Vivaldi
Being forced to listen to Vivaldi by
a compilation of classical music, his
musical themes & unwavering beat,
his notes like stiff-necked soldiers
marching on with robotlike idiocy
drive me insane
Awakening memories of ALL things that
irked me recently, the contrast between
the delight reading Pratchett and being
enraged by Vivaldi-effigies led to the
suspicion there is a poem on anger
waiting in the wings
Meantime, these cold notes on the deficiency
of three-dimensional holographic images as
simile of reality made me reflect on life’s
shortcomings - but Men At Arms is lying
next to me, their mischievous irrational
levity is waiting
To grab me again and whisk me away from
inadequate, imperfect and painful reality –
up to the heights of cloud nine…
“Men At Arms” – Terry Pratchett, Corgi edition
published 1994
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Related quotes
In Heaven Also (Revised)
The worst thing about heaven is it only boasts
two world-class composers: Liszt and Elgar,
the best of the rest – Bach, Beethoven, Brahms
and Mozart apparently all went to hell:
I shall gladly join them there
Hope to meet Bizet and Strauss as well and that
some enchanting demon finally teaches me to
dance properly, preferably a waltz and a
wonderful tango – like the one Death danced
dramatically with Renate Flitworth
I hope Vivaldi with his regular beat and
Stravinsky with his musical themes in
single row explosions are in heaven
also where I shall not be – and never
need listen to again
“Good Omens” – Terry Pratchett
Corgi edition published 1991
p 55
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Experience The Divine - Best Gift
Maria von Trapp complained
she couldn’t stop singing and
saying everything that comes
into her mind, in tribute to his
favourite flibbertigibbet
Pratchett invented the Chattering
Order of Saint Beryl Articulatus with
Sister Loquacious and Sister Voluble
who were free to be quiet for one hour
on Thursdays only
Pratchett’s causal narrative makes
redress for all past injustice, fills me
with inspiration to visualise the office
as a Chattering Convent and to project
the holiday resort
Which we are going to visit as a corner
of unsullied paradise and YOU as the
best gift the universe could ever provide,
thank you for every moment of time
you spend
It is the highest compliment and when you
polish uneven lines, you do the work of
angels and change my consciousness
into an experience of the Divine…
Good Omens – Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
Corgi edition published 1991, pp 33,36,38, & 41
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Miracle Disclosure (Revised)
Reading ‘Good Omens’ – Antichrist Adam Young and
his gang have fun with Tibetans and Flying Saucers –
in conjunction with The Science of Discworld which
‘David Attenboroughishly’ explains evolution as if it
were an already proven and therefore universally
accepted Gospel Truth – while it
is still only another childish theory, a speculative
hypothesis no better or worse than Creationism, but
creating the same reputation for itself by launching
attacks on other theories and posing as the Modern
Age equivalent of Miracle Disclosure; while ALL
these theories are illusion
made-up narratives explaining mysteries of existence
with no entitlement to claim any final revelation of the
true state – sanctimonious and condescending tones of
New Western Materialism sounds even worse than the
Middle Ages Inquisition – and in our universe ALL
being as speculative and unprovable as each other!
“Good Omens” – Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman,
Corgi Edition 1991
“The Science of the Discworld 1” Revised Edition
Jack, Pratchett, Terry, Stewart and Ian Cohen
Kindle – bought from Amazon
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Unseen Academicals- 22/11/09
Pratchett’s Unseen Academicals was a
joy from beginning to end, the author is
a prince among men
Ridiculed fashion items like six-inch
stiletto heels and all kinds of bling,
empty-headed models
Remunerated exorbitantly for glittering
while toiling labourers doing necessary
things are paid next-to-nothing
Pratchett’s depiction of the Discworld
is bathed in a golden light of happiness
everybody joyously engaged
In activities normally depicted as unmitigated
Misery; does Pratchett realize how much the
positive attitude of his main characters
Contrast with his cynical omnipresent narrator
perspective, does he see the juxtaposition
between two aspects
His protagonists acting with integrity and his blasé
narrative voice, the dualism must cause a war
in his mind – verily, I suspect
That is happening at present, while Pratchett is
telling a world-weary tale of human nature, his
characters are presenting a morality play
He cannot subdue them, cannot force decadence
on his characters, they are whiter than snow –
how much does this irk him?
I would love to know...
