Nice to be Myself (Revised)

Exam over, steel clamp around my heart loosening
slowly, had to bind steel tightly around fearing loss
of motivation would kill my dedication, feared less
anxiety about outcomes, feared the ability to learn
was gone - that without rock-hard concentration I
would be unable to open a book, scared of proving

I am not able to retain what we learned in class,
scared myself into trying hard but I did not work
hard enough to achieve the highest mark, yet the
questions were fun, it was a privilege to follow the
course and I loved writing a blogspot note giving
my opinion on a movie - I chose ‘The King and I'

Which showed a woman empowered through
education and privilege in contrast with the life
of Edith Piaf - so tragic and sad, though she was
a celebrated artist - tonight is wonderful, fun
shows on TV - I am me - after having been
someone else, it is so nice to be myself…

Being someone else is not easy…

Something is different, my usual ego is gone, in its place is a
stranger who feels like going nuts, not a rational thought in the
mind of this strange one, not an original idea, headache as big
as an elephant, no coordination, cannot type, this is the mess
that has to write a French exam today, start a report on work
done during the month, brain switching on and off, blinking out
of existence

I’m trying to teach this stranger French verbs and the past tense
sentences it should write in my place, but I would have more
success teaching my desk than this strange one, I don’t even know
how to phrase a complaint against this alien posing as me, even
my back is acting up, relaying a simple document becomes an
impossible task, wish I could fall asleep and wake up as me

Being someone else is not easy…

Wednesday 28 November 2012

Status Quo

Status Quo

Three pairs of glasses conscience-clear will
not transform acerbic views the least today
no galaxies of magnanimous events appear
stacked end to end waiting an introduction,
no ameliorating hint of Occasioning or how
to be generously received, welcomed with
good will and situated atop selfish issues of
who’s dogmatic eccentricity is most worthy 

In their own rich words delusory mists steam,
an effluence of ordure composting vagrantly
where once compassion was – it’s here as an
instance deemed answer enough and damned
queries that face up the Status Quo will be
trashed mercilessly by its alter ego
© 28 November 2012, I. D. Carswell

All That I Have Left

The Apostle Paul recommended women should
not seek beauty in hairstyles, ornaments, jewellery
and expensive clothes, true beauty lies in character;
I say: Thank you, the hairstyle is easily done due to
the thin feathers on my head, as for the clothes

I have to wear something, the clothes I have is ugly
enough - I cannot find pretty clothes in my size – and
now I find none that fits, neither pretty or ugly; at least
Paul said clothing is required, my only option is to mail-
order a burka as the clothes in our Western shops

Are an unqualified flop – for me at least, I comply with
the requirements for looking ugly; working on character
is all that I have left – Paul, you did not recommend
anything, you simply stated the state of affairs!


1 Timothy 3: 9 & 10

Love It, Change It, Hold It, Hate It

Reading my New Testament favourites
seeking spiritual food – just as anyone
who thinks about an inner, cognitive,
invisible world is likely to do

I love my culture’s religious & spiritual
texts because, simply – it’s mine, neither
superior nor inferior to each and any
– all unique as inner technique

To approach and direct consciousness;
quantum physics expresses how minds
shape reality – explains how all belief
systems fulfil expectations equally

Personal taste dictates where we feel
at home; meditation and visualisation
through prayer is mind reconstructing
the world into being more than it is

Being joyous is possible because we
are free to do what we please with
everything: love it, change it, hold it,
hate it, forget it, chase it, eat it

I like the way New Testament Apostles
remained gracefully joyful when in jail,
anyone can dislike this meek attitude, 
prefer the challenges of violence and

Sweet revenge, making it a more ex-
citing world – and they cannot limit
the freedom of those who prefer to
contemplate life in tranquillity

Looking for significance in every life,
studying history as recorded in the
writings of the Apostles and the great
figures of Eastern Religions…

Leaving Me Space (Revised)

Of course I was wrong; the gods had
more trials for me after the successful
completion of my urgent documents,

