Manuela Cardiga's Blog, page 51
January 2, 2015
A WONDERFUL review for "MANscapes Journey into Light" by the stunning and very talented ELLE KLASS
Manuela Cardiga's Manscapes
First review of the New year and what a fabulous book it is! When I was first asked to review this book because of the name I thought it would be erotica. As a reader of many genres the genre didn't really matter. It was simply my judging a book by its title. This is not an erotic read but a fabulous love story.
My review:
Manscapes is a dynamic story of one woman, Clara’s, struggles with love and romance. As a young woman she is raped and becomes pregnant by the rapist. She is then forced by her family to marry him. She grows to love and adore the child, a daughter, but her loathing for him becomes unbearable and she leaves. She is an artist, a painter, is forced to leave her schooling upon marrying her rapist. Once freed, she dives back into her painting and begins painting men, she nicknames her art appropriately as Manscapes. Upon leaving, she learns to love herself as well as falling in love.
This story touched me as a woman. Manuela Cardiga brings to life the fear, loathing, and incredible emotions that go with spending nearly a lifetime with that man who raped her. I felt sadness and loneliness, then happiness for Clara as the story passed. I will not disclose as you will have to read for yourself, but Manscapes is a powerful, riveting story that kept me on the edge of my seat and my emotions bobbing like a dime store bouncy ball.
A compelling novel that is far more than a romance.
http://thetroubledoyster.blogspot.pt/2015/01/manuela-cardiga-manscapes.html
My Novel "MANscapes - Journey into Light" is now available on SMASHWORDS!
CLICK TO MANSCAPES
"All women - from the most exquisite beauty to the plainest drab - want to believe in the Cinderella myth. Even the harsh-faced and sour-hearted, somewhere deep in their night-time struggles with their bitterest reality, dare to dream some Prince could still see past the dense veil of unkind nature and time, to the delicate, frail-hearted beauty within."
But Clara wasn't Cinderella, waiting for her Prince, she was Sleeping Beauty poisoned by a deadly kiss: eighteen year-old Clara is date-raped, and her violator claims it was consentual...
When she finds herself pregnant, her family pressures her into marriage and Clara's ordeal begins.
After 24 years Clara awakens from the nightmare of her abusive marriage and discovers her life unfolding miraculously. But the true miracle is her own blossoming: the maturing of a frightened abused girl into a strong woman capable of love, laughter and joy.
Travelling to live out a girl-hood dream of becoming an artist in Tahiti's exotic landscape, Clara finds her way from darkness to incandescent light, embracing in herself the strength of choice, and the power of decision.
"MANscapes - Journey into Light" is a powerful parable of hope and renewal, a story of one woman's discovery of herself and her journey into love.
"All women - from the most exquisite beauty to the plainest drab - want to believe in the Cinderella myth. Even the harsh-faced and sour-hearted, somewhere deep in their night-time struggles with their bitterest reality, dare to dream some Prince could still see past the dense veil of unkind nature and time, to the delicate, frail-hearted beauty within."
But Clara wasn't Cinderella, waiting for her Prince, she was Sleeping Beauty poisoned by a deadly kiss: eighteen year-old Clara is date-raped, and her violator claims it was consentual...
When she finds herself pregnant, her family pressures her into marriage and Clara's ordeal begins.
After 24 years Clara awakens from the nightmare of her abusive marriage and discovers her life unfolding miraculously. But the true miracle is her own blossoming: the maturing of a frightened abused girl into a strong woman capable of love, laughter and joy.
Travelling to live out a girl-hood dream of becoming an artist in Tahiti's exotic landscape, Clara finds her way from darkness to incandescent light, embracing in herself the strength of choice, and the power of decision.
"MANscapes - Journey into Light" is a powerful parable of hope and renewal, a story of one woman's discovery of herself and her journey into love.
January 1, 2015
MAY-FLY FLUTTER BYSweetnessYou sighAnd I smileA prayerLet...
MAY-FLY FLUTTER BY
Sweetness
You sigh
And I smile
A prayer
Let not
This hour
Fly by
And love
Fade away
MC
Sweetness
You sigh
And I smile
A prayer
Let not
This hour
Fly by
And love
Fade away
MC
WINTER WONDERLANDIn a Friend's regardIs the warmthAnd hop...
WINTER WONDERLAND
In a Friend's regard
Is the warmth
And hope
Of Spring.
Though
On the white
Stricken trees
The crystal bells
Of Winter
Ring,
Still
In these
Words
The scent
And breatth
Of Spring.
MC
In a Friend's regard
Is the warmth
And hope
Of Spring.
Though
On the white
Stricken trees
The crystal bells
Of Winter
Ring,
Still
In these
Words
The scent
And breatth
Of Spring.
