Mother Abbess and Sister Self-Righteous sit quietly
at their desks, industriously applying focused minds
to their texts - serenely going through their routines,
angelically occupied - while I fly around like a bat:
first to pester Sister Abbess, then flirting up & down
in my work station changing flowers & drinking tea
Then over to Ntsoaki to show her Princess stickers
representing Susan Sto Helit with which I covered
my book Soul Music; our Director passes and asks
what I'm doing so I show him the words of my guru:
we should establish contact with the broadcasting
station of our origin so all other frequencies will be
Clear for successful relations with colleagues - he
laughs and wanders off, finally I'm forced to face my
French Rogatary Commission text after completing
the Language Museum commemorating the start of
Afrikaans, though it was first written in Arabic script,
I'm delighted since I recommended Arabic should
Become Lingua Franca in Africa… now I must force
my Alien Mind to return to French Courts & criminals;
my guru's advice, tell a new story about life, means
I'm casting about for a new description of my under-
ground existence - oops, after securing my mouse
with lime-green cloths, my frozen water bottle topples
And I have to apologise to Sister Strictly Self-Righteous
who questions my sanity, though all knows this is only
attention deficit disorder, it manifests as I'm on an eternal
quest to colour in the grey framework of reality and fill it
with song - listening to a Mozart's concerto over & over
experiencing how my soul rests in the right frequency…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem