once there was a man,
a simple  man
sometimes a little blue
battered around the edges
he often tried in his own way,
with his simple poems and writing
to show his point of view.

but then
the takeover began
a gang of four or five
made the man think of mao
for some reason.
self pretension was high
preening on the pages common
self  praise became an art form, or
at least it seemed that way
to the blueman.

he often thought it must be him
what with him not being that bright an all
so he left for pastures new,
it upset him that it had come to this
but he never felt he was at home
since the takeover had begun.

he hoped he would be able to find a new home
where simple and humble folk lived,
where he could be accepted for what he was
for now he felt he was an outsider from
 elitist thought and pretension,
at least thats what he thought anyway,
for he was a simple man,
who could not see that which others could see,
he felt unworthy being in the presence
of such litarary giants,
so he left.