Grays in a Black-white World

A grain of sand

removed from a heap,

And then another, a million more,

When does it eventually cease.

If a tree falls,

And no one was there

to embrace the roar,

Will it make a pip of sound.

If you had never seen these words,

Do I, these thoughts, even exist before?

It is strange how a split-second

Observation changes things.

Do not

trust me.

Botomsoriya High School, Cambodia, where i taught English

Who are you really?

This is then me,

Any further articulation would become a falsity.

I gave a man on the street a twenty dollar bill,

And then kicked a kneeling man staying stiff and still.

I can preach about the Lord yesterday,

And commit the greatest sin today.

You want the truth?

Try dealing with what is true.

I have a saxophone and a cello and a trumpet in my room.

I have Dante, Bunyan, Milton on my shelf.

You would think that I could play and read them by myself.

Sad to say they are for posterity’s sake.

Truth is subjective, Subjected to your truth.

I am who I am at the present.

Connect the dots of my past and

You will see that I am a chameleon.

Anything else is a falsity,

Masks on display.

Hate me and be nauseous

For telling you the truth.