Hermit-Existence

Rereading “Ageing is an Attitude” I laughed
when realising that what the author depicts
as the more reflective, slower lifestyle of the
elderly, applies to how I have lived from my
youth; no wonder I do not see the distinction
between young and old and what has to be
changed with increasing age

Now I happily settle into my hermit-existence
with more self-confidence - relishing my best
Cinderella-dreams as the most glorious vision
I could conjure knowing manifestation would
only have spoilt them; glad that remaining as
I am is the best thing while dreams shall lead
to ever more magnificent visions


‘Aging is an Attitude’ Cecil Murphey – AMG
Publishers, 2005

Amplify Inner Visions

Finished reading true private eye stories searching
for missing persons, so many people romantisize the
past and early experience; we should enjoy our visions,
not try to find them manifested in real events, it is better
to fail in tracing old flames or abusive parents

Imagination enables us to improve on reality and create a
better world - the fact that the past proves their memories
of young love wrong, teaches us to look ahead to create the
best future we can, instead of trying to find idealized images
in real life – we should project these dreams

Into the future, striving to amplify our inner visions…


‘The Man with the Turquoise Eye and Other True Stories of
a Private Eye’s Search for Missing Persons’ – Norma Mott
Tillman with David Hunter; Rutledge Hill Press; 1995 ----
“Fanning Old Flames” pp 131-137

I am Mute (Revised)

Today is lost, I could not navigate
a steady course, mind disturbed,
nothing claims my concentration,
surfaced now and again to where
my head is snared in a net of
meaninglessness

Could not create a purpose or set
a Don Quixote task, cannot dream
the impossible dream for mother,
a hip replacement which financial
constraints make impossible, pain
her constant companion

No state hospital operations, only
self-funded private interventions
so how long should she need to
suffer? Nor can anyone alleviate
the pain – only her trust and faith
will pull her through,

To know she has to endure the
destructive agony of pain dims
beauty of life, makes me unsure
of myself and the meaning of
spiritual growth I assigned to
simple existence –

I could not breathe without it or
hear music; she must be released
from jeopardy, freed of pain, I am
mute in face of her suffering, my
head aches as my heart burns
shrinks into oblivion

A Wild Palate

This must be the scourge of allergic people
everywhere on earth, trying out new dishes
amazing new sauces from heaven, innovative
sausages with velvet textures - such delight
for a wild palate, enjoying forbidden pleasures

Exulting in the universal camaraderie of gourmets
then, terrible discomfort and malaise, torpor and
lassitude - uncontrollable urges to lie down, when
horizontal, neck stiffening, back contracting
the poor sufferer turning into a contortionist

Bending the body out of shape in an attempt to
become more comfortable in a body turned into
iron and steel, aching bones and joints, sinuses
clogged, breathing stops, life throttled out of the
glutton, once again new resolutions are made:

Tomorrow I shall be wise, only eat and drink the
tried and tested – if only I can survive the night
without succumbing to pain and fright…

Pulse Of Life

The simplistic soul of the small
organism revels in sheer joy of
existence, delights in basic being
as magnificence, enjoying mani-
festation as creative realisation

Requiring no other justification for
appearance, exciting pulse of life
is quite enough, ecstatic in being
present in abundance - all that is
required for throbbing, shining

And singing in total abandon to
wanton life, passionately aware
of being there, here and every-
where, no beginning or end to
the energy that is self-aware

Intelligent electricity magnetically
loving, nurturing and propagating
itself – indefinitely!

Albeit So Weird

I do not trust the long rinse and spin cycle of the
washing machine, loud and insane, scrunch up
the washing, making careful hanging to obviate
ironing impossible; I always interfere in rinsing-
spinning since washing machines have been
designed by demons bent on torturing humans

My distrust of all kinds of machines; except my
adorable laptop who takes every word it is fed
and returns it to me in the script I like; led to my
never using a dishwasher, an evil device that
runs in unfathomable cycles driving me crazy
with uncertainty about objects and motives

And degree of cleanliness; therefore I turn the
kitchen radio to Radio Pretoria (because they
play German music, the bedroom radio stays
tuned to FM Classic, TV alternating between
Nat Geo Wild and Deutsche Welle while the
big screen TV remains on sports channels)

And wash the dishes by hand; - I forgot to
add detergent when washing Tiaan’s dusty
clothes two washes ago, somehow I hold an
irrational belief washing should require little
detergent if any– and the washing machine
did not remind me – hah! – point is

While it is impossible to wash by hand, my
wrists go numb as I scrub and twist - the
washing machine is a strange invention
that refuses to wash in a way I can
understand; but I shall always use
it, albeit so weird…

Crystal Landscapes

And then you said, These are wild dreams and
mesmerising schemes, how can I go on, how
listen to the song; and I said, But you are strong,
your wings are wide now that they have stretched
to encompass the biggest scenes your mind can
hold, your view enlarged, your song won’t die,
just go and please try to reach yonder horizon

Then you flew with arms outstretched, you jumped
into the abyss, all seemed lost but here you rise
again, carried on currents of brilliantly coloured air,
the dream is so great, the ideal so beautiful, it in-
flates the mind and carries the spirit to the green
pastures of old which now start to seem like crystal
landscapes glittering in diamond and gold

Shining in azure, agate and aquamarine

Sweet Repose

Everything served as stepping stones, I am not
grieving as the end appeared to be a new be-
ginning; a higher flight, more enchanting delight,
no fear at all, this deep dream unique cannot let
me fall as the silver chord and golden thread
weave in patterns of meaning eluding me still,
but beckoning more beautiful then ever before,
a masterful voice uttering words so choice, my
soul responds, my heart rejoice, my mind be-
calmed makes me see the sweet repose that
used to seem completely out of reach: if it is
there, if it is calling; I can follow because
I know where the doorway is…

I Was In Being

lifted off, flying away for the first time
in ages, reached the dream universe
where spiritual experience reach the
sublime -- when my characters were
enclosed in the ambience of magical
feelings and conveyed the sensation
to me I was there, in virtual reality,
where I can experiment with
alternative ways of being…

so keep on whispering, it is working,
keep on flying, destiny is waiting, joy
indescribable - I thought it lost, but I
was wrong, it was here all the time
waiting for me to catch up - it took
all my imagination, conjuring a
myriad characters; only when I
discovered who was the key
and tried to use it

the door to magic opened again,
I was in…

[Sometimes the door is in your head,
sometimes in your heart, you can
never tell until you try]

Searches for Persons

U-oh, private eye searches for missing persons,
a beautiful client tracking her first love refusing
to meet her, she switched to previous boyfriend
who reacted the same way

Leaving me with a thousand questions, an un-
solved mystery – what about this woman was
so abhorrent to her former acquaintance; why
is there is no answer -

Then the case of a strange woman’s look-
alike daughter dating her own unknown father
and the mother still shocked and reluctant to
spill the beans – Oh no

I had better return to more salubrious material,
these human interest stories trump the tabloids
for insoluble mysteries that spoil all my waking
moments…


‘The Man with the Turquoise Eye - True Stories of
a Private Eye’ – Norma Mott Tillman with David
Hunter; Rutledge Hill Press - 1995

Alive, Aware And Free

A lie-detector expert, Clive Baxter, attached
polygraph machines to philodendron leaves,
tracings showed typical responses obtained
when subject to brief emotional stimulation,
he decided to burn a leaf and the tracing went
wild showing fright, the plant read the threat
he only formulated in his head!

