Something Dreadful

Something so unspeakably dreadful happened
all circuits started closing down - only the pain
remains, the desire to flee is all that is left, the
shock too big to process at once, all attempts
to soften the blow just prolong the after-effects

Thoughts circling each other, whirlwinds twirling
aimlessly, screeching accusations, laming the
short-circuited brain, the moment of shock frozen
in time, no movement away from the trauma, no
description, impossible to formulate feelings

At first I fought back by trying to go on as before,
talking, laughing and smiling, my power ebbing
away until my brain was numb, finally I sought
refuge in the only place of safety, the library,
only children’s books to cushion my mind

To stop the mad spirals of pain from increasing
in power and inflicting more damage, physical
pain does not stop the emotional suffering, now
is the time to stop playing a game and sink into
the darkness to reach the end of the tunnel

This slow descent is maddening, trying to pretend
nothing is wrong is impossible, I cannot escape the
pain, I cannot continue the fight, need respite, albeit
temporary, I need to feel some sort of shore before
I can continue to do what is required…

Absurd Side of Depression (Rev.)

Found an absurd side to depression, wanted to
resign because I suffocated, to run away from
myself and be dejected somewhere else, but
too disheartened to fill out a million forms

Bought a magic dish that worked before, evil
sweet stuff dieticians warn about, wonder of
wonders felt better – if for a moment, and my
mind feels fantastic when dark feelings lift

Covered the French class notebook that breaks
my spirit and collapses my mind, a new victory
over blackness within, a white and black design
to symbolise the contrast I see, the white-hot

happiness and pitch-dark depression caused by
horrible sounds killing rhythms and melodies that
live in my mind – the sweet voices that express
true rebellion against things I detest

Breaking out of Prison (Revised)

[REVISED:]

Counting each and every blessing made me see
I am no boon to fellow men; my bid to lighten
burdens through an offering to carry some then
led to grumbling in my presence that I was the
biggest sorrow in their lives

I failed to succour those in need; I have lost the
meaning of my life, cannot find a sense in living –
am condemned to spiritual isolation and lonely
meditation, I am the worst aspect they have ever
seen in their otherwise perfect lives –

My only consolation is I tried my best to be a
blessing – herewith I offer my apologies to all
who feel that they were wronged by me in making
an appearance in their lives; at least by leaving
I shall bring you joy

I couldn’t state opinions less create anxiety,
made it impossible to consult so-called experts,
when I try to state my case I am punished for
recalcitrance – breaking out of the prison of
my own making without explanation

may be the only recourse I have left…


[ORIGINAL:]
Counting each and every blessing made me
realize one thing – I am not a blessing to my
fellow-men; my attempts to help and lighten
their burdens by offering to carry some led to
their grumbling my presence was the biggest
sorrow in their lives

Shocked by the effect of my life - the failure of
my highest ideals to succour those in need, feed-
back indicates I am the worst aspect in their other-
wise relatively perfect lives – I lost the plot of my
life, cannot find any meaning in living; therefore
spiritual isolation and meditation

Are the only activities in which I can participate with-
out offending someone; my only consolation is that
I tried my best to be a blessing to others, herewith I
offer my apologies to all who feel wronged by my
having made an appearance in their lives; at
least by leaving I shall bring you joy

My inability to communicate, to state my opinion with-
out getting into trouble; makes it impossible to consult
so-called experts, whenever I try to state my case I am
punished for being recalcitrant - breaking out of the
prison of my own making without explanation - the
only recourse I have left…

Lost To Understanding (Revised)

Better to be dead than to suffer whatever
reality it is that makes us feel so mean and
lost to understanding. My twin explained
I was the Christmas ‘problem’s’ cause, her
feelings hurt by my words and phrasing, an
offer to take Dad to the holiday resort was
being GOOD because she thought I did not
want to see her and my mother at all – how
it all came down to ME being unfeeling

I did not even try to explain that her words
‘Drop off dad’s present, then come with me
on a trip into the bush, IGNORE your dad’ –
caused home-turf agonies; I know my idea
that she should invite my family to her abode
backfired, accept it as my fault - my father’s
unhappiness was due to my lack of insight in
voicing an opinion - which so clearly lacks
all vestiges of love and consideration

Not Allowed (Revised)

When you saw I had refuelled the Jeep
in less than four weeks, you freaked –
‘How dare you fill within the month,
don’t you know the cost of fuel?’

