‘they only feel real when <br />pretending to be themselves…’ <br /> <br />sometimes, psychology and poetry and philosophy <br />come close together; and like a dog <br />meeting another dog for the first time, <br />we’re cautious – that statement has legs <br />and claws and teeth … do we want to meet it, <br />might it be more fierce than it looks, <br />is it that ‘too much truth’ which mankind - says poor Tom - <br />cannot bear? <br /> <br />our tails quarter-wag, wag and stop, <br />our weight’s on our back legs, <br />caution is advised.. <br /> <br />we’ll back away right now, <br />wait for the next meeting; <br />meanwhile, there’s always the tree to sniff, <br />a sharp reminder of the bone we’ll gnaw, <br />hide, dig up yet again, and gnaw… <br />gnawing on our own blood not the bone, <br />living a dog’s life, a dogged life, <br />mongrel, thoroughbred, alike: <br />. <br /> <br />only feeling real, when <br />pretending to be ourselves.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/they-only-feel-real-when/