MC
December 31, 2014
True hope begins where it seems all hope must end. Happy New Year.
(Basically, it ain't over till the fat Lady sings)
PAWNING PEARL- Part 31
Monday morning found Pearl and Simon sitting next to each other in Doctor de Bruin's waiting room. Simon sat, then stirred uncomfortably. The chair was too small. Tiny, really. Besides him Pearl was dead still, her hands clasped primly over her handbag, chin up, staring into nothing. At least it looked like it. Directly opposite her was a large poster for Family Planning advocating vasectomies. Simon winced and instinctively cupped his hands on his lap. After a while Simon nudged her. "Pearl? Are you alright?"
Pearl turned her head with that same far-away distant look in her eyes. "Yes, Simon. I am."
"Oh. Because you are so silent." Simon added timidly, "And usually, you know, you have quite a lot to say."
"I need to think. I have been talking so much lately, I haven't been listening to myself."
"Oh!" Simon is struck dumb by this reply. He looks around the waiting room. There is another row of chairs opposite them, all too small. Or at least, too small for him, but quite cheerfully coloured. The whole place was cheerful. In one corner a pile of toys was being pawed by three toddlers and opposite Simon a very unprepossessing five-year old was entertaining himself by blowing bubbles of snot out of his nose.
The boy's mother sat next to him reading something in a discrete fabric cover. Probably one of those sexy books women were reading on the sly now a days, Simon nodded wisely to himself. Erotica...Now women were reading about sex too. What was the world coming to? He sighed and stirred again, glanced at the silent Pearl.
He wanted to reach out, take her hand; but he was afraid to break the fragile accord they had been sharing the last two days. Somehow the Nazi, Rat-shit, they had all faded into the background. The focus of their concern had been Thali.
Simon had wanted to explore possibilities, name the phantoms flitting through his mind: cancer, TB, anaemia, leukaemia, diphtheria; and a million possible congenital defects of the heart, lungs, liver...Simon had spent an agonising afternoon googling all the terrible blood disorders that can assail children.
Pearl had refused to discuss Thali's possible illness. "Let us face enemies only when we can name them. To worry before is energy wasted twice over."
And now Pearl sat in a silent reverie, obviously doing exactly that. He was about to nudge her when he noticed Snot-nose was staring at him, a damp well-chewed finger stuck in the corner of his mouth.
"Are you a giant?" Snotty asked.
Simon stirred again. His butt was getting numb. A peculiar sensation, and one he had never experienced before. "No, I am not a giant."
"You look like a giant." Snotty replied, with an accusing tone, in a surprisingly deep voice.
"Well, I am not."
"Are you strong." the sweet child asked, "Or just big and fat?"
Simon was outraged "Do I look fat to you?"
"You look mighty big. And you have a bulge in your middle, like mom did when she was expecting Xoli."
Simon sat up as straight as he could in the tiny chair and sucked in his offending incipient paunch. "That is muscle. I am just sitting bent over, see? So it looks soft, but it's really not fat at all."
The sweet child looked him over scornfully. "You look fat, and OLD, and ugly too."
Simon gasped in outrage and was about to reply when Pearl took his hand.
"Simon." Simon savoured the warmth of her hand resting on his. It felt astonishingly light, and completely right.
"I...I have been foolish. I have no excuse except that...I am thirty two years old, unmarried. I have spent my life looking after old people. My mother, my grandmother and grandfather, my aunt. I was the plain one who stayed behind in the kraal when all the others left to live their lives."
Simon opened his mouth to reply and Pearl stilled him with a gesture. "I was used to that. It was alright. I had my books, my studies, my lovely old ones, I had a full life. Then my father came back after my mother died. He had no use for me. He took a younger wife. A woman who painted her lips, and her nails purple, and had a blond wig.I become an embarrassment, he wanted me out."
Pearl's eyes filled with unshed tears. "So, he sold me to Jonas' father. And you know how THAT turned out. And then there you were, like an angel, saving me, and I loved you straight away."
Simon opened his mouth again, and Pearl laid cool fingers over his lips. "And you opened up a new life and a new world for me. I was so happy taking care of you, then the children too. Then all these people started making such a fuss of me...Me, Pearl Chabalala, plain Pearl whom nobody loved, but was very useful. They were seeing me, looking at me, seeing a woman: desirable, admirable, lovable..And...oh Simon, I loved that! Because you see, for the first time, I was seeing me too, and liking me."
Simon said softly: " I think you very desirable, and most admirable...and very lovable."
Pearl looked up at him and smiled."As I do you. I apologise Simon. I have been silly. I have been wanting to be a girl, like I never was, instead of a woman. Now it makes no sense to play games. I love you Simon, and my heart tells me a time of terrible storms comes, and we must stand together with no misunderstanding between us, we must stand together in trust and strength and know we are honest and can count on each other, no matter what happens."