This morning when you saw the tank
on empty you explode again – ‘Can’t
you fill this up before I have to drive?’
It is a no-win situation I explain, with

you getting angry irrespective of what
I do, and you got angry again – ‘Do
you want me to turn back home now,
whining about my words like you do –

I have a right to be angry, this is who
I am!’ you shout, and I know I must
grin and bear it or face the result of
answering, a verbal emotional attack

I give up, I cannot make you always
right – but I too should have the right
to an opinion although I will not be
allowed to express it

Almost Defrosted

I almost defrosted on reading your warm words,
but it is impossible in this mausoleum of an open-plan
office with its sub-Siberian temperatures where icicles
cling to my computer and my fingers and my feet are
frozen, thankfully I cannot feel them any more - I am
frozen in my seat, only a semblance of life left some-
where in my head and Terry Pratchett has become a
far-off memory as I struggle with strange terms and
shudder at every cold second passing - glad you like
the chocolate - I like the little Tiffany, though Death
is my favourite, Ridcully my bravest, Granny Weather-
wax my most brilliant and Susan my most wacky –
forget it; I love them all, I would LOVE to borrow the
book when you have enjoyed it to your heart’s content!


“I Shall Wear Midnight” Terry Pratchett - Main character
Tiffany Aching

In Good Company (Revised)

Enjoyed that warm moment clustered around
fresh, home-baked bread sharing several
slices, gobbled butter melting deceptively,
now I am resigned facing after-effects,
so I read my sad storybook

I dreamed of studying literature, found
dissecting my favourite books to be cutting
up corpses, destroying beauty by analysing
constituent parts; only special kinds of
spiritual and juvenile books

could provide my emotional needs - but
acclaimed works of literature do not infuse
my life with inspirational needs to survive
in a void where my original being is
exorcised by demands of modern society

Just like the main character in my book,
mentally disturbed and fragile, growing
tired of life he simply jumped off a bridge;
I am not alone in this fight to find meaning,
Beethoven said his life was a nightmare

His body a prison in which his spirit was held
hostage – at least I am in good company…

Italian Delight

The Italian program in their Wonderland studio,
pristine white, coloured glass, everything bright,
dancers in elegant costumes, beautiful people
discussing a review of the past week’s events

The Italian survivor program, opera, interview
with a Second World War veteran, two nurses
behind computers receiving email messages
from the public regarding War questions

An Italian military dressed like the captain in
‘Allo ‘Allo, everyone talking animatedly, some
wiping tears away, weather forecast presented
by an announcer at a coloured glass table

The studio walls decorated with cathedral-like
windows, Baroque paintings and red, red doors,
opulent and glamorous - then you returned -
switched to the German channel where

Quiet voices on an even graph of swishing
sounds relay information in a calm, non-
emotional way…

Threatening A Massacre (Revised)

A dog-whisperer made me hopeful
and happy again, he explains
a dog’s brain left in overdrive
over-accelerates; my brain and nervous
system did the same thing when I
could not stay content in my vision

Joy about our son’s good report
evaporated faster than steam on learning
our daughter did not obtain marks you
figured she should – suddenly I became
aggressive, rounded on you as a fierce
animal protecting my child,

She’s doing well, I love her, she earns
good thoughts, a treasure whom I need
to be happy about herself, not lament
mistakes that cannot replace the joy and
charm of her lovely face; please, let’s
make peace, stop harassing each other

Let’s take delight we are together and
face common problems, no need to make
sad, lugubrious faces looking ridiculous;
I cannot concentrate while my driving
threatens a massacre as I target all who
dare to slow down in front of me!