‘The Secret Life of Plants’ by Christopher Bird
and Peter Tomkins proved that plants respond
to thought, speech and prayer – but scientists
questioned their experiments which could not
be replicated indefinitely, only sensitives elicit
a response from plants which means they found
character determines results

This has been confirmed by quantum physics:
observation influences the object observed as
well as observer, particles follow expectations
appearing as wave or fixed point reacting to pre-
conceived assumptions; these pioneers have
been vindicated by the quantum’s probability
curve replacing pre-determination

Intensifying my fascination with all things wild and
wonderful – the clockwork universe requirement
for inevitable predictability destroyed by random
probability; every particle is alive, aware and free
to choose existence to non-being by means of
chemical communication*


‘The Reader’s Digest Book of Strange Stories,
Amazing Facts’, Reprinted July 1977

“Do Plants Have Emotions? Sensitive creatures
in the plant world” - p 91

* Studies in the Kruger National Park has shown when
a tree’s leaves are eaten, nearby trees change their
chemical composition forcing herbivores to move
several trees away to find fresh, sweet leaves;
thus nature prevents overgrazing, if animals
are forced to eat nearby leaves, they die of
bloated stomachs

Displacement

Just finished rereading “Wee Free Men” introducing
Tiffany, displacing suffocating allergic reaction due to
culinary indulgence by diving into the enchantment of
Terry Pratchett’s wonderful prose

Did not want the book to end, the story should continue
for eternity… sometimes I try to leave the land of dreams,
Tiffany found dreams were used to lead people astray –
then I eat things that make my life miserable

And remember why transcending reality is necessary, I
cannot give up the rearrangements I make since living in
physical discomfort is counterproductive; dreams enable
me to experience marvellous adventures

Which cannot exist in my little world and although I would
like to be practical and impress with my common sense, it
is impossible to stay within the boring inter-subjective con-
sensus we call reality, even when clever people say

It is irresponsible and childish to let the mind stray from the
life at hand - I will not give up this delight to impress anybody,
the joy of creative fantasy outweighs all arguments offered by
people with deep frowns and drooping mouths

As the virtues they try to urge on me left them feeling cheated
and bitterly disappointed, I see no reason to join their misery if
I can do my job adequately with several other worlds spinning
wildly in my mind and heart


“The Wee Free Men” – Terry Pratchett – Doubleday 2003

THE THIRD EYE & LIVING SUNDIAL

THE THIRD EYE

The third eye grants a knowledge divine
says a Sanskrit Manuscript, with the light
of a million lustrous suns, today scientists
suppose the pineal gland to be the third eye

White and grey tissue, pea-sized, cone-shaped,
buried at the back of the skull on the brain’s mid-
line; primitive, light-sensitive, producing hormone
melatonin - melanin pigment for skin/hair colouring

Manufactured from serotonin, a chemical in the pineal
enabling rational thought, when blocked by LSD, man
suffers schizophrenia and hallucinations – the pineal
gland affects body processes and the emotions

Lobsang Rampa said when the third eye opening was
made in his head, the pineal gland enabled him to see
the aura – the angry red flames spurting from violent
people, I am glad I cannot see that

Though I would have loved to see the pure golden aura
around the heads of the holy – and the purplish blue
around the truly spiritual…


‘The Reader’s Digest Book of Strange Stories,
Amazing Facts’, Reprinted July 1977

“The Eye of Enlightenment” - Mystery inheritance
from our remote ancestors - pp 44 & 45


A LIVING SUNDIAL

Man, the living sundial, blood changing just
before sunrise and living life within three
rhythmic cycles - earth’s daily turning on
an axis, the moon monthly orbiting earth,
the yearly earth journey around the sun

Pulse, temperature, hormones, blood pressure
and breathing rise and fall in tandem with the
world’s spin – since ability, temper and resis-
tance to infection are controlled by all these
rhythms and sunlight spurs hypothalamus
action which stimulates hormones -

It explains why date of conception has such
a huge influence on temperament
and attitude!


‘The Reader’s Digest Book of Strange Stories,
Amazing Facts’, Reprinted July 1977

“Larks and Owls – The inner clock that rules
our lives” - pp 51 & 52

Such Sweet Belief

A wonderful life, serving his fellow-man
the only fear of old age is death seen as
non-being until resurrection at the end of
time to face his loving God – such sweet
belief led to amazing accomplishment, he
is to be commended

He never allowed an Arthur Findlay to
influence him, never checked the British
Occult Society or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
on continuous awareness after death, nor
allowed reports of the reincarnated to
distract him from now events

All he fears is non-existence until he awakens
in heaven – however much I admire his life, I
cannot pay the same price: closing my eyes
to all contrary evidence in single-minded de-
votion to duty; for me the magic of quantum
physics and magnetic energy

Is too wonderful to be ignored for religious
peace of mind and serving the temporary;
I love enduring ideas of eternal conscious-
ness much more than fleeting imagery -
yet I am glad people’s happiness is in
the hands of believers like him…


‘Aging is an Attitude’ Cecil Murphey – AMG
Publishers, 2005

An Exclusively Grouchy Group

Aging is attitude: what you are when you are young
will come to pass as you age; the biggest problem
is this book was written by a pastor with years of
loving community service, he even served three
missionary years in Africa, he recommends
service and teaching to fulfil the older
person’s need to be needed

Given that I am not a community person, never
mastered the art of participating in group acti-
vities, found teaching impossible; found my joy
in solitary pursuits practiced against a back-
ground of other people’s activities without
direct interaction; I do not meet the
requirements set out in my book

To create a carefree and happy old age - how to
relate to people in groups when I failed to do
so in my youth, all I hope is that cantankerous
and irascible people who love seclusion as
much as I do, will age with me so we can
form an exclusively grouchy group…


‘Aging is an Attitude’ Cecil Murphey – AMG
Publishers, 2005

A War Zone

Kitchen turned into a war zone, books from
library making up for lack of colours removed
at your request, two wooden boards to lift
my books high for easy reading

‘Mind, Magic & Mysteries’, ‘Strange Stories and
Amazing Facts’, ‘True Stories of a Private Eye’
by Tillman and Hunter; Cecil Murphey’s ‘Aging
is Attitude’ – such fun finding these

I shall read them one by one, already doing fine;
discovering ‘in retrospect we turn trauma into the
best of times, our worst experiences are decisive
moments for change of direction’

Already - in my life - this is the best of times…


1. ‘The encyclopedia of Mind, Magic & Mysteries’
by Francis X. King

2. ‘The Reader’s Digest Book of Strange Stories and
Amazing Facts’, Reprinted July 1977

3. ‘The Man with the Turquoise Eye - True Stories of
a Private Eye’ – Norma Mott Tillman with David Hunter
Rutledge Hill Press; 1995

Cannibal Squid And Ninja Shrimp

Cannibal squid and ninja shrimp, three
pupils in eyes on mobile stalks, mysterious
tides of red algae, fragile seahorse dwarves
found in the Caribbean

Palpable disapproval in angry frowns, I put
everything bright, glittering and beautiful away
lay down to watch TV, Nat Geo Wild, squid and
shrimp and seahorses and Wizards

Deutsche Welle, Weihnacht in Deutschland
Gefangenenaustauch, Heimatorte, Geizel
der Hamas freigekommen sind im Glanz
der Lichter und so weiter

Schlittschuhlaufen, Bundesligatabelle, langsam
voran perfekt zubereitet, Feiertags, Euromaxx
Weihnachten im Vatikan, Weihnachtzeit auf
DW TV - aufgehängt, abgetaucht

Ausgestellt, Projekt Zukunft, Backen war
immer ihren Leidenschaft – grossartig - die
meiste Menschen fehlt die Zeit selbst zu
backen – Faultier – ich lache…

Return to the Dream

‘Through The Wormhole’ Morgan Freeman
debating whether intelligent life exists in our
universe led to my mind getting stuck on the
wrong mental station where my fictitious
characters cannot help in resolving
the argument

My five senses let me experience the dead
universe which Morgan Freeman insists is the
only thing in existence – making me feel so des-
perately lonely; I need an alternative to the
physical depiction of a cold and
lifeless universe

My instincts and feelings require the mystique
of Spiritualism and Occultism to empower my
‘dead’ body in which the ‘thinking ghost’ is en-
closed to work efficiently; the ‘thinking ghost in
the machine’ theory is suffocating – let me
return to the dream

In order to lead a happy and productive life; let
these scientists enjoy their self-created dark, cold
and meaningless universe restricted to their illogical
assumptions of undesigned life, the limitations of
their senses and the contemporary level
of their technology


“Through The Wormhole” - Channel 251 - BBC Knowledge

Magic On The Quiet

Charmed by the wonderful wit of Terry Pratchett
in Carpe Jugulum, sharing Agnes Nitt’s admiration
for the Right Reverend Mightily Oats’ kindness in
helping Granny Weatherwax under the ruse that
she was helping him and Granny’s grudging res-
pect for a priest of Om no longer burning witches,
not burning in holy fire himself meaning he is truly
an honest man and bringer of light to dark places

The ramifications of the situations which reveal the
true nature of the protagonists who face them, form
a string of magical events that glisten and shine in
my imagination just as they do in Indra’s heaven
where every pearl reflects all the other pearls

The logical consistent action of Pratchett’s main
characters forming a musical theme that plays
through all his books, carefully camouflaged from
the regard of the casual passer-by who does not
pick up the shining strands to follow them to their
harmonious conclusions

Led astray by the science of materialism used to
lull unobservant connoisseurs into believing that
empiricism forms the basis of Pratchett’s edifice –

And I shall leave it at that, delighting in magic
on the quiet….


