Changed Tack
Got home, explained heat in the office
hubby angry, how DARE I disturb his
ambiance, happy atmosphere at home
immediately I tried to change tack-did
not work - I am in the dog-box
Everything I say is wrong – it would have
been bad if I did not know how good it is
for me to suffer – whenever suffering is
going on, I change into the little Calvinist
I was born to be – pain, suffering
Is good for me, I was BORN into suffering –
I convince myself that pain is good, enjoy the
masochism involved – which leads to sadism
how good that is – Machiavelli justified – wait
we were talking about Calvinism
Too late, I have already changed tack…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Infinite Being
The Bible Code by Michael Drosnin - read
it before - it is pure joy, started at the back
with Chapter Notes - p.185 - because it's
difficult to focus on explanations when
a great book ends
The Bible Code mentions a fifth dimension
and Alan Guth, physicist, confirms it exists
though only defined in paradox: being smaller
than the atom's nucleus, yet containing
the whole universe
We live in a five-dimensional world: 3 of
space, a 4th of time and a 5th of all things
spiritual - what mysterious ideas - just
the thing to awaken a dream on
possibility of infinite being…
The Bible Code, Michael Drosnin, Weidenfeld &
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Nowhere To Go
All through the day it was irritation with noise
that led the way, knowing there is nowhere to
turn, nowhere to go, nothing to say, nobody
interested, my head feeling thick, me being
dumb - I could not read a book - could not
hold up my head - not stand the infernal
noise of the radio, my room a tomb
Cold emanating from the icy stones - maybe I
was Aunt Branwell in a previous life, stomping
around in wooden clogs in the old home where
authors Charlotte, Emily and Anne & brother
Branwell - wrote their books, whatever the
case, I feel ill with a burning throat, mind
scrambled - maybe this is not a poem
[Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell Brontë]
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Effervescence Of Flaming Incense
All manifestation is an approximation,
a symbol, of the deeper metaphysical
meaning and being behind it, thus the
dance - the sultry but stylised tango -
is a symbol of spiritual communion,
regeneration through reconstitution
of different energies, transcending
confines of physical existence in the
effervescence of flaming incense
Delight and joyous movement in an
eternal perpendicular movement of
seeking and finding - engaging and
escaping in continuous flight towards
the magical realms beyond the path
of the sun within the ever-expanding
universe - which is only accessible to
ecstasy, the wise insight experienced
by the wondering human spirit…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Frozen With Flowers (Revision)
Sitting among flowers burning with joy
of life - even the small purple ones have
yellow hearts, orange flowers seem warm
Yet it feels as if they are frozen as I sit in
the cold, then the dream - an Ice Princess
sitting atop a glass mountain
They're her only reminders of the real world,
a heroine and a prince will not come, for
all eternity the Princess sits among frozen
Beauty of long ago with ice-covered flowers
from when she still believed an inner world
of love could be realised by wishing for it
They are frozen tokens to keep her company,
she is happy, the ardent longing to find ideals
and fight for them have also been
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Get A Grip
Haven't solved the world's problems
as yet, haven't made peace with age
or the strange emptiness now the kids
are leaving the nest, feeling lost and
lonely, angry and bereft
Yet tonight I am going to make the best
of what life still has left, forget my fear
that ecstatic moments will present an
unbearable contrast to the general
alienation I feel everywhere
Grew up feeling hostile and rejected,
surely the latest bout of depression
will come to an end sometime, once
I get a grip on a wonderful mind as
expressed by the authors
I adore so much I shall go ahead,
full throttle, happily accepting my
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Buried While Breathing
Talking like you, walking like you
as I am required to do means life
without joie de vivre, when I voice
my excitement I must tone it down
Talking in an even, expressionless
voice makes you happy while this
oppresses my spirit - suppresses
the joy I feel bubbling inside
Which only explode in a happy
low but it is forbidden at home, I
must tippy-tippy-toe, tippy-tippy
toe around everything until life
Is so boring - I hope somebody
would kill me or I might fall in an
eternal swoon - whatever would
take me away from all this -
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Rain Messages From Him
The fitful rain makes me whimsical, outside the phosphor grass
glows with its own light, the turquoise swimming pool turns into
a jewel and the sky becomes a uniformly grey expanse, every space
is marked by perforated lines switching on and off as the rain
keeps its fitful approach to falling softer and harder
Suddenly the sky turns into a shiny dome as the clouds allow the
sun to increase its power to silver incandescence, I put my book
down to enjoy nature's show just for me - since we never go to
concerts, what happens in the garden holds my interest, fuels
my fantasy that the sun is my personal friend and the clouds
Bring rain as messages from him…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Pollyanna-ism And Puritanism
Happily balanced on the fulcrum
of my sore throat, told my friends
about wearing a surgical mask this
weekend, floating on the pressure
in my head unworried about being
comatose as I pirouette around the
swelling in my ears, leaning into the
eye of the storm, calm and resigned
Asking nothing, expecting less, the
perfect attitude as Pollyanna-ism
repulses the ice-cold Puritanism in
my soul, with pseudo-ephedrine I
can breathe and it is a privilege,
being comfortable while making
time pass sitting upright and de-
vising a story in my head
Laughter makes me feel better; I
had better find more victims to
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Embroider Visions
My heart as light as a feather, already
planning on sharing domestic moments
while visiting my dad, yes, it has been
decided, the kids will go with me
Nici shall drive the Jeep, Tiaan navigate,
I shall sleep, four hundred kilometres to
see mom and dad - tuck mom in, stroll
with dad on the farm, enjoy his garden
Listen to his music and favourite stories,
admire the big trucks that inspire him so
much, also look at mum's sewing, com-
miserate with aches and pains
Spending time together doing nothing
while the kids shall accompany my sis
on field trips, she loves entertaining -
what felicity, what bliss
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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