The path of the times

These are the times.

I’m in a world where love is exchanged by a currency called words.

Words that take you to virgin areas of the brain.


Are you with me still?


I see it: the path of the times.

The path with flowers and bees on the one side and fruits on the other.

We’re all on this path, but the question is: are we blind to it?


Can you see what I see?


I can see minds interacting through pollination;

exchanging information to be shared, broken down, dissected, refined and passed on so that

you can ingest it and let it drift into the most hidden nooks in your mind where

no concept has ever wandered.


Let me give you a fruit you’ve never seen before

and watch you devour it;

A concept that you can bite into, taste and appreciate –

So hold on tight

and let me take you there.


I want to walk with you down a branch on this path;

a branch that maybe, you would have otherwise not taken.

So undo your blindfold and take off your coloured spectacles;

I want you to see this with your raw eyes.


Open your eyes to a path that teaches you the ways of distant and close peoples

from as far east to as far west; from as far north to as far south.

Take all these learnings and stew a potion that will give you




I’m talking about the ways of the  worker in a chinese factory.

I’m talking about the ways of the fat cats in the power corridors of Beijing.

I’m talking about the ways of the street sweeper in Brittania.

I’m talking about the ways of the button pushers in the Wharf of Canary.


Look at the world the way you look at a map – from above.


Swim in the ocean of abundance – there are a lot of cultures to swim in out there.

You should be swimming in every sea, my dear.


Come onto this path that lets you morph into a fish one day and a bird the other.

Learn to move between the water and the shore.

Leap onto the land and travel –

because a traveller is a learner and this path is your teacher.


I’ll let go of your hand right here and let you wander your own way.

I hope we meet again some day.

If you can see what I see my dear…


you’ll be fine out here.



Mr. Anonymous

That’s his name:


Mr. Anonymous.





He says he’s better than you,


Smarter than you,


Slicker than you,


That he is blessed and destined for salvation;


That he has been saved from annihilation


Whilst you, Mr. Sinner…


You’re not.





He wears better clothes than you


And has superior knowledge.


He “likes to roll with the top few”.


He’s better.





Better than you.





His home is the grandest


And his car is the flashiest.


And you…


Have none to your name.





I pity you.


Insignificant you.






Classless you.


Scum-of-the-earth you.






Undistinguished you.


He even has a better posture than you.





He stands tall and proud,


Walks gracefully…


Nose in the air.





Yes, thats his name:


Mr. Anonymous.


Mr. Proud Anonymous,


Middle name: “Prick”


He couldn’t have been graced with a better name.


What a proud prick he is.