My Oversoul-Self

Finally it struck me that there’s no such thing as “non-
being” & this is the key to understanding everything, I
thought existing was a victory over the defeat of being
dead forever; but it’s wrong since the physical world is
an illusion in which all particles only play a certain role

But when the show is over, the particles accept a new
role: consciousness is eternal within the vibrations we
interpret as the 3-dimensional hologram through these
laser-like lights produced by the brain cells - whatever
happens - non-existence is impossible, every thought,

Every theory, assumption and supposition we have ever
had is realised somewhere in the fractal multitude of our
realities; every dream, hallucination or virtual scene has
a place in some alternate universe where a suppressed
part of our consciousness fulfills all the dreams we tried

To hide from ourselves and the most wonderful thing is -
nothing we ever thought remains unspoken or unfulfilled
because every thought has a life of its own: the variable
in every choice finds its home someplace and we meet
up with the preferred outcome in a new version of the

Inter-subjective parts of reality we share - so let me not
lament the circumstances of my life as there is another
version of my reality where every rejected thought has
been carried out & so my choice of reality is based on
a myriad of possibilities that were analysed, weighed

And rejected by my Oversoul-Self…

All My Years [Rev]

A slow tortoise I divide each legal sentence into
small bits, check terms against each alternative
and paste the whole together again, knowing it
must be checked also after phrases have been
joined in the new synergy of another language

Without previous experience it’s hit-and-miss as
I choose what seems right to my inexperienced
eye, when it becomes just too much I read some
paragraphs in Pratchett’s Last Continent & enjoy
a Housekeeper’s victory over learned Wizards

Who are embarrassed when she teaches the god
of evolution about natural procreation so replacing
the slow process when assembling unique beings
piece by piece, many layers of meaning fascinate
with Evolution & Creationism theories juxtaposed

As gloriously unsubstantiated assumptions given
empirical positivism versus consciousness as the
driving principle of every precise detail - amazing
humanity in lying beyond a blind chaos of simple,
repetitive million-to-one-odds creative processes

Time slows down and I’m forever stuck in my now,
maybe it’s the portal spirituals always define as the
only reality - an eternal moment in which my spirit
will be stuck on one wavelength until a miraculous
subconscious movement to another wavelength –

To do this I listen to the most beautiful voice I can
find to silence my thoughts & touch my heart, with
this beautiful sound in my ears, I can live through
all my years spent in this infinity….

Follow The Light [Rev]

A sad solo floats on by as the lonely soloist, haughtily
disdained by a strong Valkyrian mezzo-soprano who
just deals with slain heroes to be shuttled to the Feast
in the Sky with Ho-to-yo; sings: ‘Think of me - think of
me fondly when we’ve said goodbye’ – a soft echo in
the empty stairwell where she’s stumbling, distraught

Scorned as ingénue by the noble sisters of a cloister
where words are slaughtered in a menacing silence,
never a song is heard, she flees to hide from the con-
demning Abbess‘ eyes and from Sister Self-Justified
ignoring Christine into non-existence; their disregard
destroy faith and trust so she has to leave this place

Finding refuge in her Favourite Things, images from
Nanny McPhee & Tinker Bell Fairy Dell supply proof
that Good exists, although the arrows of disdain find
their mark, life is sad as spinning straw the only way
she can CANNOT endear her to the Holy See & she
leaves in a dream sheltering in her inner cathedral

Where cloister-ideas are just a virtual reality without
Valkyries, where Indra’s pearls as mystical symbols
glimmer and glow, uniting light & sound in a joyous
new perspective within the understanding that dark-
ness is required as background to enable mankind
to find and follow the Light

Telling My Story [Rev]

The benevolent atmosphere, industrious dedication
of my colleagues and the kindness of our Boss who
lives in his own man-cave which I glimpse from time
to time; he asks what gives meaning to life, & I reply
the mere fact of existence, the triumph of being over
destruction and nothingness, the victory of our being

Free to choose where we go and what we do, playing
and challenges provide fun & our seeking adventure;
watching how people fall about on skate-boards and
jump from roof-tops and drive bicycles over the abyss
and somersault with speedboats and snow-mobiles -
life is more vibrant than ever and internationally the

Gloves are off, people don’t hide behind respectable
masks but present as blunt as Trump - the amazing
energy which infuses every day with new intrigues -
life’s purpose is JOY, growth happens automatically,
just to BE is our victory - even when we lament the
choices we have made everything can be changed