Simon was about to reply when a skinny man in a white uniform and fat red-rimmed glasses put his head around the door and called: "Mr and Mrs Chabalala?" Pearl jumped to her feet, but Simon had some trouble extracting his bottom from the narrow chair.
"I am Pearl Chabalala, and this is Mr SImon Thambisa. We are not married."
"Yet..." Added Simon, and took Pearl's hand.
The thin man looked a bit startled at that, and led them to Dr de Bruins's office. He announced them, then stood back and gestured them in.
Dr. de Bruin stood up to greet them with his gentle smile. He shook Simon's hand firmly and invited them to sit down. There were two brown folders on his desk. Dr. de Bruin opened one, took a deep breath and said: "Miss Chabalala, Mr Thambisa, I have the children's blood-work and the news are not what I would like. Isaiah is well, so I won't discuss him further. Thalie..." Simon squeezed Pearl's hand and took a deep breath.
Dr. de Bruin took off his glasses and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes.
"Thali is HIV positive, and she also has Aids."
Simon felt like a mite ground down by a giant's foot. Every particle of air in his body rushed out in a moan. "She is what?"
"Let's not beat around the bush. Mr Thambisa, the viral count is very high. Thali is dying."
TO BE CONTINUED
MC
Pearl turned her head with that same far-away distant look in her eyes. "Yes, Simon. I am."
"Oh. Because you are so silent." Simon added timidly, "And usually, you know, you have quite a lot to say."
"I need to think. I have been talking so much lately, I haven't been listening to myself."
"Oh!" Simon is struck dumb by this reply. He looks around the waiting room. There is another row of chairs opposite them, all too small. Or at least, too small for him, but quite cheerfully coloured. The whole place was cheerful. In one corner a pile of toys was being pawed by three toddlers and opposite Simon a very unprepossessing five-year old was entertaining himself by blowing bubbles of snot out of his nose.
The boy's mother sat next to him reading something in a discrete fabric cover. Probably one of those sexy books women were reading on the sly now a days, Simon nodded wisely to himself. Erotica...Now women were reading about sex too. What was the world coming to? He sighed and stirred again, glanced at the silent Pearl.
He wanted to reach out, take her hand; but he was afraid to break the fragile accord they had been sharing the last two days. Somehow the Nazi, Rat-shit, they had all faded into the background. The focus of their concern had been Thali.
Simon had wanted to explore possibilities, name the phantoms flitting through his mind: cancer, TB, anaemia, leukaemia, diphtheria; and a million possible congenital defects of the heart, lungs, liver...Simon had spent an agonising afternoon googling all the terrible blood disorders that can assail children.
Pearl had refused to discuss Thali's possible illness. "Let us face enemies only when we can name them. To worry before is energy wasted twice over."
And now Pearl sat in a silent reverie, obviously doing exactly that. He was about to nudge her when he noticed Snot-nose was staring at him, a damp well-chewed finger stuck in the corner of his mouth.
"Are you a giant?" Snotty asked.
Simon stirred again. His butt was getting numb. A peculiar sensation, and one he had never experienced before. "No, I am not a giant."
"You look like a giant." Snotty replied, with an accusing tone, in a surprisingly deep voice.
"Well, I am not."
"Are you strong." the sweet child asked, "Or just big and fat?"
Simon was outraged "Do I look fat to you?"
"You look mighty big. And you have a bulge in your middle, like mom did when she was expecting Xoli."
Simon sat up as straight as he could in the tiny chair and sucked in his offending incipient paunch. "That is muscle. I am just sitting bent over, see? So it looks soft, but it's really not fat at all."
The sweet child looked him over scornfully. "You look fat, and OLD, and ugly too."
Simon gasped in outrage and was about to reply when Pearl took his hand.
"Simon." Simon savoured the warmth of her hand resting on his. It felt astonishingly light, and completely right.
"I...I have been foolish. I have no excuse except that...I am thirty two years old, unmarried. I have spent my life looking after old people. My mother, my grandmother and grandfather, my aunt. I was the plain one who stayed behind in the kraal when all the others left to live their lives."
Simon opened his mouth to reply and Pearl stilled him with a gesture. "I was used to that. It was alright. I had my books, my studies, my lovely old ones, I had a full life. Then my father came back after my mother died. He had no use for me. He took a younger wife. A woman who painted her lips, and her nails purple, and had a blond wig.I become an embarrassment, he wanted me out."
Pearl's eyes filled with unshed tears. "So, he sold me to Jonas' father. And you know how THAT turned out. And then there you were, like an angel, saving me, and I loved you straight away."
