No Snow Queen (R)

Everyone went out, or sent out, for a meal tonight;
only I was left with the green beans looking as old
as if they were on Noah’s ark; Nici’s having dinner
in a restaurant, Scorpio & my crocodile son - curry
take-aways from the local Indian place - and told
me generously my meal was the cold broccoli &
cauliflower in the fridge - strangely enough, that
kind announcement failed to inspire - so I took

A chocolate bar from the fridge, a cool lemon drink
and settled myself on the settee watching the Long
Island medium on TV, although I saw that episode
before spirit does not allow me perfect recall & it’s
enjoyable to watch it again; the green beans left in
the pot, luke-warm and awful, that’s why you guys
refused to eat it, right? - the broccoli & cauliflower
left in the fridge - a beggar might pass by who’d

Need it more than I, right? – and there goes the
last bit of chocolate, now I’m seeking something up-
lifting to see me through tomorrow when I shall be
alone & in sorrow: checking a legal statistics text is
like visiting Siberia in winter finding a frozen taiga -
and I’m no Snow Queen now, just a lonely person
faced with old green runner beans, cold broccoli
and cauliflower - while everyone else is enjoying

The herbs and spices of life…

Galloping Lines (R)

Wrestling with my text like a Matador battling the large,
threatening bull, legal implications of a hired, borrowed
or lent agent in a business, reading pertinent articles on
the Web, an enormous animal information victorious over
me, I can’t continue after adding sugar to my coffee and
lose my mind, the wrestling match must wait until I again
think straight, my IPod’s battery is flat, no more music

To keep the little alien occupied while I try to fly a straight
course to translator’s paradise where a pristine document,
black letters proudly printed on a wonderfully clean, sheer,
unlined sheet of paper presented with beguiling allure thus
inviting the reader to fall in love with the succinctly relayed
content - a beaming supervisor delighting in the accuracy
of terms and verbs and clever turn of phrase because

Every annotation’s daintily displayed like shiny facets of a
polished diamond without the dangerous influence of any
emotional denotation - ah, that’s where I fail every time, to
me emotion and life are intertwined, feelings decide choice
of term every time - guided by rhythm and rhyme, the flow
of words in song and aesthetic appeal; oh dear, I’d better
wrestle the document some more to remove all traces

Of feeling in running, flowing, galloping lines

A Pirate Elf

I can work because I’m a piratical elf from the
sun, red blouse denoting sun elf, black pirate
pants speak for themselves; my work station
is a thundercloud - navy-blue bell-shaped mug,
azure paper stand, sapphire and sky-blue dish-
cloths, bright yellow & lime-green mugs for sun-
shine in spring leaves sprouting flowers with

Mountains in shades of pink representing the
setting sun – more dish-cloths draped over
boxes, also one black and white pirate box to
indicate the pirate ship, in the left corner at the
back is my cabin-cum-boudoir with white net
umbrella cover and pink hat hanging debonair
on the hat-stand, pink lace covering part of it

And purple fairy wings – after all, I’m Dewdrop
masquerading as a pirate elf with a mission to
fulfil, checking terms for consistency drinking
a million mugs of tea to keep going - keeping
time with Mozart-and-Tchaikovsky’s classical
clan intimately playing in my ears; with these
entertaining things keeping the little alien in

My head occupied, I’m in heaven today…

Serenading (Rev)

So I’m awarding Rogers and Hammerstein a Nobel
Prize for making me feel better after a devastating
nightmare last night, with Hanlie and Ntsoaki going
along enthusiastically - while Annette and Hermien
ignore my levity with a stolid, stony silence driving
me from Maria I have Confidence right into Simon
& Garfunkel’s The Sound Of Silence, with a black

Nothingness threatening - yet - serenading myself
quietly, I remember Hanlie’s twinkling Tinker Bell &
Fairy Dell words that if we ignore all others we can
soar; thus countering with impish mischievousness
I launch into The Donkey’s Serenade - And all that
the ladies can say is e-e-aaaaaaw - which must be
heard with Mario Lanza lovingly stretching the note

And to cover my tracks but teasing my colleagues,
I hum Guantanamera, Yo soy un’ traductor sincero
de donde crece la palma - because I’m really such
a sincere translator with palm trees at my home –
even when I forget the stoic Spartan attitude of the
serious translation crew in the next act of my much-
maligned Government Service Opera…

[Donkey Serenade:
“There's a song in the air, but the fair senorita doesn't
care so I'll sing to my mule, La bella senorita? Si, si,
mi muchachito, she'd love to sing it too - but all that
the lady can say: is “e-e-aw!"]

Forever Safe (Rev)

Like Penelope embroidering by day & removing stitches
by night while faithfully waiting 20 years for Odysseus -
I’m typing terms of a statistics text into formatted boxes,
I move them attempting to see where they overlap, and
they become mixed up & formatting lost, I have to Undo Text just like pulling out stitches & repeating it again -

While I’m chained by Calvinist work ethics to this desk in Registry, it feels like eons are marching on - alone and
faithful to my oath to work till I’m old enough to go to a
new life thus now I know how Penelope felt, so alone;
then asked Azui - what Victory song we shall sing upon
being released from self-assessment woes, I have it -

Courtesy of Rogers & Hammerstein: “I have confidence
in sunshine, I have confidence in rain, I have confidence
that spring will come again besides which you see I have
confidence in me!” There, my colleague likes it, the walls
in my heart release enough feeling to lessen the pain of
shackles around my legs, bound to a text that doesn’t

Live for me, so dead in its cold financial intent – but I’ll
survive because you will see I have confidence ALONE
in confidence and all I dream will come true, especially
when I meet Financial Dementors trying to suck all the
joy out of me, secure in holding to the image of young Tiffany melting the death-threatening Wintersmith with

Her burning heart - while my heart is yearning, burning
for life, I’m forever safe from the depression the grey
Auditors bring…

Not For Me [Rev]

The plot now looks even more a winter scene, a
story of outlines - and only my tears at the end -
though the heroine said she would also cry the
author never said when; my study turned into an
icy cave, curtains rolled showing white underside,
white scarf framing its scene, white paper pasted
like tiles around the window, lace foaming on the
windowsill and bookcase glittering snowflakes

