'Blessed Unconsciousness 09/10/09 Poem by Margaret Alice

I haven’t found a single Dutch term
IRC and lurisnummer, in vain I trawl
the internet, I bet Hanlie knows where to
find police terminology, the Dark Middle
Ages represent a lighted sharpness com-
pared to the sluggishness in my head

Have you ever experienced absolute conviction
you cannot master a task, it is so high above your
normal thought process, even while you hack at the
seams, you keep sinking deeper and deeper into your
own subjective experience of inability? Why I always
end up in these situations

Instead of sweeping streets, washing cars, writing
tickets, serving at bars, I cannot understand; why a
Dutch document should have fallen into my incapable
hands for translation, cannot be fathomed, maybe it
is a lesson that life is random, chaos reigns supreme
embrace materialism with abandon

Flee because death will set you free

Maybe the total destruction of death means it is madness
to do anything, just lose consciousness and never know
anything for eternity, maybe I could turn into a stone or
a rock and sleep through the ages of infinity, maybe
reincarnation means I can become a mineral in my
next life, existing in blessed

Unconsciousness – what a great prospect

Just right for me!