Colin F. Jones


Are we as we see ourselves? Or do we not see
The image we present to them standing by our knee?
What thoughts we have!? How please I you?
Or do I not please you at all?
All things that are simple things, upon us befall.
What I think they think, they may not think;
Is so accurate and true;
For one’s thoughts remain a secret lest given out to view.
Thus plagued by speculation, reciting postulations galore,
We turn from the peace we advocate, to determine our own war.
And all it is, is sound waves with tremors, flats, and vibes,
Ending in division organized in biased tribes
Spitting at their shadows… the nonsense of their forms;
Who go to bed at night and rise again when morning dawns.