Farewell in a Castle

Finally the matric farewell in a medieval castle,
we are prepared with shiny silver sandals and
silver clips for the hair, I furthered my quest for
all things black, found a dark midnight top in the
shop where Nici bought silver accessories

I trust she will have fun, appointment at the hair-
dresser to come, we drove to the venue to make
sure of the route, had breakfast together and then
time stopped, waiting impatiently for time to pass,
she by reading about Shadow-hunters while I am

Restless, unable to settle, undecided what to do
to get through the hours until the last minute dash
begins – she may not dress too early, may not be
late for the photographs – now I understand why
Nici has been tense since last night…

An Overall Storyline

1. FOR me karma and reincarnation sound a lot more logical, applicable
and enjoyable than religions with laws and threats, I love these beautiful
arguments:

- “There is so much to experience and accomplish by living a life from different
perspectives, it is incredibly useful to explore a particular lesson or issue
from various perspectives.”

- “Karma translates energy from one lifetime to another so it is carried forward
as part of an ongoing storyline.”

- “Karma glues reincarnated lives together, the transition material that allows the
overall storyline to make sense.”


2. MY experience much more agrees with this description of a human life than with
experiences described by the authors of fiction and religion and normal people:

- “Being human is inherently limiting for a spirit who knows it is completely divine, filled
with love and connected to the universe.”


3. THE following more accurately describes my experience of moments of highest
and deepest ecstatic joy, way beyond any other experience, love included –
moments of such marvelous insight that they transcend reality into a different
realm with a heightened consciousness that is pure bliss:

- “A soul might create a series of lifetimes and events as signposts along the way –
moments to experience or lessons to learn in a progression that makes sense
from the perspective of your higher purpose.”

Such experiences of moments of insight and wisdom I had as a child and in my
student years were the BEST of my life - indescribably wonderful – love is but
an imitation of this joy.


4. MY feelings are also reflected in these words:

- “If humanity evolve in a direction that do not serve your soul's
highest interest, you may stop reincarnating as a human and incarnate
in some other world.”

I DO NOT like the direction in which humanity is evolving – materialism
and positivism - and would like to incarnate in a more spiritual world.


I love these explanations and associate with them. Even when allergy makes
me feel so ill that I cannot read anything - when NOTHING makes sense and
I cannot think – I can still read and appreciate theories on karma and
reincarnation.

I use my brain dysfunction as a criterion to determine the value of everything
for me, and then only a few things start to shine: Certain children’s books and
this kind of spiritual material remain valid and uplifting - while the world and
cold, intellectual material lose value and meaning.

Existential crisis is infinitely valuable to help me discover what works for me
and remains valuable wisdom and jewels of insight when the dross of
human experience is blown away.


[Quotes from:

http://www.akashictransformations.net/ARonFREE]

Cake And Icing Alone

Monday night – what a pity the joy of last night
inspired me to try some new ideas - a change
of diet seemed the very thing to mark this new
feeling of happiness, tonight insomnia caused
by food proves I cannot eat the healthy wheat
diet preached by dieticians

The inner bubble carried me beyond the point
of endurance, my head in a vice-grip means no
access to any of my heroines, when I breakfast
on cake and deal with blood sugar fluctuations
life feels better than the chemical depression
caused by nutritious wheat

Fat causes migraine, on cake and icing alone
no-one can live – I wish I could feel well in my
skin and comfortable in my body, escape the
feverish reaction to food which makes me feel
like an alien spirit entombed in a human body,
now how to escape in a dream…

[Sunday night ecstasy and bliss, many brilliant stories
also, a myriad heroines – I believe whatever sacrifice
or endurance tomorrow requires, I am safe in an inner
bauble of wonderful dreams, need not send my own
self anywhere as an infinite number of heroines goes
all over the world to do the magnificent things
suggested by myths, parables and legends]

A Myriad Heroines

Tonight sheer ecstasy and bliss, first Tiaan discovered Strictly Come
Dancing for me and I could lose myself in those dancing heroines, then
Vin Diesel in the movie XXX stole the show by encouraging the individual
to make a difference, then Wizards of Waverley Place had Alex experience
romance in a magical journal