‘Carpe Jugulum’ Terry Pratchett, Doubleday 1998

Highest Happiness

Finally swam today, went down to the pool where a 16 year old kid did not mind having to escort his mom everywhere – the boy is a treasure; went down the slide and thought I would flip over the side while going around the S-curves, especially when turning nearly 180 degrees trying to sit up from laying on my back which increased the speed much to my chagrin because it made the whole experience terribly scary, this Russian Babuschka no longer minds who runs away when she appears like a docking whale Watched a Swedish horror movie with English subtitles and a suitably gory red-mouthed vampire protagonist, stark in its total lack of joie de vivre; finished reading “Good Omens” by Pratchett and enjoyed Adam, the loving antichrist, so much as he reordered the world to keep it alive and give him time to enjoy his eleven-year-old joy in being a young boy in the English countryside and everything around me appeared as magical as it appears to Adam, soon I shall reread the ending again, it is so charming – how marvellous to read wonderful stuff; it is the highest happiness there is!

Child’s Play

Travelling by means of an affordable magazine
from Demi Moore, open marriage to Kutcher who
had to make his babies elsewhere and thus lost
the delight of his broad-minded wife who meant
freedom to breed is only her prerogative

To Designer Coffins for glorious burial, a son beating
cancer just to be killed by a wild group of teenagers
at night, an Indonesian man ravaged by a mystery
tumour disease, a Limo truck with a 14 million rand
bathtub – into the jaws of a Crocodile lurking

In Russia where would-be suicidees, despondent
because they have so much less than Demi Moore
cannot grow skeleton-slim because their husband
cottoned-on to the meaning of open relationship,
desperate because they cannot afford

Designer Coffins or take a ride in a Limo truck; did
not get cancer or were killed at night by belligerent
teenagers nor managed to be ravaged by a mystery
Indonesian disease; inject lethal mixtures of codeine,
paint thinner, gasoline, hydrochloric acid

Phosphorous and iodine so their flesh turns scaly and
green and peels away from the bone while entertaining
its owners by forming black holes in their bodies until
they end up with gangrene, iodine messing up their
endocrine system, metals causing corrosion and

Shut-down of liver and kidneys, phosphorous destroying
bone-tissue; wow, such existential pain in the desolation
of post-communist Russia, makes the rest of the world’s
woes seem child’s play by comparison…


“People” SA’s affordable weekly, December 18, 2011,
Vol 20 No 50 - Quotes from many articles and specifically
p 56 Warren Robertson “Into the Jaws of a Krokodil”

Transfixed

A Dior-clad skeleton, lipstick perfect,
brilliant specimen advertising disaster
relief while illustrating famine effects

A self-centred fashion icon starving to
death in an attempt to stay fatally slim
dying in two or three weeks at least

Keeping to a masochistic regime, she
shall be dead soon; I stare transfixed
such a fate could never befall me

I top up all ‘faux pas’ in food intolerance
management diet by adding more food-
stuffs to keep liver and kidneys busy

Leaving insufficient time to process
the allergens, lessening physical
and emotional distress


“Good Omens” – Terry Pratchett
Corgi edition published 1991
p 71

Infinitely Different Ways

Reading the Apocrypha, speculating why Church
Fathers said young Jesus taught scribes while
rejecting the content of his lessons delineated
in the Arabic Gospel; did they realise only
vague mysteries would survive?

Enjoy reading how Maria cured ills with the water
of Jesus’ bath, how He explained Aleph-Beth to
ignorant teachers - the Bible Scribes knew they
could only get away by presenting not too
incredible incidents

Using subjective criteria to decide what would make
the flock subside before religious power; I also devise
my own criteria for choosing that which would make
my life a work of art, ignoring pedagogues’
restrictions because

Expectation and belief can create anything - I put
my trust in all things that increase freedom, beauty
and happiness, never force my dreams on anyone,
respecting the need for experiment and adventure,
all prefer painful experience

To verbal examples, it is our right to enjoy suffering
as much as we like, learning that dealing with
consequences is the price we pay for
freedom, having fun in infinitely
different ways

Blue Tango – taRAM!

Drove to work in a misty grey cloud of driving rain
enlivened by Leroy Anderson’s The Blue Tango played
loud, heart striving to rise from my chest, longing
to be the mischievous theme ‘taraTAtataTAra’ while the
more sedate main melody happily dances by itself
‘taratataRAtaaaaa, taratatatatataTAra’

I pulled off the street and sing along, this is the tango
I want to dance one day, arms bowsprite high, head
back, stepping with stiff legs held in the arms of Death
my favoured Discworld personality, I’ll offer him
time while dreaming of being Lady Time myself,
conquering life – taRAM!


The Blue Tango – Lyrics

First Performed in 1951
Lyrics Added in 1952

Here am I with you
In a world of blue
And we're dancing to the tango
we loved when first we met;
While the music plays,
we recall the days
when our love was a tune
that we couldn't soon forget
As I kiss your cheek,
we don't have to speak
The violins, like a choir,
express the desire
we used to know
not long ago
So just hold me tight
in your arms tonight,
And this BLUE TANGO will be
our thrilling memory of love.

http://leroyanderson.com/lyrics.php
www.musicnotes.com/sheetmusic

Unsure of Myself

I try to prepare for the end of year meal, stringing
miniature beads on fishing line should do the trick
keeping my fingers busy and my mind at ease, but
it isn’t working, I have already started to turn into
Quasimodo, the hunchback, tonight

Already my eyes are out of focus - I feel unsure of
myself, I know my presentation is not the right thing
and I cannot blame my colleagues for thinking that
I am an idiot, being with a critical group is torture to
me, my ideas anathema to them

I should be used to it, yet I cannot feign interest in
desultory conversation, general topics constitute
danger to my consciousness stream, whenever
I see an ice floe of shared interest and try to
leap upon it, another’s expression kills it

It is but once or twice a year this visitation comes
upon me, surely I am old enough to carry my cross
of ineptitude calmly – I wish I could be Alice with
them – but no, I turn into a stone troll during a
group activity - such is my cross:

Stupidity, feeling more self-conscious than Agnes
Nitt and Magrat Garlick combined – and I have no
inner Perdita to sustain me when facing all my
colleagues combined

Beyond Harps And Pitchforks

Came the clarion call – oh come, all officials, come
collect diaries and bags to prepare for next year,
obediently we trooped downstairs to receive a
mousepad flashing in orange fluorescence

Took an extra one for Madame Pompadour - missing
in action again; Hanlie took one for June who refused
to leave her chair, too enamoured of her computer
to move at all, this morning June lamented:

Vanity, vanity, all vanity; Hanlie checked Ecclesiastes
for grasshopper similes in four languages: Afrikaans,
English, German and French - June said she would
read the Apocrypha during December

I said I love Muslim stories about Jesus as a real little
cowboy when He was small – said to have shrivelled
his teacher’s arm – Hermien objected, claiming ‘The
little boy Jesus was as sweet as an angel!’