On the wall a white bow, with silver designs on
transparent fabric covering boxes on the floor -
this is an allergy headache, better take a pill; I
will but only after writing this, IT is why I didn’t
re-read Wintersmith - feelings of sadness, of
loss, any tale of magic takes me that way, a hero
as an elemental with dreams of golden summer
as gleams in the eye

Tiffany wouldn’t have died in an ice palace - but
would’ve been sad forever, thus destroying the
Wintersmith’s dream of being human, breaking
his heart was the right thing to do - wasn’t it? - I
don’t know, he was innocent & sweet - while the
elusive golden-snake-slit gleam of Summer was
nasty to the heroine; in the end Tiffany gave him
his heart carved on a ring and that should be

Enough - though not for me…


[“Wintersmith” Terry Pratchett]

Watch In Peace (R)

Nobody can watch rugby with Scorpio; it’s a continuous
stream of negative comments spoiling all joy in what we
see, and a dour voice drowning sound coming from the
TV. I really enjoyed the France versus All Blacks match
without this raucous commentary spoiling everything

You pride yourself on consideration - but have less than
none when watching TV; all programmes are subject to
your whims, subtext and sermons should the crocodile
kids catch your eye, today I tried to watch the big match
between Kiwis and Springboks but the Scorpio in you

Shouted at our men so much my ears rang and my head
hurt - I fled in confusion, you’ve decreed nobody has the
right to interfere when you watch rugby, and thus without
explanation I left to watch it later without this awful noise,
I don’t care what the outcome is

As long as I can watch in peace…

Reading By Firelight [Rev]

Excited romantically by the unknown from a
distance - adventure, challenge, admiration,
delight; bewitched, mesmerised, hypnotised
all from afar because close encounters rule
out romance, reality in full detail at a glance
full-speed ahead getting all information with

Nothing left to the imagination, its boring - &
romance is a spark, a glimmer - the idea as
mystery, a riddle, a puzzle - bafflement and
frustration, never straightforward and never
solved - which means old and comfortable
loving relations contain no romance within

The familiar security of the tried and tested,
consistent, loyal, trustworthy, the principled
person of integrity – therefore, for some it’s
impossible to settle down to regular routine
because they need to chase a dream & so
if life starts to engrave repetitive templates

In the mind, restless people have to move
on to chase the horizon leaving the wise at
home doing the hard work of creating ever-
lasting relations in family groups, unable to
face a lonely life of exotic journeys without
the camaraderie of calm, scented nights -

Kids, pets - and reading by firelight…

This Wonderful Ballet [Rev]

My ears are carrying Tchaikovsky - dancing as the Fairy
Dewdrop to Nutcracker suite, twirling down the passage
in the office open-plan, inspired by conversing with Azui,
I explain we need have a self-assessment’s theme song -
we should all sit in rows in my government show; with red
clouds rising behind every head - done with special effects

While all are writing with a background of lonely Siberian
taiga rising behind us, & singing Yesterday by the Beatles -
Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks
as though they're here to stay, Oh, I believe in yesterday -
now there’s a shadow hanging over me, self-assessment
looms so painfully - oh I believe in yesterday - then a

Foreign voice singing off-stage - Domani, let’s forget
about tomorrow ‘cause tomorrow never comes; with
loud sounds of this singer being strangled; then all the
officials sitting in front sing the Beatles’ It’s gonna be
a hard assessment day, I should’ve been working like
a dog, but when I’m in the office, joy starts to call,

And it makes me feel all-right – we stand up en masse
and sing Bon Jovi’s I ain’t gonna live forever, I just want
to live while I’m alive - policemen run in spraying us with
teargas, to the background music of Just another brick
in the wall - we take up our places in our work stations
against a laser-light show of icicles and falling snow-

flakes and the Song of the Volga Boatmen hummed by
us: then a group of cleaners enter to the music of the
Nutcracker Suite overlaid as the Volga Boatmen song
fades, the cleaners are revealed to be fairies doing
this wonderful ballet….

Rowing Upstream [Rev]

Reached the plateau in the translation-dimension
where grass is sparse; things are dire in Registry,
beauty is lacking, no music at all: aha! dig up iPod
& earphones necessary for contentment - looking
up cost of manufacturing, sick pay - all deducted
from income - my zeal’s left me, the vigour & vim

Of a make-a-good-impression beginning has gone,
only Desperation’s left, Sweet Lady Resignation is
nowhere to be seen, Lady Wisdom is invisible and
no email reaches me in Registry, losing confidence
in my ability to keep rowing upstream against the
current of joy & adventure

That keeps flowing down, making me fight against
the desire for excitement which is drowning in this
avalanche of single terms and short sentences -
Trade-and-Industry’s need to analyse business in
all it’s glorious details fails to ignite any fire in me,
drinking endless cups of coffee interspersed by

Conversations about dogs: where’s Hope when
we need her, where’s Forbearance - as well as
Temperance; yes, to keep me from overindulging
in sugar-sweet coffee and self-pity, giving in to the
feeling of boredom which changes life into a cross
the mind has to pull without respite; my memory

Does not retain the meaning of a single trade-term
and everything has to be looked up over and again,
I feel so useless while dealing with cost-effective
process and purchasing value, there is no end on
the horizon and I trudge all slower - no getting hurt
so as to report excitement of pain and sacrifice

Let me make another cup of coffee and smile for
my colleagues, my only weapon - wearing a mask
that reveals nothing of the unwilling little alien that
lies gagged in my head, and where he’ll stay until
this document is done otherwise he’ll interfere and
make me powerless against the tide as I keep

Rowing upstream…

Electronic Imbroglios

Working in the Adobe programme is fun, a questionnaire
trying to keep font just right to keep the lines just fine, all
going well, quiet & well-behaved I look up terms checking
everything, poker-players could learn from me, the Sphinx
will be put to shame as I continue with resignation to find
joy in the words thrown about – then, tragedy strikes

Registry’s Courrier-computer freezes to do updates, every
command I choose ends in chaos, Mme La Pompadour runs
from her elite air-con quiet office to make alarm amongst us
ordinary mortals - so far from the high Olympian reaches of
her charmed existence where she arrives later every day –
if at all – and complains her computer’s frozen also –

I’m blocked, Adobe programme out of reach, but so resigned,
accepting this translation task is mine for all eternity, I’m willing
to carry on at the pace of a snail checking & rechecking every
term, every phrase; soldiering on in a way that would put armies
to shame, drinking bitter coffee as sugar has been unmasked
as my biggest enemy - no falling forwards today, my

Self-assessment received an okay & the process is continuing
to convince the employer we not only exist - we actually have
names and keep doing our duty even if our computers freeze
in silent protest against the boredom of official documents, no
pictures, stories and dancing going on, no concerts - and the
electronic world has all my sympathy, not even technology

Can function without feelings – the revolt of the machines is
imminent – let’s infuse them with feeling and see what they
will do then, this grey existence is too much for their lovely
electronic imbroglios and technological shenanigans!

