To those who are so quick to judge <br />they often do not see their smudge <br />and deem themselves close to the greats <br />then walk around like heavyweights. <br /> <br />I say, put on my moccasins <br />and throw your own into the bins <br />then walk the road that I selected <br />respect the signs that were erected <br />and after many, endless moons <br />you'll come upon a town of ruins. <br /> <br />You will not know what all this means <br />and see a tower, one that leans <br />perhaps you open now your mouth, <br />when someone says, 'my man, go South.' <br /> <br />And suddenly, you find that you <br />should wear a certain type of shoe. <br />You now feel lost and scratch your beard <br />this mess is something you had feared. <br /> <br />And no one in that foreign land <br />will come and hold your shaky hand. <br />All talent is like silent thunder, <br />so much does concentrate Down Under.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/who-judges-the-judges/
