In Memory Of Margaret Alice Van Wyk, née Puth

17 April 1911 – 25 December 1996

Last week we lost our Grandmother and we shall miss
her very much. We shall always cherish a memory of
her as our second mother.

Since we can remember Grandma has been living with
us and one of our earliest childhood memories is the
savoury taste of grandma’s specially prepared tomato
and onion preserve on toast when we were living in
Mondeor, a suburb of Johannesburg, in 1963.

Grandma was in charge of the household as both our
parents worked and she did the housekeeping chores
with the energy of a hyperactive child. Grandma raised
us, the five boisterous Botha children, on homebaked
bread, homemade jam, preserved fruit, homemade
rusks and other typical South African dishes.

Grandma was an excellent pastry chef and cook and
none of us shall ever be able to enjoy traditional fruit-
cake without longing for the excellent fruitcake our
Grandma used to bake.

Grandma was synonymous with sewing and almost
everybody who met Grandma made use of her expertise
as a seamstress to make them some article of clothing
or help with altering their clothes.

Grandma’s amazing work ethic shone brightest at the
time we were living in Randburg. She earned an extra
income by driving the Kombi for the local crèche
morning and afternoon, and made school wear on
contract for a clothes shop. She added these
activities to her already full daily schedule as
housekeeper and cook.

Grandma had a passion for gardening and plants
and was always collecting seeds and exquisite
plants to add to her beloved garden. Yesterday
we admired the 1.5 metre high date tree which
grandma had grown from the pit of a date which
mother had brought back from Israel.

Grandma is one of the toughest women we have
ever known and the more chaotic life was, the
more she enjoyed it – possibly because she was
the only girl among seven brothers and must
have had a challenging childhood.

Grandma told us that she was a teenager when
they travelled by ox-wagon from Laersdrif to
Middelburg.

At one stage or another Grandma stayed with four
of her five grandchildren in order to lend a hand
with their housekeeping. One lived somewhere
in the Free State in a caravan far from the nearest
town. When grandma returned home she told us
how much she had enjoyed it.

Grandma initiated the use of technology at the AA
where she worked by buying and using her own
calculator after the management refused to purchase
a calculator for the office.

Once she had demonstrated the usefulness of the
machine, they bought it from her and purchased
many more for office use.

Five years ago (1991) when Grandma was eighty
years old we went camping in a wild reserve and
Grandma joined us on an early morning ride in an
open Landrover and enjoyed herself thoroughly.

Grandma’s health was failing at the end of her life
and she looked forward to finding peace in heaven.

We shall miss her as unique and irreplaceable, but
we shall joyously meet again in the Hereinafter.

[Written by her grandson Ian Albertus Botha, 1996]

Bluebeard In Disguise

I read Emotional Intelligence by Daniel Goleman
a million years ago, Peter Pan declared with self-
satisfied delight, boasting he was the only normal
member in a dysfunctional Conan family: From it I
gathered that to tell my idiot sis – - oh yes, it is an
emotional treat to look down on her, you see - she
was evil and I refuse to meet with her again -

Would be the perfect way to start a conversation
convincing her to take my side in a fight against
Snow-White who dared to call me Evil-Peter after
I punched her repeatedly when she behaved like
a moody child on a visit to Neverland; my idiot sis
took my side since I was right about Snow-White,
but I was not content to let is rest and continued

To point out Alice’s failings also, given that I had
read Codes Of Love by Mark Bryan & so I came
to the conclusion that to love me means putting
up with the meanest character in Neverland, I’m
Bluebeard in disguise and slay all I see; & since
my sis claimed she also knew these theories, it
would be a test to see how she applied these

Whether she intended revenge on Snow-White
like me or wanted to forgive as Snow-White’s
emotional scars led to her unique code of love
based on contempt for all Snow-White sees- –

NOW Alice is confused, how could Peter Pan
read about emotional intelligence - yet be full
of hate for family - and his Code of Love is
insistence on insulting all and being mean?