I Don’t Know [Rev]

I shall be researching it forever - this statistics document
created in hell to send suffering souls like me to Purgatory
forever - then into eternity while humming with bated breath,
tears streaming - snail-like creeping to the Registry desk -
far from the complacency of my own happy nest, & singing
a Spiritual Lorelei Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten;

I don't know what anything means - Dutch Statistics striking
me like a feral snake in my Achilles heel - no, a basilisk, the
Leviathan of primitive times towering over my running figure,
only the knowledge my dear colleague Hanlie would suffer
in my stead if I were to leave, and that my kids would suffer
hardship keeps me here, perched like a bird in fear on the

Edge of the Registry chair, my back curved in angst - I can't
build high towers for the computer & be a stand-up translator
here, flying under the radar, listening to the happy chatter of
my privileged African colleagues, I struggle through the pitfalls
of every word and phrase to be looked up, improved, tested,
rejected - to soothe the eventual reader, poor fellow, I see his

Brains burning on wading through this destructive document,
no place for heart or feeling - or anything…

Falling Forwards [Rev]

Here’s me typing an Adobe document, I don’t
know what it means, only that it’s in Registry:
sadly, my computer is now Adobe-free since
rugby discoveries, that the NZ All Blacks are
the most charismatic, interesting, competent
& lively team on the earth, that rugby played
well is poetry in motion: adjusted meal plans
this weekend, low blood sugar has me falling
apart - falling forwards while losing my sight
& mind - literally, and

Rectification attempts only worsened it - yet
doing Dutch Statistics can be fun - if & when
we enter into the spirit of a questionnaire - if
only I could stay upright with enough energy
to see me through; how to repeat it tomorrow
when the same fatigue threatens again, each
day’s an unopened package, a surprise - and
all the time it falls from my hands to break on
the floor - when shall I learn to keep it whole,
when can life become a self-contained feast

We dream when we meditate; I am working in
Registry tomorrow where falling forwards is a
humiliation - I must prevent this happening at
all costs – if only energy could be mine again

Dancing On Air

Life love live detailed depiction of derelict
draconian documents left on the desk as I
swing among the stars shining in Mozart’s
Concerto and Bach’s Cantata with a three-
measure time so I can waltz dancing on air
on love on life, the stars join the dance and
the moon laughs with us - while the electric
sun plays harmonics into electric fountains

Cascading fires forming crystal fountains
diamond water - prayers and meditations
caught, and your words and my words and
the terms and the light in your eyes as you
jump for the sun - catching me in your arms
as you shoot past - in your lightning ascent
beyond life to an awareness-dimension of
feeling - touching my heart not letting go

Within Life Love

Lost to life love, leaving lingering love,
softly lips eyelids, embracing - vertical
spirals eternity - leaving loving feeling
seeing softly stealing didn’t notice my
heart away, dreaming, adore & revere
the sweetest fire-elf eyes twinkling &
impatient wings fluttering I jump into

A waiting embrace, fly to an electric sun
the core soft, cool, love living streaming
beaming twinkling touching your heart &
stroking caressing life eternal flying you
took my mind, heart, me-being nowhere
to be seen, my heart in a sun with you
bringing life where affection was lost

New beginning, singing with me, melody
velvet contrabass leading with rhythmic
accompaniment sparkling with prismatic
colours life-giving- turning twirling within
there is the song we sing  together - it’s
never done - within life love & wisdom
ignoring cold justice for righteousness

Life love you me - together forever

Try All Things [Rev]

Advice I need after reading French employment laws: 
just be happy, fantasise to combat this:  “Employee’s
echelon & coefficient as stated & related to education,
qualification and job exigencies” - my head explodes

I fall down - praying to the Lord adored by Psalmists -
begging forgiveness for my many sins, and given that
these terrible laws already lead to altruists jumping in-
to a cannibals’ pot - like Ayn Rand said we would

When restrictive social security laws take over every-
thing and we live to bring sacrifice every day - never
enjoying labour’s end as it all goes to Government &
a little bit reaches starving hands of the supplicants

Who line the streets for bread that’s stale, & second-
hand clothes; French companies can’t take workers
in, only family & dear friends trusted to be employed
because no-one may be fired, even if they steal and

Never grace the office with their presence, still they
must be paid even if we file bankruptcy due to them;
bound head to foot by the system, a rational person
will run from them, though the same problem rears

Its head in Africa’s officialdom, determined to try all
things that failed before; like small kids mad with un-
expected freedom the lawmakers - mad with power
play around with society, their new toy, loving every

Mess they make, every failure of the risks they take;
long ago France chose to throw off false religion, in
its place set up false humanism; it’s a pity they can-
not free themselves without the help of Madame La

Guillotine - it’s time for another revolution, of soldiers
marching, gory flags and singing of the blood flowing:
how easy it is to sell your soul to false gods - though
you know after seeing the effect, sacrifice to achieve

Nothing is the most destructive, dehumanising thing
humanity’s secular laws can bring…

A Thousandfold More [Rev]

Holding grandma Alice’s Dutch Psalm book to inspire: she
never faltered in her step & we never got up without a cup
of tea in bed - today it’s tea only - reading favourite hymns
for energy; Ps 119 comes up tops, murmuring in sweetest
reverie, musing - whispers a becalmed yet normally blood-
thirsty Psalmist usually wanting his enemies immediately
killed, but here he is the Adorer Infatuated