Hermien has three sons herself, how can she believe it?
Humming happily I returned to my desk, started to edit
recalcitrant documents thinking; soon I shall be in the
veld - golden grass and the glorious sun

In an ineffable African sky – why should I worry whether
Hermien has seen the Apocrypha at all - the picture of the
little Jesus will forever hold sway in my heart - and since
the Church Fathers rejected reincarnation

I accept reincarnation as fact, rejoicing about life ever-
lasting - beyond harps and pitchforks…

Last Day At Work (3rd version)

Have already filled in a production sheet to prove I
did useful things after suffering immensely with
Internet flickering like demented Christmas tree
lights, losing email connection intermittently, but
suddenly my desk is clean,

Now – after completing my documents in a
demented state, fuming at the mouth, mind un-
stable, Disciples of Cool install a cable to ensure
continuous Internet connection; they arrive like
too late Angels of Mercy to be of use this year,

Too late, too late! I want to cry, too late by a hundred
years – do you know how much pain and confusion
your deliverance delay has inflicted on me? But I
subside, determined to pre-pave a smooth way into
a shining future, ready to chant old Dutch psalms

At eventide next to a blazing fire when the sky changes
into a velvet canopy studded with stars creating bling-
blings that make me long to paste glitter on every dark
possession that lurks in my cup-board at home…

The Best Gift

Maria von Trapp complained
she couldn’t stop singing and
saying everything that comes
into her mind, in tribute to his
favourite flibbertigibbet

Pratchett invented the Chattering
Order of Saint Beryl Articulatus with
Sister Loquacious and Sister Voluble
who were free to be quiet for one hour
on Thursdays only

Pratchett’s causal narrative makes
redress for all past injustice, fills me
with inspiration to visualise the office
as a Chattering Convent and to project
the holiday resort

Which we are going to visit as a corner
of unsullied paradise and YOU as the
best gift the universe could ever provide,
thank you for every moment of time
you spend

It is the highest compliment and when you
polish uneven lines, you do the work of
angels and change my consciousness
into an experience of the Divine…


Good Omens – Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Corgi edition published 1991, pp 33,36, 38,& 41

In Heaven Also (Revised)

The worst thing about heaven is it only boasts
two world-class composers: Liszt and Elgar,
the best of the rest – Bach, Beethoven, Brahms
and Mozart apparently all went to hell:
I shall gladly join them there

Hope to meet Bizet and Strauss as well and that
some enchanting demon finally teaches me to
dance properly, preferably a waltz and a
wonderful tango – like the one Death danced
dramatically with Renate Flitworth

I hope Vivaldi with his regular beat and
Stravinsky with his musical themes in
single row explosions are in heaven
also where I shall not be – and never
need listen to again


“Good Omens” – Terry Pratchett
Corgi edition published 1991
p 55

Literary-Minded Cleverness (Revised)

Thank you for the tick oh Literary-Minded
Cleverness – it is not only your melodious
rhythmical poems I revere and eschew
to stay on the straight and narrow

But also writings by others that might
awaken emotional responses other than
humour, inspire spiritual or uplifting
ideas – many write poems ferociously

I dare not seek the music which your
poems flow apace, must avoid magic
which my ten o'clock break desires
reading beautiful soul-stirring stuff

Couldn’t return a sedate official to my
chair ready to tackle boring texts –
would be a sprite floating in space or
a mermaid in my mind, having fun

Unable to relate to ice-cold reality; are
you proud of my self-control at least,
consciously waiving short-term joy for a
salary to spend on my kids education?

Righteous Dustbins

Coffee break at ten, whirled through the
antichirst’s birth as retold by Neil Gaiman
and Terry Pratchett - the Spawn of Satan
without hoofikens, looking unlike his daddy-
waddykins as Sister Loquacious remarked

Brought to a Chattering Order where nuns
speak incessantly, however inconsequential,
in marvelous contrast with the usual nun’s
tale of silence broken by delightful renditions
of holy songs all jazzed-up; I laughed aloud

This day is blessed by this great piece of
irreverence, creating a context in which I
can read little documents, my mind held
in thrall by the righteous dustbins of this
saintly tale – thank you so much!

“Good Omens” Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Corgi Edition 1991; pp 35 and 37

To be a Leitmotiv

A beauty that mesmerises, a description of a trip
a stream cascading melodiously with a wonderful
beat, so beautiful, it hurts - why does true beauty
inflict a feeling of hurt - at least for me?

Maybe because of my irrational desire to become
part of it and I cannot, especially of visual beauty
which used to drive me insane with desire to fuse
with the scene - since it is impossible

To become part of the landscape or objects like
flowers and seashells… this poem drives me to
distraction with a hurtful desire to become
a melody - a piece of music myself

To be a leitmotiv, a theme, notes in sequence
and harmony - you will think me mad when I
try to explain that your melody is galloping
with such beautiful rhythm

Camouflaged Flaws In Reality (Revised)

Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’
overwhelms – the enormous scope
of scenes he paints reduces me
to tears and silent wonder

Sam Vimes’ income spent caring for
widows and orphans of deceased
watchmen; Angua facetiously claims
he spends it all on women

Captain Carrot explains Vimes one-
man pension fund scheme, tells how
he lives frugally to provide for those
he sees worse off than him,

For this he receives fairytale rewards:
marries Ankh-Morpork’s richest woman
made a Knight by none other than the
undercover Ankh-Morpork King –

Captain Carrot – who finds evidence of
his kingship on plunging his sword into
granite, destroys powerful GONNE after
reading documents proving his lineage

But steadfast and strong, turns from his
birthright to the throne, preferring to remain
a watchman – this solid nobility becomes
overpowering narrative causality

Pratchett remonstrates about fairy tales
yet creates luminous, delicate, enticing
magical tales for these two characters,
weaving details as Discworld sagas

Despite cynical commentary on society
and human nature, Pratchett idealistically
creates wonderful bubbles of fantasy,
camouflaged as flaws in reality


“Men at Arms” – Terry Pratchett; Little, Brown and
Company edition, 2000

One Illusion (Revised)

A change of perspective is the best way
to deal with depression due to tastefully
wrapped Christmas gifts with allergy-
causing honey, chocolate and cheese

Delicious shivers when I read the Pre-
Cambrian era lasted 300 million years
as an ice age - 800 million years ago:
if we humans exist on a planet

That survived such disasters, why worry
about anything - if a sudden catastrophe
plunged Siberia overnight into sub-zero
temperatures for 15 thousand years

Why should I worry about losing my mind
when I eat - the Beresovka mammoth was
found frozen, half-standing, buttercups in
its mouth, still edible, ivory intact

What on earth can be worse than that? I feel
so much better - disasters of the past make
the present seem like a dream - one
illusion is all that I need

“The Atlantis Blueprint” by Rand-Flem-Ath &
Colin Wilson; Little, Brown and Company 2000
pp 11, 12 and 15

Sunlight Through Rain

How we feel moment by moment is the main event
so we feel like dying when moment by moment the
email goes off, the Internet connection is lost, blood
sugar plummets - I suck sweets to remain upright

Moment by moment words haunt me: we must save
earth from greenhouse effect, save energy; yet air-con
is churning, Kingley becomes a furnace without it, what-
ever we do to survive, we are guilty: do not drive a car

Switch off creepy in pool to create a crocodile swamp
(Scorpio would go insane) the sea overheats because
of the increasing warmth of the sun, in France four by
four vehicles are almost banned to save their coastline

Moment by moment incidents keep us in tears inter-
spersed with maniac laughter in quiet surrender and
grim determination to play the game for a pension
though devaluation may mean hunger in any case

Moment by moment changes in existential situation
mean everybody feeling great again, enjoying sun-
light shining through rain, no reason to complain,
every sad feeling opens another space

To be filled with new grace...

Leap Into The Wind

Cautious, cold words throwing ice water
on all enthusiasm – good grief, thank you
very much, indeed, what a sad, cold world
it is, but never you mind, I have Miss Bianca,
Mary Poppins and Pollyanna inside to pull me
through when drowning in ice-floes is the only
option left

So I get out of the trenches and rest my mind in
the higher dimensions from whence came these
very trenches in the first place, you don’t know
that these trenches were once only ideas also
and with new dreams, new places and new
ideas shall be begotten again, we need to
speed up

Leap into the wind, take chances, run
forwards, a too cautious attitude kills the
flames of enthusiasm and spells the end
of all games and leaves everyone feeling
cold and bereft

Enraged & Vivaldi

Got into bed enveloped in the warmest delight
reading how Captain Carrot of the Night Watch
met Lance-Constable Angua, how she laughed
when Carrot made the new recruits repeat the
oath quoting all details, comma square bracket
insert name here, comma, deity of choice; how
likeable Carrot is, glowing with the inner light of
conviction, how honest, serious and wonderful

Even better, how much Commander Sam Vimes
hates superficial opinions and callous sentiments
expressed by higher class people with low-class
minds - then the allergy asserted itself in stiffening
neck and spine, could not lie down, head throbbed
the bed started to sag, my pillow turned into stone,
lost the goodwill and joy evoked by my book ‘Men
at Arms’ by Terry Pratchett - with its lovely humour