I have many magic stories also, but it is never me featuring, I have a myriad
heroines, based on the stories I loved when I was a kid, every book I liked
gets assimilated into it, every noble thought or deed integrated, so it is a
varied kaleidoscope that encompasses more than this universe, after
such a wonderful Sunday night

I am convinced that whatever sacrifice or endurance tomorrow requires,
I shall be safe in an inner bauble created by the wonderful dreams of
tonight, happy to know that I need not send my own self anywhere
there are an infinite number of heroines to go all over the world
and do all the magnificent things

Recounted in stories and visions

The Magic Recipe

I watch A Thousand Ways To Die with avid interest,
amazed that nothing worked I ever tried, walking in
the wrong lane in a one way; apparently quite a few
people got killed when they just instituted it, but not
me – I stepped in front of a taxi as the robot turned
green – everybody shaking their heads, waving me
on; walking in front of speeding cars - my guardian
angel pulled me back

Falling off the roof when I was a kid, charging in front
of a car on my bike in primary school, my twin sis got
a talk-to; running into the streets late at night, walking
at the lake-side, offering my services at clubs – they
gave me one look and then showed me the door;
yet these idiots on TV get killed all the time, what
is the magic recipe, what should I do to get free
before I grow old and ugly?

Perfect Spiritual World

If mastering boredom is a prerequisite to break
out of the circle of reincarnation I still have a long
way to go, trying my best to remain interested I
tried to correct my document for the experts who
drink, eat and breathe news and political texts

But I give up in disgust because it makes me lose
my love of life; if the Buddhists are right and we
return to this world in another life until we succeed
in being happy and quiet when sensory deprived,
never allowing boredom to invade the space

In our heads and turn our brains to mush, my dream
of moving on to another life-form in another universe
where consciousness does not need to manifest to
be and create; will be curtailed until I am happy with
breathing and repeating the same routines

Though I hope it is only a series of chemical disruptions
that will disappear once I am free from the illusions and
inter-subjective distortions created by humanity’s weird
obsession to remake an already perfect spiritual world

What Relief

Stopped taking strange medication, changed my diet
and blood sugar remained stable all through class, I
was awake and aware without emotion and fear and
best of all the angels and fairies came back, just as I
warmed to her our teacher is going away, a new guy
taking her place

But what relief, what hope, how can I explain the depth
of my despair and the height of my joy, back to normal
sort of, it still takes chemicals but who cares, as long
as I finish my translation, which I did; still crying about
Africa’s self-imposed hardships, trying in vain to explain
their cause to others

I have the assurance of the diplomatic world they never
stoop to taking notice of the man in the street - never
consider francophone Africa’s real need: to understand
what is going on Gadaffi claims the Transitional Council
is a maskerade - the powers-that-be considers nobody,
I am the only one lamenting as they bleed

Seems like nobody cares – and why should they,
indeed?

Pondering The Words

“Get into the Vibration of Creation for absolute absence of resistance, achieve complete alignment with all you have become and desire, bring to physical experience everything you want; the key is to be intent on appreciation of self” – Abraham

Pondering the words of my guru, appreciation of self is needed, made me come to the following conclusions: I do not belong here, if I am to appreciate myself with my lack of ability in politics and current news items, being in enemy territory simply teaches me what I really want and where I belong – in a spiritual atmosphere pondering the values of eternity

I should not be wasting the time of other people with my unsuitable presence, I cannot formulate any ideas or learn anything and I need NOT hate myself for it, only need to find a way to get out of the situation, turn my eyes to another horizon where my little gifts could be gainfully employed - I learned there are different kinds of people and I should not be allowed to attend events set by them

Why should it bother me that I am the fly in the ointment of other people’s dreams, they are welcome to show me the door and chuck me out if my limited ideas do not suit them, no need to cry unto heaven because I am a simpleton, everybody has the right to be what they are and those who have to tolerate us should receive our deepest condolences and empathy

I cannot drown myself to please them, cannot leap into the cannibals’ pot to feed them, I am sincerely sorry I am here where a better should have been but since nobody else is here, I cannot change their fate of putting up with me, though I commiserate knowing how awful it feels to spoil their broth, yet we all have to put up with terrible things

Which are mostly intolerable and we shall all survive, for better or worse…

Doing Things I Hate

My colleagues are tough and strong,
in need of nothing, no guardian angels
or fairies or purple toadstools and magic
bags, no colourful burqas to hide from
oneself and no hopes and dreams, no
help or schemes

When my colleague received a magic purse
with her own guardian angel she gave it to me,
for her it has no value, to me it means everything
because being a failure like Rincewind and
running from things means I have need
of supernatural help all the time

All I have today is knowing that high expectations
are not a self-fulfilling policy when one has a brain
like a sieve, meant to dig and eat slugs and worms,
strewing ashes on my head, wearing sackcloth,
wishing only one thing: to disappear, become
invisible, vanishing

Lie down and die peacefully to see the truth
behind the illusion of man-made reality which
holds no escape from boredom and misery,
without the excitement of murder and
revenge, doing things I hate is so
boring, you see…

[As long as the burqa has its own air-con inside and I can be a walking air-conditioned penguin within – the colour can be white, pink or blue]

Dumb And Stupid Again

As long as we do not mention forbidden subjects
we shall be fine, as long as we project discomfort
on anything else and make ourselves believe that
blue is red and grey is white, as long as my ego is
shoved aside

The inner mind can assert itself and accept failures
I cannot face while still misleading myself, I cannot
master the subject of politics, the attempt to do so
break my spirits, I hate the news and always will,
tomorrow going back

To the most humiliating experience, unable to
function in class; oh well, the pain shall pass
one moment at a time, maybe if I carry some
of the pain now tomorrow will not be so bad,
at least, it will not be a surprise

When I grow dumb and stupid again, crying
tonight will mitigate the pain of tomorrow

Temper Like Lightning

Some people are like angels - but do not tell
them so, they want to be big and bluff, shouting
at you like the Billy Goats Gruff, they seem to be
intimidating and timid souls run off while
underneath beats a heart of gold

Nobody is allowed to cosset them, they are tough,
any overpowering kindness and they run away while
wagging an accusing finger at you, you have to be
friendly without seeming to, offer friendship without
giving the game away, nobody allowed

To see the heart beating, it is all muscle and brawn,
admonishing and words like Stay Strong, Don’t Put
A Foot Wrong; since I never put a foot right, it is
difficult to get on, yet for all their thunder and
blighting and a temper like lightning

Their presence shines like a light…

My Spirit Languishes (Revised)

my system is wrong, feels hungry and fatigued, when I
eat muscle spasms wreak havoc with my physical well-
being and I feel even more exhausted than before

it is the inescapable bane of seasonal pique, even
obligatory antibiotics does not relieve – seems to
make things perceptibly worse

will do anything to feel well, think any thought, repeat
any words to escape shrinking feelings abounding
in my head

anything to undo evil spells changing paradise into
hell – anything to feel well-being again, happy as
me delighting in my little corner of the world

but I’m in prison where the spirit languishes, not
even a dream can break tedium of painful head
and aching limbs

no angelic presence and spiritual accompaniment,
life keeps shrinking – until it starts expanding again
I will dream I’m somewhere else…

Machine Churning Above

I do not care for political scandal and intrigues
because only those with the same moral guilt,
the same capacity for wrongdoing, throw the
stones, whenever they come to power they
become worse dictators

People blaming others for what is wrong just wait
to sing their own song of corruption - I appreciate
them playing games and wish them luck; whistle-
blowers take over from those they sack, no reform
possible in a world where

The morally pure never accuse and never enter
politics, the poor will always be helpless as moguls
play with money and might, I refuse to join any camp
as the game is to become the next powerful despot
and use the poor masses

As fodder to feed the machine churning above, no
self-righteous person can accuse another as we all
have the same ability to commit the same crimes
given that the same circumstances apply to us all…

Life-Changing Dreams

Suffering through the week
forced to look at things I detest
brought me a great Saturday, a
huge success with only my
favourite subjects

The rest of the family watching
sports on TV, providing the anchor
that moors my own life to a hub of
activity, I hate being alone - yet
cannot join in their interests

Just need their human presence
to do what pleases me best: the
enchantment of accomplished
dancers, the simple joy of little
stories; dissolving the anger

And frustration engendered by
boring bureaucracy and political
intrigue during the week - I love
looking at what I expect while
allowing others the chance

To enjoy their preference, with due
respect; I do shall not join in the world’s
self-created misery and entertainment
found in living Shakespearian plays
as victims of violence and lies

But I do not wish it away, happy that
people play different games - I simply
reject all coercion to force me to join
their childish ways – accepting all
as the necessary background

For the bright visions of spiritual
heights created through meditation
and life-changing dreams…

Rusting Shipwrecks (Revised)

Blazing African sun, a warm wind stirring
heat, I think but cannot concentrate, not
caring, asphyxiating, too tired to breathe,
the smoke-free building must also be
oxygen-free, head spinning, time stilled

a wicked magician has shrunken me to
one inch and put me in a furnace, brain
incandescent, ears burning, existential
crisis too exquisite to detail, pictures of
blue-hued snow and fluid seascapes are
my only escape from fiery orange

Electrocuted synapses dying away,
nothing makes sense, how could it
when heat is relentless, no rain in
sight, rusting shipwrecks on Namibia’s
Skeleton Coast the only symbols right
to describe this ruthless day…

Stories Made Up

Retirement requires careful planning, I shall have to
keep quiet all the time; fine, it shall force me to write
when ideas keep flowing in my head, today in class
we learnt that French Kings – Clovis and Louis the
Fourteenth - have been cut from the curriculum
making space for international events

Brains have no space for boring historical facts, might
as well abolish history as subject since history is stories
made-up to exert autocratic power over subjects; today
has been a total mess – no going with the flow, but no
problem – tomorrow is another day as Scarlet O’Hara
eloquently declared in Gone with the Wind

I learnt to look for political articles on BBC Afrique, seek
for jewels of wisdom amongst political intrigue - finding
none, I am so much wiser, no time is ever wasted, just
knowing what we detest helps us to know preference,
I am ready for Retirement, knowing that my title of
Bookworm, Poet and Spy

Confers a job description no form of retirement can take
away, always the incumbent to promote Astronomy,
Quantum Physics, Science Fiction, Fairytales
and Walt Disney…

Articles in French

Reading articlesin French - such sad
sad laments by the formerly deprived
although researchers claim Africa
produces enough to feed itself

The problem is continuing and managing
distribution, Cameroon used to produce
80% of its own rice, today imports 90%
from outside - Africans still decry

Slavery, saying it will be the forever bane
of our lives, the cause of all our problems-
never do we see anything about our victory
over ignorance, freedom through knowledge

Nothing about self-help strategies...


http://www.santepublique.org/fc/images/Alimentation.pdf
Pouya Iranmanesh/Jonathan Margalith/Allan Relecom/Lorry Duchoud
2008

1. La production alimentaire actuelle de l'Afrique suffirait á
nourrir tout le continent

2. L'Afrique est autosuffisante en terme de production alimentaire

3. Il s'agit donc d'un problême de gestion et de distribution


BBC Afrique 15.09.2011
La Consommation Du Riz Au Cameroun

“Le riz fait partie des aliments de base de la population du Cameroun.
Mais le pays dépend fortement des marchés pour cette denrée. Selon
des chiffres officiels, le Cameroun est obligé d'importer près de 90%
de es besoins en riz - pourtant dans les années 70, le pays produisait
80% de la consommation nationale du riz.”

Reportage, Frederic Takang depuis Bamenda

Love My Life

I looked at Mapula’s face
listened to Joyce’s voice
met with Quintus and Ulrike
heard Dr Jokweni explain
about copyright registration
of my words inspiring him
I assured him all was safe

Met Winston Mohapi in the
lift, assuring me he was glad
I was into Literature Day - I love
everything about this Conference -
developing all languages indigenous
and my personal favourite, Siyanda
calling me sweetie in passing

I love my colleagues –
I love my life!


