Keep The Dream Going

Romance the best fantasy, a promise,
an ethereal suggestion of something
that might possibly be, an insubstantial
beauty which cannot be touched as the
dream is not real, a fragrance, a melody

Romance lives in mystery, as impossible
to hold as a flame and as dangerous if not
contained, balancing on unlimited possibility
creating a myriad probabilities, focused in
dreams, based on the most marvellous

Aspects of reality, blossoms ready to bloom,
spring beautifying earth - when one of the
infinite possible romances collapses into
3-D reality, sensory perception congeals
its fluid character, dreamers sink down

From the clouds and discover where they
are, if they derived enough power from
the preceding romance, the energy can
propel them forwards, every new phase
of their love a miniature romance in itself

It takes hard work to keep the momentum
going, yet everyone is free to burn incense
at the altar of love as often as they like and
keep the dream going…

In Love Ever-Lasting

Love cannot be a profitable
concept exploited for money
while true affection can come
into being through dedication
sacrificing various things for it

If a ‘beloved’ does not require
anything from a claimant, love
is non-existent; only once we
know how much we gave for
something can we claim

True love; devotion, like trust
requires work to be immortal
spontaneous love for the sun
& people by showing conside-
ration, abounds like sand

Loyal love tested and purged
through experience is rare -
treasured by those seeking
wisdom and insight to live
in love ever-lasting

Love Is Immortal

Not being romantic I think reality is even
better than the stories and fantasies we
conjure and life teaches people should
stay the same, not change into princes
as in fairy-tales, a lovable Beast should
stay as he is, Beauty is to accept him

A frog need not change, his chosen girl
should love him croaking in slimy body
or find another with the qualities she re-
quires for happiness - Queen of Hearts
shouldn’t marry Conan the Barbarian -
she cannot accommodate him

Attempts to change him is self-delusion,
make him retreat into barbaric behaviour
to assert himself - Christine forgave the
Phantom, he realised she was too good
for him and set her free; this way one
makes an impact - not fighting back

When bitter Phantoms attack to spread
their own despair, the victim can choose
to remain the same, attackers will flee or
learn the secret of a forgiving life, we are
always in charge of our reaction to life –
though we descend into the pit

With despairing types, we can seek help
at the widespread fountains of wisdom
and get up again, love is immortal
if we choose to make it so…

Unique, Eccentric Things

Women over age forty complain they are invisible
to men, must appear young and lie about age for
attention - this problem does not exist for people
like me who never caught the male eye because
we never appealed by attending to them

It is hard work to idealise anyone and the loss of
cheap admiration seems to be an advantage as
fake charm to exploit a dame never held interest,
older women should rejoice that they are free
from false compliments to court their favour

Women who complain about this benefit must
have been used to wolf-whistles; since my pre-
occupations kept me safe from such practices
I don’t suffer losing superficial meaningless
things - I have little sympathy with

Feminine types who live for compliments, yet
can appreciate the variety they provide; never
want individual ideas to be lost; I love unique,
eccentric things for the interesting contrast
they always provide through their being

I Understand

She believed she was a gift to the world,
a gift from God, therefore others should
provide while she made the plans, dreamt
the dreams, cherished visions

She believed she was a holy person, a martyr
for God’s work, all money was hers to dispense
as she pleased, she dreamt for everyone in the
family while they had to provide for themselves

Possessions left in her care were quickly given to
the poor, munificent care for criminal welfare, taking
everything family earned to spend in lavish gestures
of charity, never telling who the donors has been

Using her mother’s pension and her husband’s income
under her own name, neither told her children who they
should thank for food on the table, nor told her daughter
her father provided the money mother gave so graciously

There are no mysteries, when I look at what is happening,
I understand…

Imaginative Additions

When feeling ‘happy’ as in
content, self-confident and
justified, we can work well

When feeling ‘unhappy’ – dis-
comfort, self-doubt, being un-
wanted - we can’t do anything

All activities which exclude
imaginative additions are
repetitive and boring

While things which give free
rein to the imagination seem
very interesting and enhance

Ability and work capacity…

Thing About Dreams

Wonderful thing about dreams
kept in the closet until it seems
the time is right to dream again
I still cannot dance, so the dream
about Death dancing a tango with
me as Renate Flitworth, is ever new

Any dream can be rekindled by the
merest nuance triggered by a soft
whisper designed to create a fairy-
tale romance – whenever my Mary
Poppins dream of being allowed to
help people in need by means of

magical, earth-shattering love, is
awakened, I am off, inflated like a
balloon, full of romance, floating on
currents of fantasy, I float on the words
of those who describe fairytale ideas –
knowing my delight will take me to

More such beautiful sounds – tonight
I shall dance again held in Death’s arms
wearing the dress he brought for me, the
diamond he stole round my neck, Death
as anthropomorphic idea is a guarantee
my fantasy is safe and I may dream

Continuously – inspired by ANYTHING
that appeals to me…

Existing As Ideals

Dreams need no corporeality:
a dream fulfilled becomes one-
dimensional reality without
power to draw desire and
passion through us

I love dreams as ideas, romance
as mirage, an image in the mind:
therein lies its power, a vision to
be filed for later use when it fails
to entice

Materialisation only shrinks the
infinite dimensions of original
enchanting vision, I cherish
dreams until threadbare,
I love

Ethereal ideals as Quixotic
schemes - fighting windmills:
IDEA reigns supreme, reality
is but weak reflection of
grand ideals

Lamenting impossibility of love
means we miss the joy of
illusion and dreams
inspirational only
if unexplained

We live life in little routines
while existing as ideals
within a holographic
universe…

Expanding Energy of Eternal Mysteries

When the rain came, I felt glad again, sitting
in the office early Monday morning suddenly
seemed a great privilege after watching sturdy
truck drivers negotiating the fairytale beauty of
slippery snow roads all over Alaska - I realize
I could never drive one of those

Watching labourers constructing buildings I know
I could never help them do so, sitting cross-legged
on the floor of the emergency room at State Hospital,
I reflected that spending my life resigned to a medical
uncertain fate in the hands of government doctors and
apathetic nurses would be total misery

It all boils down to the fact I am happy with my fate, even
ecstatic - driving a computer by means of the keyboard
through the jungles of the Internet where the unwary are
mauled by pedagogical scholars and fancy-free readers
are recompensed by the joys found in Velikovsky’s
theories while researching source text terms -

Is the right life for me, an eternally confirmed bookworm
scared of one thing only: that the world could shrink to the
confines of 5-sensory scientific research – but with esoteric
sites claiming there are infinite universes, I believe those
limiting themselves to the visible can never impose their
suffocating views on the expanding energy of

Eternal mysteries…

Masters Of Illusion

Love is a wonderful form of self-delusion, a
game anyone can play with a willing team-
mate on the basis of an illusionery ideal of
affection that can be filled to perfection by
anyone interesting, relying on chemistry
and shared interests

We are all able to become masters of illusion-
but the only authentic question is do you love
yourself, do you enjoy your own company - if
your answer is NO, you are guaranteed that
no love relations will work for you, you need
the loved one to pick you up

Keep you amused and entertained all the time,
should the beloved become too weak to take
care of your needs, your love will flee as it is
based on a loving slave combination; only
those who are happy in themselves and
can share their general well-being

With another happy person, stand a chance of
long-lasting love relationships in which partners
remain relatively independent; if anyone wants
to leave, it is never the end for the one who
stays behind – given this paradigm; it is no
wonder that there is almost no chance

That love will last, in our culture love is seen as
a selfish concern – the beautiful, adored person
must conjure happiness out of a hat, only true
magicians are acceptable as life partners –
a normal human being is never enough!