Every painting can be redone, every concert is the
stepping stone for a new twist in every tale weaving
new perspectives into the myths we still adore, and
though feelings come and go, by meditating on this
I floated downstream feeling the glory of telling my
story as a new discovery of the imagination people

Offer us - and refuge in which to recharge our life…

Crown of Thorns

I thought my brain was frozen like my
heart – but now I find my brain is made
of stone useless for analytic computer,
my brain fails - anxiety the bane of my
life - completely defenseless against
arrogance, open threat & aggression

Coming from a perfect saint teaching
creed to the Pharisees of Jerusalem
as she has never made a mistake in
her life – as she believes - and has a
mission to burn me at the stake since
I’m a heathen Pratchett acolyte who

Claims we made up the gods & that
includes her god also - thus Sisters
Self-Righteous and Apartheid-Jane
find it offensive that I use their divine
godliness in prayer and obtain results
YET I refuse to bow to church creed

I’m a bent reed Christ refused to break
BUT now they’ll show Him how they’ll
crucify the sinner they identified & I’m
as mute before my divine persecutors
as Christ was – though anxiety makes
my muscles twitch – and wonder now

Did Christ with his Crown of Thorns –
feel the same?

Line Of Notes (c)

Cast as Jane Eyre’s friend Helen Burns
persecuted by Miss Scatcherd - I listen to
the Nutcracker Suite over my earphones
and read advice not to observe life as it is,
but imagine it as I want it to be - I escape
into a parallel reality, another dimension

Where an orchestra plays the prelude to
La Traviata and Marie Plessis explains to
Victor Hugo’s son she can’t live in a rural
town, she needs to be in the lively hub of
Parisian life even if it kills her through her
serious illness, but Jane Eyre returns and

Reveals her sister Maria died within the
death of Helen Burns – I had better try it
again and take a different tack to follow
a new dream - sing Les Oiseaux dans la
Charmille in Hoffman’s Magical Tales, the
Doll Song - so I become an automaton

Who translates strange documents which
change in front of my hallucinating eyes in-
to droll incantations harnessing the power
in sound to redo reality until my spirit sings
a jubilant line of notes in a bittersweet song…

Nothing More

This day has splintered into a thousand pieces,
I constructed another bubble to hide my mind
from the fall-out and continue working, but then
the bubble was burst for me and I’m constrained
to construct yet another one, even more fragile
than anything that came before, to enable me to
stay upright and continue until it’s time to go home

Constructing bubbles is the only way I know that
makes it possible to continue when my world
keeps breaking like the most delicate porcelain
and I wonder if plastic would be a better option,
precious materials like glass and porcelain break
into shards and my heart is pierced every time it
happens, please stop trying to improve me –

I’ve had a lifetime of trying to improve myself & the
result is totally disheartening, there is only one way
correction can come, that is death and starting over
with a new mind and a new brain mechanism, a new
reptilian core unmarked by these failures that have
continued to plague me from earliest youth, please
just accept that I am trying my best - though

The result is never good enough, it’s all I have to
give - there is nothing more in my arsenal…

Near Nirvana [Rev]

Its soft as prime, glossy silk and rounded like the
finest wine or the taste of real maple syrup - now
the at least three weeks adrenaline storm which
ransomed me, is over, peace returns and I hope
to reach my inner cathedral from which a cocktail
mix banned me with overpowering feelings - tight
screws about my head loosen: Nici’s back, finally

My heart’s emotions release their suffocating hold,
I’m sitting here in her chaotic room breathing again,
viewing her photographs - she and brother playing
a card game; all’s well, the world’s uprighted itself,
my hideous headache’s gone, she’s safe, the tight
muscles relax and I can now eat and breathe in an
unalloyed joy of having my daughter home

Soft rain falling outside accentuates the wonder of
the time; she hasn’t changed, still the same bright
little one-person explosive ball of energy, suddenly
food and drink taste good again and I feel freedom
of being - all because she has returned with all her
bravado & cheek, smiling then laughing at us, my
darling child; now adrenaline overflow subsides

Velvet peace replacing effervescent sparkles that
smashed me in waves of anxiety now takes me as
near Nirvana as I’ll ever be…

Fantasies In The Air [Rev]