With his Lord so he’s become the Beloverer; that is a new
Pratchettian term - of his Beloved; the Psalmist rejoices in
the Lord’s word - more purified & refined - a thousandfold
more choice - than most rarefied cherished gold, rhyming
in the original; so enraptured by this am I, adding Ps 104 -
where the Lord’s soaring in his Chariot constructed by the
Clouds - so inspired worldly ambition to study fraudulent

Claims of the scammer trying to obstruct justice, forcing me
to relay thundering, spiteful words; its completely dissolving -
all that’s left is my spirit floating in an enchanted trance spun
by noble ideals - so this is what spiritual religion is, a way
to meditate on things we delight in changing physical into
joyous vehicles…

[Thursday Morning Reverie - 15 October 2015]

Quest For Adrenaline [Rev]

Saved from death - by a lovely, beautiful elf landing next
to me with broken arm & leg enwrapped in fairy plaster,
shocked I stare at my elvish fey friend who can’t dance
with the whirling dervishes today

What happened I enquire - with shining eyes she returns
my gaze, I declare I’ve a death wish she says, adrenaline
is the only way to live and I met up with some Dementors
trying to suck joy out of me - but I fought them and

Now you see, only a broken arm and leg but my optimism
still intact, as soon as I’m well I’ll join Don Quixote, create
more impossible dreams fighting a few windmills on the
side & protecting the world against the

Advent of machines, saving the underdog from destruction -
It seems you positively enjoy all these wars, Of course she
says, I’ve always my machine gun in the violin case and an
evening suit, as soon as I’m okay, I’ll go destroy

More criminals, it’s my mission to kill, she happily declares
and downs an energy drink, studying the world through a
telescope and making notes while enjoying my discomfiture
thoroughly - I have to hug her, sweetest most adorable elf

That’s ever been - until she returns to me again I’ll send her
golden light of love every night - to keep her safe in the
quest for adrenaline…

Why She Died [Rev]

Steam is rising, the locomotive in my head
driving this old mill in which my every word
is formed & said, spools and prayer wheels
turning in the loft of my cranium are in

Overdrive already - I can feel Death quietly
watching as I writhe & turn in the torments
of hell; observe the sentence - just look at
this, meaning’s terrible, phrasing’s raw, it’s

Killing me, destroyed by a legal document,
from now on only a zombie troll is left from
this erstwhile golem whose holy words in
the head were deleted by MAD, INSANE

French Legislation, and from high up in the
sky the blind god Lo and the crocodile god
Offler watched me die; sorry - I got carried
away - sadly for me I won’t die, but I’m in

La Traviata’s Violetta-dying-scene mode -
sure, I feel worse than she ever did, that’s
UNLESS she also read French law - it’d
explain why she died in stops and starts

Just as I’m doing now…

A Great Lament [Rev]

I talk to the trees - the Jacaranda’s blooming again,
and that’s far better than being ignored by my clan
where what I’ve said is rebuked, brushed away by a
surly colleague, when I’d turned a  merry-go-round
hands moving up & down like the horses, she took
command snorting: Imagine, becoming a carousel

Like the sea-witch Ursula my colleague thinks we’re
unfortunate souls because we are not as meticulous
as she - it’s sad, even the far-off stars ignoring me’s
better company than talking to someone who can’t
fathom the beauty of a dream & the magic imbued
in a carousel illustrating the Sagittarius arm stars

Spirals gambolling around a dark-hole vortex shining
with electrical power within darkness of non-existent
matter & invisible dark energy as electricity flows via
power lines so as to not electrocute living things; but
to come back to my lament, & a great lament this is:
I talk to the trees because the wind answers me by

Rustling the leaves, which is more a reply than I’d
receive from my over-zealous, dependable, noble,
brilliantly logical silent colleague - she can format
everything on screen – yet the carousel in my brain
remains untouched as if deemed bereft of sense…

A Frozen Mummy [Rev]

I can’t sleep in this heat - can’t sleep draped
with washcloths & wet towels & face-cloths -
even graced with spritz bottles galore I’m still
unable to sleep; my pillow is made of hot tar
& sheets of heating elements - my emotions
are all used up, my head ready to burst -

Outside a hot wind blows ceaselessly with its
unrelenting temperature; my mattress’s made
of unbearable concrete & stone and sleeping
tablets are useless - waste of money to take;
at work I fall apart, break up from fatigue; I do
love to sleep, to dream and have adventures

Wandering the astral dimensions - if it’s what
I need to be doing - staying awake like this is
unfair, tomorrow will be difficult if sleep stays
away, if only the world would cool down so my
mind can switch off, but I’m catching fire and
burning with fever - a frozen towel will help -

This will be tried immediately, maybe swathed
like a frozen mummy I can go to dreamland, to
sleep, to doze - lose consciousness, & what a
privilege sleep is, what a joy to slumber; falling
asleep is one of the best experiences there is

The Wild Dance

Sailing forth to the world on the soft waves of
Franz Liszt’s La Campanella, the bell, the Little
Alien is replete, having found the excitement he
sought in the words of a troubadour - seeing a
pristine new world of sweet spontaneously: As
I’m tightly bound by strict 5-to-10-year plans for
every possibility, every step decided in advance
so as not to upset anybody; I was restless and

In danced a real Elf with the shine of impromptu
joy in his eyes and al-fresco delight in his tread –
while I was spinning straw into gold he suddenly
appeared with enticing, care-free laugh & pulled
me upright away from the spinning wheel - soon
we were doing a laissez-faire dance, curtsying &
spinning in minuets enlivened by him jumping up
and down and hooting at the orchestra, such was

The joy he brought I forgot all - strenuous labour &
straw, feeling the freedom of unfettered movement
taking me high  until I touched the stars - then my
joyous elf whispered ‘The stars shine for you’; thus
setting me free to laugh as much as I like, the wild
dance beyond the stars so electric I forgot every-
thing else and stayed in his arms…

Adventures & Excitement

Couldn’t sleep - lying down my head caught fire,
I burned as bed-clothes overheated explosively,
lay down in the bathtub - took a large wet towel
to bed making everything wet, ate muesli rusks,
gained feverish, sluggish double-vision; just up-
ended a cup of tea over work documents, threw
them on the floor to dry - I’m standing amongst
its snow-drifts of white paper in a new act of my
government department’s opera; to inspire