Mapula Gaffane
Joyce Sukumane
Quintus van der Merwe
Ulrike Janke
Dr Mbulelo Jokweni
Siyanda Toni

Alice In IsiZulu (Revised)

Reading papers preparing for Literature Day, prominent
mention of a colleague being late, to my surprise a
recommendation by participants on translating Boccacio –
I thought indigenous African languages to be enriched by
translations of Harry Potter and Terry Pratchett, especially
Alice in Wonderland in IsiZulu, TsiVenda, IsiXhosa, SeSotho

Not starting with Shakespeare, no modern child believes
in Romeo and his rebound girl Juliet; we need translations
of Le Petit Prince and The Count of Monte Christo - Tom
Sawyer and Jules Verne; Charles Dickens would be fine
another colleague recommends, Vampire Diaries and
Twilight, House of Night Series – why not start with
these since youngsters love them

Maybe science and quantum physics; but Boccacio, I
cannot understand the rationale for something as archaic
as that, start with DVD’s with alternate soundtracks,
Men In Black and Vin Diesel, John Cleese in Spud –
possibilities are endless without going back into the
darkness of the past

The Secret

Rereading Beauty and the Beast recounted in World
of Fairytales, struck by the sense of loss when Beast
turns into just another prince – I began to dream of a
Beast who remains such, only gruffly shows kindness
as best he can, while still beloved by faithful Beauty

Eyes shining, gone aches and pains no medicine could
take away; love the story of the eternal Beast redeemed
by love and loyalty, Beauty never cheaply recompensed
with handsome appearance; outer hideousness keeping
her inner eye sharp for spiritual beauty deep within

A grotesque animal loving her with wild devotion instead
of a refined, boring prince is much more enchanting to my
mind - phantoms are so much more interesting than the
foppish Ralphs with which life abound; but we must
not let the secret out…


“World of Fairytales” Michael Foreman, Random House,
Red Fox Edition 1994, pp. 73-79

[After reading this story and feeling my heart expand, joy
filled my soul, I could breathe and think again, the iron
clamps of the political document were loosened and the
world started to shine again, anything that gives relief
and enables me to escape intolerable lies in a
fabricated reality is more precious than
jewels of any kind…]

Another Slow Death

Objects and things I can dream about
intrigue me, but political speeches close
my brain down, as I force my eyes to the
page of my translation document analysing
political history, the synapses stop flashing
and my brain cells stop working

Ere long I feel ill and have to take a walk
to wake up again, over and over I try to read
these boring lines, look at positive affirmations
but they only work if we really want to accomplish
something; I do not really want to repeat political
inanities so trying to indoctrinate myself

Is not working, I have eaten mountains of healthy
foods to make me strong to tackle my enemy, I have
taken medicines till they spill out through my ears, but
still I cannot carry out my task, I am a moral failure, my
conscience cannot guide me to carry out a job I am paid
for, I am willing to die the death of the ignominious

For my inability, I cannot force another morsel of food down my
throat, cannot read another positive affirmation; politics is my
nemesis, I cannot distance myself from the duplicity and self-
serving diplomacy; all the fairies have deserted me as they
cannot stand the inner turmoil as I try to kill myself in
an attempt to do what I hate and abhor

Another slow death is all that is left for my future…

Right To Wonderful Freedom

Saturday 10 September 2011

Bought and read ‘The Drama Of Being A Child’ by Alice Miller
forming a brilliant contrast to ‘Mind Power For Children’ which
teaches how to validate a child’s mind

Alice Miller laments the loss of childhood’s joy and subsequent
misbehaviour through parental mortification and disrespect
experienced from earliest childhood - already in the womb

The only solution is changing society as recommended by John
Kehoe; while individuals gone astray have to be rehabilitated by
facing the humiliation and pain and mourning their loss

Then they can move on to self-validation – and I am doing just that,
applying Mind Power, singing their affirmations, smiling because
Alice Miller’s diagnosis of society’s problems