Tonight my daughter kindly advised my
contribution to discussion of her friend’s
driving mishaps was unwelcome –

I only wanted them to leave so I could
watch a romantic thriller on television –
but nobody moved, so I left instead

I‘ll want to watch it uninterrupted
fairly soon – it is beyond me why they
cannot quietly leave now

They should calm down, hold a different
conversation leaving me space too – or
let me watch wilting romance in peace

Your Humble Servant (Revised)

As a child I endured toothache pain stoically
practicing for persecution of difficult times as
Apostles in the Bible recommend, but today

I take antibiotics, accepting pain has no place
in fate chosen from future forks of a different
trouser leg of time; we are free to go any way

The gods knew I used earache to stay trouble-
free in translating my three documents, they
double-folded earache pain to make sure

Every work triumph has a price – uncomfortable
as the ear is, I’m thrilled by the deal, it is a dream
come true to do my work efficiently

Paying for such privilege in physical pain is apt –
makes me feel better about shortcomings, the
gods enjoy keeping me humble and quiet

Your humble servant as ever, that’s me!

Equilibrium (Revised)

Earache, perfect for a pity-party and this is
November’s best time of year, holidays near
yet not too close to be over too soon, more
work on my desk for an exciting adrenaline
rush of challenge, but I need to feel sorry for
myself – keep all other disasters at bay

Heard a Doomsday prophet say infection of
the ear, even untreated tonsillitis, can lead to
death, the effect lost as we laughed unfazed
hearing such dire predictions, we don’t mind
dying per se but rebel against slow decline as
in ageing with pain – aha –

Gout says I mustn’t eat chocolate or sugar but
wholegrain alternatives mean vertigo and
nearly losing consciousness, now I eat
chocolates, delight in butter and full cream
milk with cardboard tasting rice cakes; and
Christmas is to be spent with my sister, sweet

Meringue, fruit cake, vanilla sponge, hiking,
riding a fast motorbike – oh yeah, with these
wonders ahead earache will keep me safe from
calling wrath of the gods – let the pain and
aches come now so bad things required to
keep me humble will be taken care of

And all the delectable treats equilibrated
with just the right amount of suffering – as
long as pros and cons are in balance, there is
no fear of arrogance winning, and I can
dream in peace….

Nineteen Years Is Long Enough (Revised)

For the first time in nineteen years I’m planning
Christmas with my parents, to be with them as
one singing Carols, preparing delicacies to eat –
but particularly singing songs mother wrote,
presenting the play she designed for us ages
ago when we twins were just six years old

Back then my brothers and dad spoiled things –
but this time we can present mother’s songs less
their interference, and afterwards I can go for a
spin on brother-in-law’s motorbike, making up
for events we missed when small – yes, this
Christmas will be a grand reunion ball

For the first time in nineteen years I shan’t be
home; it’s either or, never parents and hubby
together, and though he was angry hearing
my plans – after nineteen years he cannot
really complain – it is the first time I shall be
with them – I think it is fair,

Nineteen years is long enough

Beautifully Constructed Document….

This is an exquisite headache, I have struggled to page 5 and
there still is another ten, though I am required to say when,
the truth is I don’t know how to finish this work to make the
deadline, seeking help I found a guru’s advice ‘Start paying
attention to how you feel’ – not much help there

I feel hot and bothered and desperate and determined to finish
this should I die in the attempt, even writing this is lessening the
time dedicated to my precious text, I cannot sing about it,
diplomatic lines to assure lenders of funds unlimited and
Australians donating many Oz dollars to Africans

A sweet attempt to help Africa from the Middle Ages to the
Enlightenment of infrastructure, irrigation and policies en-
suring good governance – ay, there’s the rub, the moment
overseers and supervisors and political reports are needed,
the money is siphoned into an organigram and

Not enough is left for agricultural projects, reorganising the
government does not teach good ethics which should be learnt
at mother’s knee, through fairy tales to understand that one
should not slaughter the goose laying golden eggs or live
without discipline; much as I love people helping each other

I am curious to know how much goes to middlemen and what
percentage finally reaches the target groups who have to make
do with less than promised and then gets the blame when pro-
jects go awry – but miracles never cease and this might
just be the first honest project in human history

Or at least less plundered than before, hopefully the Ozzies
themselves will visit here with happy calls - Hey Mate, where’s
the barbie gonna be? – while looking through the books and
determining how much went to whom and why – but ere
I’m lost in a dream, let me return to my very

Beautifully constructed document…

Still Love Me Too

Power of communication, reading Sunday newspapers
was so depressing; my beloved sighed - Why are you
so difficult to get along with? – I’m totally overwhelmed
– I cried – I cannot see how our country can survive,
the poorest pay the price for political connivance

Farms burning down, I even feel bad about President
Zuma being attacked by others, don’t have all the facts,
some say our president uses taxpayers’ money to enrich
himself while he cries in public - I did not take your wealth
- Who should I believe and why, how can we ever tell

Who is writing the script, trying to use information on their
own behalf, welfare money directed to Africans only, any
European out on his ears; which is fine, we live in Africa,
but what if the new measures also damage the Africans,
my friends, not just excluded Europeans

At whom these are targeted? - You relented; listened to
my woes with many an exclamation - Stop-Stop! You’re 
driving me insane – And I remembered my existence is
the bane of your life, I apologised - I’m mesmerised by
communication – the Twilight movie

Made me glad about us, then newspaper depression -
I related all my woes - You recommended a purge:
This is constipation of the mind - you said; being the
only doctor at my command since loss of medical
aid benefits - Look to purgatory medicines

For a cure, castor oil is the thing, as to political landscape,
forget about it, farmers are forced to clean house and kids
of poor migratory workers must receive free education to
rise above bad circumstance – I also confessed inability
to accept my problems; you laughed

Next year we can redo the house’s plumbing and
everything else – and I smiled, you still
love me too…

Still Right For Me

Facing painful truths without getting
upset: we are taught youth should
last forever, an ideal to be achieved
through botox, hormone replacement
therapy and plastic surgery; but just
as I never succumbed to make-up,
I‘m failing in my duty to stay young

It is your right to be angry with me
for not being younger in an age of
increasing sex appeal, we’re taught
to believe in physical performance
only, females are expected to fulfil
male fantasies based on artificial
acting in adult movies - therefore

You’re right to blame me for being
a failure; I never became the siren
you were taught to dream of - BUT
I am joyful knowing you were just
right for me, the romance shared
was perfect- I’m sorry you were
upset when I told you this, sorry

That you feel I’m failing you today
because you are still right for me
and will always be…

I Have Earned My Rest

Still between worlds infused with crazy desire to
complete my terrible text – but overcome by tragic
discovery my courageous attempt to thrive on dry
beskuit led to symptomatic resurgence of allergy

Soft rain and loud thunderclaps mirror a desperate
prayer earlier today when stuck in an endless
meeting; there I could tune out the meaning of
spoken inanity, but not the resonance of it

Could not escape metre and timbre of King Kong
and her henchmen, Crying Mock Turtle delivering
a speech with many sighs and innumerable sobs
and Mr Dream-A-Lot riveted to his own spot

Being driven into the deep sitting in this big old car
of a meeting, gnashing of teeth trying to escape
the voice floating over me, nearly falling asleep
but remaining disdainfully awake, thinking of

Slashing my wrists and spraying blood on the
listeners as a clear sign I’ve had enough when
the end came, and after an anti-climax of more
sorrowful whining by Mme La Pompadour

I ran from the meeting only to find my powers were
spent, no more concentration to be obtained from
my brain, I did try to get back into step, in vain
chasing elusive meaning & strange formulation

In the end I conceded, came home to lie in your lap,
feeling I have earned my rest…

Oh Mistress-Mine (Revised)

Oh Mistress-Mine, like the Old Testament’s Prodigal Son you
return unto the fold so stealthily, coming to us like a Prodigal
Daughter; you’ve rested well, it’s seen in your demeanour,
you are calm and resigned as sensed in your serenity

