There was first a game of blind man’s buff.
Of course there was.
I no more believe Topper was really blind
than I believe he had eyes in his boots.
My opinion is, that it was a done thing
between him and Scrooge’s nephew
and that  Ghost
Christmas Present knew it.
The way he went after that plump sister
in the lace tucker, was an outrage
on the credulity of human nature.

Robbing Cervantes

e’en tho he being gone four hundred years plus two
close perusal of his scripted thoughts still lead
to speculate could this be me if not then who
asked do not we share that same time-ravaged steed
shared curiosity and folly has come to pass
brought to my house as many as ever could get
fruitless dreams were there to chase ‘til alas
I dried my brains in such sort I lost all judgment

my fantasy has filled with those things that I read
wherein I give my account of my misfortunes
yet whiles they speak not their own native tongue
yon author of that great work is likewise my friend
purge certain base things that lurk among our conceits
it will not be amiss to remove this stumbling-block
observe well this caveat which I shall give thee
that herein I shall be most punctually obeyed


this past year has been a constant struggle
my words became well versed in evasion
I find  I must return to my distant past
and draw suppressed thoughts to attention
from sixteen hundred and five and so cast
before curious bloggers without shame
that which is needed to lead back my words 


inflamed by need
I feel unacceptable
incensed by dread
wounded empty
confused by delusion
a hideous reflection
obsessed by mind
draining self seeking
completion outside self
I abhor my afflictions
overcome by them

for others affection
standing at a crossroads
which way should I go
for such affliction of both
from burning experiences
feeling pain and grief
my truth is something
I’m not able to accept


never been troubled with nightmares
but no one has ever believed me
my mind wanders off down other trails
paying little attention to anything
there is nothing left to do but follow
feeling as if the air itself is dancing
I would be young to walk beside you
find ways to do things never tried before
I wanted to turn back yet what did I have
beyond returning to this task at hand
I dropped it casually aside with disdain


government has changed our clocks again

they do this twice every year without fail

my chickens could care less they have no clock

as daylight approaches they slowly awaken

twilight deepens they return to their roost

an almanac is totally useless they don’t read

what need have they of a weather forecast

instincts protect from seasonal vagaries

God gave man dominion over all animals

but still we have learned nothing from them

all share one hundred sixty eight hours each week

yet it is man who thinks he can alter time

can a carpenter cut a piece from a board

add it to the other end making it longer

spring forward fall back days are still days

moving our clocks an hour changes nothing

man in his arrogance always falls short