Feelings: Shamefaced, Too Tired, Pain Leaves Nothing Poem by Margaret Alice

Shamefaced

Oh, brilliant, another day of misunderstanding –
just what I need to calm shattered nerves,
another day of technological impairment
perfectly serving to remind me I’m a stupid
serf, a dodo, a dinosaur in modern society.

First everybody stared at me whenever the
cell-phone rang, laughed surreptitiously
at my muddled attempts to answer ringing tone,
and you still sneer without sympathy whenever
I try to send an SMS – taking hours on end.

Whatever I do with technology is such a stupid
mess, only serves to underline how impaired I am –
if it wasn’t for the option of death
this life would have been unbearable!

I wish I were Susan, Death’s granddaughter – Terry
Pratchett says she’s not bound by time and place.
I’m so disgusted with the misunderstandings
proliferating whenever I try to do good it makes
me wish to live my life incognito.

And at least that will happen at ACALAN when
representatives from African states visit,
I’ll be there on behalf of the Department –
without a precious Portfolio as compliment.

But I’ll be taking notes on African mother tongues,
how many and how impossible to offer progress in all
right now – yet happily as far from the technology
that always leaves Yours Truly so shamefaced!


Too Tired To Play The Game Of Life

I don’t have energy to
be self-important today –
can’t regard my tiny world
as hub of the universe

things are meaningless –
sacrificing time and effort
for nothingness, a game,
a way to earn money

no intrinsic meaning,
no right to existence
other than the pay,
again I ask – what is

the meaning of life, of
the universe. Abraham
says it is to have
joy in creation

but list creation does
not strike me as joyous,
yet I have to play that
game researching terms

to make a difference,
even if it isn’t worthy
of the time invested.
I’m too tired to play

the game of life, enjoy
the fun, unable to dream.
How does one survive
a vision-less day?


Pain Leaves Nothing

Pain leaves
nothing in my mind
every book I’ve read,
every story – every feeling
and emotion - all destroyed,
I learn lines off by heart
hoping something might
stick when pain deletes
the contents of my mind
but no, there is
nothing left…

Paying the price
for being different:
all off to a hotel,
only one left

suffering must
be good for
mankind, though
at the critical point

when painkillers fail
I lose the ability
to believe
in the

good