World's Woes - Child’s Play
Travelling by means of an affordable magazine
from Demi Moore, open marriage to Kutcher who
had to make his babies elsewhere and thus lost
the delight of his broad-minded wife who meant
freedom to breed is only her prerogative
To Designer Coffins for glorious burial, a son beating
cancer just to be killed by a wild group of teenagers
at night, an Indonesian man ravaged by a mystery
tumour disease, a Limo truck with a 14 million rand
bathtub – into the jaws of a Crocodile lurking
In Russia where would-be suicidees, despondent
because they have so much less than Demi Moore
cannot grow skeleton-slim because their husband
cottoned-on to the meaning of open relationship,
desperate because they cannot afford
Designer Coffins or take a ride in a Limo truck; did
not get cancer or were killed at night by belligerent
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Feeling Of Losing Control
I hate this restless feeling, first I messed up the bedroom
putting all my books which were cluttering the white sitting
room, on the bed, then messed up the study by shoving books
helter-skelter on to the racks, continued my mission of
confusion by creating chaos in the kitchen, seeing as
it was already sprinkled with crumbs
I added my new thick file spilling papers and my favourite
pictures, including Sean Connery and laughing people having
fun, fantasy rooms, an article on slavery in the Cape com-
mitted by the English themselves, no less, they had a
thriving monopoly, according to Lady Anne Barnard
who wrote it all down in her Journal
Compounding the feeling of losing control, the radio playing
Golden Oldies, Roger Whittaker singing Now you Don't Believe
In If Anymore, I smile - I still do and always will - if
nothing else, at least it keeps that dour expression of
deep suspicion from my face, I dream about If all the
time - trying to focus amongst all the noise
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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My Soul Untouched
My body has given up on me even as
I have given up on life, if THIS is all I
can achieve, it is not meaningful to
continue in this physical world
In my youth I thought to render service
even as I gathered knowledge - yet -
though reading everything in books and
on the Internet, I still understand
Only a few things and my wisdom - such
as it may be - has never been tested, with
regard to service, I have not rendered any
or very little - I smile continuously - so
Everyone asks why I seem happy - I reply
because I work in paradise - and it is true,
the only thing is that there is no-one to help,
no big challenge, the mental stimulation of
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Mystified
We are spell-bound, gripped in the clutches
of a mystery of mind-blowing proportions:
Where is Madame La Pompadour, why is
she still gone, why did she SMS on gastro-
intestinal upset and lamenting her
awakening at twenty past eleven
Will she ever return to the office again, will
Human Resources one day carry out its
warning that she is not an asset to the govern-
ment, receiving a salary for no work done; one
long, continuous absence while others do
her job, when will she look at us
Disdainfully again, with the assured arrogance
of one used to command and only rising from
her bed if she feels like it - not very often; what
excuse will she offer next if her health does
not keep deteriorating: buying a night-gown
for mom, geyser burst during the night
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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They EXIST - That Is All
Looking at commentary of erudite scholars
always superior to anyone else, being a gift
to mankind, I raise my unenlightened voice
to say what Bible Code claims mean to me,
the smallest bookworm that has ever been:
Such a code confirms the spiritual assertion
the Energy forming the universe is conscious,
intelligent, well-meaning and life-sustaining -
all examples of time-spanning non-sensory
communication such as these Bible Codes
Enlarge the spectrum of possibilities posited
by quantum physics, it is a joy to the thinking,
dreaming, feeling mind to find ever-widening
spirals of alternatives to the little bit of world
confirmed painstakingly by human scientists
As long as we remain free to study anything
the imagination can envision without bending
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Melody
Hit in the face by the backrest as I picked up
the chair, a Freudian slip, psychologists say,
token of an unconscious desire to hurt myself,
Abaheidschi-bumbaidschi bum-bum playing
on the radio
We sing you into dreamland, see a star in the
sky as we look back on a year of love, sung by
Austria’s mezzo-tenor Peter Alexander – how
charming, all self-pity gone, forehead swollen,
proud of my bruise
All laughter ran away today, Heino singing again,
ein Matrose, denke an den Liebsten, eine einsame
weisse Taube, Paloma, Grüss mir, Grüss mir dir,
den Liebsten Maria, bliebt sie voller Sehnsucht
hinterher - today I am
The melody of La Paloma Adieu…
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Cello More Important Than Life
Your righteous indignation at my making two mistakes
that merely disturbed your complacency authorises you
to swear at me and sets you free from any need to apologise,
in this house I must reiterate how sorry I am and write letters
explaining why I messed up and became guilty of high treason
and should be shot for multiple shortcomings, the situation is
so bizarre it makes me laugh - Mein Herr Marquis, ein Mann
wie Sie … drum verzeihen Sie wenn ich lache - ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha [Die Fledermaus]
Your injured dignity forces you to ignore me pointedly - fine,
after laughing to my heart's content, the screensaver that gives
meaning to everyday routine, Timothy Dalton as 007 - The
Living Daylights - keeps my mind occupied; while you steam
and froth at the mouth, presenting like Le Malade Imaginaire
of Molière, waiting to execute me with the guillotine of your
mouth - I happily watch 007 rise to the occasion as he con-
fronts the KJB - while you prepare the devastating speech
that is meant to change me into Quasimodo himself
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Beauty and Magic
Totally bemused I followed the raging debate
between Sitchin’s followers and his detractors,
I realise everybody has a place to be right in
quantum physics’ infinite universe, therefore
Impossible to choose between the claims of
veracity; I chose to use the only criterion that
has meaning - Feeling – how do Sitchin’s
theories make me feel in comparison with
The rendition of scholars claiming Tiamat a
real person and everything about cosmic
cataclysm just a myth by ignorants writing
poetic renditions for unknown purposes
Reading Zecharia Sitchin’s books make me
feel good - I have fun and am entertained
while the raging debate makes me feel
bad – even sad – that others feel
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Alive, Aware And Free
A lie-detector expert, Clive Baxter, attached
polygraph machines to philodendron leaves,
tracings showed typical responses obtained
when subject to brief emotional stimulation,
he decided to burn a leaf and the tracing went
wild showing fright, the plant read the threat
he only formulated in his head!
‘The Secret Life of Plants’ by Christopher Bird
and Peter Tomkins proved that plants respond
to thought, speech and prayer – but scientists
questioned their experiments which could not
be replicated indefinitely, only sensitives elicit
a response from plants which means they found
character determines results
This has been confirmed by quantum physics:
observation influences the object observed as
well as observer, particles follow expectations
appearing as wave or fixed point reacting to pre-
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Still Love Me Too
Power of communication, reading Sunday newspapers
was so depressing; my beloved sighed - Why are you
so difficult to get along with? - I'm totally overwhelmed
- I cried - I cannot see how our country can survive,
the poorest pay the price for political connivance
Farms burning down, I even feel bad about President
Zuma being attacked by others, don't have all the facts,
some say our president uses taxpayers' money to enrich
himself while he cries in public - I did not take your wealth
- Who should I believe and why, how can we ever tell
Who is writing the script, trying to use information on their
own behalf, welfare money directed to Africans only, any
European out on his ears; which is fine, we live in Africa,
but what if the new measures also damage the Africans,
my friends, not just excluded Europeans
At whom these are targeted? - You relented; listened to
my woes with many an exclamation - Stop-Stop! You're
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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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