Resemble Don Quixote

Watching Taboo about freaks I realize
I am a freak too – whereas some freaks
get their adrenalin- high from compulsive
shopping, others from sky-diving and one
from eating road-kill for protein

I get my high from reading, my mind has the
shamanistic ability to give me an emotional
experience when the words touch my heart
and I am very careful who I allow to enter
my thoughts, having learnt

Through trial and error that few people care
about the effect their ideas have on others,
stating impatiently it is their right to say any-
thing they like; luckily I also learned about
the freedom to tune them out

To ignore anything that makes the world
seem bad; all spiritual masters agree we
are free to establish the world we live in
by seeking role models who changed
the world for the better - I am not

One of them, even if it is my ideal to join
their ranks - but I resemble Don Quixote
more than Charlotte Bronte or Leo
Tolstoy; world opinion changing
authors…

The Magic Recipe

I watch A Thousand Ways To Die with avid interest,
amazed that nothing worked I ever tried, walking in
the wrong lane in a one way; apparently quite a few
people got killed when they just instituted it, but not
me – I stepped in front of a taxi as the robot turned
green – everybody shaking their heads, waving me
on; walking in front of speeding cars - my guardian
angel pulled me back

Falling off the roof when I was a kid, charging in front
of a car on my bike in primary school, my twin sis got
a talk-to; running into the streets late at night, walking
at the lake-side, offering my services at clubs – they
gave me one look and then showed me the door;
yet these idiots on TV get killed all the time, what
is the magic recipe, what should I do to get free
before I grow old and ugly?

Perfect Spiritual World

If mastering boredom is a prerequisite to break
out of the circle of reincarnation I still have a long
way to go, trying my best to remain interested I
tried to correct my document for the experts who
drink, eat and breathe news and political texts

But I give up in disgust because it makes me lose
my love of life; if the Buddhists are right and we
return to this world in another life until we succeed
in being happy and quiet when sensory deprived,
never allowing boredom to invade the space

In our heads and turn our brains to mush, my dream
of moving on to another life-form in another universe
where consciousness does not need to manifest to
be and create; will be curtailed until I am happy with
breathing and repeating the same routines

Though I hope it is only a series of chemical disruptions
that will disappear once I am free from the illusions and
inter-subjective distortions created by humanity’s weird
obsession to remake an already perfect spiritual world

Pondering The Words

“Get into the Vibration of Creation for absolute absence of resistance, achieve complete alignment with all you have become and desire, bring to physical experience everything you want; the key is to be intent on appreciation of self” – Abraham

Pondering the words of my guru, appreciation of self is needed, made me come to the following conclusions: I do not belong here, if I am to appreciate myself with my lack of ability in politics and current news items, being in enemy territory simply teaches me what I really want and where I belong – in a spiritual atmosphere pondering the values of eternity

I should not be wasting the time of other people with my unsuitable presence, I cannot formulate any ideas or learn anything and I need NOT hate myself for it, only need to find a way to get out of the situation, turn my eyes to another horizon where my little gifts could be gainfully employed - I learned there are different kinds of people and I should not be allowed to attend events set by them

Why should it bother me that I am the fly in the ointment of other people’s dreams, they are welcome to show me the door and chuck me out if my limited ideas do not suit them, no need to cry unto heaven because I am a simpleton, everybody has the right to be what they are and those who have to tolerate us should receive our deepest condolences and empathy

I cannot drown myself to please them, cannot leap into the cannibals’ pot to feed them, I am sincerely sorry I am here where a better should have been but since nobody else is here, I cannot change their fate of putting up with me, though I commiserate knowing how awful it feels to spoil their broth, yet we all have to put up with terrible things

Which are mostly intolerable and we shall all survive, for better or worse…

IMMENSELY DEAR (Revised)

A personal favourite is Symbolism, I prefer
symbolic special objects to the real, love the
purity of crystals with their ethereal power;
yet to convince me thoroughly snowflakes
need only ersatz imitation crystals

