Emotional Icebergs Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Friday afternoon, my powers spent,
no more wonderment, the long, slow
march through a document by a pom-
pous diplomat offering his services to
the Interpol Secretariat, without his
grandiose eloquence and expertise
the whole Spiel will flounder and sink,
he shall save them from calamity

My fight with my new red chair led to
adding a back support and marching
around the block for my health - too
tired to find victims to talk to - sliding
down that long grey slope people call
reality but which is only a small visible
part of the emotional icebergs which
make up confrontational life

I hope those who received my kindly
explanation that their opinion lacked
width and scope and depth will forgive
me and still be my friends - I never listen
to anybody, refusing to accept second-
hand information, I try everything for
myself, nobody should be angry for
my refusing the wisdom

They have gained by reading books, I
need to consult the author and feel the
sensation and have the experience