At school I had trouble socializing,
And still, The Owl, comes all too late?

My formative years are spent deep within caves searching,
Yet The Owl is never found there?

The failures and sadness accumulate over time,
Leaving The Owl traversing some other’s sky,

I feel life slipping away each day,
And still The Owl never manifests!

Where is The Owl? Does it not come with time?
Will cleverness induce her, perhaps woo her with rhyme?

Quell restless mind, The Owl reforge me so I’m freed!
Grant me your talons so that I may succeed!

And still, The Owl, who never manifests,
And still The Owl never manifests.

I curl chalky fingers into travertine-grip,
Aged ruin takes a hold, in my despair as I slip,

Sans which The Owl never did manifest,
To wit, sans The Owl, pounding sand as I jest,

So what, The Owl, never did manifest?
And still The Owl never manifests.

Life without The Owl, was no life at all,
No solemnity of greatness, a life of doltish pit-fall.

And still The Owl never manifests.
And still The Owl never manifests.

My army snakes the mountain-tops
as fields and valleys rent,
The first to ever wear the crown;
laws of nature -bent.

Mother was my wife as well; she as me, a god.
Appearing again 'in-the-end'...
Apocalypse; I am the king
-******!

Einstein says;

"Matter cannot be created or destroyed but merely transformed..."

So that when your dead body is picked clean by ravens you transform into bird sh_t.

The hanky he was sobbing into was crusty,
*****, unwashed, unclean; yet strangely comforting to a little boy,
as he cried he made his way to a culvert behind the school,
some place the other kids couldn’t see him crying,
it was more comfortable being near rocks
-next to that watershed for some reason?

He looked down at his antagonist,
the scaly-green feet,
they made him cry harder,
he lamented…

“Why have I been tormented so?”

“Who gave me these feet? Who made me this way, lizardly, scaly, an animal no?”

“What class am I, what species? Are those toenails, claws or a disease?”

“The way I’m treated makes me sad. Where is my mommy, where is my dad?

“Did I come from an egg? Didn’t we all? Why do they pick on me, make me feel so small?”

“My feet are reptilian even I can see that!”

“Am I part lizard? Are there horns on my back?”

“I can’t hide in sneakers ‘cause the claws tear them apart.”

“Not great at math, language or art.”

“They always pickin’ on me, today it’s in the schoolyard.”

“That is why I sit here on the rocks crying with my ugly feet and sullen heart,”

“Cannot run fast so no baseball, basketball or soccer…”

“The other kids tried to stuff me in my own locker…”

“One mean little girl even threw a dead mouse at me!”

“But I’m only part lizard as far as I can see?”

“My English teacher says that my words are like a bird song”

“If I talk like a birdie along with monster’s feet, no wonder I don’t belong!”

“Even still, to be so mean to me, I know that it is wrong…”

“ONE DAY I WILL SHOW THEM ALL, THESE FEET THEY HAVE A PURPOSE!”

“MY WORDS OF SONG AND FEET OF MAGIC COMBINE A COSMIC CIRCUS!”

“I am no freak of nature, no forest Pan or Satyr…”

“It is not the way I look, my clothes or feet that matter…”

“It is what is in my heart and mind, the things I do that truly count…”

“For those things that make us different, for they are tantamount…”

“Seven heads, seven stages, seven fables, seven sages”

“Seven stars and seven wonders and seven heavens that we’re under…”

“And all those things they say are great and marvelous about us…”

“Will one day be written in the book by Great Old Uncle Taautus!”

Socialism; practicing Christianity.
Economic disparity; Capitalism.
Economic equality; Communism.
?

Talk to me, can you hear me O’ Lord?
Send me something that I can not ignore,
Staring at seas from the cold lonely shore,
What of future?
Can the angels be calling?

I was young when you embraced me,
When you opened my mind to the world’s mystery,
I came home and started a family,
Three bundles of joy near a bountiful sea,
…and this life?
Has the Age begun falling?