Terry Pratchett ‘Unseen Academicals’ Doubleday 2009
poem by Margaret Alice
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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
them divine, unspoiled by the one-dimensional
interpretation of inter-subjective reality
Making my escape to a surreal place - an
unending glass palace - perfect moments
kept in space - resembling Indra’s heaven
every perfect pearl strung in such a way to
reflect every other pearl
A hologram in which virtual reality allows us
to learn how to fulfil our dreams and Carine
happy today, fulfilling my vision of her warm
and content - a sweet dream unfolding in
my heart - frozen blossoms
Will start blooming one day - and once bearing
fruit, a new dream will manifest, imparting the
happy glow of quantum physics in which a Mr
Darcy stares at Elizabeth and a Mr Rochester
calls on Jane Eyre - why -
Because we always recreate the world
in our minds
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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In Full Volume
It started out with a violin,
bow drawn steadily across the strings.
With a haunting tune it did begin,
to delight me, which such music brings.
Now joining in with this gentle strain,
a lone flute took up the melody.
Its bright notes enriching the refrain,
creating a honeyed symphony.
Entire orchestra in full volume,
brought other instruments into play.
What powerful vibes suffused the room.
An overwhelming concertante.
This harmony of glorious sounds,
all bursting forth from the piano’s keys.
made me listen. How it all astounds,
this perfect piece, one of Vivaldi’s.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Displacement
Just finished rereading “Wee Free Men” introducing
Tiffany, displacing suffocating allergic reaction due to
culinary indulgence by diving into the enchantment of
Terry Pratchett’s wonderful prose
Did not want the book to end, the story should continue
for eternity… sometimes I try to leave the land of dreams,
Tiffany found dreams were used to lead people astray –
then I eat things that make my life miserable
And remember why transcending reality is necessary, I
cannot give up the rearrangements I make since living in
physical discomfort is counterproductive; dreams enable
me to experience marvellous adventures
Which cannot exist in my little world and although I would
like to be practical and impress with my common sense, it
is impossible to stay within the boring inter-subjective con-
sensus we call reality, even when clever people say
It is irresponsible and childish to let the mind stray from the
life at hand - I will not give up this delight to impress anybody,
the joy of creative fantasy outweighs all arguments offered by
people with deep frowns and drooping mouths
As the virtues they try to urge on me left them feeling cheated
and bitterly disappointed, I see no reason to join their misery if
I can do my job adequately with several other worlds spinning
wildly in my mind and heart
“The Wee Free Men” – Terry Pratchett – Doubleday 2003
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Decisions in Agreement
Reality lives in people’s heads, Terry
Pratchett says in application of
quantum physics theories
I have changed my reality so often
today, I am not sure in which
parallel reality I am
Within the knotted cable or free-
floating already in the lane of a
separate string
Weaving history while including all
its alternatives in bulging knots
that make the story interesting
The main direction never wavers, held in
place by many decisions in agreement
while the details create
As many bobbles as every dreamer
can ever wish to see…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Scintillating Humour
French class is cancelled, I remain stuck in my
little space, faced with administration, Tim LaHaye
is ready to tell me about temperament and marital
presence, the last thing I want to hear today, a forced
break have me enjoying phrases by Terry Pratchett
like a gourmet enjoying culinary delights
The cool spearmint of Pratchett's scintillating humour
makes the heavy meals of Cataclysmic Egyptian events
more palatable while I'm spicing my Bibliotherapy with
the mixed chocolate and strawberry ices provided by
the temperament theories of Tim LaHaye
"Igneous had always found the general denial more
reliable than the specific refutation" - and I am even
more amused by "If you want to be successful in the
criminal world, you need a reputation for honesty"
Ohmygoodness, this is wisdom indeed, I love it!
Feet of Clay - Terry Pratchett - Victor Gollancz,1996
p.81
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Dreamer's Poet
Dreamers dream
dreaming that
all their dreams are dreams;
and is reality then multiple-shaped
or itself a dream?
If dreams are things not real or true
or don't yet exist
then what does it mean for dreamer to
act upon the dream and bring it forth
into reality?
Was the dream just reality
not yet existent;
in waiting so to speak?
Or was it live
always there
waiting to be discovered?
Seems to me
this is much like a poem;
how the poem comes to be-
unless, of course,
the poet
is a dream too,
outside reality
paradoxical conundrum
don't you see?
And more:
could it be the Dreamer's Poet
in dreaming thus
creates the Poet
and the Poetry
both of which
become Reality
Thus?
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Five exclamation marks, the sure sign of an insane mind.
quote by Terry Pratchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We ARE history! Everything we've ever been on the way to becoming us, we still are. Would you like the rest of the story? I'm made up of the memories of my parents and my grandparents, all my ancestors. They're in the way I look, in the color of my hair. And I'm made up of everyone I've ever met who's changed the way I think.
quote by Terry Pratchett
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Pristine Beauty
The magic woven by Terry Pratchett in ‘Going
Postal' took my mind like a wave invading every
lonely space, filling me with a sense of delight
and the desire to keep on digging for meaning
Since I cannot be content with the mere fact that
I exist in the way Golems can, I have to assign
meaning to everything in order to prevent my
inner self turning from quiet and calm into
A raging torrent of existential dread and my spirit
from acquiring a waiflike quality, moving between
states of consciousness, too confused to choose
between moments of being to settle quietly
Long enough to enjoy the delight of existence as
escape from non-being, it took a while to drag my
mind away from a feeling of guilt about this holiday
and the concomitant fear that a short escape
From my robotic existence at the office might corrupt
my heart to develop a passionate longing for freedom;
confident enough to skip over disturbing passages on
Reacher Gilt, I hate his guts; loving the excellent mind
Pratchett assigns to Vetinari, sharing his trait of loving
ideas as principles: music as signet ideals, staves on
paper, notes safely ensconced thereon with no attempt
at execution to spoil its pristine beauty - just like him
I adore romance as an ethereal ideal formulated in en-
chanting writing but not any attempt at execution which
always falls short changing the idea into a hopeless
Don Quixotic longing for the impossible…
Going Postal - Terry Pratchett - Doubleday 2004
Quoted from p.78
************************************* *************
Painful And Joyous Reading
The library open, a miracle found several
titles interesting, normally everything seems
boring, I'm courageous enough to tackle ‘
Briar Rose' about the Second World War
And sisters fighting in ‘When She Was Good'
hoping to find insight into my relationship with
my twin sis, I'm ready to face abandonment in
Lynne Markham's ‘Getting It Right'
And two lives intertwined in ‘Faith, Hope and Ivy
June' - being adventurous I also bought two books
at second hand book shops - Graham Hancock's
Underworld - Flooded Kingdoms of the Ice Age -
Blazing trails where unconventional Colin Wilson
fears to tread, and ‘Mars Mystery' with its theme of
precession and the solar system orbit and carousel
movement about the Milky Way Galaxy's
Black Hole centre; hours of painful and joyous reading
before me - now I have entered the spirit of this holiday!
***************************************** **********
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Unforgettable In Your Ear
There are notes in music
that take you high.
And notes that take you low.
When you listen to the notes of music
you never know where you'll go.
Within one song the notes you hear
affect how you will feel.
A plaintive melody might make you sad
or remind you of your pain.
But all of that can change in a minute
as you feel your emotions drain.
Uplifting notes can bring to you
a few moments of ecstatic peace.
Each inspiring strain can take you where
you are able to release
whatever it was that was troubling you,
erase it for a minute or two.
These notes are magic and so is life.
They're there and then they're not.
They're a gift to you from composers
that plant a forget-me-not.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Lost
Bored with reality's exciting facets
rolled up, emotion stashed out of
sight, only the lone aspect of duty
in the office unrolled, dealing with
a headache I climbed onto desks
to spread sunscreens because the
oblique angle of the sun means we
are fried every day and my dwarf
head can't stand much heat before
it melts - taking my intellect with it
I fired my imagination by reading
the next pages of ‘Making Money'
with scenes of havoc where Adora
Belle challenges a Golem known as
Gladys to use etiquette for dirty boot
Watchmen to open the safe - no use,
I can't leave the multifaceted reel of
fantasy to continue with bland white
reality hiding all colourful aspects
crossing my boredom threshold
I want to be the prism breaking up
the uniform white rays of reality into
their constituent colours and enjoy
the images on my mental screen be-
cause the headache does not want
to abate and I have lost the faculty
of logic and rational thought
‘Making Money' by Terry Pratchett
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Resigned
Lost capacity to imagine someone listening,
people are ideas in the mind - and my mind
stopped conjuring people - I am two typing
hands, two unfocused eyes and a voice out
of tune, music gone, becoming a maddened
Vivaldi spring
I cannot imagine any benevolent intelligent
energy creating worlds, manifesting in every
being, reality being 4 walls and TV repeating
Top Gear - I want one thing only: translating
for a salary - today does not count because
we all work
To provide for that terrible time when we shall
be forced to live in decaying bodies - no-one
allowed to plan their own death with grace -
waiting like dumb animals for the last bell to
toll - while modern medicine gobbles up the
amassed wealth
We did not enjoy in our youth - we keep
working, losing all feeling - luckily the
pain is gone - the main obstacle to
being resigned with life…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Sixth Flavour: Spearmint 12 July 2009
The High Energy Magic Building at
Unseen University where fluxes in
the morphic nature of the universe
show the impermanence of seeming-
ly rigid time-space which illustrates
the implausibility of reality
The ‘thaum’ is the smallest particle
of magic, made up of resons or thing-
ies, representing reality fragments
made up of FIVE flavours: Up, Down,
Sideways, Sex Appeal and Peppermint
the SIXTH should be Spearmint…
The Disc-world’s rendition of quarks
with SIX flavours: Up, Down, Strange,
Charm, Truth, Beauty - How lovely…
Quoted from: Terry Pratchett “Lords and
Ladies” Victor Gollancz,1992, p.97
poem by Margaret Alice
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Camouflaged Flaws In Reality (Revised)
Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’
overwhelms – the enormous scope
of scenes he paints reduces me
to tears and silent wonder
Sam Vimes’ income spent caring for
widows and orphans of deceased
watchmen; Angua facetiously claims
he spends it all on women
Captain Carrot explains Vimes one-
man pension fund scheme, tells how
he lives frugally to provide for those
he sees worse off than him,
For this he receives fairytale rewards:
marries Ankh-Morpork’s richest woman
made a Knight by none other than the
undercover Ankh-Morpork King –
Captain Carrot – who finds evidence of
his kingship on plunging his sword into
granite, destroys powerful GONNE after
reading documents proving his lineage
But steadfast and strong, turns from his
birthright to the throne, preferring to remain
a watchman – this solid nobility becomes
overpowering narrative causality
Pratchett remonstrates about fairy tales
yet creates luminous, delicate, enticing
magical tales for these two characters,
weaving details as Discworld sagas
Despite cynical commentary on society
and human nature, Pratchett idealistically
creates wonderful bubbles of fantasy,
camouflaged as flaws in reality
[ORIGINAL]
SO overwhelmed by the enormous scope of
Pratchett’s vision in ‘Men At Arms’ - scenes
had me in tears before reducing me to silent
wonder - Sam Vimes spent his income
On widows and orphans of former watchmen; I
cried when Angua said he spent all his money
on women and Carrot stopped her explaining
Vimes one-man pension fund scheme
Vimes lived frugally to provide for those who are
worse off than him, for this he receives a fairytale
recompense: he marries Ankh-Morpork’s richest
woman and is made a Knight
By none other than the undercover Ankh-Morpork
King - Captain Carrot - who finds evidence of his
kingship when he plunges his sword into granite,
destroys the powerful GONNE
After reading documents proving his lineage, he is
still strong and turns from his right to the throne
preferring to remain a watchman - this nobility
becomes overpowering narrative causality
Pratchett always remonstrates against fairy tales,
yet creates the most luminous, delicate, enticing
magical tales for these two characters, filling in
details as the Discworld sagas continue
Pratchett seems to make cynical comments on
human nature and society, yet he is an idealist
creating most wonderful bubbles of fantasy,
camouflaged as flaws in reality
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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17.07.2009 I Am a Witch
Today my headache grew
toothache came to stay, strong
enough to make me call a dentist
my notes resemble those written
by the witches in Terry Pratchett’s
books, their medicinal plant infor-
mation interspersed with notes
on their state of health
Like my lines jotted down
during an ACALAN conference
writing down the chairman’s words
about a lingua franca for Africa, inter-
jecting my worries about my dis-
integrating hairstyle, my
conclusion is: I really
am a witch…
[By the way, I recommended Arabic as lingua
franca for Africa, since nobody knows it we’ll
all be equally disadvantaged…]
16 July 2009
poem by Margaret Alice
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This is Sublime
The tablecloth of time can be reused without
disturbing the cutlery and plates of events al-
though residual stains reveal inconsistencies
such as OOParts, Velikovsky’s discoveries,
mismatched historical periods are explained
by quantum’s Many Worlds theory; some-
where the apocalypse have taken place
Somewhere there is an Atlantis, earth is called
Gaia, someplace Biblical leprosy is nuclear fall-
out, in other places Mars is cleft by a meteorite,
in a parallel universe Earth is Tiamat, halved by
the passing of Niburu - everything imagined
happens somewhere; there is a place where
conspiracies and underground cities exist
Infinity gives you room for everything new, Terry
Pratchett uses James Bond and Tibetan Monks
containing a Lobsang in a story of Time where
the present equals the future and past and
procrastinators wind and unwind time while
anthropomorphic personifications stalk the
realms outside time – this is sublime!
Thief of Time – Terry Pratchett, Corgi Books,
2002, p.108
OOParts (Out Of Place Artifacts)
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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