Toolbag

Inside and outside

Lay the tools to a fruitful life

Made of iron, steel, and listening.

At my belt, the tools alternate

And I am often unprepared

For the occasion

Yet always running and sweating

to fill my toolbag.

Future whirl

The thrill is on
After I actively pushed myself
To imagine a future
With its roots on the happenings of today.
Each day possibilities form in the space around me
And i only have to train my patience
As a gardener in September.

Language journey

Proud and waiting for its start,
I take my credit card and promise
To embark on this new journey.
A group of strangers
Are brought together by language
coming from far
but already coming closer.

Diary directions

Learning the hard way
And writing its lessons
That hardly persist in the behaviour.
A diary as a manual
With no formulas or perfect fittings
But personalised coordinates for your route.

Time pain

As I grow older,
Time seems to accelerate
And Push me aside from the competition.
Valuable minutes are spent
And I do not notice
But I miss them
When alone in bed
I am hurt by what could not be done
today.

Acceptance

The sun hits your back
While standing in the gray yard
Waiting for the cigarette to end.
Thoughts of acceptance
Of an uncontrollable wild reality
Are unavoidable
And their daily rejection
Free space in the mind
And in the day.

Time break

The importance of events
Is measured in the time
They demand from us.
Taking the time
Is standing still
And yet it is hard.
Allowing ourselves experiences is a luxury
And a lesson to learn
We all owe to our selves
Running everyday
In fields of discomfort.

Inner shouting

The difficulty of looking inside
Is unimaginable
Yet necessary and necessary of training.
My inner voice head to shout
For me to listen
And no volume switch is in sight.
My ear is gentle and too respectful
Of those voices outside
That talk loud over that whisper.

Reading the scene

Prescribe me that tablet
That silences the worries
and flattens all shades to grey.
I will hide the what makes people different
And paint them all pink
To provoke me smile in the tedious morning.
I will sometimes give them features
And dots will appear making them artists from the circus.
My life to amuse and surprise
While the world is slowly entertaining me.

Negotiation effort

Negotiations as the currency
to reach the evening.
Not aiming to the best
but to the compromise
Makes the effort easier and more at reach
But the satisfaction sighs
And only a long term vision
Gives peace.

Salty patience

Patience makes you a saint
But takes you to the top of a mountain
And leaves you there.
Alone and patient,
Questions are silenced
And peace settles in.
Luckily it is soon mobbed by the dormant curiosity
And excitement that salts your story.

How to

Tell me how
To smile without feeling empty
To step up without feeling alone
To express my opinion when nobody is ready to listen.
Teach me how
My idea can become everybody’s idea
And we can enjoy its success together.
Love me how
I have never tasted before
And I will always remember.

Personal ripening

Refrain from participation,
Observation is the highest way of learning
And critical assessment.
Preserver your opinions
And let them ripen
Far from the others’ sight.
Golden and juicy
You will enjoy them in solitude.

Story hourglass

Even when you are not watching
The story is formed.
Senseless moments
That seem distracting
As a grain to your hourglass.
Bigger and smaller lessons
Are taught when you are not listening
Our shown by the behaviour
Of that streams guy walking by.
All the grains are stored together
But gave their value
When spent alone.

Limits to glow

Growing up limits are set
On what I like to watch,
on what deserves time,
And on who a smile will merit.
Protected by my limits
New body movements
and personal mental stretches
Will bloom
Enlarging this tiny room.
With pleasure
My living room will renew
And from being Full of material toys
And poor of openings
Will glow of artworks
And futuristic visions.

Thoughts

Unknown to me is
How to timidly proceed
When the others shout
And raise themselves to priority.
Impressive to me is
The presumption of the young boys
Who seek a creation of wisdom
For gold.
Wasteful to me is
The wise silence of the experienced
Who watch and think
While the situation resolves itself.