Life remains a see-saw; yet the marvelous warmth
brought into my life by the exciting Discworld ideas
manifested by characters with an integrity totally in-
corruptible stays in my heart to keep me safe when
I am enraged by the bad taste of those who do not
care for life as delicate beauty - the same goes for
Vivaldi, his musical themes and unwavering beat

Drive me nuts, I see his notes like stiff-necked
soldiers marching on, getting on my nerves
with robotlike idiocy…


“Men At Arms” – Terry Pratchett, Corgo edition
published 1994, p. 43



Vivaldi

Being forced to listen to Vivaldi by
a compilation of classical music, his
musical themes & unwavering beat,
his notes like stiff-necked soldiers
marching on with robotlike idiocy
drive me insane

Awakening memories of ALL things that
irked me recently, the contrast between
the delight reading Pratchett and being
enraged by Vivaldi-effigies led to the
suspicion there is a poem on anger
waiting in the wings

Meantime, these cold notes on the deficiency
of three-dimensional holographic images as
simile of reality made me reflect on life’s
shortcomings - but Men At Arms is lying
next to me, their mischievous irrational
levity is waiting

To grab me again and whisk me away from
inadequate, imperfect and painful reality –
up to the heights of cloud nine…

Fancy-Free

A go-getter, so energetic, a
perfect complement to your
work ethic – though dogged
& determined still rule-bound
and duty-led; she’s fancy-free
an enthusiast with lots of joie
de vivre lightening ambiance,
bringing joy you’d never see
or fabricate alone; so there,
you see I’ve filled in some
details of your Chronicles

It Will Take Time

Depressed in losing sunshine, laughter and
fun, happy noises, delightful chaos, little voices
babbling, running feet, curious eyes, small
mouths sweet as they sleep exhausted from
the world as an experience of glorious loving
and the phenomenon of being

Why be calm when the troupe moves on, Dad
cajoling, Mom consoling; you’ve earned the
tableau of honour obligatory as beloved Père
Noël, venerable head of the family– tho your
silence speaks volumes of your anxious
reach for old routines

After this explosion of emotion you are an
empty sponge wrung in the affections of your
beloved grandkids*, it will take time to settle
down, before colour returns to the World that
now seems lifeless and grey without the two
little ones to paint it so…


*Charlotte and Oliver

What Can Be Better [Revised]

As the day is simply beautiful I drove to
work with a song in my heart, a smiling
Pollyanna greeting me, agreed it better
to end being eaten by the last cannibal
tribe than languishing quietly at home

Heidi impishly explains imaginary pains,
nothing daunts her resolute spirit; Mme La
Pompadour sends a note she’s ferrying the
whole old-age home around, while Maria
Von Trapp’s engaged on the family estate

Drove a posse of my son’s friends home
to celebrate exuberance of life, promised
I’d stop running technically red lights (tho’
yellow on approach) – I know if I project a
submissive spirit at road signs

They shall assume safely I am indeed the
stopping kind and only unkindly traffic will
overwhelm me; leaving the happy team I
return here to create stream-lined text in
Afrikaans – what can be better than that?


Pollyanna = Hanlie
Heidi = June
Mme La Pompadour = Our supervisor
Maria Von Trapp = Hermien


[ORIGINAL]

A Stream-Lined Text

Drove to work with a song in my heart simply because
the day is beautiful, Pollyanna greeted me with a smile,
we concurred it is better to die getting eaten by the last
cannibal tribe than languishing quietly at home

Heidi mischievously explained her imaginary pains, nothing
ever gets her indomitable spirit down, Mme La Pompadour
sent note she is ferrying the whole old-age home around,
Maria Von Trapp engaged on the family estate

I drove my son and his posse of friends home to celebrate
their exuberance at being alive, promised them I shall stop
twice after running two yellow robots – technically red, but
one was yellow at my approach, I know if I project

A submissive spirit at road signs they shall assume I am the
stopping kind and traffic will overwhelm me, after leaving the
happy group I returned to create a stream-lined text in
Afrikaans – what can be better than that?

Apologise

Giant spiders – tarantulas – in Brazil, Great Whale Sharks
in False Bay, no water in Djibouti’s lunar landscape, I am
watching Nat Geo Wild in a Zen-trance, kept awake by
the ever-present belly-ache

Having the time of my life watching the lives of others without
dreaming of joining them: when only one fervent wish is left,
freedom from discomfort and pain, there is no place for
any other desire to come to the surface

Then my son came – Please cover my book with plastic, I have
tried and failed again and again – I get up, surprise, the pressure
is gone, I feel so much better, help him with a smile, life so
worthwhile when I can do things for him

Now to make peace with his dad after failing to wait on him with
complaisance - forgetting that sacrifice is nothing compared to
peace and love; I shall apologise…

More Humble Than I Am

Spiritualists claim we chose our own lives;
whenever you tell me to shut up, I wonder
why I chose a life in which I would never be
heard, not allowed to express anger at all

Making me balloon in my frustration- the only
reasonable explanation I can find is so that it
would force me to write; when I try to explain
my ideas you turn away in disgust, and

It is your right – teaching me it is my duty to
turn away from you too - otherwise I would
have been so content in a Candide-world
living in the best universe conceivable

I would not have had any other desire than
to enjoy the touch of my beloved sun, feel
the soft, misty caress of rain on my face,
while venturing out like Jane Eyre - but

My having chosen to live by doing translation
which smothers the soul while teaching art
of writing well, and a partner who teaches
self-effacement, shows that although

I am a bad person (in their eyes), at least I
have high ideals - to grow more humble
than I am & gifts like watching Belle’s
Enchanted Tales and Despicable Me

Because if I had company, I would not
have retreated – though I might have,
in any case, no one can tell – and
what I gain is so valuable!


Candide – French novel by Voltaire
Belle – Disney Channel – Beauty and the Beast
Despicable Me – Animation 2010

Bizarre Satire

Life is bizarre, received a letter
incriminating a State Doctor for
assaulting a patient; subsequent
indictment of another doctor and
all officers at the police station
where she lodged a complaint

Made it clear this person causes
her own problems, she descries
all in self-righteous indignation -
everybody gets angry when she
opens her mouth to spew forth
a stream of poisonous words

A second letter even more absurd, a
patient claiming a psychiatrist tortured
her diagnosing schizophrenia and the
medication prescribed did not agree with
her system, she demands prosecution
for murderous intent…

I should claim indemnification for suffering
when reading such aberrational material,
luckily it reminds so much of the burlesque
I started laughing, realising that these ab-
solutely marvelous complaints contribute
immensely to the satire of life

I cannot blame them for being mental, knowing
that on a spiritual level, they create their own
problems through their vitriolic attitude to people
who try to do good – this should teach all altruists
you cannot help those who refuse to accept res-
ponsibility for anything that happens to them!



The Hypochondriac by Molière

The Magic Pratchett Weaves

Driven my mind into a ravine, sought escape by
transforming mental state from despondent to
a receiver of the magic Pratchett weaves by
mixing enchanting quantum into everything

‘All things that might have been, have to be, in
thousands of universes twisting together like
plaited ropes’ - somewhere among this, our
minds exist as a shadow play of light

I felt myself changing into a different being while
reading, looking forward to living, breathing and
thinking, conversing about sad news items like
a tentacular financial crisis – because of a

Discworld where Mustrum Ridcully, Master Mage
and Esme Weatherwax, Witch, remember their
feet hardly touched the ground doing trans-
migration spells in their youth

A beautiful time which will forever exist in another
universe, one of many – where my spirit is also
spinning in tandem with all these inspiring
ideas…



Lords and Ladies – Terry Pratchett, Victor Gollancz
Ltd, 1992, quoted from pp.163; 164 and 165

Thing About Dreams

Wonderful thing about dreams
kept in the closet until it seems
the time is right to dream again
I still cannot dance, so the dream
about Death dancing a tango with
me as Renate Flitworth, is ever new

Any dream can be rekindled by the
merest nuance triggered by a soft
whisper designed to create a fairy-
tale romance – whenever my Mary
Poppins dream of being allowed to
help people in need by means of

magical, earth-shattering love, is
awakened, I am off, inflated like a
balloon, full of romance, floating on
currents of fantasy, I float on the words
of those who describe fairytale ideas –
knowing my delight will take me to

