This is the image conjured by light and shadow on my wall, on an afternoon, that I captured with my camera and hence designed this particular poem.

Walls have their own accomplished
You see the forms come and go regularly,
birthing from the sun’s perpetual warmth,
rankling and fluctuating,
to find their inherent composition
and their own script.
They almost needlessly
acquire a form
of their own,
some of them seemingly inspired
from our own lives,
here on these walls.

It’s a subtle and unexpected game of shadows
But the artists never reveal their identities.
Nobody knows which form they may acquire,
to startle us.
That is the real charm
of unsolicited creation.

Walls, by their very nature,
are ripe as a blank canvas.
Contingent with how
we make them whole.
But how beautifully
they relieve us,
to make a home
out of empty spaces.

So it’s not left to doubt
that walls
have their own accomplished artistry,
a proficient language
and an oeuvre of their own.

We are the artisans
waiting to adorn them
with our own life-forms.



  1. There is, of course, an HBO film called, IF THESE WALLS COULD TALK, with Demi Moore, Cher, and one of my all-time favorite actresses, Sissy Space, who never gave a bad performance in my opinion. Coupled with your “skin poem,” I think of our human skin as walls. Our human skin as walls can keep us safe from external intrusion, but our human skin as a wall cannot protect us from “internal intrusion,” i.e., when our hearts are darkened, when are minds are clouded and cluttered with filthy, unbecoming, and downright dangerous thoughts, when what is going on in the outside of our human skin (wall) is really what is going on in the inside of our human skin (wall). We rely on our human skin as a wall to protect us from external intruders, but it cannot protect us from our own internal intruders. For example, what I spot about another’s human skin (wall) that I don’t like, I got what I spotted going on inside of my own human skin (wall). I don’t want what I don’t like to penetrate my human skin (wall), but it can AND will (BOTH) penetrate me deeply and dangerously if my insides are “unclean.” I remember playing Reverend Bentley onstage in a play called NORM L., and the character I played was trying to convert a man named Norm who was gay. I remember being on stage, torturing and ridiculing and chastising Norm, consistently and constantly repeating the line to convert him, “You are UNCLEAN!” I chose to play the reverend as “unclean” himself, which is often the case when one spots someone else “unclean.” We, of course, also live in homes with walls (skin) that keep us safe but, like our human skin as a wall, we can be internally imprisoned in our own homes with walls (skin) if we are afraid of what is outside our own home’s walls (skin). Where am I going with all this, PJ? I can hardly say, but maybe you can fill in the blanks of my skin (wall) analogy and let some light shine through from your human skin (wall) to my human skin (wall)?

    Love and blessings,
    Timothy (Mr. T)


    1. I completely understand what you mean. As much as we may present ourselves with outer coverings, we all crave for the touch of affection. In the absence of it, we build walls and imprison ourselves with gestures that fail to replicate the sensual natural order of life.


    2. Oh by the way, I read about this film just few weeks ago while I was checking Demi Moore’s filmography after having watched A FEW GOOD MEN. So once again, the fates intertwine to align our love for cinema.


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