Feelings: Frustration, Crying, Archaic Creature, Back To Tomb Poem by Margaret Alice

Says he, “Consciousness is a pool,
what we look at ripples across its
surface; when we’re dull and tired” -
that describes me, under the
influence of the allergy -

“The mind’s surface is frozen solid”;
good grief; I spend three-quarters of
my life in the frozen-solid state, how
can I be released - the everyday
left-brain-self, language and logic

Confines intense intuition by “plodding
behind in sheer frustration”; we capture
insights in words, mastering reality
through concepts, left-brain activity
hampering swift intuitive reality

Creating a bundle of frustration
I’m used to calling me – Marilese!

Colin Wilson, “Beyond the Occult” p.315


I'm Crying

I am crying;
feeling the same as at the beginning of life
nothing, nobody nowhere for me…I’m scared and alone;
tomorrow I shall roam in my mind;
read stories that will take me away from myself,
the solitude in my heart and my soul;
being happy while not being master of my thoughts,
mind or dreams is impossible –
tomorrow the flight begins…fleeing into
books and stories and dreams…


Archaic Creature Like Me

With headache running rampant;
looking up “act of merchant”; date
of event has not been set

explosion in my head, now I am
dead; loss of meaning action
pointless; prohibition against

going somewhere else; to
manipulate the mind into
obedience

Command: Concentrate on
surroundings - but the Nile-
Crocodile is complaining

in an attack of revelation:
I’m a dumb, useless creature,
just messing about –

with no practical use – by now
an archaic creature like me
should be extinct


Back To Tomb

The dreamer is running out of steam,
running out of dreams, having used up
her imaginative capacity to visualize
a new version of reality

The dreamer cannot make lists without
falling into depression, cannot play with
statistics without developing a
headache

The dreamer had survived her life in
learning institutions by crying on a
daily basis; then she discovered
by focusing beautiful words

Polishing and stringing them in lyrical
lines to make them dance in musical
sounds to convey harmonious ideas
composing melodies

Laughter and happiness became part of
her being – feeling without seeing – but
the spectre of cold numbers in frozen
lists, is forcing her into black depression

Once more requiring a session of crying
bitter tears, fighting the unwillingness
that lives like an untamed animal in
her mind

Her melodramatic descriptions of the
classical enchantment of procedures in
perfection, the odes she sang to the
joys of bureaucracy in precision

Failed to convince her reptilian-mind
to accept its fate entombed in an office
accounting for each millisecond of her
reptilian existence

Alone without people and activities,
without a window to the outside world
a prison of enslaving loneliness...

Tonight the dreamer must fight the dark
despair lurking within by repeating
positive words in a motivational slogan:

Every day in every way I am growing more
official and administrative, more list-orientated
on my way towards becoming a
perfect administrator

May the crocodile find nirvana soon…