Conforms precisely with Seth’s indications of what is wrong with
modern civilisation - and the new attitudes espoused by John
Kehoe are perfectly attuned to Abraham’s words

Indicating how to exercise our inalienable power and right
to wonderful freedom…


“The Drama of Being a Child” by Alice Miller (German: “Das
Drama des begabten Kindes”) translated by Ruth Ward,
Virago Press Ltd, London, 1987-1993

“Mind Power for Children” by John Kehoe and Nancy
Fischer , 2002 Transcontinental Printing, Canada

“Seth Speaks” by Jane Roberts

“Abraham” channelled by Esther Hicks

IMMENSELY DEAR (Revised)

A personal favourite is Symbolism, I prefer
symbolic special objects to the real, love the
purity of crystals with their ethereal power;
yet to convince me thoroughly snowflakes
need only ersatz imitation crystals

Charmed by symbolism of religious books
but dry catechisms are abhorrent – love the
significance of diamonds but do not want the
real thing – only symbols to magnify light,
the diamond itself is much too cold

Preferring as a child to play with boxes
and twigs clad in tinsel representing houses
and magic wands – anything suggesting
what it might be, then becoming whatever
I dream – drawn inexorably,

I love glitter – it says sunlight is creating
pearls and crystals of delicate things like
cobwebs and streams, I love the diamonds
seen on sprigs of grass early in spring but
do not try to entice me with real pearls

Diamonds or precious crystals are real and
cannot morph into other objects, although
I love seeing them behind glass in expensive
shops; but for my satisfaction I want only
symbols of these beloved objects,

I adore small fairies made from artificial
materials, not golden statues of saints and
angels – want to imagine what a thing might
represent – such symbolism is immensely
dear to me…


[Original]

Symbolism is one of my favourite subjects,
preferring symbols of special objects to the
real thing, I love the beauty and purity of
crystals with their ethereal power

Yet only want imitation crystals to symbolise
the beauty of snowflakes - charmed by the
symbolism of religious books - but dry
catechisms are abhorrent to me

I love the significance and meaning of diamonds
but do not want the real thing, I want a symbol
to represent their ability to magnify light, the
diamond itself is much too cold

Like a child preferring to play with boxes and twigs
covered in tinsel to represent houses and magic
wands - anything which only suggests what it
might be, becoming whatever I dream

Draws me inexorably, I love glitter because it suggests
sunlight creating pearls and crystals on delicate things
like cobwebs and streams, I love the diamonds seen
on sprigs of grass early in spring

But do not try to entice me with real pearls, diamonds
and precious crystals, they are real and cannot morph
into other objects, I love looking at them behind glass
in expensive shops, but only want

symbols of these beloved objects, I adore small fairies
made from artificial materials, not golden statues of
saints and angels - want to imagine what a thing
might represent - such symbolism

Is immensely dear to me…

Tape Recorder Minds

Reading ‘Mind Power for Children’, under its influence
I glued silver glitter on a blue box, pestered Nici about
childhood experiences she never shared with me, she
showed me the door protecting her privacy; I called
Tiaan my sweetheart, he reacted no better

Our tape recorder minds record every thought we think*
and replay it in similar situations, positive affirmations can
replace every negative thought, the kids should repeat - I
can do anything I set my mind to - this I do not believe,
after years of practice I never learnt to play the piano

But I love - I’m always in the right place at the right time -
and my favourite is - I am a good friend to myself - as I
shall teach my kids since our inner being is the only
thing we take with us into the afterlife


‘Mind Power for Children’ by John Kehoe and Nancy
Fischer , 2002 Transcontinental Printing, Canada

*“Our tape recorder minds record every thought we think”
quoted from p. 39

Dictates Of Inner Being

Reading Angel Kids by Jacky Newcomb, I am
determined to see it through though I am not
the right target group, she wrote this book for
those who have never read about paranormal
and supernatural events, could you believe it
she asks, using too many exclamation marks

