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

Quiet Zombie

Stormy seas of surging emotions
cannot get off the inner carousel
feelings swinging pendulum-free
in my confining spirit like mercury
unable to eschew increasing heat

If I should be in control of my thoughts
why is it I cannot decide to calm down
and be rational again? – Oh - because
it is too much like death to be immobile
not plagued by an act or word of rebellion

Creating a calm and uneventful life - but
today I cannot play possum again, not for
the sake of escaping existential pain; can-
not strangle my spirit, ignore bigger gestalt
who appeared in place of the corpse

Who usually mans my post - gestalt shall not
be controlled, fear and death threats have no
effect, completely oblivious to my carefully
cultivated Cancerian personality - I think
my inner self should be called

‘The Psychopath’ determined to live instead
of becoming the quiet zombie taking care of
my almost extinct life…

Engraved

Every afternoon into the crocodile lagoon
a sun-kissed scene, gilded trees, floating,
rekindling my dreams, paying homage to
sacred memories, renewing my promise
forever to cherish one special phrase

Wherever I may be, wherever I may go,
always keep the holy words as a chem
in my head, never reveal to anyone on
earth, safe against change, treasured
in the sweetest depths of my heart

Never to share with anyone alive, in-
creasing its value a hundredfold, finding
my strength in one beautiful - one shining
line - though the source is lost; I do not
care where it went or why it has left

The origin does not count - I made it mine
my shining talisman, engraved on my heart
sealed in my soul, special moments to take
into infinity, a magic event living in my mind
forever and ever…

[And I shall add more such memories as life
goes on - and cherish them all]


Chem: Holy words that make a Golem work –
See Terry Pratchett – “Feet of Clay”

Off On The Breeze (Revised)

Awareness of beauty grows lavishly while seated
among Jacaranda trees, green canopies caress
the sun with more divinity than mere words
embrace – it makes my heart swell in music ‘til
lighter than air I float off on the breeze

Luckily we are government officials anchored to
chairs facing a grindstone patiently; at least my
brave Calvinist colleagues are the most upstanding
people I have ever met and cannot be deterred by
anything as fractious as sheer beauty;

Hanlie spreading good humour & delight wherever
she is; Hermien’s unselfconscious efficiency graced
with the calm of a state secretary; June brisk, tone
always crisp, laughter infectious, smile as precious
as jewels hidden deep in the earth,

And the boss Madame La Pompadour is an exact
replica of ‘Madame Olympia’, staying home under
various pretexts so as to not sully her soul by noise
of the open-plan office, and me growing more like
Madame Medusa in ‘The Rescuers’

Driving is my favourite activity, trying to beat every
other robot, succeeding mostly; slow lane overtaking
when the fast crawls at a snail’s pace, enjoying the
exhilaration of evading other motorists, my liberties
sometimes earn aggressive gestures

I merely respond with a smile, blissfully threatening
pedestrians with amazing goodwill while continuing
this enticing technological dance, my mind delighting
in nirvana of a Zen-like trance…


[ORIGINAL]

Sitting quietly while awareness of beauty grows strong
among the luxuriant green canopies of Jacaranda trees,
the caressing sunshine more divine than mere words can
explain, music making my heart swell until I am lighter
than air and float off on the breeze

Luckily as government officials we are firmly anchored
to our chairs, facing the grindstone patiently - at least
my brave Calvinist colleagues - the most upstanding
people I have ever met - cannot be deterred by any-
thing; Hanlie spreading good humour and delight

Wherever she is, Hermien in unselfconscious efficiency
organising church activities and three sons with the calm
of a state secretary; June brisk, her tone always crisp, her
laughter infectious, her smile as precious as jewels hidden
deep in the earth, while the boss Madame La Pompadour

Is turning into an exact replica of the ‘Madame Olympia’ in
my favourite story*, staying home under various pretexts so
as not to sully her soul by the noise of the open-plan office,
as for me: I am growing more like Madame Medusa* in the
film ‘The Rescuers’ all the time


Driving becoming my favourite activity, trying to beat every
robot, mostly succeeding; overtaking via the slow lane when
the fast lane moves at snail’s pace, enjoying the exhilaration
of evading other motorists, though my taking liberties some-
times leads to aggressive gestures

