Category Archives: Poetry

Swedish Bureaucracy

Sweden is a country that is full of punctuality,
Not particularly connected to our modern day reality,
And not very concerned with what you need in actuality,
Just focused on the bureaucratic task of factuality,
What really is quite silly in a country technological,
Is the rate of inefficiency is utterly illogical,
With digital devices now it’s really diametrical,
It makes me want to push a pencil up a pencil pusher’s rectical!

and so I walked…

And so I walked,
To ease the tension and stress,
To clear my head,
To give the feelings someplace to go,
And something else to do,
And as I walked I listened to Eckhart Tolle’s
The Power of Now,
Because I thought it would help me relax.
He talked, as I walked, and he explained
About egos, and identities, and the pain-body,
About being present, really and truly present,
About the time clock, and the psychological clock,
About the pointlessness of the past and the future,
About how to meditate to connect with the oneness,
About how we are not our minds,
That we can be the observer, that watches the thinker,
And after about an hour and a half of walking,
I realized that I had unclenched my teeth,
And my pace had slowed dramatically,
To match my own body’s natural rhythm,
and still I walked….

Living When?

I’ve lived, without knowing I was living,
Been blinded by my need for something more,
Been deprived of gifts moments were giving,
By focusing beyond an unseen door,
Hindsight may indeed be twenty-twenty,
The future must be thought about somehow,
But chances to go astray are plenty,
If we don’t try to really see the now.

SHADOW

Your shadow cast so long,
Once as far as I could see,
Always so much longer,
Than the man in front of me,
You never understood that;
Not as far as I could tell,
Quite how long your shadow cast,
Or the weight with which it fell,
From boy to man tried to understand,
The presence there within,
Sought discourse with the shadow’s source,
To crawl beneath your skin,
Despite my need to be received,
I was kept outside your door,
Small glimpses sometimes I perceived,
But never reached your core,
So still I try and and search and dig,
To find what you’re made of…
to try and find the real you,
The shadow that I love.

Why you can never put your feelings into words…

Words are not feelings.
They smolder and burn,
Like little cinders.
Too hot to be kept inside.
They crave the coldness of the world.
So full of things to discuss,
Describe and analyze.

And words cannot talk about feelings
Without burning them alive.

Feelings are not words.
They’re very delicate,
And must be kept warm.
Simmering gently like mulled wine.
They’d rather stay inside where it’s safe.
Afraid they might die,
Of exposure if they come out.

And feelings cannot feel words,
Without smothering them.

That’s why you can never,
Put your feelings into words,
Or your words into feelings.
They’ll destroy one another.