Simon opened his mouth again, and Pearl laid cool fingers over his lips. "And you opened up a new life and a new world for me. I was so happy taking care of you, then the children too. Then all these people started making such a fuss of me...Me, Pearl Chabalala, plain Pearl whom nobody loved, but was very useful. They were seeing me, looking at me, seeing a woman: desirable, admirable, lovable..And...oh Simon, I loved that! Because you see, for the first time, I was seeing me too, and liking me."
Simon said softly: " I think you very desirable, and most admirable...and very lovable."
Pearl looked up at him and smiled."As I do you. I apologise Simon. I have been silly. I have been wanting to be a girl, like I never was, instead of a woman. Now it makes no sense to play games. I love you Simon, and my heart tells me a time of terrible storms comes, and we must stand together with no misunderstanding between us, we must stand together in trust and strength and know we are honest and can count on each other, no matter what happens."
Simon was about to reply when a skinny man in a white uniform and fat red-rimmed glasses put his head around the door and called: "Mr and Mrs Chabalala?" Pearl jumped to her feet, but Simon had some trouble extracting his bottom from the narrow chair.
"I am Pearl Chabalala, and this is Mr SImon Thambisa. We are not married."
"Yet..." Added Simon, and took Pearl's hand.
The thin man looked a bit startled at that, and led them to Dr de Bruins's office. He announced them, then stood back and gestured them in.
Dr. de Bruin stood up to greet them with his gentle smile. He shook Simon's hand firmly and invited them to sit down. There were two brown folders on his desk. Dr. de Bruin opened one, took a deep breath and said: "Miss Chabalala, Mr Thambisa, I have the children's blood-work and the news are not what I would like. Isaiah is well, so I won't discuss him further. Thalie..." Simon squeezed Pearl's hand and took a deep breath.
Dr. de Bruin took off his glasses and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes.
"Thali is HIV positive, and she also has Aids."
Simon felt like a mite ground down by a giant's foot. Every particle of air in his body rushed out in a moan. "She is what?"
"Let's not beat around the bush. Mr Thambisa, the viral count is very high. Thali is dying."
TO BE CONTINUED
MC
December 30, 2014
Excerpt from my new Novel, "GODDESS OF WAR"
Dinner. The long table gleams with crystal and silver, shards of shattered light spilling from the coloured facets of jewels draped around long throats.
Hilly and Vinny are seventeen, and it is time for them to be seen. Hilly looks at the women seated around the dinner table, with their bare shoulders and wide eyes. She sees what they are. Breeders. Beautiful, with the slender anxiety of over-bred fillies. She sees Vinny being petted and fêted by the women, sees the vacuous admiration of the effete young men, and the covert lust in the older men's eyes. They are on display, the two of them. In two months they go to Town, for the Season. This is dress rehearsal, and for Vinny it is a triumph.
Hilly knows she will not triumph. She has nought of beauty, nor charm; and her intelligence, her inescapable, demanding, unsettling presence will not be what the Ton will be looking for in a Debutant. A Coming-Out Season is, after all - she thinks - a display of women-flesh for sale.
She picks up the draped linen napkin lying on her lap and dabs delicately at her lips to hide a sneer of contempt. Hilly has decided she will not be wed. Her person will not be desirable, but her inheritance will. She is the only child of a very wealthy, frugal father, and there is no entail on the Rutherford Estate. She is a rich catch for a provident man. She must make sure she is not asked for, she must be such a thing as no-man would consider, not even the poorest debt-ridden, desperate younger son. She must be polite, display her razor mind to its best advantage; her ferocious castrating wit will be her shield.
She will start laying down the pattern of her life. Hilly will be the eccentric adventurous wealthy spinster, free as other women are not free; freed by her very undesirability from any possibility of doubt as to her virtue, freed to do as she pleases. She will start tonight.
Next to her they have seated a retired Colonel. Retired, she judged, but not too old to look for a young, fertile wife. He senses her regard, and turns on her pale, protuberant eyes. “My dear, we bore you, I am sure, with all this talk of Regimental politics and war...”
“Not at all. I am fascinated.” Her voice is her best asset. Clear, warm, beautiful.
The man smiles, even as the man he had been talking to exclaims: “Surely, Davenger, you don't claim we could have used the artillery to better effect! We have to deploy it, after all, and we did run that old desert fox to earth!”
Vinny's father cries “Indeed! We, with our good British hounds, ran him down, tore him apart! What else could you want, Davenger? Victory was ours!”
“It was too expensive a victory, Lucan. We lost too many men to bring down what amounted to little more than a band of bandits.”
“A fox...” Hilly says softly, “A fox, had it the wits, could bring down the Master of the Hunt.”
Her dinner companion leans in, “Indeed, my dear! And how would you go about it, being the fox?”