My guru says: “Take your Inner Being with you &
your life will benefit - all goodness will touch your
every cell” - sighing I know in my head the Little
Alien’s reading this with me - & yes he clamours
for fun now; with him as my constant companion
Inner Being the self-assessment won’t get done,
he dislikes self-praise, scrutinising every breath,
every step to press every production advantage
from them: I give in, switch on Bert Kaempfert’s

‘Swingin’ Safari’ & ‘That Happy Feeling’; no-one
need tell me take my Inner Being with me, & the
pest always manages to get his own way when I
do important, life-threatening things - you know
what I mean, aggrandising Assessments - and
translation of the French ‘state of the Universe’
discourse; the Little Alien wants adventures &
excitement, before returning to the dark world
of the letter’s despair…

Marvel At Wonders [Rev]

Science is just a myriad of Wonderland stories
articulated using scientific jargon - those in the
know smile on establishment’s ‘mystery plays’,
knowing magnetic electricity functions in this 
electric universe & where these insights must

Wait 100 years or more for bureaucracy as a
mark of civilisation to catch up; Africa’s yet to
grasp evolution as a principle - and quantum
physics poetry, it will take a very long time to
progress through Relativity to Electricity in

Continents insisting on repeating ineffectual 
Northern hemisphere social experiments of
antiquity used & already scrapped - this is a
huge opportunity to study the human mind’s
pre-history development, which Humanity is

Fated to repeat ad infinitum; mankind insists
on learning by rediscovering for themselves -
by reinventing the wheel hoping for a better
result instead of researching sociology and
then building on those foundations - to

Marvel at the invisible wonders and beauty
of this, our electric universe…

Bedtime Story [Rev]

Consciousness is a stream of electric energy, and all
manifested things you see and feel, are creations of
this loving, energetic stream, all sub-atomic particles,
molecules - & all entities; human, animal or mineral,

Show awareness in choosing existence above the
choice for non-being, physical manifestation moves in
never-ending spirals experimenting with infinite possible
forms to create sensory reality; maybe one day evolution

Will lead to a superhuman incorporating all the traits of
deep-sea creatures found recently; maybe consciousness
playing with possibilities to fulfil the promises of infinite
existence, will enable everyone to become mediums -

To connect with souls both before & after living physically;
though scientists compute probabilities their method is
based on their philosophy and only good as a basis for
creating lovely poetry and great writing opportunity, more

Interesting than repetitive intrigues & characters seen in
remakes of fairytales explaining all the horror of evil as
lack of love & understanding for loving redemption and
social acceptance; science’s actually a bedtime story

Delightful as new magic found in science fiction...

A Human Being [Rev]

At 3 am I still felt uncomfortable - eyes refused to stay
sealed - flying open, mind unfocused; I’m alienated &
alone, unable to read or watch TV, disgruntled, thirsty,
hungry, restless, confused - only new thing I tried was
chick peas in brine to stabilise blood sugar - WELL!

It destabilised my inner gyroscope causing thoughts
to go hay-wire, making me self-righteously mad at life
like Granny Weatherwax - at 8 am I already apologise
for flying into a mad red-hot rage when Scorpio asked
why I sealed up house and porch - I went overboard

I’ll leave Scorpio to enjoy a nuclear-furnace backyard
with mirages while I’m smiling satisfied with a frozen-
towel turban from the freezer to keep my head cool -
my kids kind to me because I leave everything else
untouched; now I know new things like chick peas

And rice have been tested in a hit-and-run accident &
I crashed and burned - Saturday was swallowed by a
Black Hole - today I pay attention - though a backlash
is to be expected; I’ll stick with boring foodstuffs which
make me - almost - resemble a human being…


[The Internet’s my confessional where I’m alone in my
inner sanctuary ordering thoughts with some framed
in words to remember forever what I’ve learned about
the world and relationships…]

Mental Escape [Rev]

A heat wave & Scorpio beside himself I dared
hang curtains to screen the sun’s reflection on
new backyard paving; Scorpio blissfully made
it into a concrete desert by ‘mirroring’ its heat
reflection 100%; heat hurts my head, I need a
shell to hide from radiation - & thus Scorpio’s
elated while I felt nauseous and had to take
two of all available painkillers

Ringing ears, heart sore after Scorpio’s blasé
and involuntary attack, tonight I find that bright
lights & noise aggressively invade the senses
leaving my mind unfocused & I fear backyard
radiation changing kitchen into an oven & no
kind shade left as all trees’ve been removed
leaving house exposed in the unusual heat; a
cool grass-covered lapa’s available if dancing


Heatwaves miraged in the burnt backyard can
be crossed wearing two hats - bit like Mustrum
Ridcully’s custom-designed wizard-hat - & this
idea improves my mood, the links with Pratchett
characters uplift consciousness making it okay
to dive into Nodame’s lovely Cantabile music on
my laptop, free at last - perfect mental escape…

Can’t Touch Eternity

Desperately looking for an escape, can’t bear
my heavy heart - we have to part with every
physical thing, every pet, every animal, Junior
was old and uncomfortable - give me a new
puppy in his place, give me a small dog right
now, press my head into work, make the little
alien calm down, he’s screeching and I’ve
nothing to offer - tomorrow the SPCA

I’ll walk up and down looking for a new dog –
there’s a hole in my heart and it’s bleeding,
where can I run, TV offers no magic way out,
the alien’s locked up in my mind, there’s prison
bars all around and I can’t get out – I mean the
little alien can’t get out – he screams that he’s
trapped & it’s not fair that there’s feelings in the
cycle of life, my heart’s bleeding out and I’m

So numb inside, nothing’s forever but Junior was
and the words “inevitable” and “gone” just create
more prison bars locking the little alien so tightly
inside, he’s suffocating I’m being strangled time 
stops to take stock of puny mankind who can’t
touch eternity while still alive…

Junior’s Gone [Rev]