Kind words only make him worse…

Ice-Cold Neverland [Rev]

Alice tried conversing with Peter Pan in Neverland,
but her attempt was doomed & rejected out of hand;
all Alice said is tainted by the contempt with which
a peppery-tongued Duchess denigrated everything
in Wonderland: You’re just as stupid and worthless
as Tom Thumb, the youngest brother fighting wind-
mills, Peter Pan accused a hapless Alice, whereas
he indicted Tom Thumb of stupidity on the Internet;

Alice had praised a book Tom had published, and
when she admired Peter’s writing, he scorned her
words as worthless because she’d dallied with the
enemy Tom Thumb; Alice told Peter - I don’t read
night & day any more - I was seeking meaning &
now I’ve found that, so I read for pleasure: to find
encouragement - and refine views about infinity -
Peter said Alice is insipid and he doesn’t believe

A word she says - so I cannot be friends with him,
Alice confessed, he just treats me like a forlorn 5
year old without the right to usurp the love with its
nourishment that should have all been his - & my
attempt to support Tom Thumb’s windmill flights
makes me seem stupid in his contemptuous eyes;
but his cynical universe within ice-cold Neverland
is no longer mine - I now live in Wonderland with

The Lord & Master of the Crocodile Castle - and I
need no longer fight for survival against a cynical
Peter Pan whose disdain for Cinderella-Grandma-
Alice & Queen-of-Hearts & Conan the Barbarian,
enabled him to call himself a Mighty Lord so very
elevated far beyond his beginning - amongst the
most plebeian, ignoble creatures imaginable…

[Friday 19 October 2018]

Love Destructive [Revised]

There is no peace, no ‘friendship’ possible; the
opening salvo - “You are disrespectful of other
people’s feelings” showed its author’s abetted
superiority, actually describing his own attitude

Should’ve read “I’m disrespectful” - a brother’s
cold, scornful sarcasm takes me right back to a
home without respect - where I shrivel under its
destructive effect, shrinking into insignificance

To escape being an object of scorn in a house
of shame where daggers were out robbing me
of self-confidence and self-esteem long before
I knew what those concepts meant; the buried

Feeling of burning shame for being whom I am
can still be ignited by scornful rejection of every
word I say, every claim I make - robbing me of
the ability to accept the right to feel and speak

Thank God there is an ocean between me and
the speaker, thank God for my Beloved and the
Crocodile Kids following the lodestar of respect
to guide their steps; without it life is unbearable

For me love, without wisdom - without respect -
is the most destructive experience there is…

[Friday 19 October 2018]

Alice And Peter Pan

The peppery-tongued Duchess lives within an inner
consciousness of vitriolic excess clouding her view
of reality making it impossible to recognise positive
events; the Duchess’ cold contempt for Wonderland

As a bad place of iniquity wherein dwells the Lord &
Master of the Crocodile Castle as a depraved knave
presiding over bad-behaved reptilians, shows within
terrible chronicles where she calls herself the good

Snow-White Self-righteous among the Peter Pans of
the Neverlands; Alice lost her temper confronting the
Duchess, knowing she could not shame that haughty
dame into acknowledging she delighted in character-

Assassination of the Wonderland creatures: Alice
foolishly requested respect whereupon the Duchess
declared Alice an illegal alien never to be welcomed
at the Duchess’ worthy residence again: Anyone

Intent on offering a lament for the false allegations
made by the Duchess who is furious since no-one
ever treats her with the respect and deference she
feels her rightful due as benefactress of all those

Who suffer in distress; will summarily be subject to
court-martial such as that practiced by the Queen
of Hearts – off with her head, off with his head! –
to me Alice and Peter Pan are both deceased…

[Wednesday 21 October 2018]

Cursed With Such Relations [Revised]

I accept responsibility for everything my brother “Peter Pan of
Neverland” accused me of: I’m accountable for it & will plead
guilty. After that revelation, “Peter Pan” insisted I evaluate his
criticism list applicable to all our family, & that, too, was easy.

He’d especially got short-comings applying to himself right, as
well as the rest of us of course. Then I suggested that our dad,
“Conan the Barbarian” was victim of child abuse & our mother
“Queen of Hearts” suffered emotional bullying; as such we all

Inherited questionable genes. So “Peter Pan” - I say - we can’t
discriminate, blind people can’t properly lead. “The peppery-
tongued Duchess” has my love and acceptance unconditionally
as my agreement. “Attila the Hun” - our eldest brother, lives life

A sleepwalker, my sister, the “Duchess” is safe with Pete - I am
privileged with Martin, but our youngest brother -“ Tom Thumb”
suffered most & ended up with no principles or a value system
but his bitter need for revenge. Thus agreeing with “Peter Pan”,

