Remember Their Dreams [Rev]

Loving my dad; with him walking slowly, listening
to him carefully, enjoying his preferred music and
talking to him while wondering about him - loving
him with hugs and kisses, hoping he’ll smile until
he passes; he’s frail at 88 & shrinking, he’s had a
long life, much occurred, and much went wrong -
BUT so much more turned out fine

He trusted his sons would care for him, yet it’s his
daughters who do; daughters he spurned because
our names were not to his liking & without need of
higher education thinking of marrying us off early -
now that worked out differently and today we earn
enough to spoil him; all his siblings have already
passed on and he’s the last waiting to leave -

I believe his mother and grandma Alice’ll be waiting
for him as he arrives in etheric dimensions directly
after life; I want to pay tribute to my dad now while
he’s still alive, not wait till he’s dead - though in his
spirit he may attend, enjoying funeral proceedings;
I’m lucky to see my dad and mom one more time -
remember their dreams, watch them revelling in

Treats the Duchess so enjoys to organise for them..

Being One (R)

This idea appeals to me: I’ve lost my sense of
enforced individuality as electricity is a power
manifesting in infinite ways - as lightning,
unique patterns every time, within electrical
equipment, gadgets and TV sets and radios
& useful things like toasters, heaters & lights

And yet the same energy stream universally
moves throughout; now I love the intuitive idea
after death we can choose to stay separate and
physically reincarnate - or as a wave become
nonphysical and travel unfettered, MY choice
is to return to the original stream and

Join molecules flowing to the sea until my
consciousness shares all its experiences
with everything, then merge with the sea,
exist as unceasing spiritual bliss in breakers
needing to separate only momentarily
before being one with the sea again

The Lovely Trail (R)

Back in that little space inside, wrong turning and
missing the inner cathedral completely, it’s cold &
chill in the small dark space where the little alien’s
hiding from life, I hold out my arms ready to clasp
him in a calming embrace, comfort his small mind
and lead him back to life - but getting him to stay

In the light is impossible, somewhere in his little
life he erroneously concluded living’s not worth
the pain and confusion, I try to explain life here
on earth is just a phase in the non-stop cycles of
eternal consciousness and he’s just like a small
TV set with the knobs all set wrong giving the

Impression he’s headed in the wrong direction, yet
he can choose to resonate with the highest & best
vibrations, with the most beautiful tunes ever heard,
with the enchanted forest canopy in our garden at
home, he shudders: Scorpio’s planning to cut down
the trees for more space to build a workshop – and

I explain that within the eternal vibrations we can
choose to be joyful in harmony and if he chooses
something else, he will be left behind as I leave to
find the lovely trail left by all those who went before
us; he runs quickly past me and grabs the steering
wheel and declares himself ready to leave on that

Quest for beauty, eyes shining with the excitement
resonating with my friends Joy & Hope living in my
cranium too; I hope Lady Wisdom will join us one
of these days – to guide the unconditional love we
found inside and don’t know how to offer to all
those who will use it to turn back to the sun….

Sing The Wonder [Rev]

For being the creature I am I take full responsibly
unable to concentrate, unable to master dislikes,
unable to conquer translation by analysis of the
information when it was boring - all I can do’s try
to make up for deficiencies offering unconditional
love - as a worker of any kind I was useless, but
at least I tried, though I failed most spectacularly

I really tried I can honestly say, put in all the effort
though never managed to conquer the little alien in
control living in my head - maybe I’ve reached the
end of my reincarnation cycles in a magical world
where enthusiasm, dreams and ideals are enough -
I leave my legacy in writing since discussion never
worked; I confess my faults and leave it all to

Youth to reach a place where conquest’s real, one
where I’ve loved, and still love deeply, which is the
most important thing in my life - I love all, will stay
true to it for ever, for all eternity, our descendants
will make more progress, & I take ALL love I have
given & received with me, which includes loyalty
and friendship, honesty and integrity - and this is

So precious, a treasure more beautiful than any
symbol I’d like to remember it by - grander than
diamonds, gold or other jewel, more enchanting
than crystals & song  - when I turn into a melody,
I’ll sing the wonder of love, wisdom and joy
eternally…

Responsibility [Rev]

I accept the responsibility for my own little
family despising my relatives, it is my own
fault in the way I represented them, it’s my
fault that my kids do not know and respect
their grandpa - though in all fairness, let it
be said he doesn’t respect any of his own
kids - so maybe this is a blessing

I’m guilty of listening to negative comment
on my mother - accepting this as if it made
sense - though logic has scant place in the
larger scheme of things; so my kids’ll never
know their grandma - and worst is, Scorpio
will never honour the existence except by
acknowledging it in monetary terms by

Paying a small sum for their survival as far
as possible from him - it’s all my own fault,
I’m the idiot responsible for my misery - for
my parents; - it’s a major loss, though they
will not admit it - and an indictment against
me, an accusation I will carry always …

Anger Burning Within [R]

I’m not here anymore, I’m already gone
on that bus to the Cape, only my body
stays, spirit, mind & feelings already left
lonely and bored; wondering how to pack
my bag with heavy mosaic tiles for my
Duchess and my to-be-altered clothes,
2 books for mom on Israel, Velikovsky &
a few Anastasia books to fill emptiness

I’m a waif floating over nothingness in my
expectation to be on a bus to the Cape –
time is just a waste until the journey begins
the Lord & Master of the Crocodile Castle’s
enjoying bureaucratic misery, doesn’t even
sense what this crocodile thinks as he kindly
permits me to talk but baulks at my topics,
I have fun laughing with my crocodile son

Being a silent alien at work - fellow soldiers in
government trenches; the slow anger burning
within since Lord and Master of the Crocodile
Castle refused to pay his respects to my birth
family, changing the weeks ’til I leave into a
form torture; watching the clock anxiously till
I get on the bus and forget about us… 

As Best We Can

REALLY? - Tomorrow I shall clean my work station -
DO YOU PROMISE? - I shall wash my cups, surely -
OH PLEASE, WHERE HAVE I HEARD THAT BEFORE –
And print out my Performance Agreement - STOP, YOU
ARE MAKING ME NAUSEOUS, UGH, FOR THE 2nd TIME
IN THE SAME YEAR, IT'S DISGUSTING - I know

But as soon as it’s done we can relax again, just put the
old brain on cruise and coast through life: YOU CALL
THIS EMPTY EXISTENCE CRUISING? IT'S MORE
LIKE HELL THAN ANYTHING ELSE! – Now, don’t be
melodramatic, after the fact it all seems like a laugh –
YES, BUT DURING THE FACT IT'S HORRIBLE! –

What can We do, we have to muddle through, with or
without joy so let’s prepare with joy even if it’s pain-
ful in the act, let’s wait till it’s over and then rejoice
again – OH, WHY NOT, WE ONLY HAVE TO DIE
ONCE – Yes, you little pest, & the dying still has
to be done so let’s live life as best we can…

Which Side [Rev]

Time is mocking me - as it always does, smirks at the
ideals I treasure by myself, laughs at my naiveté; but
this is where I choose my kind of victory, & yes, I can
be taken for a ride, but NO, it doesn’t make me feel
bitter with spite; the joy that belief and trust afforded
me, the happiness answered prayers have brought
me, is more than the shame of being laughed at -

It’s my turn to smile indulgently at the worldly-wise
complaining that since no proof can be given of a
godly figure to trust and since their hopes had been
dashed, it means there is no magic in life - I don’t
care if others laugh at me as my dreams are fulfilled
and there’s no need for proof simply because eating
pudding needs no empty faith nor original mover -

I’m lucky reading widely had brought me to a place
where I feel ANY belief will be fulfilled, getting to the
top with an empty heart has never been my ideal
therefore I did not try to be wise in the eyes of the
world, only to be happy and the best way is blind
trust in everything positive and life-affirming - the
cynical attitude  never worked for me,

Never brought anything but pain and disgust - so
I’ll continue in my happiness without ever requiring
philosophical proof; let the cognoscenti laugh at my
childishness, I enjoy its results so make up your mind;
on which side of the argument do you wish
to spend your life?

