Black And White Poem by George Samuel

I sat warming a skying bench
Across a country sea, bird
Which an angel flew
The tales were told of missionaries
Who flew likewise

The came wrap from feet to nose
And brought a cylinder of air with them
To avoid tax masters of mosquitoes
Very keen to bit their fleshy flesh
Their teaching were pavers

To our oracle men who never had clothes on them
Some for their uprightness were stoned
Some shot back at their persecutors
The remnant learned and made amend
So that black and white became one