“I would wave the red flag of my tail in the face of the hounds. I would do what foxes do: I would run; run, but not too fast. I would let the hunt smell me, glimpse me, hunger for the slaying of me. Then when they were blind and baying with the death-lust, I would lure them to a killing ground.”
“Ahh...A strategist.” Davenger smiles.
“A chit of a girl who should be concerned with cross-stitch, not her elders' conversation at table!”
Hilly turns to him “Cross-stitch plays on patterns, Sir. Patterns train the mind to reason and logic. Is that not the essence of strategy?”
Next to her Davenger laughs out loud “She's got you running, Cartley, that she has!”
He sobers and adds “And you are right, my dear, a General willing to lay aside pomp for guile would rather be the fox than the mindless hounds. Hounds will chase a scent off a cliff in the heat of a hunt. You would have been a challenging foe, indeed.”
“A feminine mind, or sensibility could never make the necessary decisions for military leadership. Which is why men are warriors, and women followers.”
“I don't agree, Cartley. Some of the most appalling atrocities I have ever seen have been committed by women.”
“In India, maybe, but our English women are not savages! And Indian or English, women are not warriors. Feminine sensibilities...”
“Ah...So tell me, Cartley, the ancient Greeks you so admire - homosexuals most of them – and full of feminine sensibilities, were they not warriors?”
“Davenger! There are Ladies present. You are out of bounds, man!”
Davenger turns to Hilly “Now you see why I never rose higher in the military ranks? My sense of what is strategically opportune does not extend to the dinner table.”
Hilary finds herself laughing with this man. He leans in closer yet. “Or to my bed. If either of us was a whit less bright, I would take you to wife. As it is, I am curious to see what you will do with your life, little fox.”
Hilly smiles, “As am I , Sir, as am I!”
From "GODDESS OF WAR"
MAnuela Cardiga
Hilly and Vinny are seventeen, and it is time for them to be seen. Hilly looks at the women seated around the dinner table, with their bare shoulders and wide eyes. She sees what they are. Breeders. Beautiful, with the slender anxiety of over-bred fillies. She sees Vinny being petted and fêted by the women, sees the vacuous admiration of the effete young men, and the covert lust in the older men's eyes. They are on display, the two of them. In two months they go to Town, for the Season. This is dress rehearsal, and for Vinny it is a triumph.
Hilly knows she will not triumph. She has nought of beauty, nor charm; and her intelligence, her inescapable, demanding, unsettling presence will not be what the Ton will be looking for in a Debutant. A Coming-Out Season is, after all - she thinks - a display of women-flesh for sale.
She picks up the draped linen napkin lying on her lap and dabs delicately at her lips to hide a sneer of contempt. Hilly has decided she will not be wed. Her person will not be desirable, but her inheritance will. She is the only child of a very wealthy, frugal father, and there is no entail on the Rutherford Estate. She is a rich catch for a provident man. She must make sure she is not asked for, she must be such a thing as no-man would consider, not even the poorest debt-ridden, desperate younger son. She must be polite, display her razor mind to its best advantage; her ferocious castrating wit will be her shield.
She will start laying down the pattern of her life. Hilly will be the eccentric adventurous wealthy spinster, free as other women are not free; freed by her very undesirability from any possibility of doubt as to her virtue, freed to do as she pleases. She will start tonight.
Next to her they have seated a retired Colonel. Retired, she judged, but not too old to look for a young, fertile wife. He senses her regard, and turns on her pale, protuberant eyes. “My dear, we bore you, I am sure, with all this talk of Regimental politics and war...”
“Not at all. I am fascinated.” Her voice is her best asset. Clear, warm, beautiful.
The man smiles, even as the man he had been talking to exclaims: “Surely, Davenger, you don't claim we could have used the artillery to better effect! We have to deploy it, after all, and we did run that old desert fox to earth!”
Vinny's father cries “Indeed! We, with our good British hounds, ran him down, tore him apart! What else could you want, Davenger? Victory was ours!”
“It was too expensive a victory, Lucan. We lost too many men to bring down what amounted to little more than a band of bandits.”
“A fox...” Hilly says softly, “A fox, had it the wits, could bring down the Master of the Hunt.”
Her dinner companion leans in, “Indeed, my dear! And how would you go about it, being the fox?”
“I would wave the red flag of my tail in the face of the hounds. I would do what foxes do: I would run; run, but not too fast. I would let the hunt smell me, glimpse me, hunger for the slaying of me. Then when they were blind and baying with the death-lust, I would lure them to a killing ground.”
“Ahh...A strategist.” Davenger smiles.
“A chit of a girl who should be concerned with cross-stitch, not her elders' conversation at table!”
Hilly turns to him “Cross-stitch plays on patterns, Sir. Patterns train the mind to reason and logic. Is that not the essence of strategy?”