More such beautiful sounds – tonight
I shall dance again held in Death’s arms
wearing the dress he brought for me, the
diamond he stole round my neck, Death
as anthropomorphic idea is a guarantee
my fantasy is safe and I may dream

Continuously – inspired by ANYTHING
that appeals to me…

Work Chronicles Tues 22.11.2011

Mary Poppins is dying of boredom,
don’t know what Pollyanna is doing,
Maria von Trapp is bustling as always,
Heidi is diligently doing administration
Madame La Pompadour discreetly stays
in her bed and only moves to her couch
when vertigo and double vision abate

What is the use of finding the element
of fun in every job to be done when the
cake Mary Poppins enjoyed in the park
before riding the Merry-Go-Round in a
race, is shrinking her mind - here is a
mystery that would have thrilled Anastasia
Krupnik no end: Why did Mary Poppins

Consume two slices of cake and why did
she have only one sinus pill - since every
good thriller needs a murder or corpse,
let us add, though we’re sitting on the
sixth floor which used to be a hospital,
we have not seen or felt a disembodied
presence or strange energy

This Kingsley building does not offer any
respite from breathing desultory air while
wondering how to kill time to get to the
end of this day…


Mary Poppins – Me
Pollyanna – Hanlie
Maria Von Trapp – Hermien
Heidi (Johanna Spyri)– June
Madame La Pompadour – our very sick boss
Anastasia Krupnik – character in a book
series written by Lois Lowry

Existing As Ideals

Dreams need no corporeality:
a dream fulfilled becomes one-
dimensional reality without
power to draw desire and
passion through us

I love dreams as ideas, romance
as mirage, an image in the mind:
therein lies its power, a vision to
be filed for later use when it fails
to entice

Materialisation only shrinks the
infinite dimensions of original
enchanting vision, I cherish
dreams until threadbare,
I love

Ethereal ideals as Quixotic
schemes - fighting windmills:
IDEA reigns supreme, reality
is but weak reflection of
grand ideals

Lamenting impossibility of love
means we miss the joy of
illusion and dreams
inspirational only
if unexplained

We live life in little routines
while existing as ideals
within a holographic
universe…

Warm, Liquid Love

Archetypes stay the same, only details
vary according to the personalities of
those expressing these types within
guiding universal themes

My dream is to become an inspiration
to a person in need; maybe this ideal
will never be fulfilled and that’s why it
keeps a magical hold over me

Making the sun appear as a golden orb
of warm, liquid love in the sky caressing
all with soft velvet beams; it is an eternal
promise, a life-inspiring hope

One day someone in need of the unique
help I can give might profit from my words
or presence on planet earth; every chance
to help is an opportunity to practice and

Confers a wonderful feeling, keeping the ideal
alive – today Mary Poppins herself stormed out
of the office, singing a Spoon Full Of Sugar after
learning nobody in the lift knows

This magical tale of inspiration, I’m determined
to teach colleagues brimming with African joie
de vivre about the element of fun in every job
to be done!

A Flash of Inspiration

In a flash of inspiration I
picked up the dry branch
lying in my path as I started
on my lunch-time walk

Nearly took out the eyes of
one or two hapless passers-
by - apologising profusely -
with a Cheshire-cat grin

Took the heavy duty lift to sixth
floor, mounted my contribution
to office interior decoration on
coat hanger stand, secured

With pink scarf, added imitation
crystals, artificial roses and other
odds and ends - the effect quite
startling, cannot wait to hear

Comments from my colleagues,
they know me as unconventional,
some openly lament my lack of
style and savoir faire

But most laugh with me,
enjoying these on-the-
spur-of-the moment
schemes

Expanding Energy of Eternal Mysteries

When the rain came, I felt glad again, sitting
in the office early Monday morning suddenly
seemed a great privilege after watching sturdy
truck drivers negotiating the fairytale beauty of
slippery snow roads all over Alaska - I realize
I could never drive one of those

Watching labourers constructing buildings I know
I could never help them do so, sitting cross-legged
on the floor of the emergency room at State Hospital,
I reflected that spending my life resigned to a medical
uncertain fate in the hands of government doctors and
apathetic nurses would be total misery

It all boils down to the fact I am happy with my fate, even
ecstatic - driving a computer by means of the keyboard
through the jungles of the Internet where the unwary are
mauled by pedagogical scholars and fancy-free readers
are recompensed by the joys found in Velikovsky’s
theories while researching source text terms -

Is the right life for me, an eternally confirmed bookworm
scared of one thing only: that the world could shrink to the
confines of 5-sensory scientific research – but with esoteric
sites claiming there are infinite universes, I believe those
limiting themselves to the visible can never impose their
suffocating views on the expanding energy of

Eternal mysteries…

Joyous Philandering

Enfolded in the most soothing feeling of
accomplishment, I have completed the
second warrant of arrest with enough
archaic phrases to humour my flighty
mind

We command, require and instruct to
receive, maintain, uphold, re-enforce,
apply and implement the warrant of
arrest, nobody shall be left in doubt
about

Action to be taken after such strenuous
commanding, requiring and instructing,
such grandiose terms can only mean
one thing: Grab the criminal and put
him

In prison – toute suite - make no bones
about it – let him languish while we
deliberate how long it will take to
rehabilitate him – sorry, just our
little joke

We know prison is a crash course in uncon-
ditional pilfering and joyous philandering, in
perfecting the techniques of seizing the
possessions of other people since
criminals believe

Everybody as callous and unworthy as they
themselves; as for the good guys, the Lord
will take care of them - no need to worry
about their problems, one prayer and
they will be

Happy again while praying for
their lost brethren…

Cringing Nerve-Tingling Machine

Ultimate pain – a psychotic psychopath suffering
from hysteric neurosis, xenophobia and agora-
phobia, loaded Microsoft Outlook on Government
computers, now these hypersensitive machines
are plagued with morbid fear and anxiety disorder

The screen shudders every time I type, the whole
spiel shuts down at the least indication of hard-
ware malfunction, email unstable, telling us it is
connected and when we press send, informs us
with shuddering angst the connection was lost

I feel like running down the street screaming
No No No No! until I have expressed all the
self-destructive feelings registered by this
cringing nerve-tingling machine!

Dread and Guilt

Terry Pratchett said we wake up in
the morning with existential dread
of fifty eight per cent, randomised
guilt of ninety four per cent, I don’t
agree; only in the morning?

In my experience it is a process con-
tinuing all day long, guilt and dread
alternately peaking every hour with
plateaus of exhausted peace in be-
tween, I try to tell myself

Trying our best is good enough, but
as boring texts follow in succession
realisation of our total inability to
influence the universe grows
overwhelming, no chance of

Forcing any moment to its crisis, no op-
portunity to save ourselves from falling
headlong into the blackest pit, the worse
for being boring, no feelings of burning
self-reproach

For dreadful deeds to fuel the fires of
hellish pain that make the demonic such
an exciting place; no, for me hell is grey,
the boredom of the ages, the manacles
of repressive thought

Keeping us tethered to our chairs while
the planet turns forever - no hope of an
Armageddon to release us from our
suffocating destiny, mediocre human
beings living average lives

Amidst the debris of long-lost dreams…


“Lords and Ladies” Terry Pratchett; Victor Gollancz,
1992, p. 42

Masters Of Illusion

Love is a wonderful form of self-delusion, a
game anyone can play with a willing team-
mate on the basis of an illusionery ideal of
affection that can be filled to perfection by
anyone interesting, relying on chemistry
and shared interests

We are all able to become masters of illusion-
but the only authentic question is do you love
yourself, do you enjoy your own company - if
your answer is NO, you are guaranteed that
no love relations will work for you, you need
the loved one to pick you up

Keep you amused and entertained all the time,
should the beloved become too weak to take
care of your needs, your love will flee as it is
based on a loving slave combination; only
those who are happy in themselves and
can share their general well-being

With another happy person, stand a chance of
long-lasting love relationships in which partners
remain relatively independent; if anyone wants
to leave, it is never the end for the one who
stays behind – given this paradigm; it is no
wonder that there is almost no chance

That love will last, in our culture love is seen as
a selfish concern – the beautiful, adored person
must conjure happiness out of a hat, only true
magicians are acceptable as life partners –
a normal human being is never enough!

