Margaret Alice Second
Biography of Margaret Alice Second
I'm a translator who loves languages for the music in it and suffer the grammar and other rules for the joy of hearing the cascading sounds rhythmically spilling over me. I live in South Africa and work in Pretoria as an undercover poet cum government official, still dreaming of 007 status - and who doesn't...
Friday night 11 July 2014
Oh for to dance all night long, to swirl on the song, to twirl in my dreams where everything is how I want it to be...
Saturday night 21 September 2013:
As an Astrogenetic Cancerian Alice (with apologies to Linda Goodman and Lewis Carrol) I dutifully called my Leonine mom, the Queen of Hearts, who was happily ensconced in a Seance with her Myrmidons, and then I inadvertently tread on the toes of my Scorpion Beloved whose uncontrollable urge to sting all touching him, made him retaliate...
To add insult to injury, when I withdrew into my shell, he accused me of hurting him with no concern for the way he stung me; so when my Aquarian daughter called me to task for leaving my plastic cushion in her bathroom, I threw the cushion out of the window, causing general upheaval...
Such is the joys of domestic life - let it be known that I am leaving the reincarnational cycle and will move on to non-physical existence after this stint in the solar system; I find it a most ridiculous and self-defeating situation and do not plan to ever engage in Astrogenetic life again - ever...
It is time to concentrate on making communication between dimensions possible and to that end I wish to move between as many dimensions as possible. Aha, at least and finally, I have formulated the purpose of my existence in my biography, how's that, Nietsche,
Goethe et al?
Friday 14 November 2011: Continuing life as Margaret Alice (Second) to show where my scribblings continue, is confusing – but I could not find my way in the chaos of my first posting site. Ah, and today, the air-con is off, my head is sore, fanatics held me enthralled when I should have been working to reach higher production numbers to earn my salary honestly –though that is impossible given that I failed to turn into a machine- in spite of all my attempts to die unto myself – I am sorry, being dead is just not possible while my spirit is so much alive – but the next batch of soul-destroying documents might just bring it to pass - hope never dies!
Wednesday 9 November 2011: Two arrest warrants to translate, two nightmares - so I confide my overflowing feelings to paper - without impossible projects, with nothing to do; I stop writing also - so I suppose translation is the terrible inspiration that forces me to counter my inadequacy by writing words who are free - without the constrictions of a source text and the terrible limitations of an even worse target text!
Sunday 16 October 2011 – I am a public servant who translates documents from the unpoetic original into prosaic terms in a target language while my soul is singing its own song inside…
Monday 8 August 2011 - Let it be chronicled that I lost today, the headache did not go away, and tonight I am bored with my thoughts. I have lost the ability to transcend horrible times with pictures and thoughts, time to practice again...
Since my previous Margaret Alice spot on Poemhunter got so clogged, people complained they could not access and read my poems, so I am continuing in a new spot - let's hope this will enable others to read Margaret Alice again...see my pictures and ideas at
where I am Agent Snowflake, writing as Peanuts.
Margaret Alice Second Poems
' Enneagram (Revised)
But no, nothing helped when I tried to be myself reading old books, even a new one on sixth sense said I should take heed of every single pain my body produced to determine what I think
A Hundred Spells
Turandot, Puccini’s opera, told by stylised illustrations in a book the heart of an Ice Princess frozen by the Moon Goddess, three riddles posed to every Prince who wished to be her suitor on pain of death if he could not get the answers right, beheaded by
' Gurgling Stream [revis...
Knowing the little alien in my head was filled with discontent went to French class prepared full well with a treat for it, Offenbach played on an earphone in only the left ear
A Myriad Heroines
Tonight sheer ecstasy and bliss, first discovered Strictly Come Dancing, I lose myself in those dancing heroines, Vin Diesel in the movie XXX stole the show encouraging the individual to make a difference, Wizards of Waverley
' Continue To Live (Revised)
A sweet grey car replaced my noble Jeep, it is utterly alien to me; oh, I always knew this day would come, the Jeep's upkeep was an extra expense we did not need
A Gothic Horror
Thank you for representing life as a Gothic horror with the nerve-wrecking shocks of demented men, dad as Heathcliff, mom as Mr Rochester’s mad first wife and you a strange mixture between Jane Eyre
Abrasive Waves (Revised)
Belligerent discourse, each statement aggressively confronts, an aggravated inflexion rasps pugnaciously, grating voice deepens ostentatiously for each
A Surrreal Place
Escape, for me, is reading a book based on Terry Pratchett's 'Thief of Time' where perfect moments are kept in a glass palace – I have decided to dream about 'perfect moments' and keep
Machine Churning Above
I do not care for political scandal and intrigues because only those with the same moral guilt, the same capacity for wrongdoing, throw the stones, whenever they come to power they
Beautiful Cables (2) (Science Poems)
Admiring the cables in the jersey Alta knit, asked her - May I photograph it? – she brought me the pattern – Now you can knit one yourself - mistaking cable enthusiasm for craftwork interest - and I
Agree With My Vision
Still tired in spite of everything I have tried, my head a dust-bag – miniature motes swirling within - the slow whirlwind called my heartbeat growing weak, wish I could sleep, one deep slumber to switch
Always, Univocally Right
It seems I have missed the beauty of this day at least I have learnt self righteous anger and blame directed at me make me see the error of my ways while creating no desire for
How Tragic Is That (Revised)
Power groups using civilians as pawns in a grand game of chess, Mel Gibson's Scots in Braveheart, Leon Uris' Arabs in The Haj - and African leaders imitate them to great effect
Outside&Calm 1 Oct 2011
On The Outside At home alone - kids visiting you asleep, Carine called, she
Swaying Then Dancing
Crushed under a grey day, reports of my
mother in pain, Carine weighed down by
four steel pegs and ten screws in her leg,
no escape from scrambled thoughts
Went out marching, swaying then dancing
to musical rhythms, becoming one with the
beat of the universe, not a care in the world
as velvet voices sing joy into my mind