Marched down the street, my feet
following my square prize fighter’s
chin, focused on remaining a govern-
ment official making lists and typing
words, not allowing the playful James
Bond girl to put in an appearance
Found two books to shine on our destiny
within a wonderful spiritual universe beyond
our dungeon reality in which I must serve:
Swami Nikhilananda’s translation of the
Upanishads balanced by Song in Siberia -
true story of a Russian Church
By Deyneka, as soon as I have done
my work, translated my grey words, I
can visit esoteric visions in magical new
books I have never read before, but first
I must return to my document waiting to
be entered on my list, I work illegally
By making no list when I start, my criminal
soul rejoices in forbidden fruit, I break the
law by working on unlisted documents - as
long as I do something wrong, my concen-
tration and focus remain strong, I am
so glad we are forbidden to breathe
Think and eat at work, I only enjoy living life
once it is outlawed, when common sense and
ordinary activities are declared illegal, it is a
joy and privilege to simply exist!
[Following the example of bureaucracy as hell,
described by Terry Pratchett in 'Eric', we have
to make lists of everything we do and say at
work and it kills the spirit - so I survive by NOT
making lists and rejoicing in common sense
and reading about a better afterlife in esoteric
books.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Margaret, I absolutely love the way you write. I do however, often find your subject matter a bit too personal...unclear to the reader.. A really professional piece. Just did not quite gel for me. A ten for your writing skill. Regards, Ian