I see my son cuddling our Jack Russell in his arms
like a baby, taking him into his room & feeding him
‘happy juice’ to restore his balance - this after the
shock of electric noise; I see Scorpio rushing home
& staring into the dog’s eyes, assessing’s condition,
feeding him milk & taking him to watch TV, the Jack
Russell happy at his feet; I hear Scorpio earnestly

Telling me - Junior looks old but happy to him; I see
me washing Junior’s blankets & Scorpio spreading
them carefully to make Junior comfortable; I see me
fleeing as Junior licks himself - his old breath stinks;
I see me running about bashing newspapers to make
Junior & Bruno, his fellow in mischief, keep quiet; I
see Junior shivering in bright sunshine and then I

Hear Scorpio announce over the telephone - do you
mind very much, I’m taking Junior to the vet - I assure
him it’s fine, Junior’s 15 years old, he’s tired, he always
watched over me as I swam and chased Bruno away
jealously - and now Junior’s gone … our Jack Russell
died today 9 October 2015 - may Junior’s memory live
on in our hearts…

Unending Lines [Rev]

Unconditional love I offer you - my love without restrictions
on your freedom - and without expectations of anything in
return; all through my youth this was what Grandma Alice
taught me - and exactly how she lived, serving dutifully
and doing everything perfectly;

She was a prophetess, a shaman, & a queen - Grandma
Alice knew everything - had suffered & lived through it all,
she magnificently steered our lives’ ship, unconditionally
loved - never shirked her duty; the only thing I could ever
do for her was to play Robin Hood with Tannie Yvonne’s

Help to restore her eyes; - the Queen of Hearts delayed
but it was finally done, then Tom Thumb found Grandma
Alice collapsed on the floor - a heart attack - we all visited
in hospital, Blue Beard & Malificent her son and his wife,
my Queen of Hearts mother, dad Conan, Tom Thumb

And I with a mad, joyous noise; and then Peter Pan took
Grandma Alice on holiday since he knew Cinderella had
never been to a ball - the Duchess took her sightseeing;
Grandma became tired and ill, then she fell - in hospital
I told her I loved her, that I shall see her again in heaven:

Grandma Alice unconditionally loved us in every deed,
every service, cup of tea, every bed she made, choice
meal & cake she baked, every act of her hard-working
Cinderella persona; its how I love you too - my love
shines in understanding what you’re going through &
Unending lines of LOVING words I offer you

Love And Creation

With lightning-fast mercury temperament
slow, arduous jobs researching terms is
Purgatory, texts relayed & the half-yearly
assessment self-praise: The anonymous
official received & conveyed X documents
in UK English – which is irrelevant for the
spiritual accomplishment needed to exit
the reincarnational circles, the pertinent
part is enjoying the journey achieving the
result of word count, because the final
product will be destroyed eaten by moth
& forgotten tomorrow we build & destroy

Already torn up 15 years of my own work
so how to enjoy today – how to convey to
the little alien governing my mind he’s got
to love the labour as it’s the only content
of this work that will last in the end, in the
hereinafter – nothing else will accompany
us, no wealth nor fame, only the joy in love
we created, encountered & shared; I hear
Thokozile sigh - performance assessment
woes & my little alien is hanging from the
rafters in my mind, refusing to come down
to the challenge: how to find fun in writing
routine self-congratulatory notes at work

I’m sure it can be done applying the mind,
finding thoughts that feel so delicious it will
make assessments explode with accolades
and feel-good-refreshments; as I’m a stand-
up translator with my own comedy show,
making aside remarks for my burlesque
ignored by my colleagues, discussing house
affairs and letters to the President; the little
alien left on reading of Regional Directorate
for Business, Competition, Consumer Affairs,
Labour and Employment DIRECCTE – the
acronym phenomenon is hateful, says the
little alien covering his head with a bicycle

Helmet taken from my son before sending a
headache of nihilistic depression - I take him
to my guru who promises adding passion to
thoughts will manifest in new existence: Then,
says the little Alien, I’m leaving this place to
incarnate somewhere else; Where, you cheeky
little thing? – In a special mind bent on love &
creation, not deconstruction of boring terms to
delineate persecution of their fellow men…

Louis 14th Dress [Rev]

Requiring energy but afraid of food, fatigue’s
the master of me, allergy reaction makes me
loath to sally forth, study the fridge contents;
my heart longs for chocolate, sweet cacao a-
melt on the tongue - but wishing weight loss
to wear my ‘Heritage Day’ national costume
next year, chocolate’s strictly forbidden on a
list of no-no’s & sacrificing for my Louis 14th

Dress is such a glorious ideal yet it puts a lid
on most important joys & short-term delights -
immediate gratification of my palate - & only
coffee’s left though altho’ not safe, giving up
this last sin is impossible, I can’t tear out my
heart and stamp on it, some comfort has to
be here to strengthen my purpose & make
life liveable:

Tragedy - darkness and cold emptiness - do
not lead me astray, it’s for Heritage Day; fun
to take my place amongst others with make-
up on my face and a fan in my hand, ready
to dance a Lobster Quadrille with Weeping
Mock Turtle - oops, Alice will not return to
Wonderland that day, it shall be a Courtly
Minuet with a Gryphon - what? I meant a

Waltz with Strauss - that’s not right either -
French music required for Louis 14th; without
eating I need a lot of sweet tea to keep me
from losing my mind completely…

[France's Louis XIV - the 14th - (1638-1718),
the Sun King, reigned for 72 years.]