Next to her Davenger laughs out loud “She's got you running, Cartley, that she has!”
He sobers and adds “And you are right, my dear, a General willing to lay aside pomp for guile would rather be the fox than the mindless hounds. Hounds will chase a scent off a cliff in the heat of a hunt. You would have been a challenging foe, indeed.”
“A feminine mind, or sensibility could never make the necessary decisions for military leadership. Which is why men are warriors, and women followers.”
“I don't agree, Cartley. Some of the most appalling atrocities I have ever seen have been committed by women.”
“In India, maybe, but our English women are not savages! And Indian or English, women are not warriors. Feminine sensibilities...”
“Ah...So tell me, Cartley, the ancient Greeks you so admire - homosexuals most of them – and full of feminine sensibilities, were they not warriors?”
“Davenger! There are Ladies present. You are out of bounds, man!”
Davenger turns to Hilly “Now you see why I never rose higher in the military ranks? My sense of what is strategically opportune does not extend to the dinner table.”
Hilary finds herself laughing with this man. He leans in closer yet. “Or to my bed. If either of us was a whit less bright, I would take you to wife. As it is, I am curious to see what you will do with your life, little fox.”
Hilly smiles, “As am I , Sir, as am I!”
From "GODDESS OF WAR"
MAnuela Cardiga
ODE TO A FREEDOM FIGHTER
As Time and tides flow
Blood and memory thins
And no justice,
No outrage screams.
Tell me, my Hero
Do you stand tall?
Do you smile,
Broad and bold?
When you dream
Is there no cold
And dainty hand
Tossed flower torn
From a broken stem?
And does that hand
Not caress
Your memory?
Is there no distress?
Hear you not
The whispers
Of the innocent dead?
Or are you deafened
By the roar
"All Hail the conquering Hero!"
I send you now
A wish to gladden you
As they pin to your chest
The Star of a Saviour;´
I wish for you,
With all the power
The old-mothers wield,
That you to yourself
Be known and true:
Let no gilding light
Bedew your brow,
Let no lie cloud
Your inner sight.
See that hand,
McBride,
Each night;
See it reach
Petal fingers
Strange and light,
Let it strum fear
From the ill-tuned
Chords of your
Deadened heart.
Dance to that tune,
McBride, dance all night;
I wish for music
In your head
Each night as you lie
On your bed.
Dance, McBride,
Dance with the dead.
MC
Blood and memory thins
And no justice,
No outrage screams.
Tell me, my Hero
Do you stand tall?
Do you smile,
Broad and bold?
When you dream
Is there no cold
And dainty hand
Tossed flower torn
From a broken stem?
And does that hand
Not caress
Your memory?
Is there no distress?
Hear you not
The whispers
Of the innocent dead?
Or are you deafened
By the roar
"All Hail the conquering Hero!"
I send you now
A wish to gladden you
As they pin to your chest
The Star of a Saviour;´
I wish for you,
With all the power
The old-mothers wield,
That you to yourself
Be known and true:
Let no gilding light
Bedew your brow,
Let no lie cloud
Your inner sight.
See that hand,
McBride,
Each night;
See it reach
Petal fingers
Strange and light,
Let it strum fear
From the ill-tuned
Chords of your
Deadened heart.
Dance to that tune,
McBride, dance all night;
I wish for music
In your head
Each night as you lie
On your bed.
Dance, McBride,
Dance with the dead.
MC
December 28, 2014
BE AFRAID, BE VERY AFRAID...There's a bad manOut thereWor...
BE AFRAID, BE VERY AFRAID...
There's a bad man
Out there
Worse and scarier
Than the Bag-Man,
And he got himself
A mean acronym
Scarier than ETA
Or IRA or ISIS
Or any other
Alphabet soup
Kill-Machine
Any one
In this world
Has ever seen.
He worse
Than Jason,
He got bigger claws
Than the guy
From Elm street
A bigger bite
Than that guppy Jaws
And he hunts,
Hunts without
Mercy or pause...
No begging
No crying
No asset hiding
Will save you;
He out to get you
He out to skin you
And fillet and bone you;
You caint run,
You caint hide,
This here man
Is on your behind,
So Kow-tow
Bend low
And bow;
Here comes the man
The bad bag man
The mean man
Here comes
That voodoo
"What ever you do
I got you" man
Run baby RUN
It's that IRS
Bad-ass man!
MC
There's a bad man
Out there
Worse and scarier
Than the Bag-Man,
And he got himself
A mean acronym
Scarier than ETA
Or IRA or ISIS
Or any other
Alphabet soup
Kill-Machine
Any one
In this world
Has ever seen.
He worse
Than Jason,
He got bigger claws
Than the guy
From Elm street
A bigger bite
Than that guppy Jaws
And he hunts,
Hunts without
Mercy or pause...