**************************************

Joy Weighs More [Rev]

The proof lies in eating the pudding; my friend’s
complaint God doesn’t exist since it’s proven by
evolution theory arguing THIS in spite of the fact
his prayers for a lovely wife were fulfilled, he’s
in sackcloth and ashes; he said his life is hell as
he lost his faith in a possible God; but I feel the
real case is his prayers have been heard and

Weighs more than the philosophical claim that
the world needs no Godly origin since the belief
that it originated from NOTHING is so much more
fashionable in philosophical circles than the idea
of an Original Consciousness; yet why not enjoy
belief in a Power that answers prayer instead of
buying into academic fashion - just to be “right”

Why not openly declare the advantages of faith
if striving for academic acceptance leaves one
without joy?

The Scare

I gave up, sank under the waves, suffocating and unable
to communicate; the Duchess advised prayer and I did,
repeatedly and the world changed: The Lord and Master
of the Crocodile Castle helped without remonstration &
I followed orders to drink soda water and slept, woke to
a different world in which breathing was possible

Fear lifting like mist leaving a bright new world recreated
in the blink of an eye as the chains around my heart started
to slacken and my spirit returned so I could think and dream
of buying gifts for everyone, Christmas wishes returned, the
one-dimensional pantomime Bible pictures stories flashed
again, fear was still hanging on – then I got hold of my

Nail scissors and hacked off my hair, changing appearance &
discovered the colour changed from brown to black, aha! I’m
fulfilling my life’s destiny – child of Africa – child of the sun
and ready to change my attitude to being one with the most
wonderful people anyone can ever wish to have as friends,
all fear left as a cleaner gave me a hug saying sorry for the

Scare when the door handle was gone and I couldn’t get out,
HER role in my government service opera will be danced by
the prima ballerina of course!

Tired

Bravura gone, tried to be a
rain elf walking about in blue
with an otherworldly air, but it
came to naught as I suffer the
consequences of my dietary
choices; shrinking into myself,
eyes unfocused, trying to

Lose weight makes for a most
uncomfortable state & spending
time without a functioning brain
leaves me without companionship
as a mindless half-wit me can’t con-
centrate and follow a conversation,
cannot listen calmly

To voices around me, only music
soothing nerves while I’m stuck in
this dark place of alienation, trying
to smile at people and wearing my
pink fedora with blue goblin top did
NOT give me the energy I dream
off, tired of trying

To put on a brave face, I sink with-
out the desire to get up and chase
the wind in search of joie-de-vivre –
I’m hungry, tired and discouraged…

Ode To The DPSA

That magic feeling -- of existential well-being –
made us feel great!

It's a strange, strange world that we live in, DPSA
It's a very  strange world and we thank you, DPSA
You told us how to cook the books,
we wanted to give you bad looks,
but when we really started to cook,
that magic feeling --- of existential well-being –
made us feel great!

It's a strange, strange world we live in, DPSA
You taught us all we know and we’ll never
look back - You took several LIES right out of
the sky - and taught us how to use them as the
years went by - To tie up government problems
and make them look neat, then to sell them
to the public in the street

It's a strange, strange world we live in, DPSA
It's a very strange world and we thank you, DPSA

You taught us the way you'd like everything to be
And I'd like to see that the public agrees
It's all very interesting the way you disguise
Performance agreements where truth becomes lies
Now we’ll never see the world through our own eyes

It's a very strange world and we thank you, DPSA
It's a strange, strange world that we live in, DPSA
We thank you for giving us an alternative universe
with new job descriptions - chapter and verse

It’s a strange strange world that we live in
and we thank you, DPSA

It's a strange, strange world where we’re 
guided to lies by the Department of Public
Service Administration’s Private Eyes 

**************************************************
[Curtain goes up]

Stage directions: A large group of Government Officials in the
foreground are cooking the books, then climb up – elegantly –
onto their desks and start singing: “It's a strange, strange world
that we live in, DPSA”

- While a second group of government officials in the background
start singing]

“All I want is freedom, a world with no more lies…”

[Then another figure in the background chimes in– ]

“Hold my hand, I’m a stranger in Paradise…”

[Then a third person, black burka-clad, only a Gaddafi army hat
showing above the face mask, starts singing:]

 “I did it my way, regrets, I had a few, but then again, too few
to mention” –

[A fourth voice joins in while an Edith-Piaf look-alike walks
on stage:]

 “Non, rien de rien, non je ne regrette rien….”

