It’s A Virtue

Talking to Scorpio is like talking to a wall – except
a wall is kinder and does not tell one to shut up –
listens quietly and does not tell one to stop, in many
ways sticks and stones breaking bones is nicer than
this refusal to enter into conversation, it’s easier to
talk to the TV than to Mr Superb, ah well, respect is

Due to him as he works to take care of everything
and why should I want discourse when the whole
world is waiting outside, imaginary friends on the
Internet, my older Brother with his poetic intent, Mr
Dreamside using weed to get to “the other side”, the
Spiritualist movement in England with illustrious name

Like Arthur Conan Doyle on board – and seeking Bible
Codes with Newton in its ranks – why then trouble about
Scorpio, let him live his absolutely unique, simplistic life
that has no room for anybody else, his austere Spartan
style shall be honoured and his total lack of hedonistic
tendencies approved, no wonder he’s such a good

Provider, always on his course, looking neither left nor
right; Those with whom correspondence is possible –
are unknown, so let me curtsy in obeisance to the one
person I really know - who has neither fault nor short-
comings, except never to enter into conversation with
this crocodile – and it’s not a fault, it’s a virtue –

I realise, I think you understand…

The Discord [R]

Alone at night with all the day’s words said - I’m ready
for bed but memories arise & impatient to be rehashed:
mom asking what was accomplished; mom complaining
about the Duchess doing her own work, scrubbing and
cleaning, mom saying she should have used her time so
much better - what a WASTE!

This is some strange mothering - and it’s into my mind
- what have I accomplished that will last since routine
jobs don’t count? What books have I read, what new
skills are mastered? And my reply comes ashamed -
nothing; cleaned - watched TV and wondered about
dreams, beating myself up, then I remember Seth’s

Words: the best New Year’s resolution should be to
approve of myself, my likes and dislikes, abilities &
disabilities, failures & accomplishments - because
they have been created for a reason: and I sigh,
approving myself after a day like this is difficult -
but if it has to be done, let me hasten to add -

I approve of me with my ability to go overboard
and send my family running from the discord…

Consult Scorpio [Rev]

Lord and Master of the Crocodile Castle is so clever
only he knows about the weather; it isn’t hot, he, the
Phoenix who bursts into flames and rises anew from
the ashes daily declares; - it’s just the same as any
other day - he opens the blinds and takes down all

The covers against the heat to allow the sun stream
in, and I agree - of course he knows more than any-
body else, and as I’m just a cold-blooded crocodile
who thinks it’s hot when it isn’t, I accept his dictates
and open everything

Isn’t it wonderful that he as a double sign, Scorpio-
the-Grand and Phoenix-the-Phantasmagorical & is
so much more in charge of his world than anyone
else; the nuclear furnace in the backyard doesn’t
trouble him at all - because, when it rains, he says

As it will real soon, the yard will cool down and it’s
not even warm today; the ignoramus who said it’d
be 42 degrees Celsius today should be stoned -
people are so dense, they should rather consult
with Scorpio to check everything they say…

Song For Tara [Rev]

I heard a voice so sweet & clear - it seemed
the music of a flute or bird; astonished to find
this voice belonged to Tara dear as she sang
her life for all to hear in rhythmic story notes

I climbed on a Merry-Go-Round of her mystery
song and found so much - a poet who majored
in philosophy is quite unique and the magic of
her carousel revealed her a lively, energetic

Acrobat who dances all night to words, who
takes on the world and sets aspiring poets to
flight - I’m so fond of her voice as water clear
and crystal consciousness - she became my

Cherished friend & through her life’s trials I’ve
kept reminding her of her music & song - she
promises she will sing again and dance to the
rhythm of stars that only she can hear, & as

Only she can recreate in her own words…

Loquacious Tiered-Hat [Rev]

Brilliant psychological insight - we hide behind glasses;
more-so behind sunglasses, & we have a hat for every
role we play - indicated by changing them for different
occasions; but I don’t conform to the norm when I wear
all my hats at once symbolising that all the personages
playing roles are present at the same time, listening in

To all conversations. First worn my second-hand army
hat, my in-pool crocodile-self hiding from a blazing sun,
then grey sunhat, wider brim for more shade with shiny
silver thread, a taste for shining things - & see-through
so I cover it with a gold straw hat, reminding of Ridcully,
ArchChancellor of Unseen University, wearing his army-

Knife-gadget-ensemble hat for a magic which changes
the world into a wonderful place; thus when this crocodile
runs out of the house to traverse the backyard’s nuclear
waste to the cool pool, I wear all 3 hats and sunglasses,
the hats symbolise ALL my roles are contained to keep
my family and friends entertained by imitating fake

Russian accents & authentic Cockney speech; ah ha, no
wonder they run away; I’ll talk to waiter & shop assistant,
they have to listen politely to all those loquacious three-
tiered-hat bores like me….
 

Safe From Infection [R]

I can’t believe the idiots on the Dream Wedding Dress
programme; the presenter dressed in shabby clothes
without ‘chic’ that could make ‘shabby chic’ a winner -
trainers with stovepipe pants and a quiff created by a
sadist prison barber; also 3 members of my tribe with

zero emotional intelligence; nerdy-glasses guy with his Big-Bang-Theory-winner hairstyle, plus 2 super-idiotic
girls - the first’s head was flower-garlanded making her
look like an escaped Ophelia who-had-too-much-water,
as Hamlet declared; with far too much alcohol in it

all speaking as if Afrikaans was a nasal twang and their
dialogue prepared in a gr. 1 class; bride-to-be hair roots brown & top bright red, fidgeting all the time - choosing
boring dresses with imitation flair, no bodice to make up
for the lack of a chest – and this would land her the role

of a man in The Ride of the Valkyries, armholes cut deep,
no support to make up for her lack of Pamela Anderson’s
signature treasures, thus she resembles a concentration camp survivor - no Swarovski crystals – just  cake-icing
layers of net and tulle enveloping her bleak presence

like the wide dresses my aunt crocheted for doll faces
with toilet-paper-roll bodies to adorn the WC - all the
while the 3 idiots talking her to death - I had to resort to
silent-movie style - why stay, I hear you ask - because
I’d hoped to see a beautiful dress that would make up

for the lack of finesse - yet it got worse; the last dress
was dipped in oil and splattered with ink, a dark brown
& black creation, perfect for a vampire’s wife in a third-
rate movie - then my family tired of my stream of inane
comments & called me to watch Diners, Drives-Ins and

Dives to divert me from the arrogance and snobbery of
the “cream” of “Afrikanerdom” - which failed to impress
my kids in their expensive schools where an irreverent
attitude kept them safe from infection…

Death Roll [Rev]

My little world which was crumpled and strangled
within the washing machine’s death roll, an event
worse than a crocodilian attack - now slowly turns
upright again; Monday it’s back to the office with
a set bedtime and early rising with office routines

Plus a time for everything, not confusion of home
where anything goes at any time until I can’t sleep
at night and snooze during the day: found 3 black-
and-white blouses to face New Year; what a relief
that discipline will be forced back on me

It’s dearly needed - I always fall into the whorl of
freedom - until the washing machine’s death roll
defines my existence - then it’s time to get back
to the office, not keep stashing notebooks in big
bags camouflaged under sea-coloured fabric