DNA Stargate
I give in, in light of the evidence, I have to
admit telepathy to be real, biological Inter-
net communication seems natural among
everybody – just allow me to add that
Real knowledge do not seem to transfer
through the instinctual system, I am only
aware of emotions and feelings, state of
mind - information remains obscure
I am hooked on feeling and atmosphere,
love my job not because of what we do,
translating such boring texts, but for the
magical atmosphere created by
My lovable and loving colleagues, to work
for Pollyanna who puts a positive spin on
everything, have a Mme La Pompadour
for excitement and a caring Wendy
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Manifesto [ORIGINAL & REVISED]
[REVISED]
Okay – I admit romance does not exist, at least
not in this quaint veracity which claims it has a
place somewhere but rarely ever here
I shall not cry about discovery of circumstance
that fact is non-existent in romance – reality a
chance one does not really have to see
Anyone can prove it lives eternally in dreams, a
never dying sustenance of many Worlds beliefs
with energies too dominant to ever die
If fantasy alive and well then I admit against my
better judgement I’ve been hurt; but add in haste
it does not matter since it truly breathes
In Worlds as infinite or parallel, I do not need the
proof of our reality – a mere perchance of it as
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Far Away
I learnt the universe is infinitely huge; not
confined to the Milky Way Galaxy as I had
read in Arthur Mee’s Children’s Encyclopaedia
when I was small - there are infinite galaxies;
a stupendous discovery that left me high
with excitement
I was enthralled by Vincent Gaddis’ Invisible
Horizons and The Secret Life Of Plants early
in life, later discovering Charles Fort and his
rains of fishes and strange footprints which
just added grist to my mill
Erich von Daniken and Zechariah Sitchin
destroyed all fear of a prosaic life; the small,
Calvinist world of my youth with pain and duty
was reduced to a miniscule part of this
wonderfully exciting inter-subjective
illusion
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Camouflaged Flaws In Reality (Revised)
Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’
overwhelms – the enormous scope
of scenes he paints reduces me
to tears and silent wonder
Sam Vimes’ income spent caring for
widows and orphans of deceased
watchmen; Angua facetiously claims
he spends it all on women
Captain Carrot explains Vimes one-
man pension fund scheme, tells how
he lives frugally to provide for those
he sees worse off than him,
For this he receives fairytale rewards:
marries Ankh-Morpork’s richest woman
made a Knight by none other than the
undercover Ankh-Morpork King –
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Pristine Beauty
The magic woven by Terry Pratchett in ‘Going
Postal' took my mind like a wave invading every
lonely space, filling me with a sense of delight
and the desire to keep on digging for meaning
Since I cannot be content with the mere fact that
I exist in the way Golems can, I have to assign
meaning to everything in order to prevent my
inner self turning from quiet and calm into
A raging torrent of existential dread and my spirit
from acquiring a waiflike quality, moving between
states of consciousness, too confused to choose
between moments of being to settle quietly
Long enough to enjoy the delight of existence as
escape from non-being, it took a while to drag my
mind away from a feeling of guilt about this holiday
and the concomitant fear that a short escape
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Glühwürmchen-Idyll
Glühwürmchen - I used to sing along when I was
very small, could not make out the words of this
song, sounded like bumbuschim to me - later sang
happily Shine, little glow-worm, glimmer - then
heard the original song sung in German again -
looked it up on the Internet, found the absolutely
enchanting Glühwürmchen, Glühwürmchen
flimmre, flimmre, Glühwürmchen,
Glühwürmchen, schimmre,
schimmre
Führe uns auf rechten Wegen, führe uns dem Glück
Entgegen, Gib uns schützend dein Geleit zur Liebes-
seligkeit - wonderful, though life is not happy, all
hope in vain given all outcomes; ideals remain en-
chanting, good enough for me, every time I fail in
communication I find my joy in sounds, in songs
warming my icy heart frozen by human contact,
dreams warm me again and inner light shines
sweetly for consciousness continuously
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Outside&Calm 1 Oct 2011
On The Outside
At home alone - kids visiting
you asleep, Carine called, she
can walk without crutches, her
leg is healed; wish it could be
the same for her broken heart
It will take two full years at least
she says she can never forget
she still laments her mother's
death eight years ago, yet -
time heals every injury
Patience will prove the adage
true; she shall be independent
even if she thinks the memory
of her friend's death will never
be erased from her mind
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Madame de la Pompadour (Revised)
Madame de la Pompadour puts Darcy’s condescending
aunt in ‘Pride and Prejudice’, Lady Catherine de Bourgh,
to shame by being more arrogant than said worthy Lady
ever was when scolding the poor into harmony and plenty
Madame declines to come to work like we poor peasants
yet regards Mary Poppins disdainfully, judging her useful
discovery of an element of diversionary fun in boring
jobs a doddle that is wanting in every ethical respect
She’s blissfully above ethics involved in rigidly maintaining
State policy regarding personal leave, stays home indolently
claiming social life ineffable excuse to remain insensitive
of mutual obligations towards her State employer
Scolding one and all into administrative prowess and bland,
textbook translations finely tuned to dissonant registers in which
the original score was produced - while emitting clouds of smoke
that would be the envy of a Cruella DeVille planning to
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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In Her Dark Citadel (Revised)
I am so glad to be led by Madame Pompadour,
her employees are irksome self-motivated prigs
dissatisfied as their central value, the ethic of
the hard-working Calvinist, showing a lack of
ambition; is trampled beneath Madame's feet as
only dishonesty pays, she is ashamed of her
underlings; she says
Madame Pompadour shows grand ambition by
sneering at work ethics and showing utter
disdain for everyone except her own arrogant
self, she spreads the bitterness eating away
at her soul by destroying work enjoyment, re-
lationships and processes, she thrives
on discontent
She detests the culture of her underlings, their
behaviors, attitudes, assumptions, beliefs; it's
an affront contravening her ideal of sharing un-
happiness equally; she stamps on undue diligence,
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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