[While the officials in the foreground are singing
“Ode to the DPSA”]

Unexpected (Rev)

The written word read in silence unleashed
the feelings - which were deadened by the
cascading rivers of words riven by reporters
stationed like lampposts everywhere on the
scenes of the attacks in Paris, talking fast
just like the Kalishnikovs firing non-stop

Their deafening noise overshadowed the
events, today reading the written reports,
words struck like a barrage of sharp stones
ripping the flesh until bleeding, leaving ever-
growing ripples on the quiet pool of my inner
world until I felt the unbearable sadness of

The cost of loss, the beloved people lost:
everywhere people get killed, farmers are
killed on a daily basis, it’s expected, that’s
the known risk of staying in certain places,
but in Paris it’s unexpected - the beautiful
people now dead, introduced to us when

It’s too late, will never leave another mark
on the world, forever known as the victims
killed by ISIS terrorists on 13 November -
fanatics fighting unarmed civilians in a safe
country’s capital; reading these accounts
brought home it all – they will never go

Home again and safety in the free world
is compromised - though people vowed
not to succumb to terrorism by stopping
their lives, both victim & suicidal attacker
are exploited by criminal masterminds
using religion to terrorise while not

Believing themselves as proved by their
complete lack of mercy and love

Drowning All (Rev)

All the adjectives have been used, all the
feelings expressed with the vocabulary we
have, and it’s all inadequate, nothing can
express how it feels, why do reporters try
to talk this event to death, how can they
continue to ask people the obvious – how
did it feel when you saw gun-fire, what
went through your mind – I can’t read it
because it sounds hollow with repetitive
terms like horror and shock seeming so
empty – it’s like asking people what the
colour of the sky is – the painful tension in
the head, the sad sinking and blackness
covering the mind until there is nothing to
say in the place of the glib talkativeness
of the reporters who seem to be on drugs
or something, super-energetic they stand
there without tears, without feeling, like
machines, what a travesty, everything
seems unreal – when he comes, when
he comes – when he comes home again,
comes home again – he will never return,
never return only sadness and longing
will stay in the mind – the noise of the
overactive, mad reporters talking until
we expect to see them foaming at  the
mouth – ice-cold and hardened to all,
interrogating juxtaposing and interpolating
and they do not convey a sense of how
people feel or the sad atmosphere, the
loud sound of their voice drowning all


Paris Friday 13 November 2015

Statuesque Peace (REV.)

I’m dreaming of doing more, doing my chores,
documents brought home, & hoping for statue-
calm to check them in front of the TV (to keep
the Little Alien occupied) while I mark suspect
terms - delighted by my aspirations, I’d expect
inspiration to overtake me - passively waiting
for the overpowering urge to get busy

Convinced it’ll arrive from outside like a missile
making me check quietly, ruler in hand, line for
line, excluding the world - which I usually invite
offering those with problems the benefit of my
advice; when will the ability to sit immobile like
the Buddha manifest to override my restless
psyche, when will the ability to concentrate

Without reading magical stories or watching
beautiful movies, bring me respite from the
impatience which makes everything seem
pointless - unless the words on the chem
in our heads bring us to a quiet, prayerful
place, we can never enjoy the statuesque
peace that we seek

Being A Statue (Rev)

My colleagues sit like statues when checking
texts while I’m a restless attention deficit dis-
order kid, replying to emails immediately & my
work station must be tidied right now & my two

Documents colour-coded, danger lurks as my
mind weave fishnet patterns and mental laser
beams focus on childhood memories -without
relevance as you might have guessed-

If only the statue-thing would overcome me, if
I could turn into a salt pillar like Lot’s dear old
wife left behind when fleeing Sodom, as it is, I
won’t be left as I eagerly seek movement in

Any direction, any place as far away as possible
from 2 paper texts pateintly waiting for my pencil
marks indicating mistakes; OH heavens, how to escape - why did my soul choose THIS life

What purpose does it serve to be a martyr to my
documents, why can’t I be resigned to my fate
and relate to being a statue with more success –
unless chewing or drinking or swaying to some

Piece of music, I can’t gather any of the threads
weaving ideas in my head, what a useless way
to fritter life away….