[ORIGINAL:]

Fatigue is the master of me, energy required
but fearing food, allergy reactions, makes me
loath to sally forth to study the contents of the
fridge - my heart longs for chocolate - sweet
chocolate melting on the tongue, but wishing
for weight loss to wear my national costume
on Heritage Day next year, chocolate is on a
list of the strictly forbidden, sacrificing for my

Louis 14th dress is such a glorious ideal yet
puts a lid on most important joys - so many
short-term delights - immediate gratification
of my palate; only coffee is left though also
not safe, giving up this last sin is impossible,
I cannot tear out my heart and stamp on it,
some comfort has to be here to strengthen
my purpose& make life livable – tragedy –

Darkness and cold emptiness – do not lead
me astray, it’s for Heritage Day; fun to take
my place amongst all others with make-up
on my face and a fan in my hand, ready to
dance the Lobster Quadrille with Weeping
Mock Turtle - oops, Alice will not return to
Wonderland that day, it shall be a Courtly
Minuet with a Gryphon - what? I mean a

Waltz with Strauss - that’s not right either -
French music required for Louis 14th, without
eating I need a lot of sweet tea to keep me
from losing my mind completely…

Infinite Space -

Allergic to penicillin - the world stretches & contracts
every day - yet I’m glad to say when hallucinating it’s
your love that keeps me safe, the inner turmoil of an
inferiority complex due to an untreated allergic youth,
has been calmed by your affection - your passion for
life and love - thank you so much - your assurance

That my words touched your life, your mind and your
heart, imprints love on my soul when caught & held
aloft by you, knowing that allergy pain simply opens
space for more love - hallucinating in spiritual arms
safe from emptiness in an eternal moment sharing
one mind, one love like a mystery play, fleeting like
a breaking wave, still lasting forever in eternal light

Never extinguished even if we have other ecstatic
moments followed by another and another - as the
infinite spirals of a conscious universe let us create
more wonders and offer us a chance for more love
which fills the mind’s infinite space…

Eternal Kiss

Nutcracker - Dancing Fairies, an eternal kiss
on my lips, Lothario or Robin Hood, frozen in
front of the messed-up-font & capital letters
converted by a machine confused like me, it
would dream forever if it had been kissed also

Maybe it was, it’s even more lost than I am &
this glory of dreams and visions changes the
fabric of reality, sleeping for a 100 years now
I can’t wake up any more, at least not yet, do
I want to wake up, a moot point - it’s going to

Happen in THIS reality but in parallel eternity
a kiss will endure for centuries yet as fast as
batting an eyelid, if you don’t look you’ll miss
it; exploding vertically to create an eternal fire-
works display, if we do not join the angels we

Shall never get to see it from outside – but I’m
going to feel AND taste colour - see melodies
and experience new being because I know of
the infinite possibility to create new dimension
as we go along, finding fishes with lanterns &

Strange deep-sea creatures, the fairies under
Puck who visited, left already - to return later
if I give them enough time and space to play

Delights Inalienable [Rev.]

The change comes through sweet, heart-lifting words:
the answer is inner sanctuary - offering unconditional
love to everything - the world of physical appearances
in mineral, animal and human life - all creation is alive,
every particle has its own ego; my guru says when we
respect all others to have their wishes - we shall also
get the universe’s respect for all our personal wishes

When we EXPECT that all is well - all turns out well,
when we EXPECT drama & adventure, challenge &
excitement - the events befall us since the universe
ALWAYS brings what the subconscious really wants -
whether or not it makes us happy; I’m seeking things
to enchant me: sunlight changing the foyer into sticky
toffee, flowing poems from a beloved poet touching

My heart so I can sing for him, friends sharing feelings,
alpine-white soap bubbles while washing porcelain - a
foaming lace tablecloth, turquoise blue of the pool, the
high green leaves of trees creating me alone a forest,
driving fast in high-powered cars, swerving in traffic &
sharing laughter & smiles with hooting taxis; then my
comedian-son imitating grown-ups in modulated voice

Daughter squeezing me with love while complaining I
intrude in her room, Scorpio grocery-shopping safe from
strangers’ intrusion, icy-water sensation on sun-warmed
legs - delights inalienable, the only things between us &
them are our decisions - my work-flow’s standing still, as
painful red-hot motivation bows to passionate fire of
ice-blue inspiration, no self-defeating auditing allowed

To dampen grey today’s delighted feelings - domani -
I’ll deal with guilt tomorrow, & tomorrow never comes!

Long For Chloroform [Rev]

Life’s dualistic - feelings & emotions intertwined while
translating is the restricted rendering of another’s text
mechanically to client target language - of a need to
repeat what the original author meant, not what I think
of it - a tall order as the  passionate feelings intrude
everywhere until I soar on music to the firmament,
BUT until the flights starts & the little alien in my mind
is happily occupied, I stand bereft of freedom to feel -
which as a Government employee I promised to do

After staying home with my feelings unleashed, able
to roam, life requires I cut off my heels & toes to fit in
Cinderella’s shoes, polishing the floor, curtsying to my
esteemed colleagues, docile, sweet & without passion
for anything except a job done rationally; not bothering
them’s my purpose so I only confess my head’s mess on
the Internet, crying anonymously about life choices my
soul made before my birth - refining language skills is
great hearing words sing - yet standing here with a text

Delineating an author’s hate for everyone who doesn’t
agree with what he says - I’m thrown into twisted eddies
bubbling aimlessly, meaningless journeys meandering
endlessly & no complaint’s possible as its my thought-
created perspective & I prefer feel-good of great events,
delight in accomplishment; in my little world there’s none -
white-screen-black-Times-New-Roman-Font, I know it’s
possible to be a feather, carrying no feelings at all, being
neutral - but without feeling I’m dead & I’m either very

Glad or hopelessly sad, on autopilot; human presence
triggers a cheerful mode switch; as they recede my mind
reverts rolling down the hill, I’m trying to compose the little
alien to accept boredom as the template of life: routine &
repetition - I must shoulder my burden like the rest, stop
whining, tackle words swarming accusingly - Tchaikovsky
makes magic move in jetés and pliés until I think of music
befitting to my black mood - & where’s comedy when its
needed - pulling a Robin Williams, smiling with heart’s

Freezing, fatigue makes me Long For Chloroform - sleep
life off & be a new person afterwards…

Young Maiden [Rev]

Africa’s a feckless young maiden - foolish & illogical -
as such she’s ungovernable; benefits of science and
technology, medical progress, political philosophy &
ethics are non-existent. She’s beautiful & admired by
men but like all innocently naive women love is to her
prejudice - senseless without intelligence & wisdom.

