Margaret Alice

Rookie - 3 Points (The Crystal Age / Pretoria - South Africa)

Feelings: Blight To The Might, Books: Exotic Trips, Thoughts Doing My Bidding - Poem by Margaret Alice

The Nile-Crocodile escaped from the hold
and running wild, decided I’ve got money to
burn; freedom covers the newly washed world
with a halo of joy; I’ve got a crocodilian stomach
and a mind with a hole in it – I might as well
make the most of it; consume my waffle in
reptilian fashion and be damned to the world;
my conscience is dead – if ever I had one;
crocodiles are not known for involvement in
contentious ideas; every animal I know is
better off than me – with my IQ so low

they can’t find it; with my freedom curtailed in
an office building with departmental constrictions;
my Astral Body adrift, floating far, far away –
as far as Robert Munroe said it could go – and
probably further; past the Akashic Records of
level twenty-seven; way beyond the realm of
angels – who only exist to offer love to a Multiverse
bereft of all sense; right up to the Omniverse edge;
to meet with Superconsciousness, to know
everything without the experience that
brings blight to the might of the mind...


Books: Exotic Trips

Bibliotherapy is a wonderful thing -
for whatever ails thee, there is book
therapy, though sometimes difficult
to choose a book to set us free from
constricting conditions caused by lack
of insight or maladjustment – to set it
right, I’m searching for books that will
provide the feelings I seek: Unsolved
Crimes – perfect to solve today’s uncertainty
by casting the eye on great mystery, and
for good measure Ghost Stories to spice
up the cold waves of crime on which I’m
about to embark; for variation - Terry
Pratchett’s Going Postal will do admirably
- now I’m ready to tackle this day of grey
tragedy – the sun, my favourite companion,
having pulled his head away - books to
take me on exotic trips every day!


Thoughts Doing My Bidding

With Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony
playing, while cleaning the kitchen
I can cry to my hearts content; saw
a baby with fractured skull on TV,
feel nauseous, crying about irrational
fears, a feeling of dark foreboding
and unnamed dread; I’m scared of
trying to be human like you, you said
I didn’t want to work at all; that’s not
true, I love a schedule, I love serving
people, it’s just being alone for so
long reading official documents with
such boring content when I need
a surge of adrenaline feels like
death to me; I’ll think up a storm
and kill off my heroine; maybe
my thoughts will be shocked
into doing my bidding at work
and I could Swiss Mission
ahead…


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 12, 2011


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