Humiliation

My latest gaffe is my biggest humiliation yet, I must
have Alzheimer’s and will soon be dead, thank heaven,
I cannot play that I am a human being any more, being
a complete zombie I should have been safely in the grave
several years ago already

From one disaster to the next chaotic event, the only solution
is to let the body follow the departing spirit and return all lost
persona to the overall Gestalt in order to feel the liberation
and freedom that await non-material consciousness, at
least I am nearing the end

Trying to up the ante as far as dangerous driving and
taking exciting risks and challenges are concerned…

Without Intervening Events (Revised)

Nothing to say in my defense, no material offers to
make amends; inner power enables me to mostly
balance on the edge of the abyss - wishing life’s
battle ended so I could rest, drop my vigilance,
exist just as pure consciousness without shame
of eternal failure

Less intelligence all I cherish are feelings, a loving
atmosphere, strong emotions, everlasting joy of
constructing an ethereal bubble where I am safe,
free to create my own dreams since the sharp lines,
garish colours and grating sounds of reality cannot
match luminous beauty of my visions

Nothing I visualise can be realised in holographic
three-dimensional reality perceived through five
senses, only stories entailed in narrative imperative
are honoured and valued - attempts to infuse reality
with meaning lead to deception, failure and rejection,
I keep my ideas above and beyond ...

... in an alternative dimension where thoughts
manifest in pitch, taste, colour, rhythm, fragrance,
texture, form and temperature; representing love,
anger and fear - without intervening events…

Sing And Frolic

For My Daughter

Given a new lease on life, my daughter singing with me,
all our old favourites, Puppet on a String, Wouldn’t it be
Luverly from My Fair Lady, Wishing You Were Somehow
Here Again from Phantom of the Opera

She thinks we should watch Bedknobs and Broomsticks
again, Substitutionary Locomotion, magical ideas, she is
young and dreamy again, gone the serious, tense face
and the defeated demeanour, back is my little girl

Who used to sing and frolic with me, laughing joyously,
grown-up responsibility and worry taken from her shoulders,
she only has to be here noisily to fill my heart with happiness
and light, we shall have a wonderful weekend

I am so privileged to have my little daughter to warm my
heart and life whenever I freeze in anxiety about growing
old and lonely – she will be here for a few extra years,
capering all over in shining delight….

Green Tartrazine

Day following consumption of green tartrazine
cool-drink – life in tatters, pain paramount, feeling
like hell, brilliant plan to add joy to life through chemical
additive completely failed, foiled my last-ditch attempt to
prepare for French class

A healthy breakfast recycled the tartrazine and
destroyed my remaining brain cells, no dopamine
for happiness, no drug efficacious in combating
symptoms, feeling like death warmed up after
many months spent in the grave

Cannot describe this terrible feeling in terms strong
enough, suffering in silence as I have no right to
complain about pain I brought over myself…

A Perfect Sphinx

This must mean you have reached adult manhood
the way you have perfected the poker face, when you
announced Mom, I did bad at school; I saw a dead-
pan expression of despair in your eyes, mirroring
the lacklustre lines around your father’s mouth, my
spirits sagged – until you pressed the report into
my unwilling hands and I exclaimed This is not bad
at all, quite the contrary! guffaws of laughter rang
out, shining eyes of father and son eclipsing the sun;
you are a perfect Sphinx, my son, the mark of the
cool, detached, grown man – well done!

Lovely, Wayward Child (Revised)

To my Teenage Daughter

You will not leave me yet, you need my love
protecting you to help you understand the
need to see the world a place of joyousness –
to learn perception and rejoice each challenge
camouflaged as obstacles omnipresent

I’m glad you’ll still be home with us a few more
years and not be forced to live alone, I love the
prospect of your mock sarcastic voice reminding
me of who I am, your room a mess without respite,
your vexed entanglement in gauche imbroglios

It’s fun to help you sort the mess and solve an
ambiguity or two at least of life, so worry less when
faced with sore mistakes, it glamorizes and excites
my little life – I thank you much for that my
lovely, wayward child!