Cool Contentment (Rev)

Celebrate with Kaempfert and Chopin,
celebrate with working air-con, printed
text to compare target and source and
rejoice in safe passage through all the
threatening tumultuous red-hot times

Last night restoration came through
stories, Madeline saving her school
in a lovely French setting, animated
superheroes victorious over all evil
forces, symbolism of those dreams

Coming true whenever we fight back,
inspiration which gives me courage to
return to the salt mine which - as if by
magic – had secretly been changed
back to the paradise I love so much

My Internet genies guiding my eyes
to brilliant advice on loving our lives
while sweet music fills my heart with
peace & calm, such that I see palm
trees waving and waves lapping the

The beach framing the great ocean
in my inner sanctuary - knowing the
test is over and though faltering, we
have safely arrived in this beautiful
harbour of cool contentment

Dearestkin

Terry Pratchett would have loved to translate
Langenhoven’s Lullaby for Liefstetjie in his own
inimitable whimsical way, it must be sung at my
funeral one day as my mother used to sing it to
us at every night - to a small me it was the most
magical song in the world and my mother’s sun-
shine voice the most magnificent sound I had
ever heard, thus my love affair with music and
words had begun, see the Pratchettian version
of this beloved song of my heart:

PRATCHETT’s LULLABY FOR DEARESTKIN:

Tulala-rulala – hush-hush my dearestkin
Mother's heart robberken, dearest little thievikin
Hear the wind whispering within the treeletkin
Lulling the treeletkin across the streamletkin

Hush-hush, you leafletkins, sleep is a-comingken
Hush-hush, you flowerkins, night is a-comingken
Thus singeth the windkin for leaflets and flowerkins.


[ORIGINAL “AFRIKAANSE WIEGELIEDJIE”:]

LANGENHOVEN’S LULLABY FOR LIEFSTETJIE:

Lamtietie damtietie, doe-doe my liefstetjie
Moederhart-rowertjie, dierbaarste diefstetjie
Luister hoe fluister die wind deur die boompetjie
heen en weer wieg hy hom al oor die stroompetjie

Doe-doe-doe blaretjie, slapenstyd nadertjie
Doe-doe-doe blommetjie, nag is aan't kommetjie
So sing die windjie vir blaartjies en blommetjies.

Not Making It (R)

Feeling so bitter tonight – I am doing it,
but though I master aspects of it, I can’t
make myself like it – I get the job done,
but I hate it, I get some formatting right,
but I still can’t get it all perfectly right

I am surviving – but I can’t make myself
conquer it – it’s the 32 degrees Celsius
office heat and feeling inadequate with
a headache – & watching my colleagues
ride the storm; Hanlie is the star driving

Through every problem without diversions;
Hermien calmly delivering and Annette like
a soldier in the field; I’m fighting alongside
them, battling a difficult document and an
uncommon heat wave, but

I can’t make myself feel glad about being
there – tonight I cry for my failure, for not
making it, cry for suffering because I wish
to make it – and I’m not making it in
terms of liking the victory…

A Different Future [R]

One possible solution to Israel’s plight is to embrace
the present within Heideggerian Phenomenological
Zen-Buddhist optimism - leaving the past behind &
where it belongs; love the old stories, but they must
let go of old paradigms and re-craft new ones

Surely after six thousand years they can create new
books extending the Bible instead of trying to relive
every past event; by clinging to an old paradigm they
relive it transposing all detail to today’s events - but
don’t they realise there is only one kind of prophecy:

The self-fulfilling kind? So why not read how quantum
physics explains consciousness affects malleable reality
such it can be directed differently simply by changing
theory & story in our heads? Don’t they understand
that setting expectations is the way humans create –

Ergo we can create a different future by setting new
expectations and doing things in a new way? Do they
see Judah’s God, who obviously is a Foreigner to all
Gentile Christians, as existing in a time capsule where
He eschews novelty, wears ancient sacred robes and