Yet I must finish what I started, happy people
reporting their kids seeing angels and spirits -
answer questions about weird experiences –
why continue if I dislike the style - my spirit
longs for things more stimulating than fun
and laughter; let me fulfil the requirements

Set by my soul, I cannot escape the dictates
of my inner being, only watching TV leaves
me cross-eyed while going beserk…


Angel Kids by Jacky Newcomb
Hay House 2008

Laissez-Faire Despair

I measure my state of depression by the books I am able to read,
when it becomes impossible to enjoy any hilarious romp by Terry
Pratchett, when Ecclesiastes and Proverbs are the only reading
material with any relevance - my mental gyroscope has come to
a standstill

As noise irritates me more and pressure is forcing me out of my
head and all I want is darkness, silence and death, it is time to
take drastic steps to feel better again, as I waft about in a smell
of Vicks VapoRub and swallow coloured sinus pills by the hand-
ful every hour

And start to hate and despise all forms of consciousness and life,
seeking the meaning of existence as opposed to happy non-being,
it is time to visit a quack to obtain poisonous concoctions and life-
shortening toxins to take the seasonal discomfort away, to stop
the disease

Which leads straight to the nihilism of laissez-faire despair...

Existential Crises Of Exercises

I feel guilty enough as it is, to insist on starting
a new exercise program does not help at all –
first I need to feel better, overcome boredom
by focusing on something worthwhile

I feel like a rinsed out dishcloth, I have Mary
Poppins and Bedknobs and Broomsticks with
which to escape reality – and the love life of
the Milky Way Galaxy to sort out

Her affair with the Great Attractor proved to be
non-existent, she is enthralled by Mr Shapley
Supercluster, as dark and mysterious as could
be, tomorrow I must go hunting for

More astronomical information in order to piece
together the new imbroglio between Miss Milky
Way and Mr Shapley of Unknown Mysterious
Dark Matter fame – therefore, let’s forget

The existential crises of exercises…

A Few Feet From The Ground

My new sandals are magical, they
change the pavement and tiles when
making contact, making them heave in
sine waves, changing my walk into a
delightful emotional experience

My sandals make the world shine,
change me first into a nymph floating
above, then into a willow waving around in
the breeze while my bewitched feet do
the walking around, I could not stop

Went past the office building a few
feet from the ground, falling in love with
the sensation of breathing deeply with my
thoughts taking an enchanting hold of
my mind, swinging freely

Lost in my dreams…

Shapley Supercluster

Found a shapely theory: The Seven Samurai’s
Great Attractor was replaced by the more
massive Shapley Supercluster

In 2005 the X ray CIZA survey, Clusters in the Zone
of Avoidance, revealed the Milky Way is not drawn
towards the Great Attractor

But to a more massive region behind it, The Shapley
Supercluster, four times the distance to the Great
Attractor, 500 million light-years away

The CIZA team demoted the Samurai’s Great
Attractor to only a tenth of the mass
originally estimated

I feel quite deflated, though Shaply Super
is shapely enough in theory…


(IFA press release; Maggie McKee, New Scientist,
December 15, 2005; Kocevski and Ebeling, 2005;
and Kocevski et al, 2005).


http://www.solstation.com/x-objects/greatatt.htm

Black Matter Destination

It is not a problem, of course, the Milky Way is
still attracted by a heavy object in defiance
of the general Hubble expansion

It is a change of names and a location behind
the Great Attractor, the movement is the same
I am delighted that contrariness

Still marks the direction in which the Solar
System is taken while orbiting around the
Centre of the Solar System

Sitting tight in the Sagittarius arm, we are pulled
towards the Shapley Supercluster, a mysterious
Black Matter destination…


[Background information]

"In the 1980s, a group of astronomers known as the "Seven Samurai" (David Burstein, Roger Davies, Alan Dressler, Sandra Faber, Donald Lynden-Bell, Roberto J. Terlevich, and Gary Wegner) found that galaxies are very unevenly distributed in space, with galactic superclusters separated by incredibly huge voids of visible ordinary matter. The Great Attractor is one such structure, a diffuse concentration of matter some 400 million light-years in size located around 250 million light-years (ly) away in the direction of the southern Constellation Centaurus, about seven degrees off the plane of the Milky Way -- at a redshift-distance of 4,350 kilometers (or around 2,700 miles) per second. It lies in the so-called Zone of Avoidance, where the dust and stars of the Milky Way's disk obscures as much as a quarter of the Earth's visible sky."