Will it be another foray into unchartered territory where
you’ll do innovative work, showing how we, like you, can
stay home courageously, with long disappearances, sudden
returns as a new moon after an eclipse

To shyly smile, win new acolytes with strict orders, rejecting
irrational demands made eagerly by troops who stayed
guarding sacred portals from barbarian horde invasions –
uneducated clients who demand non-entitled services

We are a profession fighting for executive recognition of
our smooth relays of foreign texts into a civilised tongue,
one that is understood by the Anglo-Saxon hordes rampaging
south from the cold northern slopes

Be that as it may, welcome back, Oh Prodigal Daughter and
Supervisor of troops, with military alacrity we are ready to
follow orders, except where they clash with ethics forged
through millennia of fighting for right & free expression –

Rights you claim personally, Oh Mistress Mine, not share
with the rest who earn their living where you merely dally
occasionally, singing from time to time ‘hey nonny nonny’,
with much ado about nothing

And in this institution lies only the way of the dreaded
watery death and creatures of the bottomless profundity
waiting to swallow all of the mighty and haughty who
do not care where they tread…

I Am Not Coherent Anymore

Now I’m the proud possessor of an iPod Shuffler in its small
box with purple disk and miniature apertures, I am bemused –
this resembles the little gold and white booklets I discovered
as a kid and used to play my version of ‘The Magic Flute’ by
making them into magical objects opening into the bewitched
worlds when presented to the guardians between this life and
their enchanted space

I cherished these booklets and now I have a small tablet which
plays music in my ears, another dream come true, switching on
the Shuffler I am thrown from Dean Martin’s crooning ‘Ma Bella
Mia’ to ‘The Merry Widow’ then straight into Strauss’ ‘Also Sprach
Zarathustra’, from there into ‘Ave Maria” sung by Lesley Garret and
Hoffman’s Tales - the chorus about 'Klein Zack' -back into ‘Das
Studium der Weiber ist schwer’

Then into a Prelude by Chopin - you’ll excuse me when I am not
coherent anymore, how can I be after this mélange reducing my
powers of concentration to nothing - I still hate Vivaldi when
his music crops up in between, you’ll notice I do not mention
it and any song which gets on my nerves – oh delightful life
that abounds with magic everywhere!

Figures In There Somewhere (Revised)

Came home to a brightly coloured work text
with Edith Piaf’s life resounding in my head,
read a Roger Bootle (Fortune magazine) écrit
on PIIGS (probable Euro-split, Portugal,
Ireland, Italy, Greece & Spain) explained

And Edith Piaf’s life intervenes, paging too
violently in the magazine, reading a heading
Dad Doesn’t Have Hobbies, He Has Passions
Tom Ricketts said; admonished by my love
I rest the magazine, time to get rid of

Edith Piaf’s passions in my head, her words
ringing in my ears – what’s the use of being
Edith if I cannot do what I want? It may be
why being Margaret Alice fails, I cannot do
what I want, becoming instead

Expert at hiding desire from myself; I shall
never know what I really want except that
music and singing and dancing figures in
there somewhere

Sleep Will Increase My Intelligence

Tonight I did my French homework. I spent the weekend in abject terror,
having ascertained that there is more work than can be completed before
the December holidays, and that I don’t know my French verbs – l’imparfait
does not come easily.

I finished reading The Long Earth by Terry Pratchett and his science-fiction-
writer friend yesterday. I’m sure that “Happy Landings” contains a few sinister
secrets – such as the murder of people with imperfections, that the trolls control
the people in some way and this is why they keep people from converging in large
numbers. All this will have to wait till the next book in the series. The book isn’t
perfect, but that is because two people are writing it and with a deadline in mind,
so it shows, but it is fun.

Today I was sleepy all day long and confessed I feel completely overwhelmed
right now. My beloved said bring your work home and I thought, bring the torture
home so I can feel scared all the time – but his confidence made me feel better.
Yet I still could not write a paragraph in l’imparfait, my attempt is pathetic.

