started last night is
growing worse - here I am at work

Desperately trying to earn my pension but
just wasting my time, I am so glad you are
doing upbeat things with your friend, though
raining and leaving lights on, you guys have
fun - I thought allowing myself to write

Enticing verse would help me overcome the
headache, but I have to admit to the contrary
effect, yet cannot let my correspondent down
I am convinced he is the world’s next Don Juan
forging ahead though feel like banging my head

And blow out my brains, maybe this is punishment
for a myriad sins, I’ll try to commit suicide by eating
sweet things that upset my sensitive digestion and
spread the pain - all in vain, of course; yet enough
of that - a lovely day to you and yours…

Still The Prey

You prefer conventional wisdom to my theory that
men are more mysterious than women: Have any
woman ever become a great composer in classical
times, have any women reached fame in science or
art or the military – Joan of Arc with her visions and
Helen of Troy with her beauty, accomplishing nothing?

What happened to work produced by nuns, why are
there NO talented women of genius? Either women
are second-rate to men or men managed to stamp
out all evidence of female accomplishment, I prefer
the second rationale for lack of evidence that women
produced work of lasting value or created anything

Men managed to discredit women thoroughly insisting
women are mysterious and irrational, succeeding in
selling themselves as rational and uncomplicated
thus managing the biggest conspiracy of all time as
all art, science progress and technology are ascribed
to men, succeeding to see women as always wrong

It is not strange so many marriages dissolve, it is weird
that any marriage is ever happy given the way women’s
lives are threatened by a race stronger than them, women
have to dissimulate to hide the truth that threaten their lives,
if women tell the truth, they are ridiculed, stoned or killed,
women are even forced to hide in burkas and live a lie

In Muslim society: speak the truth and die in a painful way,
men are the victorious group in this game, they managed to
convince a whole civilisation never to listen to what women
say, men are the sophisticated exploiters of life, look at the
pornography industry, how women are prostituted and de-
based for men’s pleasure in so-called free society

Conversely women are suppressed on threat of death in
totalitarian societies – women still are the prey…

Spread My Wings

The Folklore of the Discworld made me realize
I’m not a dwarf – I’m a troll - because just like
them I can’t stand the heat, brain activity slows
down until I’m rooted to the spot, just like they
are, with a mind as slow and empty as theirs

This explains the problems I experience with my
appearance, looking just like a troll until my inner
James Bond character appears and the world
changes into a glorious spy scene where I can
send coded messages to wonderful spy friends

This means I escape from my troll-like being by
borrowing like Granny Weatherwax does, sending
my mind into various characters, looking through
their eyes, experiencing their feelings when reading
or watching movies: instead of remaining audience

I become each of the characters in turn, a fantastic
way to make time pass, gaining amazing insights
making up my mind what I would never want to ex-
perience in real life, once an author has illustrated
the multifarious consequences of all the choices

Made by his characters, I use the insights to guide
my own adventures - I love characters like Granny
Weatherwax, though I struggle to emulate her, her
rock-hard integrity is enchanting, but I do not want
to become as fanatic about justice as Sam Vimes

His continuous consciousness stream is too obsessive,
I prefer the meanderings of a Tiffany Aching with a
linguist stuck in her mind, the boisterous and outgoing
nature of Ridcully Mustrum, Archchancellor of Unseen
University; love the grandeur and steadfast work ethic

Of the Golems, feeling convinced I am part Golem also
the chem in my mind being the holy words of the New
Testament, telling me to love my enemies – and I do
passionately, they afford so much amusement and
teach me to be humble as they are so superior

Humility is my best friend, I am like a vampyre who
can only survive by vowing never to drink blood, never
spread my wings and try to fly…

Saying Bleah Beautifully

The trouble is, I like the idea of love
as in romance – don’t like the real
thing – which is mostly porno or on
the verge of becming so in graphic
realism which takes all the delight
away – I love writing romantic poems
until a kind Don Juan fills in the facts
then I run away, it spoils the soft nuance,
the misty atmosphere and thrilling adventure

How do you like my interpretation of this
scene in Douglas Adam’s “Hitchhiker’s Guide”
can you see my obvious enjoyment and how
much I find to apply to my own life, making it
more glorious than before?