Choosing happiness rather than right - allowed him to focus on
his problem - making peace with being a broken human being
who could never realise full potential because of genes and a
dysfunctional home. Shocked at discovering how distant he is

From reality, blaming parents & siblings for our shortcomings
and failings since they contributed to his and probably made it
worse, “Peter Pan” is working through the same process I did,
& reorganised when starting to write poetry. If Peter Pan can

See past his bitterness I might later reveal aliases I coined for
all of us: grandma Alice “Cinderella”, mom “Queen of Hearts”,
Dad “Conan the Barbarian”, eldest bro “Attila the Hun”, & 2nd
“Peter Pan from Neverland”, twin sis the “Duchess”, I’m “Alice

in Wonderland”, youngest bro “Tom Thumb” fights windmills.
Today “Peter Pan” suffers alien emotional distress weirdness
of our being, accepting his criticism helps him understand why
we are as we are, I hope he will be able to come to terms with

it and accept himself - cursed with such relations…

[Wednesday 12 September 2018]

Intolerance And Hypocricy

Just like everyone else - I’m an idiot and a bigot myself;
while hoping to escape prejudicial pettiness I’ve tried to
accept liberalism & being leftist - yet a complete lack of
respect from the sophisticated, super-rich Liberals of a
Washington-world of scintillating politics under Obama
& Hollywood’s self-righteous artists have revealed how

Absolutely intolerant and arrogant we liberals are; I was
disappointed & shocked, we’re not liberal at all - we’re
authoritarians - bent on destroying our opponents with
contempt; and, this is our ugliest trait - it’s without any
kindness or attempt to understand and commiserate
with those who suffer in poverty under our gross and

Ungracious superiority: we lack both wisdom & insight -
we’re therefore worse than our conservative colleagues,
honest people mauled by open borders & growing anti-
Semitism - the not-so-privileged have a right to being
straightforward and tactless, but when those privileged
belittle others in sophisticated ways, we are far worse -

My eyes have been opened: intolerance & hypocrisy of
Hillary and Obama & the Hollywood clique is so much
more dangerous than th' unrefined naive, open ways o’
Donald Trump; their lack of patriotism & HATRED for th’
man lets them undermine everything he gains for USA
while they destroy their own country, and credibility,

Rejecting their heritage in a single-minded focus on
destroying themselves rather than relent and be liberal
towards their fellow-Americans - therefore there is no
such thing as liberalism left…

[Marilese Koch 16 August 2018]

The Dream We Conjured [Rev]

It rained coffee tequila on the 31st of May, my
beloved’s birthday, with new amusing phrase
“performance of non-service”, plus “malicious
compliance” jest; fulfilled my legal agreement
while dreaming of Time having a son running
around without comprehending why he can’t
be all-there - it comforts me for not being all-
there myself: half of my mind’s gone, the bits

retained need be restrained from wondering
why life's supposedly fun, tho mine isn’t, or
at least not enough of the kind I desire, and
once admired; the comfort and sweetness of
symbolism is gone leaving only bright, cold
light of empty reality where no-one ever fulfils
dreams they’ve conjured; now to get used to
having used up my imagination - & so being

Left with the dross of common-sense; my Big
Bro understands and keeps the vision of what
I used to dream alive, so I thrive - without him
my mind would shrivel up and die

[Thursday 31 May 2018]

End Of A Life-Line [REV]

In the mezzanine meeting room undetected by the
powers-that-be, but, for all my colleagues to see I
was there, sitting cross-legged on the floor: trying
to understand African-accent administrative-speak
and bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo is fruitless, it will
not elevate me to acquire the ability to function in
an office environment where I feel hysterical when

Every sentence I write is changed - just for the hell
of changing it in a hadean dimension; realising that
only by joining Lobsang Rampa’s Tibetan world of
spiritual phenomena can I enjoy a life leaving no
room to breathe, no space to move, & no joie-de-
vivre; reading ferociously and ducking behind the
chairs of my staid colleagues, I survive without

Heartache as life is wasted on talking rituals filling
space with meaningless terms destroying the spirit
and soul of the desperate listener - now back in the
office still weighing every word in translating a legal
agreement, filling the stream of unhinged moments
bubbling nonsensically with humour self-referenced
in comical sentences, to keep abreast this cascade