Charmed by symbolism of religious books
but dry catechisms are abhorrent – love the
significance of diamonds but do not want the
real thing – only symbols to magnify light,
the diamond itself is much too cold

Preferring as a child to play with boxes
and twigs clad in tinsel representing houses
and magic wands – anything suggesting
what it might be, then becoming whatever
I dream – drawn inexorably,

I love glitter – it says sunlight is creating
pearls and crystals of delicate things like
cobwebs and streams, I love the diamonds
seen on sprigs of grass early in spring but
do not try to entice me with real pearls

Diamonds or precious crystals are real and
cannot morph into other objects, although
I love seeing them behind glass in expensive
shops; but for my satisfaction I want only
symbols of these beloved objects,

I adore small fairies made from artificial
materials, not golden statues of saints and
angels – want to imagine what a thing might
represent – such symbolism is immensely
dear to me…


[Original]

Symbolism is one of my favourite subjects,
preferring symbols of special objects to the
real thing, I love the beauty and purity of
crystals with their ethereal power

Yet only want imitation crystals to symbolise
the beauty of snowflakes - charmed by the
symbolism of religious books - but dry
catechisms are abhorrent to me

I love the significance and meaning of diamonds
but do not want the real thing, I want a symbol
to represent their ability to magnify light, the
diamond itself is much too cold

Like a child preferring to play with boxes and twigs
covered in tinsel to represent houses and magic
wands - anything which only suggests what it
might be, becoming whatever I dream

Draws me inexorably, I love glitter because it suggests
sunlight creating pearls and crystals on delicate things
like cobwebs and streams, I love the diamonds seen
on sprigs of grass early in spring

But do not try to entice me with real pearls, diamonds
and precious crystals, they are real and cannot morph
into other objects, I love looking at them behind glass
in expensive shops, but only want

symbols of these beloved objects, I adore small fairies
made from artificial materials, not golden statues of
saints and angels - want to imagine what a thing
might represent - such symbolism

Is immensely dear to me…

Passion

My magnificent obsession used to be writing, playing
with words still is my passion, yet I have landed a job
where mutilation of language and dreams is the main
thing going on; mixing rules and regulations with the
enunciations of people who cannot care less for the
beauty of sound

Who hate poetry with a vengeance, who destroy rhythm
wilfully, refusing to consider alliteration and assonance,
my heart is broken, I live my life in my mind, my citadel
keeping the magic, power, wonder and sound of sing-
song words alive - but sometimes the cold consensus
of inter-subjectivity

Penetrates the protective armour I have created and
leaves me writhing on the ground, shocked by modern
civilization’s attitude to the sacred in harmony, making
a fetish of appearance, reducing all dimensions to the
visual without reference to the divine mystery of
symbol and meaning

Swallow Her Whole

An insulting letter to the Receiver of Revenue – and I have
friends who work there, I hope they will demand even more
aching interest increases after this citizen’s self-righteous
missive composed in such a hostile and aggressive, tone

I hope this kind of nastiness is scorned in total silence –
that the toads and vipers she spat out against ordinary
officials conducting their lives turn upon her and swallow
her whole –how dare she use such cruel invective on

People who try to serve – may she and her letter just vanish
into oblivion so that nobody will be required to see the
awful red flames in her dark aura, may every revengeful
word turn away from those who did their work

May she learn to become humble and kind,
may she learn she is just as prone to make
mistakes as the rest of us!