Hide What Happened

Police are looking for a teenager who fled after
strangling his seventeen-year old pregnant girl,
imagine his fear after listening to threats of
terrible punishment if a girl conceived through
him, the desperate attempt

To commit murder instead of facing consequences,
life not worthwhile as he was to be ostracized
once the forbidden deed was done – rather than
leaving the girl to her own fate and simply
flee, he sought a solution

In death she is safe from shame and humiliation,
he would have the opportunity to continue life
without evidence of transgression - plans
backfiring when police entered the scene,
catching him in the act

If he had known society would provide for him, the
the baby and his girl, would he still have killed
to hide what happened; or is he just a cold-
blooded murderer – I do not believe it…

Wonderland Of Passion

Surfing between French, Italian, Dutch, Greek and
Portuguese channels on DSTV, the Italians create
a Wonderland on RAI, brightly coloured studio for
political discussion, walls adorned with pictures,
luscious women with wonderful hairstyles, glossy
lips, pouting mouths, beautiful clothes on lovely
figures, talking with gesticulating Italian men
resembling conductors of an orchestra

Clearly, like Alice, they cannot stand drab boredom
for them the world is vibrantly alive, only passionate
discussion and wholehearted involvement hold their
interest, while the German conclave consists of cold-
blooded men coolly discussing world events in such
a clinical area - women professional and business-
like, no need to add wonderment to their existence,
no desire for colourful exclamations

The Dutch, Greeks and Portuguese represent reality
as bland as it is, the women unadorned and severe
in the extreme, men looking harassed or distant, they
seem to feel that life should be shouldered with no
addition of Wonderland beauty, while French women
look well-groomed, the studio good, but the excessive
delight in life is not there – I love the Italian scheme
of taking one down a rabbit hole

Into a wonderland of passion and melodrama even
when discussing serious subjects, the Italian need
for illustrated books and exciting events makes
them the Wonderland Alice on the European
scene...

Lost My Soul (Revised)

Found a German version of Charlie’s Angels!
Clinically precise and passionlessly exact
criminals kill one person after another, no
Latin excitement, no sensual French gestures,
simply ice-cool decisions to destroy all obstacles,

No impressive Italian beauties, no squalor only
efficient death scenes; from cool German to
emotional French with amorous activities
thematic, nudity in slap-stick comedy, a striking
contrast to American presentation...

...where Charlie’s Angels were perfectly
groomed Californian actors created flowing,
flawlessly bland internationalist epitomes of
excessive hair-style and lip-glossed
fashionable glamour

Being passionate I compare different
temperaments, play a cool disciplinarian
role at home & work where German
efficiency reigns,

sometimes I think I have lost my soul…

With a Good Grace

How stupid and self-destructive to have a profile on
Facebook when one does not exist, when family has
faded one out of existence; a twin sister decided to
make sure one is kept out of events

Never to see dad again unless I can learn to master
the tunes prescribed by the Lord and Master of the
Crocodile Castle and my sister, peppery-tongued
Duchess, Lady of the Manor

Will not let me pass unless I can dance the Lobster
quadrille; what infinite stupidity to leave myself vul-
nerable to feel it as she completes her Spiel, the
Crocodile becomes a fool in her own eyes

Better to remove the profile to breathe again, regarded
as a leper by family; accept their verdict with a good
grace, there is nothing left as dad did not express
a wish to see his errant daughter again

Why bother when all acquiesce – breaking away
with a good grace is all that is left…

Assessment

It is that rare and wonderful time of assessing and
rating myself, falling down on my knees in humble
abeyance confessing a myriad sins, though my life
might be saved by translating an Arabic document
against all the odds given that every letter has a
standard appearance that changes according to
position in words, beginning, middle and end