We bought an e-pod for listening at work when the noise becomes too much in
the open-plan office – then discovered it is a “Shuffle” – the awful apparatus
shuffles my recorded CD’s, no choosing  the song when jumping forwards, only
random songs – how shall I find Obladi-Oblada when it is needed?

Oh well, with the hope that bringing my work home will help, I’m going to bed.
Tomorrow it is work-on-hand and the construction document to bring infra-
structure to Africa – my cup should be overflowing, if only my brain were clever
enough to master all these things – let me rest, maybe more sleep will increase
my intelligence…hah!

Sunday 11 November 2012

I Have Just Repeated It (Revised)

Olé Guapa is happening while sitting here with
local development planning & financial assistance,
Andre Rieu conducting with nostalgia, the melody
and dancing as promising as it will always be

Fingers flashing over keys, Death and Renata
Flitworth at it again, dancing up a storm at the
Village Green, dancing on upturned boards, the
rhythm unflagging, augmented by

Languorous lines punctuated by sharp movements
of head, arms outstretched, images repeated again
and again, crying for Saudade, sweet moments
lost in time – I joyously hold on to them – and

The Theory of Relativity – everything that ever was
exists forever and can be repeated whenever we
want – oh, I want, I want, I smile - I have just
repeated it….

Pearly Drops (Revised)

On hearing golden-brown voices nothing
but sound transcendence exists, pearly
drops joining into song, networked notes
form chords, evoking feelings forgotten
– an exit out of this world

Realities’ rules force orthodoxy to hide
inner events transporting away unwary
dreamers – until I awake all work stays
undone, time for action gone after eons
unproductively spent invisibly dreaming

Only a shining countenance exists, an
inner fire that cannot be quenched by
events taking place in the world outside,
a dream I can repeat whenever the
music plays again

Wishes And Dreams Within

 

Four dolls in my work station, the
prettiest small amounts of money
could buy - a special doll must be
cheap, otherwise I cannot
play with her at all

The smallest doll represents the
grown-up shell in which the child-
hood version of adults dwell, the
two bigger, younger dolls re-
present the wonderment

Of early youth - the smallest one
reminds of undeveloped potential,
everyone has probable personalities
which had been repressed to allow
one main ego to develop well

A shock might activate other ego-
possibilities - a split into several
identities - I sincerely wish I had
several personalities in me, one
for mathematics, another

For transcribing legalese, one for
cooking, another for social activities
while the real core personality would
be free to write poetry - or swim in the
sea or - dance to the music

My dolls represent my idea of human
personality, a bunch of unrealised
wishes and ideals within…

Wild Desire For Life (Revised)

Silver crystal sandals, for final effect add in silver
shine magic pedicure, being Cinderella at the office
Grande Ball with best legal text quoting six different
Acts, enjoying challenges, French Level III pronouns
and regular verbs, fun – Je me suis bien
amusée

Red KJB pants with sandals, glory in flowers,
self-esteem anchored in poetic hands as days
pass, life enlarged in multi-layered waves
visible only when keeping the eye on inner
vision colouring every detail with great
energy, new consciousness created by

Silver cords and golden sound weaving life’s
hologram - Schön blühende Heckenrosen und
Ade zur guten Nacht filling the spaces between
murmuring voices and loud laughter with wild
exclamations - beauty of inner peace in small
joys - adding trimmings to my workstation

Friends supporting each other, filling my life,
spilling sweet drops of incense bright with
idealism and beliefs outlined in bright blue
lines of new designs that will grow into all
our tomorrows, adding more dimensions to

The rolled-up string theory twenty-five, impetus
driving a wild desire for ever more life…

Things To Be Conquered (Revised)

So emotionally drained, trapped in the passion
of fresh challenges and new techniques, the
tension of exploring financial alternatives, the
nervousness in confronting your anger when
explaining problems caused by language you
used when I made mistakes

Counted my many blessings in bed, felt better
but couldn’t sleep, arose, switched on TV –
the film ‘Insidious’ - a mansion full of strange
events, a psychic telling the family of a place
for tortured souls - oh dear, there goes my list
of many blessings

