Storyteller’s Voice Gone

Finally, after a long, long time, we saw our friends
again, met new people, Bets resembling Shirley
while Dirk is a bit like Witte, Jannie a stern father
Dylan a mischievous boy, Nathan an adorable baby

When I explained about the importance of stories
and beads on invisible strings, Bets said I was too
busy, too restless for her, but she remembered the
story of the magic pencil we read at school

She also knows Staal Burger, then Lieb played music
by Amanda Strydom, reminding me that Ay Marieke,
Marieke was my favourite song, we argued about the
merits of Hennie Aucamp versus Koos DuPlessis

I insisted that Winternag by Eugene N Marias was the
most beautiful poem ever written - Lieb preferred Lost
Wanderers* by Koos DuPlessis to Mabalel or The Rain
Dance* in Dwaalstories* by Marais, as we pulled away

I recited Oh River Deep And Dark* – song of Juanita
Perreira in Magoeba’ Lions* - finishing with The Lonely
Girl’s Song* - the storyteller’s voice gone, the wind
crying because it is all alone…


*Lost Wanderers = Kinders van die Wind
*The Rain Dance = Die Dans van die Reen – Lied van Jan Konterdans
*Dwaalstories = Stories told by Jan Konterdans
*Oh River Deep And Dark = O Diep Rivier
*Magoeba’ Lions = Die Leeus van Magoeba – Eugene Marais
*The Lonely Girl’s Song = Wat word van die meisie wat
altyd alleen bly? Sy hoor nie meer die koms van die jagters
nie, die stem van die storieverteller is dood, en die wind
huil altyd om hy alleen is….

Heaven is Mine

Pessimism is hell, on the down part of life’s
escalator looking at pessimistic theories in
detail, pessimists create hell for themselves

When there is progress, they see degeneration,
when there is steady state, they see stagnation,
when things change, they fear extinction

When looking at the high age of the universe and
evidence of previous global catastrophes when all
was lost, just to find we are still here, I realize

There is nothing to fear, we are still going strong, new
life continually being born, nothing man has ever done
managed to destroy the earth, not even nuclear war

Even when previous civilisations were lost, new ones took
their place, pessimists cry about everything lost without
realizing that new things take their place all the time

Though I hate being exposed to their corrosive ideas, I
smile in joy, having been victimised in my youth when
pessimism was the staple of life, I have learnt

Simply by accepting the universe as benevolent and
not seeing it as a vale of tears, I left the hell of pessimism
and started living in the heaven of optimism

The world is a product of the mind and one day all will find
hell is a mind-state thought up by pessimists who want to
force humanity into despair

Following the evidence and theories of optimists, heaven
is mine, up the down escalator I go, good-bye!

Up the Down Escalator – Why the Global Pessimists
are Wrong, Charles Leadbeater, Penguin Books, 2003

Missile of a Spirit

There is no help for it, I have to admit
attempting to exist in a somnambulistic
state of spiritual bliss is not working any
better than a state of arrogant happiness

I tried to preserve my peaceful state of mind
by tippy-toeing around things that irk me from
time to time, spent the evenings lying in your
lap in front of the TV, smiling in vacant apathy
hoping dutifulness will carry me right through
my morbid document

No such luck, already the chains of reality are
strangling my spirit, I need a change of mind –
right to my underground aggressive state – to
carry me through the smallness of my life, I
have to find a grand vision, inflate my soul
with the fantasy of a grand mission

Just being a government official who cannot
fly as Douglas Adams described Arthur could
like Angela Langsbury does in Bedknobs and
Broomsticks, like Esmerelda Weatherwax
in Witches Abroad, like Mary Poppins
does all the time

Is not good enough for my adventure-
loving, challenge-seeking missile of
a spirit, sitting here is like
being buried alive...

Filigree-Finesse

Words of filigree-finesse touching
my heart like the sweetest caress:
when pain is intense, pleasure in-
tensifies commensurately

As spiritual entities when we imagine
light as waves our consciousness and
beliefs determine the outcome of
world events by setting expectations

Thinking of waves, light appears as such
repeating the exercise while visualizing
light as separate particles, discrete
points appear on the other side

Believing our feelings unsafe, we block our
power, we are free to believe anything we
wish, everything being a reflection of
our own consciousness

Choosing to be at peace with everyone and
everything we make peace with ourselves
words of filigree-finesse, so beautiful
my soul comes to rest…

A Protagonist with Narcolepsy

A sleepless night, turning over and over on the cold
hard floor, now my head is lolling, my eyes cannot
stay open, even words of filigree beauty are losing
their allure, even new ideas of the sublime cannot
stir my soul anymore, cannot suppress this fatigue

I need rest, sucking boiled sweets and swallowing
pills by the hand-full cannot make up for the sleep
that was missed, everything worsens the situation
even reading an amusing scene cannot keep my
thinking powers from disintegrating, how can I be

Authentic and honest, confess my problems and
still remain the incumbent of my post, if this were
a James Bond movie I would have been playing
the role of a protagonist with narcolepsy, it is
most disconcerting to find I can fall asleep

Sitting in the chair in front of my desk, Alice would
have found something to eat and drink to change
her inner being from a state of mental slumber to
acuity, but the peanuts I chew assiduously are
no help at all in changing my mental powers

Passing out in my chair is the only solution, stuffing
Vicks in my ears and swallowing painkillers by the
dozen is useless, the pressing pressure does
not let up, how many more pills to stop me
suffocating…

Own Impossible Self

I cannot understand it, the pessimism
of other people is totally different from
my kind of pessimism - people believe
technology and society are destructive
and threatens their wonderful selves

While I am convinced the world really is
a perfect place, order incarnate - life is
getting better and better and the only
problem is my self, my state of mind is
out of control, to be adapted manually

Because it always returns to despair-
progress is fantastic, my fellow human
beings are marvellous, hardworking
well-adapted people, but I must keep
inner turmoil and imbalances hidden

I hate reading Leadbeater’s delineation
of pervasive global pessimism, its causes
and manifestations; because I prefer a
positive perspective on our enchanting
universe - it remains my anchor when

I cannot sleep, have backache and cannot
concentrate, words make no sense, being
physical becomes an uncomfortable state:
why living is such an ordeal I cannot say
I need to approve of consensual reality

In order to survive my own impossible self!

Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly

Alice looked at the jumping Kangaroo
and asked the Caterpillar, Could I climb
upon its back and go off to see the great
Australian outback?

The Caterpillar puffed and said, No, I think
you had better climb upon a Unicorn to go
see Big Ben on the Tower of London, greet
the happy Tuna Fish

Splashing in the sea and ask the Owl to lead
you to the pretty Butterfly who waits for me…
Alice looked at him sagely, the lovely Butterfly
was obviously his lady-love

Alice knew all about that tragedy, how Sharpless
never warned her that her captain, returning to
Japan, was already married to someone else
and she prepared a feast for him

When Madame Butterfly saw his bride she cried,
fell onto a sword accompanied by the Humming
Chorus, and Alice asked, Dear Caterpillar, can
Sharpless warn Madame Butterfly this time

Or will she die again? The Caterpillar, happy things
on his mind, not thinking about Puccini at all, irately
replied What are you talking about, child, the lady
Butterfly knows she has to wait for me

As soon as this hookah’s finished, I’m off to see my
bride because she is my epiphany – hearing this,
Alice was stumped, deciding she preferred Gilbert
and Sullivan to Puccini any day

She loved the Very Model of a Modern Major-General
staying close to his desk and never going to sea –
much better than Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly…