I see –

Faces facing forward, featureless fleshy frames-

Each eye eying a so-called erudite man 

Drinking every poison pouring 

Out his marshy mouth –

Minds marinate in his madness

Broiling each and every one

Till their thoughts all think as one

They cry “unity, precious unity” 



The sky, a perfect white, a blank canvas waiting for the sunset to give it life.

Rain falling, creating puddles, creating reflections, some reflecting the world in a good way, others reflecting it as bad.

But some rain falls on the leaves of an old tree, craggy, withered from age.

These few droplets, are like the eyes of a child, looking all around at once,

they capture the world, seeing everything,

the good and the bad, yet still seeing the true beauty of the world in that single moment, before falling to the ground below, into the puddles, which reflect the world as a black and white place.

The sun sets, painting the sky a vibrant picture that no artist can match, the rich colours making the evening come alive, showing that the world is not black and white nor as we see it, rather it is as it is and is ever-changing.

Thinker among the 29 fools.

Black eyes melting slowly to gray,

A thinker among the fools,

Linking the chains while sitting,

Looking for wisdom in the rain,

Seeing things not yet understood.

He sits, with hand on his face,

Wondering, what really is this place?

The man gets off, it his stop.

But his thoughtfulness still lingers in his step…