Or maybe the list has just grown longer as
life is enriched by imaginings of spectres
and things that have to be conquered
through dreams of beauty and love…

The Feeling Of Losing Control

I hate this restless feeling, first I messed up the bedroom by putting
all my books which were cluttering the white sitting room, on the bed,
then messed up the study by shoving books helter-skelter on to the
racks, continued my mission of confusion by creating chaos in the
kitchen, seeing as it was already full of crumbs

I added my new thick file spilling papers and my favourite pictures,
including Sean Connery and laughing people having fun, fantasy
rooms, an article on slavery in the Cape committed by the English
themselves, no less, they had a thriving monopoly, according to
Lady Anne Barnard who wrote it in her Journal

Compounding the feeling of losing control, the radio is playing Golden
Oldies, Roger Whittaker singing Now you Don’t Believe In If Anymore,
I smile – I still do and always will - if nothing else, at least it keeps that
dour expression of deep suspicion from my face, I dream about If all
the time - - - trying to focus amongst all the noise

I opened my French file just to find it impossible to pin myself down,
the feeling of accomplishment after last night’s work – five pages
of notes from Labour Equity Law and School Legislation in South
Africa – is still too fresh in my head - it seems having chocolate
for breakfast must have been bad because I feel jittery

Running around like a chicken without a head – time to settle and
wait for the mental fog to disperse before doing something; Tom
Jones belting out It’s Not Unusual To Be Loved By Anyone; right,
I shall nestle against my beloved in front of the TV - he’s
watching rugby, it will help me doze off, upon waking

I shall try again to do something useful with my books….


Saturday 3 November 2012

A Small Glass Of Champagne

You atoned so sweetly, prepared a fun meal,
hamburgers with salad and cheese, ah, Mein
Herr Marquis, you are sweet, dancing around
in the kitchen, serving everyone - everything
placed on the griddle, kids happy, all forgiven

How could I even have doubted that you would
come around - Sean Connery blew up the evil
Fatima Blush - this is a fantastic evening, no
more complaints, a small glass of champagne
to celebrate all these peace offerings

Tomorrow Michelle from Merryhell will send me
a book by Sir Terry Pratchett - life is perfect –
I’m nearing the end of my small-scale irrigation
document, James Bond is blowing up ancient
stone temples, ah, Mein Herr Marquis

We shall have some music - Ah, wie ruhrt mich
dies… [Die Fledermaus]

Cello More Important Than Life

Your righteous indignation at my making two mistakes
that merely disturbed your complacency authorises you
to swear at me and sets you free from any need to apologise,
in this house I must reiterate how sorry I am and write letters
explaining why I messed up and became guilty of high treason
and should be shot for multiple shortcomings, the situation is
so bizarre it makes me laugh – Mein Herr Marquis, ein Mann
wie Sie … drum verzeihen Sie wenn ich lache – ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha [Die Fledermaus]

Your injured dignity forces you to ignore me pointedly – fine,
after laughing to my heart’s content, the screensaver that gives
meaning to everyday routine, Timothy Dalton as 007 - The
Living Daylights - keeps my mind occupied; while you steam
and froth at the mouth, presenting like Le Malade Imaginaire
of Molière, waiting to execute me with the guillotine of your
tongue - I happily watch 007 rise to the occasion as he con-
fronts the KJB - while you prepare the devastating speech
that is meant to change me into Quasimodo himself

I am walking the grey steets of Russia in 1987, a cello is clearly
more important than a life, once again the situation is clear –
yes, your discomfiture is more important than my work or life,
James Bond puts it all in perspective, having just used a laser
light on an official car, yes, this is life, as long as the imagination
can take us away, reality is just the trampoline providing lift-off
into the sky, sorry Mein Herr Marquis, a tragedy in the  land of
ice has taken me away, the cello has taken a bullet and they
just went through the border post  - safe in Austria –

While the KJB is getting ready to launch new attacks on everyone