I just reply with a smile, blissfully threatening pedestrians with
amazing goodwill while continuing this enticing technological
dance, my mind delighting in the nirvana of a Zen-like trance…


favourite story*: "Which Witch" Eva Ibbotson - Madame Olympia
Madame Medusa*: "The Rescuers" Margery Sharp - Walt Disney

Written in the Stars

Lady Jane Elizabeth Digby born on April 3:
how could she leave her children – six – the
first one left in his father’s care when she went
to Paris, the second sailed away with her dad,
her most beloved youngest died while

Lady Jane visited friends in Italy - at first I was
shocked , how could she leave all her kids –
then counted back nine months from Aries
birth sign to date of gestation, found Leo
thus it all started to make sense

An electromagnetic phenomenon - just like my
mother who could not stop her own life to look
after kids, following her dreams, all Leos differ
from me; whereas I live for my kids trying to
give them the greatest gift, loving their dad

Leos live for a higher ideal, chasing fulfilment –
travelling - while I as astrogenetic Cancer remain
at home to create a safe nest - dreaming about
security for all I love or have ever known, so I
know: our lives are written in the stars…

Fantasy Is What I Want (Revised)

Skin crisped in an affluent sun,
head fit to burst – you show me
how Facebook works on this
brusque emerald day – leaves
sigh in nostalgic wind, I have
no human friends, in love with
the sound of the breeze, the
flame of the sun, no need for
other company, stunned by
the unity with beauty of
warmth and sound

Alien voices urge, words don’t
reach my spirit, it needs diverse
wavelengths to commune – I feel
more alone on a social network
than in normal life – you show
groups, chats, photographs – I
cannot even master French
conversation links – you say it’s
easy – I can’t explain it isn’t, I’m
ensconced in myself, cannot
break the spell of this glorious
shimmering day

which holds me in thrall – your
voice intrudes on the quiet in my
mind, your interaction groups
drive me to despair – I cannot
feign interest but do the right
thing, you suggest checking author
Terry Pratchett, reading his life –
and I quail: I want his books, his
characters, stories and ideas –
not his life, I won’t intrude in his
privacy – fantasy is where I want
to go and what I want to share

Ewig-Onbeantwoorde Vraag (Hersien)

Resep vir geluk: vermoë om te droom
visualiseer, ideale nastreef, genot
in die fantasie - ‘n goeie boek,
nuwe teorie of storie

Insig bring inerrlike geluk maar
die glorie van bereiking duur
slegs vir ‘n oomblik, ver-
vulling kan nie die

Gemoedstemming lig nie, produksiedoel-
witte kan net salaris verdien - maak geen
verskil aan lewensvreugde nie, geluk
wag op ander plekke

Die einddoel kan mens net vir
‘n oomblik laat goedvoel, die
soektog bring meer geluk as
die antwoord

Misterie as ewig-onbeantwoorde vraag
betowering wink steeds wanneer alles
vireers moet wag vir oorlewing, die
soektog is universeel

Gaan voort sodra ander take gedoen is,
so heerlik dat dit nie saak maak as dit
geen prys of beloning inbring nie -
n fassinerende onderwerp

Verskaf ‘n ewige vreugde wanneer roetine
tussen-in kom; depressie wyk voor die
lekkerkry van ‘tintelende denke – die
droom ‘n belofte

Wat nooit hoef te manifesteer nie –
hoe salig om nuwe idees te bedink
om met gedagtes te speel...

Keep The Dream Alive [Revised]

I used to dream as the damsel in distress
saved by a knight in shining armour,
until my vision faded into boredom

Then my twin expressed delight at what
I brought into her life, old scenarios changed
I became Knight in Shining Armour myself

I dream of helping everyone I love - my twin
especially; she bought me things when she was
earning a nurse’s salary and I still studying

I envision all-consuming activity that removes
feelings of boredom from our lives, busy all the
time - she shall be the public face

I am in the background, no need to leave my
private space, my brother and sister taking care
of business while I keep the dream alive