It was great fun, a challenge I enjoyed so much, maybe
this little victory will prevent my Departmental Masters
from precipitately consigning me to the ranks of the
totally useless…

Silent Companionship

A determined, sullen little face, painted blue eyes,
rosebud mouth, the perfect little accompaniment
in my work station – a little doll with blonde hair
standing defiantly on my desk, I like her silent
companionship, her expression reminding me
of my own project to withdraw into myself, to
forget the world outside and concentrate on
the contents of my own head…

Variation On A Theme

Transposition of Planet Earth police activities to the
Disc World in order to enjoy the names of these
lovely police departments

Investigations are continuing in Quirm and adjacent
towns by officers of the Central Office for the
Suppression of Illicit Traffic in Drugs and Lord
Selachi, examining magistrate at the Court of
Higher Instance of Ankh-Morpork - and the

Rogatory Commission of Mrs Bigtoe, examining
magistrate at the Court of First Instance of
Uberwald assisted by the Investigation and
Intervention Brigades of Quirm - and the

Proceeds of Crime Unit at the Inter-Regional Division
of the Criminal Investigation Department of Quirm –
and the Canine Unit of the Commissioner Of Public
Safety in Uberwald - and the liaison officer of the
Division of International Cooperation in Klatch

- and The Criminal Investigation Department of Stolat -
and Detectives of a branch of the Criminal Investigation
Department of Quirm, a branch of the Ankh-Morpork
Central Office for Combating Illicit Drug Trafficking
in the Disc World

- And The Central Public Security Directorate of
Uberwald – do you also see the beauty of
administrative departments?

Undeclared, Unauthorised Existence

Rogatory Commission No. XX issued by Mrs Bigtoe,
the eternal foe of all criminals, examining magistrate
at the specialized interregional jurisdictions at the
Court of First Instance of Lyons

Proceedings against Mr Goodfellow born in the year
of the Gnat in the Estuary, who is charged with the
following: Unauthorised import of drugs and
unauthorised transport of drugs

Import of undeclared goods dangerous to morality and
public security – this criminal has an undeclared and
unauthorised existence, should be shot for being an
imposter of the respectable being

He would have been if he were not forever dabbling with
drugs, remand him in custody, sentence him to long
imprisonment so he can perfect his skills among
fellow criminals

This is the way modern humanity deals with this vermin
pestering the earth and enslaving innocent members
of the species who would have been mere drunks if
they had no access to drugs…

Nothing Beneath (Revised)

Arose early, planned sleeping late,
my son made fun of me, saw my own
clumsiness through his mocking eyes,
wished I could change myself –
how silly I seemed

Planned finishing my translation,
read lines over and over without
registering meaning, wanted to
progress my evaluation, cannot
concentrate on work today

Need to seek my third thoughts,
wake background consciousness,
transcend sensory reality – I am not
functioning, robotic brain distraught,
all wavelengths scrambled

I feel so alone, destitute, lost, cannot
communicate my inability to anyone,
cannot describe this experience,
need a safe place to recuperate
from the fatigue of thought process

I feel so isolated in lonely darkness,
no voice understands, no dream
remains as all visions and concepts
flow away, I am left on reality’s surface
with nothing beneath…

My Guru Said

My guru said Do not complain at all, just
count your many blessings, my blessing
just went to bed after having contradicted
every word I said, all weekend long

My guru said You cannot get from here, if you
do not like it here, to there, because there will
be just as bad unless you can learn to like it
here as proof you will like it there; oh heck

I hate wherever I am and whatever I’m doing, I
only love swimming and drying in the sun, then
hate life again – so I had better stay with my
blessing who is currently reading in bed

My guru said Look for things to appreciate, I thought
of the way he helps me with domestic chores - on one
condition – I keep silent and agree with him on every-
thing - and is that so hard - of course not…

