Blog No. 15 – Xenophobia


Xenophobic attacks on foreigners – fellow men and women – anywhere in the world are orchestrated by those to whom death is no stranger. Were it not contentious, I would perhaps suggest that those who murder difference are conditioned to do so. Like Somalian pirates have done their particular job before. It is clear when the best of everything is at work. Your culture will decide for you what means what. What does NOT mean that.

There is a time for what is going on in South Africa, elsewhere. There is a place for what is yet to come. When you will stir shit by tainting the reputation of a proud nation, you will receive that shit straight back in your face. South African people are amongst the friendliest, most accepting and welcoming people in the world. They do not hate foreigners.

Africa is not in need of another Rwanda crisis. Or another Charles Taylor. Etc. There is a way to find common ground where the conflict sits. And the conflict sits. It will soon stand. This is not necessarily a bad thing. It may stand, and walk away. It may wait, watching. Conflict is not afraid of itself.

Xenophobia – or the threat of such – is enough to cause a moral panic the size of a giant tsunami. I suspect that would be its point. What is in a man that can make him take the life of another for the sake of a cause that does not belong to him? That aspect would be worth investigating. I suppose money has something to do with it. There are too many people who have mapped their souls by capitalism.

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Blog No. 15 – Undine


Photo:  Helen Ree –

I set fire to an undine once. It broke my heart.

However, the skeleton I kept back from the fire was mine.

I used that skeleton to build a nest fit for a family of scavengers.

Mermaids and undines share the same blood.

Water nymph. Breasts bare, gentle. Tail wet, slippery.

It is that way with a mermaid.

There is a moment in every undine that resonates with the tide.

Fresh – or salt – water, the desiccation is the same.

An undine will shed her scales for a good reason.

Without scales, an undine will suffocate.

Unless she has evolved beyond scales. Then she won’t.

Otherwise she will die, uninspired. It is that way with a mermaid.

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Blog No. 14 – The Mer-maid and The Moon


Photo:  Helen Ree –

That the moon was a space-hopper is no coincidence.

That the Merman surfaced isn’t either.

A Mer-maid knows well a Siren song –

and heeds its call.

If The Moon sent its message betwixt total eclipse and gibbous,

then the Merman riding waves is Poseidon.

If the mermaids and dragons still need feeding,

then Poseidon either lied, or is hiding.

Barnacles are hard for a reason. They are armour.

The flick of a Mer-man’s – or a Mer-maid’s – tail will give you whiplash.

It is also likely to render you senseless.

For senselessness there is no remedy.

Mer-maids avert their gazes because they have a million tomorrows to attend to.

The River of Life runs somewhere. The Mer-maids know this.

They know the lore of the oceans, too, hence their relevance.

They wait – trust – patiently. The Moon knows what to do.

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Blog No. 13 – Hall of Mirrors


Photo:  Helen Ree – www.

The Hall of Mirrors – nee The Butterfly Seasons

Quivering wings unfurled; poised for flight
on a new season of capricious winds
sent to test those emerging fresh
from the safe embrace of the chrysalis.

Driven flitting, horizon to horizon,
kissing at the blossoms awash with the colours of love
collecting nectar, and memories,
with the wild delight of a child.

Time’s flight marked by increments of wonder
on a path mapped by pain, but paved with faith
in tomorrow’s power
to bring dying dreams alive and deliver miracles.

Spring storms shadow summer’s search for its golden promise,
Summer hunts autumnal, and
Autumn remembers summer to winter, briefly, on its way through.
Winter, alone, is left to fend for itself.
It holds autonomy over its numb reign, only.

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Blog No. 12 – Mermaid

mermaid_02Photo:  Helen Ree

Mermaids and dragons have a lot in common.

They both feed on moonbeams.

They digest their lot slowly, to get the best from it.

There is always time for that.


When a mermaid faces her nemesis he knows all about it.

In fact – he loses his head.

Poseidon might wield a trident, but mermaids carry Excalibur.

It is best not to forget that.


When you are cast in stone you will also know about it.

Then, to be free, you must get a good sculptor. That can be challenging.

Skilled sculptors sculpt the souls of their subjects.

That is why they are hard to find.


Eclipses scare neither dragons nor mermaids.

They are immune to superstition.

In the darkness they may starve, they may not.

It depends how bright the moon-shine.


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Blog No. 11 – Mermaid


Photo:  Helen Ree –

The thousand-yard stare that speaks of reason.

A defiance in defence of life.

Mermaids do not question defence when it serves purpose.

That is why they still have their tails.

Should you wish to ride the high tide – her waves – you may ask.

She may say no. She may not.

That is a mermaid’s prerogative.

Mermaids are good friends with predators.

The Seven Sirens favour mermaids.

That is their prerogative, it is not nepotism – or favouritism.

Mermaids do not have sisterhood issues,

nor do they rely on brotherhood sustenance. They swim free.

The past blurs, when mermaids turn.

That is their way. They know how deep the oceans go.

That said, there is not often time for turning.

Mermaids have yet to find Poseidon.

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Blog No. 10 – Mermaid

mermaid_04Photo:  Helen Ree

She comes inshore when the moon’s illumination is phosphorescent.

She is ashore, beside the tide of life, counting crests.

She marvels at their perpetual return journey:

like one would marvel at a satellite mapping souls.

Mermaids have souls,

Naturally the progeny of the God Poseidon

and his Trident,

breathing underwater is the least of their talents.

Skills, gills, they all serve purpose.

Like nothing happens without a good reason not to.

Mermaids prefer sun-fish, lightly fried.

Sushi is good on Tuesdays.

Sirens are fond of reason.

Mermaids are pragmatic.

They know oysters grow pearls –

and that is their best talent.


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