Requires a troop of priests to blow on horns - and don
ancient symbolical clothing while humanity’s fashions
have changed - is the Godhead caught in a vacuum
where old history is repeated ad infinitum, given that
Judah can’t recognise anybody as Messiah because

Laws forbid them to see godliness in humans - thus
they couldn't recognise Jesus Christ as such, therefore
they’ll be waiting forever - right into infinity? Why
not let go of history and live in the love they give in
medical aid to all their enemies, stop hostility against

Righteous Gentiles and create a New Chapter where
everyone who lives with Integrity will be welcomed &
made safe instead of these policies against foreigners
seen as blasphemous in their attempt to adhere to any
religion, ALL weak imitations of their great creation

Through Moses’ revelation regarding the Ten
Commandments as Immutable?

Wings (Rev)

With poetical insight I looked at the life
you called Blight - & realised Pegasus
weighed you down; it was because you
carried his weight along with your own,
instead of mounting, flying free to soar
and roam in your own right

I pointed it out - showed the enormous
wingspan there was - which you didn’t
see with a physical eye; you refused to
believe, so I flew up - and when others
targeted me you were shocked, & flew
suddenly to the rescue, & then in your

Delight turned a somersault - falling off
your magical steed just to discover your
very own wings on which you now soar -
you’ve never stopped to look back - it is
because you’re sure you are free…

Fly On High (R)

Belastingconsulenten - consult & give consent to die in
peace - plain and simple - white coffin - nothing ornate,
the body laid out with hands folded on a violet top as I
must wear its spiritual violet colour to the grave; music
playing - Daughter of Zion - Whispering Hope - Bach’s
Cantata - Sounds of Silence: I’ll be listening in Spirit

Will be disappointed if there’s no music, no singing &
people milling about with sweetmeats & treats, saying
they wish I’d been less a dreamer and more of a doer;
but I plead my attempts to do good led to depression -
it was a lesson to concentrate on thought, not action,
thinking’s the only faculty for eternity

The rest’s symbolic; a body as life’s symbol does not
last - eternal life is more important than racing about
with a ball or a bat: cheering up people who enjoy the
doldrums, are happily depressed to be forced out with
violence, what’s the point? - if that’s what they want -
resonating with sadness, ensconced in darkness

And relishing the fears they create themselves, if that’s
the script of their lives how dare we force them into the
light, why release the grip of tragedy on the spirit if they
want to be a victim in some of their earthly lives - while I
need reconnect with my reptilian being and those walrus
propensities, revisit joy of being a firefly, reclaim

Translucent wings & ascend on high; why listen to Radio
Awful when Radio Delight is broadcasting music in colour
I shall fly on high and regard the world from above…

In The Wind (R)

This violet - that is me, is wilted completely - air-con
water-pump sent in for repairs - the only way to cool
down is to douse ice-water over my head destroying
my attempt at sporting my hair in frontal bouffant - it
leaves me dishevelled; have to keep cool to prevent
my brain catching fire from heat’s accompaniment in
soup and weak coffee, it does not make sense that
discomfort is unbearable - & when it’s over

We have nothing to show for it - in my case, a sadly
disfigured Adobe Acrobat Pro text’s all I have to meet
the Auditors who examine our technical jargon as we
relay Dutch written by cool, scrimping & saving Dutch
businessmen whose practices have no relevance in
the dry desert heat of Africa where rain stays away &
every line in Afrikaans Hymns repeats the request to
please send rain as we are worshipful and humble

Need to eat - the same dark characters who happily
suppressed ALL other races regardless of colour to
become top dog - with the audacity to be chagrined
that NOBODY appreciated their excellence as it had
no Wisdom and Love in its principles; today the old
structures are destroyed by African peoples bent on
doing their own thing, ignore America, put their faith
China and Russia - countries never known for their

Altruism, yet reviving Communism with a happy smile
is all the inefficient ANC leaders wish to accomplish at
the cost of destroying the country they inherited from
colonial masters governing without love; ANC heads
withhold everything from all except themselves, their
cronies & minions, content education’s non-existent &
announcing destruction of schools & universities still
functioning - goodness gracious, I’m turned political