Floundering through the space of my reality where
simple existence trumps non-being: but I can’t find
meaning as time carries me to the end of a life-line
where a different form of consciousness will receive
the baton of awareness within a framework of new
rules and regulations…

[Tuesday 29 May 2018]

The Larger Scheme

Time to make my peace with who I am, face a
reality I was unaware of & later ignored when
realisation dawned subliminally - then fought
by diving into dreams: I’m not blessed with a
talent to make friends & defining friendship
as a moral duty for eternity, is not helping

Looking at the bleak, expressionless faces of
colleagues who have no desire to speak on
this winter morn’, has me duly chastised and
chagrined by the taciturn coldness of these
dedicated minions of the translating trade
who righteously disdain my incongruent

Mind; after confessing this I move from sad
to angry for failing to belong among exalted
intellectual beings who can’t bear the idea
of a weirdo in their midst; but I’ll meditate
upon the Eastern holy men walled up for
years to reach new spiritual insights –

Proving physical appearance meaningless
in the larger scheme of things…

[Wednesday 23 May 2018]

We spent 2 - 6 May 2018 in Ballito at the Natal coast...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Regret [R]

And thus I’ve got the right to sing the blues
‘coz I’m brain-damaged & due to substance
abuse I often sleep on the cold hard tiles feet
freezing while wheezing with a blocked nose;
yet I’ve had to live with open contempt of our
local Marie Antoinette & painfully swathed in

Tight shoes slit for inflammation relief I well
know what an alligator feels like achompin’
on my legs when muscle spasms increase
as I stomp down the street - shocked people
stop & stare - they sympathise while I pass,
humming to myself, shrivelled left arm

Carrying my heavy bag day by day; yup -
singin’ the blues comes naturally to me, my
life is regret for misuse of time gone by

[Thursday 10 May 2018]

Designed To Maim

Eleven months after stopping Lyrica I still feel
haunted, persecuted, the wrong person in the
wrong place at the wrong time - no wonder the
users want to commit suicide; feeling guilty or
just being remiss, convinced of wrongdoing

Trying to accomplish a job against this over-
whelming feeling of being in the wrong, being
stupid, dumb, idiotic, redundant – this devilish
Lyrica WANTS me to die, is happy in its lyrical
killing of the physical system, it enjoys dealing

Death to the cells, the pains and aches in my
burning feet and inflamed muscles and bones,
this drug from hell wants the victim in surgery
permanently, inflamed gut to be cut out, eyes
burning, ears hurting, aneurisms, ligaments

Shrivelling, mind inflamed by the atmosphere
and force of death to all cells, enforced death
and destruction: Lyrica is the perfect weapon
to destroy life & change the victim into a self-
destructive moron, pregabalin is a poison

Designed to maim and teach human beings
they are sinners who deserve to suffer and
die painfully for justice to be fulfilled…

[Tuesday 8 May 2018]

Be And Breathe [Revised]

My mental state seems to reflect the sadness,
world-weariness and despair of the murderer
in the Agatha Christie book Nemesis, instead
of the quiet contentment & acuity in dear Miss
Marple’s thought processes – why would this
be, why this when I haven’t committed a crime,
why not content with being a non-entity when
my mother of 84 can still find interest in life &
music, singing and friends?

Maybe being a hermit’s not such a good thing,
yet changing the habits of a life-time seems
impossible: meditation and reading have to be
enough in this sedentary life and when health
returns as it always does, life plain and simple
must suffice while finding things I’d like to do -
today, alas, is grey and meaningless and thus
I long for chocolate and dream of adrenaline
which can only result from

Challenges: I wish I could change myself, be-
come a happy person simply content to be
and breathe…

[Monday 7 May 2018]

Lost The Relief

The office building’s not so bad: only two lifts
permanently out of order, one with a Chinese
soundtrack obviously unwilling to function out-
side China, also the outsourcing process run
by an ignoramus requesting IT firms to quote
for doing translations - the sun late in rising -

But being at the seaside was so much better,
reading Agatha Christie and revelling in Miss
Marple’s thought processes, she never knew
a 104-year old scientist would request death
in Switzerland - or post-Lyrica patients would
lament inability to stop more victims from

Losing quality of life while suffering brain dys-
function for non-existent pain relief – I can’t
breathe; sitting here or falling asleep I simply
can’t breathe, fighting fatigue in this never-
ending routine of dealing with life as it is; I’ve
lost the relief of being able to hope & dream

