Stuart Newman

Texture Words.

The irrelevant banter of a salesman’s pitch,

To the scornful hope of scratching an itch,

Above all that is stone to the mimic man’s twitch,

These are the words of a great.

The development of self in order to ride,

A progress from health up to the inside,

A regress that leads to thought full of pride,

These are the words of a great.

The elephant remembering how to forget,

The lioness who’s face flows with regret,

The crocodile’s teeth the sharper they get,

These are the words of a great.

The uncomfortable truth that lingers around,

The knowledge of hearing a better man’s sound,

The knowing of yearning your talents are bound,

These are the words I create.