Commentator and violets are only supposed to wave
in the wind…

This Beautiful Life (R)

Going to traverse the Meiringspoort gateway to the
Cape swaying up on top of a double-decker bus while
the mountainside towers above us, the last time I was
scared, saying prayers on the bus as dusk deepened
this time I am prepared to enjoy being scared, driving
through the night while watching all the movies being
shown to torture or delight passengers

Sitting in the window seat singing to myself, practising
to spend time with myself - it is the only thing we take
into eternity, seeking wonderful feelings to fill my inner
sanctuary, love & appreciation being the only emotions
I want to treasure in my memory & when remembering
embarrassing things I try to erase the memory, hoping
to empty consciousness to enable a spiritual lift-off

Into the self-evaluating dimension without fear since
I’m learning as much as I can about spiritual life in an
endless non-physical sphere - wishing to leave the
process of reincarnation to become a melody living in
repeating rhythms that turn me into - a flower, a fairy,
an elf - symbolising the tune; I cast prayers into the
future for family, friends & all fellow travellers in

This Pilgrim’s Progress, life hereafter will be fun and
I’m looking forward to meeting everyone I never met
during this wonderful life on our beautiful earth…

Zest For Life (R)

Mom

 

Dad

I was unwilling to be working with the broken air-con;
started humming snatches of old songs: Blue Spanish
Eyes & old Dutch hymns - prayerfully I started floating
as peace filled my heart, followed the rhythm going to
Human Resources - a den of iniquity originating new,
idiotic decrees - danced my way there hands aloft and
felt so good, came back - filled in the leave form

 

Ready for my Cape trip to face my angry Duchess who
says dieting fouls her temper, so beware, & keep quiet
as Scorpio taught me - then it’ll be fine; she argues with
Mom & gallant Pete - must prepare for retorts that may
electrocute my mind, delete years ’til I’m just five years
old - better take books & my laptop, sit quietly until she
feels better - prepared for a broken-spring bed which

 

Endangered my last visit’s sleep; watch dad’s twinkling
eyes enjoying his favourite music, Oom Chris Blignaut
& Silver de Lange playing concertina, delighting in his
joie-de-vivre taking tea with his 90-year old best friend,
a supposed Sir who tills the garden - we think but can’t
be sure, listen as mom syncopates Schubert % Chopin -
but plays Debussy with feeling; wish I could embroider

 

Or crochet to fit into the scene - knitting with the pink
fluffiness of a Miss Marple while my parents run about
with zest for life that few young people can emulate…

 

My Duchess

And me...

Add To Her Woes (Rev)

I’ll be going alone as it should be; it’s my family and
my fault - for vacillating this is the price I pay, failing
to insist Scorpio build bridges between them & my
kids; my dad is weak - I can fly there or take a bus -
I will only stay a week; today Nici announced it’s a
heavy duty, she feels most unwilling - I’m relieved -

Now I won’t be selling out the Duchess to my kids’
critical scrutiny, nor exposing her to Nici’s game of
belittling me - in what fool’s paradise have I been to
think my kids would LIKE going with me, yet it feels
right that I go on my own, do my own thing, not make
excuses for anybody - my kids being cold and aloof

My sister the Duchess fighting for survival against
a tide of problems, I want to support her, not add
to her woes…

Field of Home Calm (Rev)

Certain people - and certain mountains - were never
supposed to meet, this crocodile and Adobe Acrobat
Pro never meant to be - nor Climb Every Mountain to
be sung for my Internet experiences - it was a grave
mountaineering mistake, causing me great suffering,
first losing the highlight function - and also losing

‘Circled numbers’ which could not be retrieved though
I traversed the Internet, losing consciousness staring
fascinated at sing-song terms ‘dingbat’ fonts & kinds of
‘wingdings’ and an ‘arbitrary mask’ which specifies the
character types for a user - all sounding like whimsical
psychology where the function of the ego as