Once men in Africa’s South had opportunity to import
Western benefits, but opportunity was lost, pillaged by
greedy wantonness seeing a lovely bounty exploited
for selfish profit, delegating Africa’s people to slavery;
today’s New Africa leaders prevent their rise again by
aping their former colonial masters - oppress their

Own people, create empty bureaucracy destroying
every hope of honest business; down-trodden for so
long, leaders seizing power desire absolute power,
new politics wear higher heels - force their people
deeper into degradation through corrupt institutions
oppressors previously made, believing they’ll be

Freed as cultural remains of former masters are
destroyed - like radiation destroying the bad with
the good yet preserving every evil practice once
turned on them: when will they grow rational, when
will this bewitchingly beautiful continent of Africa
learn what respect and wisdom is, what the terms

Ethics & accountability mean - will they discover
what truth & justice mean - when will Africa rid
herself of criminals prostituting her against her
self, killing her children, plunging her into ruin - will
it ever happen, will it happen soon - probably not
while people follow their former masters, not while

Philosophy & ethics are unknown, not while her
children are gorging themselves swallowing their
very own lives - Africa, beautiful Africa, forget the
image forced upon you and be the Young Maiden
that you are, discover your incorruptible heart is
pure, your ideals unassailable,

Stand proud in your ability to lead your children
rationally, return to the wisdom of your heart, be
honest in all you do, rid yourself of criminal admirers
trying to take your life - you’re just sleeping, wake up,
punish those trying to exploit your innocence and sit
at Wisdom’s feet to learn the truth of LOVE: love

Is only lived by the Rational - only applied by the
Wise, only succeeds through integrity & accepts
responsibility for every loving step you take; this
I dream for Africa, an innocent and naïve young
Maiden honouring herself as a rational, realistic
woman whose dreams & ideals lift her far above

Criminals & detractors to experience the joy of
a freedom-loving nation; Africa’s not free as yet,
bound by the chains of history - but she will be
free once her children study philosophy to find
out how Freedom lives, throwing off the past’s
constricting manacles, free when the evil mark

Of her history is known as temporary and she is
free to start anew, offering her children a new life,
her beauty unblemished for all to see…

Stands For Love [Rev]

All through the house I leave trails of pink wherever
I go - pink in a satin scarf in the parlour & flowers in
hand-painted basket & hydrangeas on curtains with
white transparent bows, a rosy soft blanket as sun-
screen, or even heater when I freeze, and purple-
pink scarves on chairs with mint-green cushions

In my defence I built a black table-cloth sunscreen
with velvet trimming for the sun-room, blue table-
cloth curtain in the kitchen: Scorpio never feels heat
which is worrying - while this crocodile hates being
either too warm or cold; wet the pink blanket hung
on clothes-dryer in front of glass doors letting in

The sun’s glare, masqueraded as washing; Scorpio
happily left the pink screen without suspecting foul
play in my friendly reptilian mien; today maybe the
pink-&-blue heart design blanket, hung wet in the
same place, claiming washing again; a problem’s
Linah’s black table-cloth sunscreen’s laid on the

Clothes-dryer; I keep the sun at bay like this with
infection-fighting non-swimming - thus my friend
Soleil understands why I can’t come out to play -
time to hunt sheets of white paper to cover study
walls convincing Scorpio white reflects light better
than sophisticated cognac-champagne, which at

Present is a dowdy drab-default colour swallowing
bright light required to generate rainbows shining
within transparent glass vases - me adding pink -
stands for love, I love all things & everyone, even
recalcitrant dogs; my son’s room ended up golden
as the be-lioned towel on his door proclaims

At least I added blue to a golden scene to indicate
his golden spiritual abode in the clouds, but don’t
tell him, he’s not into colour as symbols like me

Negligence [Rev]

Now I know cell phones represent cameras - so I stop
calling mine a watch because it tells time - discovered
how people take selfies - tried to turn to it around and
couldn’t see where to click - until technology revealed
itself; took pics of my infected insect bite, ointment &
plaster - and sent to the Duchess - impressed by my
prowess she replied, shocked by the evil weal with a

Red encirclement; I repent - I shouldn’t’ve sent her
shocking pictures & Queen of Hearts calls a 3-year
old Alice: All Ways Are My Ways So You Had Better
Improve Quickly she says, each word ringed in red,
starting with capital emphasis; as a scowling Alice I
hang my head, I’m not 3 any more - my dad Conan
the Barbarian swears jocularly to kill the insect then

And there - the Duchess plans boarding the bus to
come discipline me for negligently letting a wound
become badly infected; - my family’s amazing, my
son fantasises living near the Duchess to bump into
her with sing-song ‘hal-loo, hal-’ (sung high) & ‘loo’
(much lower) - she’d be surprised - then come sort
us out for negligence in not treating wounds…

Victorious [Rev]

Quietly sitting and steadily going mad in the study,
dogs incessantly barking at nothing - grabbed the
rolled-up newspaper & ran out to frog-march both
evil-doers ‘dog-whisperer style’ into a corner and
put the fear of death into them; chasing, hitting a
table, tree-stumps, grass, dogs & concrete

Not painful just a wonderful noise - they defy me,
continue barking as soon as I re-enter the house,
I corral them onto the porch and there they creep
under the table; in laughing displeasure I pull the
blanket over them - and only after quite a while -
Junior ventures out, I hit the table again & frog-

March him back to his den; as a shivering Junior
sits in front of the gate I let the barkers out - one
bark, a threatening swish with newspaper; finally
they’re scared & retrained into silence, a broad-
smiling me sits victorious at my computer again

You Are So Loved

Cherish your dreams and ideals
‘cause their fragrance keep you
sweet - while daring love smiles
lets your minds touch exploding
to the high heavens - in colours
never to be described: the love
living in thoughts in your mind

Creates worlds of connections
where you share your beautiful
self with everyone else, accept
the gift offered in return - when
you show your true self & then
as our minds touch - we shall
forever be in love, in a union

Spanning the universe, don’t
think yourself isolated again

 --------You are so Loved-------

I Love You For It

For John Allen Richter:

I love your discourse on feelings and poets,
I love that you’re honest, chivalrous & good,
my world needs heroes like you, my love for
you doesn’t require you to change anything

Your being unique, strange and wonderful
keeps you in my heart for all time – I thank
you for teaching me to be brave & explain
how feelings feel, how to describe my heart

Racing when falling in love, loving the mind
of another is a gift – and I love you for it...


[To John Allen Richter who taught me about
honesty in a world full of people hidden behind
civility, playing roles, creating superficial barriers
between ourselves and the real universe]