A puppet show theatre where my Jane Austin
& Charlotte Brontë symbolic dolls amuse the
mind - thus lunch hour turns into play-time as
I drape pink fabric for curtains, adding a silver
carnival mask as a theatrical prop

The dolls are waving to me, I try to ascend my
chair with a long jump because it tips forward
& I fall off as if Pegasus refuses to stand still
for the rider to mount & fly off into the sunset,
my chair runs on wheels, one misstep means

Falling on the floor, then I see a broken lilac fan
& hang it on top to replace the pink curtains; add
my smiling wooden dolls to the cast in my small
theatre, now with my mind refreshed and teasing
dreams hovering on the threshold of my thoughts

I turn away from my play to confront the pages I
must relay into a different tongue - but as a last
touch - drape a pink cloth over my mobile air-con,
my blue fairy as snow queen amid white roses &
yellow highlighter as a sunbeam bringing hope

To my little make-believe world - held within these
pastel colours I bravely wrestle with my text while
Saint-Saëns twinkle fairy notes on a piano & Bach
provide languid harpsichord lines in my ears - both
weaving fantasies in the air…

The Way Back [Rev]

The world I know is finally changing, Barbarians
are rising against the current order - we’ll return
to primitive forms of society soon - where peace
& calm exist, and beauty will be chased without
disciplinary restraints & impediments; in the USA
an overgrown orange barbarian already aspires
for Presidency - in Southern Africa the barbarians
are currently ruling, while happy idiots called

Students are gregariously burning down all the
institutions of learning to ensure Africa will stay
undeveloped, and that the Northern Hemisphere
keeps its advantage; how lucky that the languid
boredom of law and order is replaced by exciting
chaos - which is joyous news - otherwise history
would stop & what a boring world that would be,
let Presidents’ return us to primitive forms of

Living since technology is destroying the world,
let’s enjoy the Banana Republic as the only way
to free Africa of the shackles of technology and
return a pristine Africa to its original inhabitants
who see Mugabe’s Zimbabwe as the way back
to an unspoiled past; how happy this makes me,
life is getting better as students destroy every-
thing to prove their freedom & free we shall be

The New Burkini [Rev]

Our Managing Director calls to everyone: Look
at her strange attire – I am battling the freezing
office conditions until the sun rises - wearing a
black burka blouse and scarf, sleeveless black
lace jacket & black school jersey - also

The large, green fleecy jacket of an Irish goblin
and a magnificent magenta blanket over my so
amazing ensemble, all laughing and remarking
on my bare feet – I stand all day so shoes are
uncomfortable and I forgot to bring socks -

Peace restored, drinking hot chocolate brings
heat and I ditch the paraphernalia till only the
black burka top and magenta blanket are left -
I dream of bathing in the sea, clad in the new
Burkini* covering me from top to toe, though

My Afrikaans brethren might succumb to severe
shock on seeing this Dutch-decendant looking
just like a radical Muslim suicide bomber rolling
in the waves, the Burkini protecting me against
the ravages suffered in traditional swimsuits

Sighing I stop day-dreaming & return to the
very exciting and inspiring “Legal aspects
of human settlements” text...


[*Burkini – a burka-bikini covers all except the face;
the Mayor of Paris immediately forbade it as it is
dangerous to swim in street clothes]

A Reverse Racist

I’m so thankful to have a good mate who takes
pains to kindly inform me that everything I say
is wrong, every feeling I cherish is beside the
point and I have no right to criticize anyone as
my faults are bigger than theirs, that I’m being
self-righteous every time I complain about the

Self-righteous like he himself, since he is the
kindest, most honest, righteous person around
I must keep my evil thoughts to myself: yes dear,
I’m just working with racists but what the heck,
whatever faults I think I see mean I have these
faults myself, strange that I always prefer other

Culture groups to the one I was born into – I’m
probably a reverse racist, only targeting my own
idiotic culture, not able to appreciate those who
want to gun all others down…

Celestial Heights [Rev]

I press the earphones into my ears as deep as
they’ll go, swaying to the music; standing in the
office new life is pulsating through me and the
light is brighter - music more exciting

My work station’s now much more beautiful with
the silver-glitter lilac fairy wings & pink rose set
against dark blue cloth, changing all into a Saint-
Saëns wonder-world of undersea coral