Happy Consequence (Revised)

Forgotten the happy consequence of losing
self-confidence – while drooling, squinting,
hands shrivelling into claws, back hunching
more and more, I can reassure all concerned
their strategy is working

Spirit broken, knowing sitting uncomfortably
in the wrong position was a sure-fire way of
making me see failure, an overimaginative
translator with the misfortune of being a
disastrous poetaster and limerickster

A quick-step smiling court jester turning
somersaults in passages, grovelling before
supervisors at work, kissing floors, attending
language classes; luckily grown completely
deaf, cannot hear or understand a word

Frozen in shock at depth of inadequacy, lost
hearing and thinking capacity, pain is numbing
my brain, cannot concentrate; this is excellent, I
am as dumb as I’m told I am, and what is even
more gratifying, I feel like dying

Knowing my best isn’t good enough and never
will be, no use trying, after giving my all I am
sent away as an ugly sinner, a low-life under-
achiever expected to die of shame and guess
what – I do feel dead, so ashamed, I am sure

Death’s too good for me, hoped for crucifixion,
strangulation, execution by military fusillade, I
cannot wait to die ignominious death, cannot
contain my impatience to say my farewells to a
world in which I have failed

What release this is, a world cleansed of me, an
evil person, what rejoicing as my lack of work
ethics and moral principles are allayed – how
overjoyed they who worked hard to kill my false
self-esteem, reveal my lack of character

I am happy they’ve succeeded so all can know
how far below par my attempts at posing as a
human being have been while underneath I’m
Machiavellian, a parasite on society, not deserving
life and daylight, only worthy of early death

Oh, what joy to be released from the task of
imitating my honourable colleagues while underneath
I was nothing but a mean and weak impostor
who should have been erased on the day
of birth!

What a Privilege (Revised)

Underachiever that I am, I went into shock
realizing the depth of my manifest failings,
with my allergy always at work as an oxygen-
thief I fail to concentrate on routine things

The i’s are not always dotted and t’s crossed,
spaces and full stops not filled in correctly, my
administration a sin, migraine taking up valuable
space sitting in my Troglodyte chair

Three dislodged discs in my neck abetting my
failure to love perfect diction in rendering letters
by disgruntled members of the public in perfect
English for an obscure secretary of the President,

Not careful enough about one-eyed Cyclopian Troll
Interpol messages hunting criminals all over the
world, not word-perfect translating Arabic script into
workman English, not meeting with any requests

I see how I underachieve, how my example in
feeling ill at work and filling forms incorrectly
creates bad impressions, how lacking
accomplishment means I deserve punishment

The shock received is SO good for me, they need
ever so much better people in bureaucracy, people
who can serve with one hundred and seventies
intelligence quotient – I shall quietly assimilate

label of underachiever, my intelligence just
fell by a hundred degrees since that appellation,
being in shock means I am frozen in pain of
devastation, of guilt and sinful, awful things

Therefore I toil in misery, sweat clouding brow,
knowing now that I shall never be good enough
for our scintillating bureaucracy - but privileged
to serve in my lacklustre way!

************************************8

Isn't it wonderful how fast we become dumb
when labels are hung around our necks - losing
the little ability we had - so now we have none?
I thank everybody who took pains to make me
see the error of my ways and by labelling me
an underachiever, making sure I turn into
a gibbering idiot overnight, I can happily
assure you the therapy is working, I am
growing dumber by the moment!


[ANONYMOUS COMMENT:

We all underachieve, and we also over-achieve; the
perspective that matters however isn’t exactly ours
to chose.

In the workplace mania for ‘ranking’ as you express
it exceeds all rational derivations of utility. It
ceases to be an incentive for behaviour modification
and therefore is actually useless.

In that respect I see what your poem defines as
your own devaluation.]

Though It Hurts

I always think I am inured to nobody listening when
I speak - nobody caring what I think – until the day I
feel the need to explain my ideas – and you grin, it
does not matter, I shall pop back after all, always
did before

I try to put it in writing only to discover it cannot be
done, suddenly realize my soap bubble of friendship
- so-called – is bust; the words Walt Disney put in the
mouth of Alice – ‘I always give myself some very
good advice, but I very seldom follow it’

Appear in my mind to taunt me – I do the same,
advising myself, go there, do this, say that – do
NOT reveal the agony or its source - yet after
trying I could not do it, told you about my
sorrows – and you laughed

This is as it should be, though it hurts…