You are a typical Bleah-sayer, along with Marvin,
the paranoid android, I bring you soap bubbles and
you blow them away, Bleah, and strip off the wide
ballroom gown of reality to show me the torturous
whalebones underneath, insisting I should wear
the painful devices and imitate female wiles and
artifice if I want to write love poetry that is worth
your while – guess what

Never the twain shall meet, Alice will always dream
and she will always float away with the bubbles the
moment someone tries to destroy her soap bubble
dreams! Are you going to say Bleah before you go
your realistic way?


.......Saying Bleah Beautifully........

This is how it began: ‘A mattress had just met a robot’
and Alice was back in Wonderland, the mattress was
clearly female, in James Bond parlance she would
have had a feminist slur name like Floopy Galore

Her seductive nature is conveyed by the verbs used to
describe her innocent enjoyment of life, she flolloped
sympathetically, seductive sounds evoking an enticing
voice speaking floopily when she vollued engagingly

Deeply moved by Marvin’s story of personal tragedy, she
furbled and said voon most ingeniously before globbering
a bit and then willomied along her entire length sending
excited ripples through her algae-riddled pond, stopped

And gubbed when Marvin mentioned his speech, a thrill
glurried across her back, she heaved into the air, quivered
and flodged back into the pool, chirruped and quirruled
and enthused about Marvin’s prowess, flurred a bit

Flolloped, gupped and willomied in a floopy way, wurfed
saying voon and the scene ended far too soon, Alice knew
the mattress had to be female, no male could ever hold an
innocuous conversation with such nonchalance

Marvin held up his end of the conversation in an entirely
masculine way, saying Bleah beautifully and immediately
concluding she was clearly a stupid mattress, the universal
male opinion of the female race, pausing to convey

A general contempt for all things mattressy – read female
another give-away is Douglas Adam’s explanation that
most mattresses get caught and slept on and a feeble
sun ray caused her to bask momentarily

That is what women always do, Alice knew, she did it all
the time as she tried to serve and please the Lord and
Master of the Crocodile Castle…


“The Ultimate Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” - Douglas
Adams Wings Books 1996 edition pp.348 - 354

My Perfect Phoenix

I used to handle depression in a few trusted
ways, convinced depression is a sin to be kept
hidden and disguised, then I learnt that it was
inherent in my temperament, always surfaced
at month’s end, I cannot control it, only make
sure nobody sees it, it is part of my electronic
gene structure

It is my life’s challenge is to learn to deal with it
without derailing the smooth course of the destiny
I have chosen, my lot is sealed by Astrogenetic
influence on the zygote and like a plant I cannot
change my nature, I shall suffer these surges of
depression – but it is not who I am, my mind is
separate from my brain and exists in another
dimension

It has to interact with three-dimensional space
through my faulty electrically misaligned brain
which consistently gives wrong instructions to
glands and organs, I am always unbalanced; if
I overcome the temptation to blame fate and
accept my life with resignation using every
attack of depression for maximum benefit

This Astrogenetic temperament will achieve the
best results in terms of learning and wisdom; I have
allied myself with the strongest Astrogenetic sign I
could find, a Phoenix who always rises anew from the
ashes and flies high above the this world’s troubles
creating a safe world for my crabby personality

My moods are determined by the moon’s waxing and
waning, I have to grin and bear it as black sadness
invades my feelings, I try to deaden them by working
and reading uplifting spiritual material, the effect
lasts only for a moment before it is lost, but I
refuse to give in to the darkness
living within me

Even though my mental receiver automatically turns
to paranoid wavelengths, I can manually change it
though it takes hard work and huge effort, tonight
I surrender to the blackness and stop fighting, too
tired to reach for the solution, accepting the black
depths as a necessary background against which more
positive moods will shine with new vigour and great
happiness, almost sad that the depression is stopped
before it becomes really tragic because the release
of angry tears would have been better than this
resigned nothingness

