She Can’t See She

Like west coast weather,
Moods change and swing,
Rearranging things,
So the whole landscape
Is cast into a different light,
Not wrong or right,
But hard to follow,
To be prepared,
Never knowing
If moments shared,
Will somehow implode,
At the same time drawn
To beauty showed,
Beyond compare,
Beauty anchored deep,
In heart and soul,
But when black dogs howl,
She doesn’t always know it’s there.

PROBLEM SOLVING

Barbro is my woman,
I am Barbro’s man,
We have our little problems,
But we do the best we can,
When problems get too big,
We stick our heads into the sand,
And laugh and drink and dance and sing and shout “Strike up the band!”

TO MY OLDER BROTHER

What would have been
If you had been?
Would I have been another?
Chances are small,
I’d exist at all,
Let alone as the young brother,
But if you had lived too,
One thing is true,
I’d have a different name,
My identity,
The stuff that makes me me,
Nothing would be quite the same,
All the clothes that I’d own,
All those rooms alone,
I would have shared them with you,
The things that life throws,
Well only goodness knows,
What we’d have made our way through,
But it isn’t that way,
For on Delivery day,
For reasons that we can’t explain,
You arrived on our shore,
For an hour, no more,
And then suddenly were gone again,
And so we never met,
Not even once, yet,
I think of you often I find,
Coming to grips,
With could be’s, and what if’s
You were brother in more than my mind.

SWEDISH WEATHER

Just wind and rain,
No hurricane,
Sweden doesn’t do dramatic,
The wet and cold,
Have taken hold,
Of today’s weather schematic,
Sweden reaps praise,
In many ways,
But rarely for events climatic.

CLINT & CLAUDE’S POLITICAL THINKTANK

Clint said to Claude
(The orangutang)
I’m gonna go talk
To that Republican gang,
Give’em what for,
Set’em straight on some stuff,
They think they’re right,
But they ain’t right enough!
Give old Mitt a hand,
He can’t do it hisself,
But Claude rolled his eyes,
Because even he realized,
Clint would just make a monkey of himself.

Flowers or Weeds?

People pass through our lives,
In a million ways,
Some of them for a stretch,
Some of them just for days,
The affect that they have,
Be it blessing or scar,
Says some about them, but
More about who we are,
Where we are in our lives,
Our desires, our needs,
Do we see hugs or knives?
Friendship’s flowers or weeds?
Our perception is key,
And it seems time will tell,
But when looking at me,
Use your mirror as well.

Shakespeare’s Laundry Day

(NOTE: I live in Stockholm, Sweden. “Tvättstugan” (pronounced tvett-stoogan) is the Swedish word for laundryroom, and is the traditional battleground for this otherwise calm and orderly populace.)

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Storm the tvättstugan; detergent in hand,
Take stand against the forces at the door,
Or close the wall up with crumpled notes comprised
Of veiled passive-aggression,
Take stern command, leave no impression,
That perhaps e’en one minute
Of your allotted time shall go unused,
Your stance infused with strains
Of righteousness and piety,
Let all who come near see,
That in peace nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility,
But when the blast of laundry calls our senses
We take our ground, raise our defenses,
Brace our weight against distraction
And imitate a tiger’s action……

August in Scandinavia

Mid-August here in Scandinavia,
Summer clothes if you’re so bravie yeah!
Milk every last bit of northern sunshine,
Knowing winter might come at any time,
All bets are hedged; you just don’t know do you?
Sweaters on the strand, brollys ready too,
You might start in sun, then run for cover,
Or start in cloud, and then soon discover,
The day has turned, one way or the other,
It’s just so bloody hard to be prepared,
It gets to the point where each day you’re scared,
You could start it out, all sunny glowing,
But not be surprised if it starts snowing,
You might think that an exaggeration,
But that would be a complete negation,
Of all the times you were caught unawares,
Thought you were prepared for the weather’s dares,
But no matter how you tried to prepare,
You were soaked clear through, near frost in your hair,
They say here; no weather’s bad, just your clothes,
Well I’m here to say, I’m not one of those,
I can’t carry my wardrobe on my back,
I need a small clue each day when I pack,
Each day on TV weather people say,
Well, we’re not sure; it could go either way,
Leaving me to wonder, where I can find,
A job where I’m not right half of the time!

Feel Through

Feel through the neediness,
Feel through the pain,
Feel through the part of you
scared to be hurt again,
Feel through your anger,
Feel through your scar,
Feel through the part of you
not sure of who you are,
Feel through your emptiness,
Feel through your tears,
Feel through the part of you
afraid to face the years,
Feel through till you come to
the place we are all of,
Feel through the heart of you,
Feel through to Love.

BE

Just be, for a bit,
And see where it takes you.
No need to stress,
To feel
That you must
Exert yourself,
Alert yourself,
Be your pert little self,
That the world expects.
The world subjects us
To so much stress,
So much duress,
I must confess
That I often feel
Inclined to run
Into a wall
To fuck it all,
Let go and fall,
To tell the world to
Kiss my ass,
But this too shall pass,
Better to relax
And take the time,
A measured look,
Find your own rhyme,
Your rhythm,
Your own sense of time,
Wait for the dance
To come around,
Till you have found
It feels right,
And then
Despite
The wretched strain
You have the strength
To jump again into the race,
To smile and take
Your rightful place,
To show your face,
Amongst the best,
Subject yourself
To life’s pure test,
To strive, and struggle,
Give what’s for,
Untll once more,
It’s time to pause,
And take a rest.
Relax.
It’s just the dance.