[Van Wyk Louw Building called Sechaba House,
Pretoria, Monday 7 May 2018]

Toxic Mental Space

Binge-watching episodes of House medical series
and speed-reading MedsChat letters from patients
learning Tamoxifen increases chances of deadly
endometrial cancer by 50% while it can also cause
painful, debilitating arthritis: Western medicine is a
hellish invention driven by the horrible conviction

Living is suffering to be FORCED on humanity at all
cost especially quality of life, just breathing painfully
is promoted & disfigurement and pain are toted as
gain - but I say NO THANKS: I prefer life short and
sweet, letting go as soon as my body can’t continue
on its own & knowing the best preventative against

Painful medical intervention is lack of funds - I’m
going to spend my money on adventures not con-
sulting these quacks as I wish to die in peace when
my body succumbs to the toxic mental space we
self-defeating humans constructed for our race

[Wednesday 25 April 2018]

This Bluish Morgue -Rev. & Original

This Bluish Morgue [Revised]

Keep walking - though bones clack in
my leg - while dry, legal phrases have
me hacking at tufts of my hair, - which

resembles the infamous Donald Trump
coif; and after taking ergotamine for a
migraine that kept me insomniac last

night, & risking gangrene, should vaso-
constriction in my head continue into
fingers, toes and legs; I’m flummoxed

by things like adversarial proceedings -
& declaring nothing to report in my sad
self-assessment, it makes for absence

of existential justification to anchor me
to the world while slowly drifting in a sea
of rising and ebbing depression; my only

certainty is that my hacked-off hairstyle
reminds of a convict lifestyle - as befits
a hapless civil servant like me yearning

for the ability to feel enthusiasm - and
passion for something - clinging to the
symbolism of the rising sun converting

this bluish morgue of an office block
into a golden promise -
for tomorrow…

[I like both versions, each evokes a different
feeling, thus I'll keep both versions to muse
upon...]


[ORIGINAL:]

Keep walking through bones clacking
in my leg while dry legal phrases have
me hacking at wayward tufts of my hair
which resemble the infamous Donald
Trump coif, after taking ergotamine for
the migraine that kept me insomniac last
night & risking gangrene should vaso-
constriction in my head continue unto
fingers, toes and legs; I’m flummoxed

By things like adversary proceedings;
declaring nothing to report in my sad
self-assessment makes for absence of
existential justification to anchor me to
the world while slowly drifting in a sea
of rising and ebbing depression; my only
certainty is that the hacked-off hairstyle
reminds of a convict lifestyle as befits
a hapless civil servant like me yearning

For the ability to feel enthusiasm and
passion for something - clinging to the
symbolism of the rising sun converting
this bluish morgue of an office block
into a golden promise for tomorrow…

[Wednesday 25 April 2018]

Reflection - Tuesday 24 April 2018

If I had to choose between Zuma and Trump, I would choose suicide...

The Sun Rose [R]

The sun rose in the most beautiful golden glow,
changing the office into a flaxen pond - and I’m
floating on waves of sunshine ‘midst the joy of
honeyed surfaces, where yellow light caresses
surroundings blessed with wooden bookcases

It is like an early morning’s outing in high wind -
an unceasing sound the air-con blows - like an
aeroplane taxing to take off into its stream; with
a cupboard between me & the sun, I enjoy the
golden light without getting fried: and oh, how

Perfect is this…

[Friday 16 March 2018]

A Living Hell

Compute the trade-off between taking drugs
which lowers quality of life while filling every
moment with aches and pains while relegating
sleep to a rare occurrence, to stay alive; and
taking no destructive drugs to die in peace

Prescribed drugs have more painful effects
than the original problems they’re supposed
to solve; drugs destroyed the brain cells that
produce feelings of happiness and without
the ability to feel content and hopeful and

Expectant, I have nothing of value: happiness
is more precious than wisdom because it’s the
fount of love which confers value on wisdom –
without happiness, nothing has value and I am
always looking for ways to escape desperation

But escape is fleeting; drugs rewired my brain
so I have no ability to retain pleasant ideas and
worse: I can no longer experience feelings of
optimism & joy - this is a kind of living hell …

[Wednesday 2018]