My guru said Make a list of everything you love and
your life problems will be solved, Swami Prabhupada
said Just chant Hari Krishna all day long and you
will become holy and purified – maybe

This explains why I feel so great when I sing “Locus Iste
A Deo Sanctus Est” - I am chanting a mantra that works
for me, Hari Krishna would probably work as well, but
I do not know the melody…

Honour And Respect (Revised)

Nicolas Shrady; sceptic on a pilgrimage,
following holy trails to religious shrines,
seeking the spiritual within the physical –
realising he was ‘an outsider, a passive
observer, and always would be’

Saw artificial attempts to impress, had to
be content with only meditation, could not
simulate false piety, couldn’t find what he
doesn’t already believe

Observation proved fickle – symbolical
content depends on already present belief,
tried ceremonies, followed customs, found
faith had no roots in anything substantial

Supernatural events happen to believers
only, which the five senses abjure, faithless
see nothing; he enjoyed a fabulous spiritual
journey, made friends,

Learned to appreciate wonder and beauty of
innocence, trust in the human heart, but the
ability of the believer to make things true
which a sceptic can never see taught him
honour and respect…


“Sacred Roads” by Nicholas Shrady Penguin Books 2000
p75 ‘…an outsider, a passive observer and always would be’

Sad Images (Revised)

The lonely malnourished Spanish man who lives
by himself in a house without a kitchen practising
Franciscan-learnt Latin; the lonely widow offering
Nicholas Shrady a walking stick, the poor people in
Bosnia relying on apparitions of the Virgin Mary
for an income, the bloated corpses in the Ganges

Lonely hamlets in India where people live and die
without ever learning to read and write, the young
boys with rotting teeth working like pack animals;
the learned young man in Jerusalem who could not
find a job due to his Palestinian Christian descent –

Impressed by a true pilgrimage, Nicholas Shrady’s
ability to travel on foot – relying along the way on
strangers for accommodation and food,

Seeing so much misery, so much hatred and bigotry,
criminal banditry and decadence – and yet still read
his religious books as he lay down at night; Bible,
Koran, Vedas, balanced by Gerald Manley Hopkins’
poetry…

Trying my best to cheer up again, sad images
stuck in my mind

“Sacred Roads” by Nicholas Shrady; Penguin
Books 2000

Communion with God

What is the point of pilgrimage?

Detachment from familiar things and domestic
routine, submitting to hardship and uncertainty
in foreign lands, throwing pilgrims into intense
introspection, prayer and reflection

Though pilgrims traverse a physical landscape, it
is the inner spiritual journey that counts because
the quest for holy sites is an existential question,
when Nicholas Shrady knelt before a holy relic

He felt at a loss, as if he had come to the wrong
place and in the end Nicholas agreed with Rumi,
the Sufi Mevalana or Master - communion with
God supersedes the dogmatic doctrines

Of all organised religion – as I lay in the bright
autumn sun, staring at the brilliant blue dome
of the sky, listening to green fir tree boughs
softly sigh in a breeze, I felt like

A pilgrim on earth, life a pilgrimage towards
sacred insights; moments of understanding
the deeper meaning of life…

“Sacred Roads” by Nicholas Shrady; Penguin
Books 2000 - Quotes from pp126, 155 & 199

Sacred Roads

One exceedingly frustrated and angry Alice
calmed down as she sang a medley of old
Cape songs, doing the sea voyage with the
Alibama again, the rietkooinooi waiting for
sleeping upon, crying about bokkie who
has to go home alone

Soon marching with a smiling face, invaded
the library seeking the perfect book for a
dream, zoomed in on The Third Eye by her
favourite Lobsang Rampa, sought elevation
by adding Journey of Self-Discovery by His
Divine Grace Swami Prabhupada

And the happy promise of something new –
Nicolas Shardy’s Sacred Roads, Adventures
From The Pilgrimage Trail, Pocket Histories
Of World Religions - the key word ‘adventure’
always intrigues; any new book that seems
interesting is a treat, a weekend feast...