Represented by bunches of flowers; bright energy
awash within me, I want to sing The Hills are Alive
at the top of my voice - I sing going downstairs in
the echoing stairwell, feeling jubilant, animated

My mind reels, all more ethereal than before; my
daughter rises like Persephone, returning from a
Hades’ underworld & I’m Demeter - overjoyed at
seeing her again, every dance - even a Mandela

Shuffle - who is still laughing at me benevolently
from his 2D-picture - lifts me higher - I look down
on earth from the celestial heights reserved for
the gods…

Their Worthiness [Rev]

Only the pompous and pedantic self-righteous go
straight to heaven, that is self-evident - a few are
already living heaven on earth given their belief in
their own rights & goodness, and let’s be honest -
their saintliness - given how they stride with great
self-esteem forwards - and

They’re probably right - they only have one failing:
their holiness causes OTHERS to fall into sin, the
self-righteous are sand under our teeth, their total
disregard for others who only exist to admire them
as we’re ill-disciplined and stripped of any claim to
a place under the sun

The righteousness of the self-righteous mows all of
us unholy heathens down - out of their blessed way,
we traverse the Via Dolorosa as these Mighty Self-
Righteous march forward with determination, scales
of Justice tied to their belts ready for use to measure
the lack of worth of the sinners around, with an etheric

Smile I stop singing - the Self-Righteous can continue
their righteous discourse in peace in their self-created
world free from any kind of sin, other people are selfish
hypocrites the Self-Righteous say and then cough with
the dignity of their worthiness – what an enviable group:
why can’t I admire them enough to rise on their morally,

Ethically righteous escalator straight to heaven; Oh yes,
it’s because I like being me with all my shortcomings &
weird ideas and since self-righteousness gives me the
creeps after living within the circle of their divine self-
appointed & self-toting goodness…

Bureaucraticalysm

 

There’s no intricacies hidden in it - we can see through 

to the other side easily; no misnomers where those old 

adages are casually stretched over faux nomenclature, 

and aptly taped in places where bullshit baffles brains 

Who’d’ve thought it was worth trying to get away with - 

making them seem the most appropriate words paints 

warnings: harken here, this’s another in-situ attempt t’ 

radically crucify anything rated as just common-sense 

So where d’ these codswallop doyens of bureaucratic 

redundancy draw the line on flapdoodle and malarky; 

th’ argument of being pragmatically businesslike isn’t 

a thesaurus of felicity and appurtenance in any way 

And judging from what we’ve read here today, it won’t 

ever be listed among the top auspicious phrases we’d 

like to see snaffled in tomato sauce, & plagiarised with 

grated cheese before posting on the bulletin boards 

© 4 October 2016, I. D. Carswell 

Light And Incense [Rev]

Singing opera, dancing and twirling, carolling and
marching to my tongue’s clicking; this October my
daughter is coming home from Fort Lauderdale -
it’s a long flight, an age to wait, I want to look deep
into her sparkling brown eyes & hear her acerbic
observations on her mom - of my strange hairstyle

Revel in her voice filling the house, be about when
she gets up with tousled hair, grumpily requests to
be left alone to do her own thing in her room - her
refuge from all of us, feel her next to me as we’re
watching TV, sensing a presence growing, an aura
bathing the house with light and incense, hear her

Berating the dogs all while cuddling her ancient cat;
it’s wonderful to dream of having my darling home
where she belongs as much as the flowers & stars
& the sun - where she is a queen and the beloved
of her mom all rolled into one; she’s a puckish wee
person infusing my life with energy & meaning; her

Make-believe cheek as we enjoy mock arguments -
winking & asking whether I don’t think we play out a
witty American sitcom perfectly - and she’s perfect
to me…

Slowly Freeze [Rev]

I feel a magnificent emptiness within, a rational calm
resigned to a lack of passion & perfectly bureaucrat
in terms of objective realisation results of my activity
mean nothing and it doesn’t matter what’s going on
in my head - the only thing is to remain

Calm and focused on finding parallels between two
texts, soft as snow against my skin, no challenges -
nothing texts offer merits emotional investment, it’s
a quiet way of life holding no surprises or delights,
and thus no deceptions or disappointments - & as

Long as I live blandly as a vegetable & my emotions
report all’s quiet in generous meaningless, snow will
keep falling, freeze me slowly into sleep without pain