Luminous

The light is cold, a lack-lustre unleavened white
threatening death, trying to burn eyes from their
sockets, a one-dimensional glare like a morgue
in overexposure; but with large, luminous insect
eyes I float in a soft golden world created by the
light-brown lenses of cheap sunglasses to over-
come the menacing ugliness of this destructive
building aimed at killing the soul and feelings of
all who dare work here, changing us into robots

I laugh at them, lifted by the honey-coloured light
of my own devise which changes everything into
a soft sandstorm in a desert, far from the laser-
sharp shards which used to pierce my heart as
I walked down the passage to make some tea -
now I’m protected from the insidious pain of cold
ergonomic space in the most lethal emptiness
mankind can create, oblivious of the emotional
and spiritual death they inflict on the living

[Friday 9 March 2018]

NO Absolute Rules [Rev]

An office scanner which reads our palms to
open doors even reacts to electromagnetic
vibrations; when suffering a migraine or an
allergic headache it can’t read my palm, so
at times I have to leave without the scanner
succeeding & I climb through the turnstile to
get out - tho it seems I will spend the night
right here in the office building

This means freedom is woven through the
machines keeping us under surveillance; all
palm readers on 17 floors sidestepped by us
propping open doors obviating futile attempts
on repeat to get to the cloakroom & lifts; thus
how stupid to spend millions on security & an
army of guards for a low-priority building of
the Department Arts and Culture - it makes

Me proud of our finding new ways to dodge
the system, we’re treated like criminals while
real delinquents are running happy and free
in the streets: just because Government can’t
beat crime they spend their time harassing law-
abiding workers, thus justifying their useless
existence; as long as we retain our sense of
humour & remember life's a game with self-

Made rules for the single purpose of making
money without accomplishing anything; we’ll
be fine living all our reincarnations at the same
time - since we never learn anything except that
breaking rules is the only way to have freedom -
and that there are NO absolute rules…

[Van Wyk Louw Building, Thursday 8 March 2018]

A Feel-Good Thought [Rev]

Ergotamine scrunches up the ache in my head
while leaving pain intact in feet, shoulders and
neck; if negative thought is the cause, then the
ache will return, but if the cause is inflammatory
cells, the situation will get worse forcing me to
seek help from the most dangerous group of
professionals out there - with a license to kill

The medical fraternity, so well represented by
“House” as a modern Sherlock Holmes in the
TV series where patient killing’s the only way
to determine what’s wrong with him, whereas
Münchausen’s syndrome is a prime suspect -
my problem is food setting a smouldering fire
alight in my head: all illness is psychosomatic

In origin, a guru claims, smiling benevolently
at mankind; all pain stems from our thoughts
which explains why I feel better thinking that
at least I’m not in the Second World War, not
to be tortured and martyred for a good cause;
at least my thought process causing physical
pain doesn’t lead to people punishing me for

My inability to stop feeling unwell and THIS
is a feel-good thought…

[Monday 5 February 2018]

Painful Burning

Shoulders sagging - feeling guilty about having a
migraine - fearing what dire prognosis this might
lead to, what surrender t’ delinquent punishment
entailing pain may mean - relief is only to repeat
over and over that my legs or arms won’t be cut
off in retribution - I won’t be sent to prison; there
is no punishment for failing to find perfect health

There are painkillers galore and as long as I take
these to enable me to function and be at my post,
I can be conscience-free and do my best, even if
my best isn’t all that good - it’s all I have to give -
sitting at my desk is not too bad but talking to the
other folk at work is the real test, staying patient
while th’ inside of my head feels flaming red and

Burning, & my eyes are popping out of my head:
it is a real trial & true suffering; try to stay calm
while others happily ‘gibber-gabber’ about their
great lives - while mine is a shambles of painful
burning and pressure in my head...

[REVISED]

[Monday 5 February 2018]
**************************************************

[ORIGINAL - before polishing]

Shoulders sagging - feeling guilty about having
a migraine, fearing what dire prognosis this might
entail, what punishment delinquent surrender to
pain might mean - and the only relief is to repeat
over and over that my legs or arms will not be cut
off in retribution, I won’t be sent to prison; there
is no punishment for failing to find perfect health

There are painkillers galore and as long as I take
these to enable me to function and be at my post,
I can be conscience-free and do my best, even if
my best is not very good - it’s all I’ve got to give,
sitting at my desk is not too bad but talking to the
other folk at work is the real test, staying patient
while the inside of my head feels flaming red and

Burning and my eyes are popping out of my head:
this is the real trial, the real suffering, to stay calm
while others happily gibber-gabber about their
great lives – while mine is a shambles of painful
burning and pressure in my head…

[Monday 5 February 2018]

Lonely Beginning [REVISED]

I can’t prove anything to anybody - what
can I convey that will make a difference?
The rich grow richer - thus I want my kids
to grow rich; the poor grow poorer - and I
cannot condone such senseless increase
in needy people. What movie do I want to
see, when can we go down to the ocean?