Dry, Non-Committal Reply

A nice, dry, non-committal reply: Och weelll now
Lassie, whether it means anything I dunno’ care,
whether I’m dead or alive, thriving or ailing for
summa’et, does not make a difference, I guess
we were meant to chew on stones and tins and
scale the mountain of accomplishment

With nary a comment, whether ye have a raw
talent is neither here nor there, it passes the
mustard and brings the pepper and throws the
thyme and din’t change a dollar a dime, I just
carry my cross stoically, chewing a stem o’
grass, scanning the horizon

Rain’s what life is about, surviving forty degrees
Celsius and that is the sum total of my existence
with reasonable feedback and a demonic lil sis
into the bargain – who can complain aboot that,
I want to know; it keeps the pot cooking, the car
idling, the sun shining, the beer brewing

The tobacco-chewing going well; the dog barking,
the cockatoo a-larking, so…

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

Let me just say, Sir Simon, I imagine your ears pink
with delight when I thank you for being clever,
talented and bright; trying to see you as totally
unconcerned whether you live or die or whether
I get run over by a car and never ask for your
advice again, makes me feel too queasy

To face such a terrible prospect – I respect your
ability to sound like a great-uncle from six centuries
ago – Sir Simon Montpelier himself, to be raised
as a spectre by the great Wizard of the North,
Mug the Magnificent – but I shall always believe
that deep beneath your rocky exterior

And G’day Mate accent there is a real human spirit
alive and well and breathing with delight about the
wonder of life - no need to reply, unless you can
make it sound like a romp and a jig danced to a
tune in the mind…


Sir Simon Montpelier and Great Wizard of the
North, Mug the Magnificent: Characters in my
favourite book “Which Witch” by Eva Ibbotson

Delight In Authenticity

I still sometimes shrink - how dare I write something
assuming somebody would want to read what I have
to say, then immediately overcome the problem by
reflecting someone like you - with a brilliant mind
straightens skew and awkward limbs and polish
uneven surfaces - ergo - I shall keep on writing
because there is one consciousness who has
not given up on me

Sometimes I gasp at my own audacity to assume
somebody might think I have something worth-
while to say in the face of language gurus’ claims
modern readers cannot be interested in our little
lives - then that treacherous thought is replaced
by the assurance, as long as one mind reads and
sometimes laughs and remains a presence of
benevolence, it does not matter

What other people think, once again THANK you so
much for being there; whenever I wonder in concern
whether you still like my stuff since you do not make
comment, I look at your loyalty and remember you
said it once and what you said is cast in stone never
to change until you expressly say - that is the way
you are - I always keep the faith that should you
have a change of heart

I would be the first to know; I hope my deductions
are on a par with what you think - if you do not
reply I shall assume ‘tis so and rejoice, if they
are false, kindly put me right; though I suspect
there is no need for fear because of your
delight in authenticity!

Wants An Adventure [Revised]

The little alien clings stubbornly to rafters
in my mind demanding attention; even
considering attempts to ignore him pays
foully in painful headaches – I close the
official files, look warily into its warped
little mind, ask what it wants so I can
continue with my work

I am bored, he replies, need adventure,
give me the lead role in a fictitious show –
but my characters are gone I remind him,
we need a new crew who’ll do our bidding
we must read a new book, enter into the
spirit of intrigue and dream big – Yes the
little pest says, so let’s get on with it

I wish I could dream a tale about glories
of doing my duty with feelings of peace
and content; I complain sotto voce, can’t
finish anything because you want to play
when I should work – insouciant brigand
replies, Who cares, Samson was a bad
guy and he’s revered for all time

Being virtuous gains you zero accolades
and no place in history, though you might
die in your chair, killed by the toxic fumes
of your despair – Good grief yes, walking
the straight and narrow is not exactly a
feat, I had better get on with something
evil to make living worth dying for!

My Twin [Revised]

She remembers unhappiness at age ten,
wanted to die, cried nights, an indictment
on everyone near – especially me who
slept fingers in ears to quietly dream

Why she was so unhappy I cannot say,
I lived life in between, mind empty-black
and sad, lonely until I read books, stories
or consummate facts

I backed out her world, frustrated mother
screaming hysterically, fury mad dad –
our loving Grandma overwrought,
overworked, fatigued

I lived my life invisibly, reading quietly,
playing imaginary games – around me
all hell was let loose, there was no
way of avoiding risible chaos

My sister could not escape, she was
punished for being visibly alive and
not disappearing like me, what can
I tell her today?

I am happy to not have felt my own
life, hearing about it from her mouth,
the hostility, anger and distance
I am so glad I was away mentally

Living in books – and pure fantasy…

A New Charm That Delights

Long ago, almost forgotten in the winds of time
a wonderful story fired my mind: a kind, lovable
old soul preached how legends and myths told
of strange portents

A hero, sensitive and strong, was cast as Lodi,
the Spirit King who came down a mountain and
was met and helped by a young Prince to
establish a new reign of peace on earth

Ever since I have been searching for more such
imaginative themes to add to the lovely tapestry
these colourful strands weave in my mind, the
latest sparkles of silver and gold

Were added by an Internet author mentioning
the mythical Giorgio de Santillana & Hertha von
Dechend theory that characters of ancient myth
are to be identified with the planets

That gods are really stars - the characters and
adventures of mythology explain the balance
of power among stars and planets - this
enables me to read the wildly immoral

And totally improbable Cuneiform clay tablet
stories and myths of the ancients with new
enjoyment – without this focal point, these
myths and legends seemed

Just a waste, the impossible psychological
and physical prowess ascribed to the actors
made it seem like the ravings of madmen
without any redeeming features

But as allegories and symbols of heavenly orbs
all fall into place, enacting the tale of precession
and the cataclysms unleashed when these bodies
are struck by meteorites; undergoing

Inevitable polarity changes – suddenly these
stories acquired a new charm that delights…

Gurgling Stream [REVISED]

Knowing the little alien in my head was filled
with discontent went to French class prepared
full well with a treat for it, Offenbach played on
an earphone in only the left ear

Heavenly music accompanied Christophe
discussing Greece and its woes, a lack of
working tax system, no economic acumen,
credit obtained on false pretexts

Music filling the large, empty spaces opening
in my head; taking copious notes with Olympia*
singing vocal Olympics on my left, the right side
following a stentorious lecture on NATO

Its origin and members, the Euro and Schengen,
Italy, Berlusconi – Italians are so much better at
opera than politics – Swiss discipline – they are
not romantic at all, to their credit

All runs like clockwork, Swiss life resembles a
regulated spell in hell, Lady Jane Digby ran from
the life of a Hausfrau, abandoning kids rather
than stay in the land of Wilhelm Tell

Benelux, OTAN, Monténégro, reasons why La Turqui
cannot join the UE if La Serbie is a member also – what
fun, how nice - Clic-clac, cric-crac, voilà Klein-Zack! –
the little alien in my head heard on the left

Followed every word said as the choir sang lustily,
keeping brain waves on an even keel, creating
inner peace on which the French class flowed like
a gurgling stream….


[ORIGINAL]

Went to French class full well knowing the
little alien in my head filled with discontent
but I had prepared a treat for it, Offenbach,
an earphone on the left ear only

Heavenly music accompanying Christophe
discussing Greece and its woes, the lack of
a working tax system, no economic acumen,
obtaining credit on false pretexts

Music filling the large, empty spaces opening
in my head; industriously taking copious notes
with Olympia* doing vocal Olympics on my left,
right side following a lecture on NATO



Origin and members, euro and Schengen, Italy,
Berlusconi – Italians do so much better in opera
than politics - Swiss discipline – the Swiss are
not romantic at all, to the contrary

All runs like clockwork, a regulated Swiss life re-
sembles a spell in hell, Lady Jane Digby ran from
the life of a Hausfrau, abandoning kids rather than
stay in the country of Wilhelm Tell

Benelux, OTAN, Monténégro, reasons why La Turqui
cannot join the UE if La Serbie a member also – what
fun, how nice - Clic-clac, cric-crac, voilà Klein-Zack! –
the little alien in my head heard on the left


I followed every word that was said as the choir sang
lustily, keeping brain waves on an even keel, creating
inner peace on which the French class flowed like a
rippling, gurgling stream…


Olympia*: Doll in “Les Contes d’Hoffman - Jacques Offenbach

Song: "Les Oiseaux Dans la Charmille".

