Margaret Alice Poems

The Demon escaped from the
bottle in Daskalos’ private
sanctum, looking like a satyr
from myth – dark green with
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Stuck in deep freeze feelings of
infinite sadness – sunk so deep
it cannot be brought to the surface
to be faced and maybe overcome
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I wish you love, so much love, more love
than you can hold, for your fourteenth
birthday; I wish you happiness, all you can
dream of and then some, for the years to
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I know your life will be fine,
my little one, when I walk into your
lovely little pigsty of a room – with bits
of pencils on an unmade bed, books and
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What is this thing called love - that makes you
hold me when I cry, even though you might be
the cause of my tears; that makes you hold me
while watching TV; that makes you unwilling
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We make and create our own reality; non-physical consciousness
claims the impetus for developing our abilities in the best interest
of the world and our own species, are provided by our impulses
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I want my thoughts and feelings to rise
up like steam - before falling back down
again just like rain, beautifying the world,
spreading good cheer and life, enlarging
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I’m convinced that the karma I have to carry,
laid upon me by the Western heritage while
being born in Africa, where maize is the staple
and I’m allergic up to suffocating; is the result
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Eating in a new restaurant where the chips were
sprinkled with spices; I should have sent it back,
but I didn’t; now another sleepless night with my
back and neck in a terrible knot, stomach burning
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The purpose of life is to learn to use the left brain’s limitations –
not to escape from them – in the growing problem of consciousness:
Transcendental Meditation can help us escape one-dimensional reality,
but a total focus on the right brain leaves us incapable of mastering life
...