No begging
No crying
No asset hiding
Will save you;
He out to get you
He out to skin you
And fillet and bone you;
You caint run,
You caint hide,
This here man
Is on your behind,
So Kow-tow
Bend low
And bow;
Here comes the man
The bad bag man
The mean man
Here comes
That voodoo
"What ever you do
I got you" man
Run baby RUN
It's that IRS
Bad-ass man!
MC
December 26, 2014
PAWNING PEARL - Part 30
Next morning saw Simon out of bed at day break. He brushed his teeth, and stalked into the kitchen ready to give Pearl a piece of his mind. She wasn't there. No Pearl.
This was odd. Pearl was ALWAYS there...
Monday or Sunday, rain or shine, the first person out of bed was always Pearl. Pearl was always at her post in the kitchen presiding over a pot of hot tea and a gentling steaming pot of creamy porridge. The table would be set, and there would be Pearl...
No Pearl, no tea, no porridge; instead at the table sat a disconsolate Isaiah with a bowl of cereal and milk.
"Good morning Isaiah. How are you this morning?"
"Good morning Papa Simon, I be fine." Isaiah spooned up the cereal and chewed it up with an expression of suffering.
"What is the matter?"
"I wanted Mama Pearl's hot porridge with honey."
"Oh! But yesterday you were complaining about how you wanted those chocolate rice puffs!"
"I wanted them yesterday. Today I wanted porridge." explained Isaiah reasonably.
"I see."
"I went to Mama Pearl and told her so, and she said it is her day off."
Simon gaped at him. "Her day off?"
Isaiah frowned, "Yes. She said: It is my day off, I am sleeping in."
"Oh!" Simon frowned back. "I hadn't thought of that. She's never taken a day off before. What about Thali?"
"Thali is sleeping in too. I told her to get up and come play and she said "VOETSEK"."
Simon and Isaiah looked at each other. "This is how it begins Papa Simon," Isaiah warned darkly, "This is only the beginning..."
"The beginning of what?"
"The conspiracy. That Rat-shit started putting ideas in Pearl's head. She's dressing up, and getting pretty and happy, and going out dancing and sleeping in late, and not making breakfast; and next thing you know he will ask her to marry him."
"NO!"
"Yep. And she will go and he will give her flowers and kisses and tell her she is wonderful and she will never come back. That," sighed Isaiah gloomily. "It is what happened to a friend of mine."
"Well, that will not happen with Pearl! She is NOT going to go off and be happy. I give you my word, Isaiah! I will soon put an end to that! Now, go get dressed, you and I are going out for an English breakfast."
"Yes Papa Simon!"
***
Two hours later Simon and Isaiah walked into a scene of pure feminine self indulgence. On the big couch were Thali and Pearl curled up in their bathrobes eating chocolate ice cream and watching a Barbie musical.
"Morning Ladies," greeted Simon, and was instantly hushed.
"Shhhhh Papa Simon, this is the good part!" Thali cried.
"Yes, this is where the Prince gets rescued by Barbie and tells her she was right, and he loves her..." added Pearl.
"And he promises to wait for her while she goes launch her singing career!" sighed Thali, "It is so romantic!"
"And after we are watching "Sleepless in Seattle". Channel 21 is having a special Romantic Movie of My Life Day." Smiled Pearl, "And all we are doing today is girl stuff. We are taking the day off, Thali and I."
Simon looked down at Isaiah who sent him a telepathic "told you so!". The two walked into the kitchen to confer in privacy.
"Do you think there will be lunch?" asked Isaiah.
"Somehow I don't think so. But don't worry, I will make us all a tuna omelet. I do a great tuna omelet."
Isaiah looked up at him and winced. "Papa Simon? You cooking?"
"Isaiah, I was an independent man, long before Miss Pearl Chabalala came along I was living alone and doing it most successfully! I can feed this family as well as she can, and I am about to prove it to you!"
Just then the phone rang. Simon walked into the hall and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Good morning," said a male voice on the other side, "May I speak to Miss Chabalala, please?"
"Who is this?" asked Simon quite rudely, "And what do you want."
"Well Sir, I wanted to speak to Miss Chabalala. I am afraid the matter is confidential, so if you would be so kind as to call the Lady to the phone?"
"PEARL!" Screamed Simon, "Phone for you!"
Pearl traipsed in light as you please and took the receiver from him.
"Hello? Yes ,this is she?" There was a long pause, then she replied, "Thali too?" Pearl frowned. "Just us two then. Yes, at 11:00 Monday. Please tell the Doctor we will most certainly be there. Thank you for calling. Goodbye, and have a nice weekend."
Pearl slowly replaced the receiver. She was still frowning when she turned to Simon.
"It was the receptionist from the Doctor's office, he said the Doctor wants to discuss some of the results from the children's blood-tests." Her dark eyes were filled with a foreshadowing of fear. "Oh Simon...he said not to bring the children, just us two are to go in, as Thali's care-takers and guardian."
She shivered, "Oh Simon, I think our babies may be ill!"
TO BE CONTINUED
MC
This was odd. Pearl was ALWAYS there...
Monday or Sunday, rain or shine, the first person out of bed was always Pearl. Pearl was always at her post in the kitchen presiding over a pot of hot tea and a gentling steaming pot of creamy porridge. The table would be set, and there would be Pearl...
No Pearl, no tea, no porridge; instead at the table sat a disconsolate Isaiah with a bowl of cereal and milk.
"Good morning Isaiah. How are you this morning?"
"Good morning Papa Simon, I be fine." Isaiah spooned up the cereal and chewed it up with an expression of suffering.
"What is the matter?"
"I wanted Mama Pearl's hot porridge with honey."
"Oh! But yesterday you were complaining about how you wanted those chocolate rice puffs!"
"I wanted them yesterday. Today I wanted porridge." explained Isaiah reasonably.
"I see."
"I went to Mama Pearl and told her so, and she said it is her day off."
Simon gaped at him. "Her day off?"
Isaiah frowned, "Yes. She said: It is my day off, I am sleeping in."
"Oh!" Simon frowned back. "I hadn't thought of that. She's never taken a day off before. What about Thali?"
"Thali is sleeping in too. I told her to get up and come play and she said "VOETSEK"."
Simon and Isaiah looked at each other. "This is how it begins Papa Simon," Isaiah warned darkly, "This is only the beginning..."
"The beginning of what?"
"The conspiracy. That Rat-shit started putting ideas in Pearl's head. She's dressing up, and getting pretty and happy, and going out dancing and sleeping in late, and not making breakfast; and next thing you know he will ask her to marry him."
"NO!"
"Yep. And she will go and he will give her flowers and kisses and tell her she is wonderful and she will never come back. That," sighed Isaiah gloomily. "It is what happened to a friend of mine."
"Well, that will not happen with Pearl! She is NOT going to go off and be happy. I give you my word, Isaiah! I will soon put an end to that! Now, go get dressed, you and I are going out for an English breakfast."
"Yes Papa Simon!"
***
Two hours later Simon and Isaiah walked into a scene of pure feminine self indulgence. On the big couch were Thali and Pearl curled up in their bathrobes eating chocolate ice cream and watching a Barbie musical.
"Morning Ladies," greeted Simon, and was instantly hushed.
"Shhhhh Papa Simon, this is the good part!" Thali cried.
"Yes, this is where the Prince gets rescued by Barbie and tells her she was right, and he loves her..." added Pearl.
"And he promises to wait for her while she goes launch her singing career!" sighed Thali, "It is so romantic!"
"And after we are watching "Sleepless in Seattle". Channel 21 is having a special Romantic Movie of My Life Day." Smiled Pearl, "And all we are doing today is girl stuff. We are taking the day off, Thali and I."
Simon looked down at Isaiah who sent him a telepathic "told you so!". The two walked into the kitchen to confer in privacy.
"Do you think there will be lunch?" asked Isaiah.
"Somehow I don't think so. But don't worry, I will make us all a tuna omelet. I do a great tuna omelet."
Isaiah looked up at him and winced. "Papa Simon? You cooking?"
"Isaiah, I was an independent man, long before Miss Pearl Chabalala came along I was living alone and doing it most successfully! I can feed this family as well as she can, and I am about to prove it to you!"
Just then the phone rang. Simon walked into the hall and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Good morning," said a male voice on the other side, "May I speak to Miss Chabalala, please?"
"Who is this?" asked Simon quite rudely, "And what do you want."
"Well Sir, I wanted to speak to Miss Chabalala. I am afraid the matter is confidential, so if you would be so kind as to call the Lady to the phone?"
"PEARL!" Screamed Simon, "Phone for you!"
Pearl traipsed in light as you please and took the receiver from him.
"Hello? Yes ,this is she?" There was a long pause, then she replied, "Thali too?" Pearl frowned. "Just us two then. Yes, at 11:00 Monday. Please tell the Doctor we will most certainly be there. Thank you for calling. Goodbye, and have a nice weekend."
Pearl slowly replaced the receiver. She was still frowning when she turned to Simon.
"It was the receptionist from the Doctor's office, he said the Doctor wants to discuss some of the results from the children's blood-tests." Her dark eyes were filled with a foreshadowing of fear. "Oh Simon...he said not to bring the children, just us two are to go in, as Thali's care-takers and guardian."
She shivered, "Oh Simon, I think our babies may be ill!"
TO BE CONTINUED
MC