Les oiseaux dans la charmille
Dans les cieux l'astre du jour,
Tout parle à la jeune fille d'amour!
Ah! Voilà la chanson gentille
La chanson d'Olympia! Ah!
Tout ce qui chante et résonne
Et soupire, tour à tour,
Emeut son coeur qui frissonne d'amour!
Ah! Voilà la chanson mignonne
La chanson d'Olympia! Ah!

[First photo: DIRCO Foyer, Oliver Tambo Building,
Soutpansberg Street, Pretoria, where we attend
language classes]

Why Should I? [REVISED]

Tossing and turning, spine stiffening from
bed to floor, tonight’s special treat in 30˚C
means I do not sleep, thoughts returning
to a song we sang in choir:
‘Weep oh mine eyes’

I don’t feel like weeping though – prefer
sleeping to typing, it makes sense of my
uncomfortable life; I have been resting
often on the floor as backache turns my
bed into an instrument of torture;

I’m bored, long to drown in sweetness of
slumber yet muscular impatience keeps
forcing eyes open – no way I can close
them; it is amazing, has to be something
of wonder in all of this,

My favourite hat is bent and needs fixing;
after useless attempts to sleep my hair
resembles Medusa’s snakes – I feared all
would run away, took out my hat revealing
this tragedy

Nearly died seeing my reflection; tonight
must be a lesson to not eat food of vague
origins; iron constitutions indulge their
taste buds while I virtuously tread the
slippery road of dietary prescriptions –
but who am I kidding,

Since when did such rules keep me from
feasting on great-tasting foods – as long
as I feel better afterwards knowing pain
leaves no scars I eat everything
with relish and pay the price

I prefer the road to inevitable disaster
more than ascetic life nature requires –
nobody else does – so why should I


[ORIGINAL]

Tossing and turning, spine stiffening,
from bed to floor, tonight’s special treat
in this thirty degrees Celsius heat means
I cannot sleep, thoughts returning to a song
we sung in the choir: ‘Weep oh mine eyes’

Though I don’t feel like weeping, I still prefer
sleeping to typing, the only way to make sense
of my uncomfortable life; I have been sleeping
on the floor all too often as backache changes
my bed into an instrument of torture; I’m bored

Longing to sink into sweet slumber, yet I can’t
even close my eyes as restless muscles keep
contracting, forcing eyes open - there has to
be something wonderful in all of this, at least
I discovered my favourite hat has been

bent in the cupboard; needs fixing before we
go camping again - since my hair resembles
Medusa’s snakes after abortive attempts to
fall asleep, I took out my hat, revealing this
tragedy – I feared all would run away

I nearly died myself upon seeing my reflection
in the mirror; let tonight be a final lesson not to
eat food of uncertain origin; let those with iron
constitutions indulge their taste buds while I
virtuously tread the slippery road of

dietary prescriptions – but who am I kidding, since
when did such rules keep me from feasting on great-
tasting foods – as long as I feel better afterwards
knowing pain leaves no scars, I eat everything
with relish and pay the price

Because I prefer enjoying the road to inevitable
disaster than living the ascetic life nature requires –
nobody else does - so why should I?

Just Call Me Alceste Diogenes

The wild genie of feelings has been let
out of the bottle again - inadvertently –
I shall have to kill it and I have no taste
for murder and mayhem right now; to
self-destruct on order to become a
living corpse is such a schlep…


http://www.sparkpeople.com

Reasons To Stay Motivated

1. Confidence - How did it feel after that first jog around
the block?

[The asthma attack was horrible, thank you. The wheezing
and coughing – the burning on my skin was not as bad, in
comparison, I think. But now that I mention it – it was
awful enough. ]

Or when you finally walked the stairs at work without losing
your breath?

[Hasn’t happened yet. I don’t think it will still happen in this century.]

The more you accomplish, the more you’ll believe in yourself.

[Well, I accomplish something and feel like Alice in Wonderland
– delighted with life. Then the next event comes up and before I
can stop myself, I turn into Quosimodo, hunchback and claws
and everything, and the joy is gone. Gone is the happiness and
belief I had won before. No use doing it again – it will just be lost
until I can stop this morphing into Quasimodo. By the way, I think
this is Quasimodo typing here, so it’s a lost cause in any case.
But thank you for the advice, you are a nice guy.]

2. Fit into that dress hanging in your closet for two years, waiting
for a night on the town. All it takes is that extra mile and stay on
track. Before you know it, those two years will be ancient history.

[No, no dress in the cupboard. And no night on the town in the
offing either. I cannot up the ante right now, somehow I hate
the places where people hang out. Pity, but there you have
it. I am a self-confessed misanthropist - unsocial misogynist,
just call me Alceste Diogenes.]

3. Make the week easier: is the week taking forever? Then you
are not working towards anything. With a goal in mind, cook that
healthy dinner or go to the gym - the week will go faster and
be more enjoyable.

[No, it feels as if every MOMENT is taking forever in a time
freeze, as if I am caught in molasses. After cooking and eating
that healthy dinner, I ended up with migraine and tried to press
my eyeballs through my eye-sockets.

Going to the gym made me feel depressed, I tried to read
a book while doing leg-lifts – it did not work. The week is
going more slowly and is less enjoyable.]

4. Get a purpose - a good reason to get out of bed: Eat a
healthy breakfast to jump start the day, jog, and read
the newspaper.

[The healthy breakfast caused a sinus attack with tinnutis
and backache and Christophe sent the newspaper by
email. Reading about überelend, exploiting politicians
and fighting tribes in Africa gave me heartburn.]

5. For your kids and grandkids – healthier, longer life to
watch your kids grow and spoil the grandchildren.

[The noise of grating voices made me run away, cannot
stand kids who decide to be as obnoxious as possible, as
for grandkids – what kind of noise will they make? I shudder
to think about it…]

6. Power of momentum - builds quickly, leads to great results.
Working for the goal and keeping your streak alive.

[Somehow my defective mind gets going at times; just when it
cruises along happily, my spirit wakes up and destabilises the
whole spiel – life is a schlep and there is nothing for it but
to lament the result of not being able to escape into the bliss-
ful existence of an urangutang like the librarian of Unseen
University; just not escaping into the Discworld is pain enough…]

7. The ‘wow’ effect - run into someone from high school, eyes light up;
gasp, "Wow, you look great!"

[I think all the kids I went to school with are dead – except
for the one who has Alzheimer’s today.]

8. Spread the spark; show friends and family how hard
you’re working to make them wonder how they
can reach their own goals.

[I keep reading and summarizing books and
writing off-key poetry, trying to be a poetaster
while delighting in bizarre constructions such
as McGonagall’s “glaring with love-beaming
eyes” – but nobody follows suit; my family
and friends refuse to read my wild doggerel
and little limericks and I cannot decipher the
riddle – why will they not read me to see what
I say about everybody?]

9. Keep gaining experience - The more you do,
the more you learn and understand, discover
which tactics work best - like weeding - not the
most enjoyable activity, but nets you beautiful
flowers. Stick with it - soon all will be flowers
for you.

[I do my best, yet cannot convince anybody to accept
my Astogenetic theory, based on Maurice Cotterel’s
brilliant deductions regarding the sun’s electromagnetic
particle-emission effect on sea-slugs and flowers - if
only I could determine why that is…

And I try to master the art of translation – but then fall
asleep or scream because the subjects and style of
writing are so atrocious, even adding a spoonful of
sugar – and I add boiled sweets galore – and a song
to help the job along – do not tame my spirit which
keep clamouring for something different
all the time.]

[Thank you for offering new and original advice
trying to improve our little lives - by showing us
how you do what you do, write journalistic articles
of everlasing value - pointing out the sun to your
lesser-endowed brethren and sistren like yours
truly – but oh, there is no hope when the gestalt
gets confused between dimensions and tries to
live the spiritual life in a material world where
sound is subservient to meaning which is
flavoured by a dose of John Wayne
added to every exquisite dream…]

Consciousness Stream - Confessions


http://www.sparkpeople.com/resource/motivation_
articles.asp?id=196&page=3