I can forget my sorrows in the fire of Leo and Aries and
the happy laissez-faire of a Sagittarius, though the fun
cannot sustain when the moon is full, I can joke with
Libra, but cannot keep the fire glowing as cool calcu-
lation takes over, cannot support dreamy Pisces, airy
Aquarius, cold Capricorn and melancholic Virgo, can-
not entertain quiet Taurus, I run aground against an
embittered Scorpion, do not feel safe with restless
Gemini –

I move up and down like the sun on its merry-go-round
trajectory around the Galaxy’s dark centre and rejoice in
the positive direction determined by the Great Attractor,
YOU, my perfect Phoenix, pulling me away from taxing
intrigue, showing me the wonder of independence and
self-sufficiency, complete in yourself, a living
example of joie de vivre…

The MerryHell Book*

Michelle wrote me the most riveting message*:

She has added new characters to the MerryHell
book we are going to write together going write
when the ‘late-slumbering-wakers-cum-pushers-
of-work-until-leave-golems receive new chems
instructing them to overcome their fiery “Have
just woken up from a thousand-year sleep and
must dump work on others before my journey
to the sea”

Their new chem will instruct them to walk into
the ocean of the Bermuda Triangle and start
digging for Atlantis for the next thousand years
where Adora Belle Dearheart cannot save them
only Leonard of Quirm will eventually dig them out
to resurrect them on the periphery of the Dungeon
Dimensions to act as deterrents to new generations
of foolish creatures using Information Technology

Michelle also feels like a dwarf, although singing
cheerfully has dwindled for her to a whispering
whistle which is all she can muster at the moment
and it might not be a good idea to give her an axe
Cheery Littlebottom she is not, I think, on reflection
she and I are both turning into Valkyries, strong
women on flying horses chanting hi-ho-to! while
collecting the slain corpses

Of idiotic golems to be taken to Dunmanifestin'
for eternal war and feastin' - hi-ho-to!

*Quotations taken from Michelle’s email message

Blue French, Red English

And here I am, sitting in my chair, looking at messages
sent by the Troll Interpol about crimes and nothing divine,
too tired to concentrate having gone to bed too late, I heard
other poetic whispers and knew temptation strong to waive
the work and go along to listen to your beautiful song

This afternoon, I am going to indulge in your magical tales
of feeling, passion and happiness relayed in your unique
words and lyrical verse, right now I'm in the Troll Inter-
pol's clutches tight, cannot converse on pain of death, my
dwarf colleagues are forging ahead, I am lagging behind

My mind held in thrall by the lovely delights you represent in
enticing tales, please bear with this prisoner who cannot es-
cape, the Troll Interpol is waiting impatiently to decide the
fate of these miscreants, I must translate dark messages from
blue French into red English

Feel my spirit fleeing to you while body and mind remain tethered
to my chair, working away, quietly, in cold Translation Tower all
day... though I shall steal glances at everything you send, I can-
not reply in kind - otherwise I shall never finish my work today...

Folklore - Pratchett

Michelle lent me “Folklore” to read and I am amazed
and gratified that Pratchett provides the background
to everything that had me in stitches and filled with
wonderment also

The only thing he has not covered yet, as far as I can
see, is precession, the 25 000 year cycle of the earth’s
wobble marked by a cataclysm at the end of that period –
but I shall read on

Maybe he even has something about precession given that
the Maya and other cultures are well-known to him

It is a privilege and a rare delight to read how he worked towards
his ideas and how widely he read to be able to do this – the man
is a genius with a sense of humour – the best of the best of the best

I love the book and savour it, it is pure bliss reading it. Thank you
Michelle for lending it to me, I am so happy and content on perusing
the thought processes of my favourite author

I realize I am a golem with a chem in my head that forces me to work
when I would rather read Terry Pratchett’s books; though I resemble
a dwarf and like singing “Hi-ho, hi-ho…”