(IFA press release; Maggie McKee, New Scientist, December 15, 2005; Kocevski and Ebeling, 2005; and Kocevski et al, 2005).

http://www.solstation.com/x-objects/greatatt.htm

Safe In My Sister’s Care

I have often wondered what real happiness would feel like,
when I saw my twin sister’s journal, I knew happiness at last
– a feeling like warm coffee enveloping one softly, a joyous
fulfilment, all life appearing joyously precious

Because she printed a few of my poems and glued them next
to pictures I love – of old English cottages, illustrations from the
Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady, quotations from Esther
Hicks- Abraham, all the things that sustain me daily

Seeing my thoughts safe in my sister’s care, hearing her saying
that her own dreams are fulfilled, is the highest happiness I could
dream of - though she frequently looses the mental frequency
which ensures access to sweet thoughts, she is on her way

To finding the joy she was born for, stop lamenting a past that she
mourns for; I cannot ask for anything else, trusting that she will
break free from a legacy of bad memories...

To Get Along

When my mother, sister and I get together, we
need the help of the Dog Whisperer to calm us
down, make the brain enter a calm submissive
state from overexcited and totally confused

when I say something, my sister gets angry,
when my mother does something, she grows
agitated, we seem to be in a permanent state
of frontal brain activity as if spinning within a

whirlwind when we share the same space, I
go into existential angst when they are with me,
disapproving of one another’s conversation,
acting like psychopathic schizophrenics

we had a great time today - sort of - but I wish
we could get the help of the Dog Whisperer to
help harmonise our wildly fibrillating and
fluctuating brain waves

and enter a happy, quiet, satisfied, meditative
state whenever we try to get along...

Friday Headache

A Friday headache – after getting angry, after venting
and blowing fire, I am still stuck with a headache, tired
after sleeping badly last night; ate something forbidden,
of course, just seemed right to experiment, I paid dearly
with feverish outbursts and inability to lie still, this mistake
is costing me today

I sent upbraiding messages to my foreign correspondent
because he is despondent, worried about pollution and
ecology - I was so worried when I was nine, it messed up
my youth - but when I saw that the problem of erosion
did not worry anybody else, I decided to bury the hachett
and get on with life

I am stuck in the office with a mind like a sieve, the words
in my text falling through, no countercurrent of equivalent
terms converting the French into English - I am eternally
hungry and no food can arrest the digestive problem, and
never eating fried chicken skin again, evil, crisp and brown –
gluttony truly is a deadly sin

Though it does not kill, it just makes my life a misery…

I Would Rather Be…

Thirteen pages of absolute nonsense,
pure propaganda without an ounce of
truth, crass materialism, prejudice, lack
of understanding and insight – and you
want me not only to read this junk, but
to translate it also?

I would rather be consumed by a legion
of ants, be stung by a myriad bees, face
a ravenous lion or a rabid dog, rather be
crucified or stoned to death, than read
and translate such stupidity, rather start
digging to find the Tibetan tunnels

Mentioned in Good Omens, meet hostile
aliens conducting strange experiments on
human victims, seek for the ancient under-
ground cities described by Von Däniken,
rather walk barefoot over glowing coals,
be stuck on the SS Eldridge ship of the

Philadelphia Experiment, moving in and
out of time, running the risk of deep freeze
as explained by the elusive Victor Allende,
rather fly over the Bermuda Triangle or
confront the Japanese Devil Sea, rather
be stuck on the moon or fall into

An interminable rabbit hole, than read and
translate this document; every time I look
at it, the skin on my head starts to shrink,
I would rather be skinned alive by the last
of the Mohicans, have my heart torn out
still beating while I am alive

In sacrifice by the ancient Mayans, than
work on this piece of utter stupidity…