One of many possible characters is described, but when
I enjoyed myself with idle speculation, along came this: a
mask setting of  AAA-p#999  accepts input  BOE-p#767
my brain exploded, shooting the little alien right out of his
abode in my head into cuckoo-land & ‘validation’ means
to restrict entries to specified ranges ensuring users

Enter appropriate data for a specified form field; sounds
like a description of me learning what is appropriate to tell
Scorpio to keep the specified field of home calm intact; &
thus restricting this user crocodile to specific terms which
pleaseth the Lord and Master of the Crocodile Castle

Ready To Go (Rev)

Okay, so now what; the connection between computer
& printer’s gone - and with my mind heavier than lead
its about time to stop bread-stealing - or clandestinely
enjoying hot chocolate at work

I’m imploding with ears ringing & eyes growing weak -
time to stop overeating, to begin tackling my problems
head-on: but how to convince Scorpio that the four of
us can drive safely down to Cape Town

Through Meiringspoort on to Oudshoorn and De Rust
nestling against the picturesque mountain, inviting tired
travellers to enjoy beauty of the fairest Cape; - should
Scorpio be sad to stay home alone, he can come

Along, stay in a guesthouse, if being an extra guest is
too much for him; as long as I see mom and dad & the
kids get to know their grandparents before they pass
on due to old age - I can’t wait to pass this menacing

Milestone: convincing Scorpio we’re ready to go; - by
car, bus or aeroplane

A Dreaming Crocodile (Rev)

My chocolatey desiring led to my obtaining
chocolate deluxe - a powdered delight that
I can’t stop eating - adding to my confusion;
last night I danced about in a damp sheet
covering me from top to toe to keep cool
in the heat, couldn’t sleep, but slumbered

finally; lurched into the open-plan office
this morning quite bewildered, studying
my legal stats text without comprehension,
received a call from my Duchess imperiously
commanding me muster my troops - and
send her details of our tickets and arrival

Little does she know of the battle with Scorpio
which this visit necessitates; then dentist calling,
pre-approval for extracting wisdom teeth, my kids
to be relieved of theirs - there’s no fun in it; why
was this a heavenly weekend - feeling content
soaking in the pool and lying in the sun, contact

With the four forces of elemental nature - earth,
water, wind (air) and sun, exquisite sensation of
sun and wind on my skin, diving into pool-cool
water like velvet and satin - and today naturally
gluten-free chocolate deluxe takes me in - so
I dream of vats of melted chocolate with

Brandy centres; goodness, the stuff is addictive
and with my heroine Dianthus attending a ball,
regarding all through her wise grandfather’s
eyes & thus not open to vain flattery & empty
compliments, following the dialogue between
my protagonist and the other characters who

Are rejected on sight if she doesn’t like them;
I find it very difficult to remain tethered to the
earth, Mme La Pompadour seems to have the
same problem - and she simply stayed home,
the best place for a dreaming crocodile like me…

Somewhere Else (Rev)

Awakening to Love as irresistible & irrepressible,
without fear, be loving only to changing the self
and achieving miracles: love’s power is infinite -
tho’ freewill may deny it, man chooses Love in
this age freed from doubts & fears as we leave
the illusion of loveless existence

Love resonates at a frequency we’ll embrace as
divine energy which everything exists within for
eternity; separation is illusory living without the
grace of godliness: Wake up, leave its suffering
because we are Love inextricably connected
to everything, to feel & see love - turn life into

Joy where pain’s illusory and sadness dissolves
leaving peace and contentment within the circle
of our loved ones, rejoicing unlimited existence,
beyond pleasure passing, leaving us empty and
yearning – when suffering is intense, it appears
endless in unsatisfactory and inadequate life -

When living in love consciously we don’t regret
lack of satisfaction in what we achieve because
we only need godliness; deep within we seek
the golden fleece which only an unbreakable
connection to eternity bequeaths; enchantment
of sensory illusion, power, money & accolades

Are vain; turning within the reality of our Love
unconditionally changes the world to happiness,
love without requiring reciprocal proof; when the
beating heart is enough as we regard the wonder
of existence Vs nothingness, knowing we’re more
than the spidery web of consciousness we weave
as we live, unaware that our real Mind is living

Somewhere else….