And how can I explain that a pure, robot
voice sings perfectly, every note in place
but it can’t move me - yet another voice,
younger, vibrating beautifully, drives me
to tears? How to lock on to good things
when gloom envelopes my beloved who
has to retire in prime of life? I beg him

to build himself a work space - enjoy his
hobbies of woodwork & ironmongery at
home, but he waits for financial security
before moving forwards, ere committing
to anything - my heart is melting in me;
how do I keep breathing, what to do in
this misery of wasted opportunities, of

waiting for reincarnation in a dimension
completely new and unheard of to learn
what companionship, warmth and joy is
really like? My heart is cold, my mind is
empty. It is impossible to visualise Hope,
Faith and Belief because I’ve lost all of
it - & how can I infuse my existence with

positive expectation as well as relax into
peace and beauty of a life of ease? So -
please, please, rekindle the flame of life
smouldering within my heart, let me revisit
wonder of existence v nothingness - or am
I to believe that again this is the legacy of
a lonely beginning to life?

[Wednesday 24 January 2018]

Try Again [REVISED]

I eat my unsweetened yoghurt with religious
fervour then wander down convict emergency
stairs in the new office building - desperately
trying to sing “Your Love” by Morricone - but
my voice can’t achieve my aspirations to soar -
frustrated I have to concentrate on the murder
case to be translated while my desire for free-
floating song remains unfulfilled: how I long to
rise with the notes unto heaven - and to float
down the street on a song spiralling in the air,
but such is not to be; I try to sing the song under
my breath in the passages without disturbing my
colleagues; you can imagine outcomes of that -
but still the desire for freedom of sound vibrating
through me is stronger than my rational faculty
and I run to the stairs to try again…

[Original 23 January 2018
Revised 24 January 2018]

Lonely Beginning

I can’t prove anything to anybody – what
can I prove that will make a difference?
The rich grow richer, so I want my kids
to grow rich, the poor grow poorer, so I
don’t want a senseless increase of poor
people. What movie do I want to see?
And when can we go down to the sea?

And how can I explain that a pure, robot
voice sings perfectly, every note in place,
but cannot move me, but another voice,
younger, vibrating beautifully, drive me
to tears? How to lock on to good things
when gloom envelopes my beloved who
has to retire in the prime of life? I beg him

to build himself a work space to enjoy his
woodwork and ironmongery hobbies at
home, but he waits for financial security
before moving forwards, ere committing
to anything - my heart is melting in me –
how do I keep breathing, what to do in
this misery of wasted opportunities, of

waiting for reincarnation in a dimension
completely new and unheard of - to learn
what companionship, warmth and joy is
really like? My heart is cold, my mind is
empty and it is impossible to visualise
Hope and Faith and Belief – because

I’ve lost all of it – how can I infuse my
existence with positive expectation and
relax into the peace and beauty of a life
of ease? Please, please rekindle the fire
of life in my heart, let me feel the wonder
of existence versus nothingness – is this
the legacy of a lonely beginning to life?

[Tuesday 23 January 2018 Sechaba House,
Pretoria]

Behind The Light

Weak coffee to stay awake in the gloom of a
darkened office, blinds drawn against Africa’s
sun burning with incandescence destroying life,
head compressed, pressure forcing down every
thought - and a black burka skirt in the freezer

As protection against the flames burning from
the pavements and streets, a spray can and a
frozen bottle of water to wet my head when dis-
comfort becomes too much; my brain has been
destroyed to the point that I have no capacity

To retain positive feelings which sink as soon as
I tasted their joy and elation – leaving me with the
the bitter taste of hopelessness and fatigue – this
is no life, it’s merely a sad existence and only the
challenge of trying to survive the murderous march

Later in the day, gives a sense of purpose to this
quiet struggle against the overpowering blackness
which reigns on the inside behind the light…

[Monday 8 January 2018]