Cattle left unattended and the goats without shepherd?
Were sacrifices left for the goat, bull, crab or leopard?
Battened down hatches as rains poured in the cube,
The square in the circle that Saturn had drew,
Eerie creaks, minor leaks, anxiety and the fear,
Prophesied, built as planned, as the waters drew near,

Talk to me, I am struggling O’ Lord,
Is this it? The message that cannot be ignored,
I was young when you embraced me,
When you showed me the wonders of the land and the sea,
I built you this house and filled it with Thee,
Will we make it?
The waves are appalling...

One Man knew where his place was with god, inundation, extirpation, traded hammer for rod.

A Great Bird of Paradise, was beckoning her call, swarms of bats and songbirds ahead of the squall.

Open the porthole; we are saving them all, as the ship sets loose as the giants did fall.

Drop the rope, do it now, so we can, plumb the depth,
She cried out;

“Where to live, who will rule and what shall be left?”

“O’ Noah!”

I’m now old, but will you embrace me?
I now know you’ve been there since the dawning of history,
We’re adrift, all is lost and their drowning in sea,
Nothing’s left, but the gig-an-to-machy,
The reigns of your horse are now pulling us free,

“Release all the doves for I know now that he is with me!”

“O’ Noah!”

They were young, when you embraced us,
You gave us your love and did what you must,
I have given my life, for all that was needed,
Serpent’s mount, where we stood, as the waters receded,

*“O’ Lord! Oh…”

They say the gods are omnipresent,
An intuition comes to mind…
The thought of humans ever-present,
And their pantheon of crime…

Seven Glorious Ones,
Are searching for our Tin!
Across seven vast ages,
Though here’s where we’ll begin.
And those twinkly-ones appear,
Stare from the painted haze…
Those ‘eyes’ attract, erratic mind…
Tin settle’s on their gaze.
Run Tin! Run! Her falling velvet,
Stag-man hangs now on horizon,
Hunter’s purpose, -rage!
Mourn the loss, Oh brave Tin,
Brave hero Tin, -seven dancing on your grave.

I was standing tall,
…in the shadow of the Sun.

Lived a life and saw it all,
…in the shadow of the Sun.

Oh in the shadow of the Sun, there’s no place you can run,
There ain’t no place you can hide, ‘til the solemn day you have died.

Everywhere on the Earth,
You’re in the shadow of the Sun.

No matter what you’re worth,
You’re in the shadow of the Sun.

All the ancient days of the world, far away from the old swirl,
You’re in the shadow of the Sun, that great prince won’t be undone.

In the shadow of the Sun,
  In the shadow of the Sun,
In the shadow of the Sun,
    In the shadow of the Sun,

Her hair was a rose of
wonder that I fancied
touching, envisioning
sweet caress of tender-
mossy skin on softened
shore of wet peat-bog,
sinewy, wispy essence
true, intoxication oceanic
Ogyges-blue, observe a
mechanized Sol-to-solace
too, what I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I in
my solicitude and appre-
-hensive about her truth,
Oh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ah-
-I-I-I-I know, I know and I-I-
-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-ah I know oh, oh, if
I lose her, if she go-oh-oes, I-I-I,
I-I-I, I-I-I, will, will die-eye-I-I-I,
I will die-eye-I oh, oh, oh, oh,
my love I will die-eye-I-I-I, oh my
my love will die-eye-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I…
My love will die-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I…
* My Love Will Die!

When you can spend time with someone doing absolutely nothing and feel contentment; love.

When you can spend time with someone doing absolutely nothing and feel complete; love.

When you can spend time with someone doing absolutely nothing and feel everything; love.

be quiet,
while I am
pretending,
to be
someone
else.

An introvert sees the world as it is,
deciding still, not to engage.

Moonlight, above

Moonlight, the love

Swelling heart, I feel

Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…

Promises of life you knew you’d never keep, re-a-liz-ing light, drowns in the deep,

Finding love you lost, it hurts, you weep,

And the secrets you thought she’d like to steal,

Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…

Walked hand-in-hand our hearts fit like a glove, holding out for the day I’d feel this love,

Hardship and pain chip away at the steel, lotus layers of life you find unpeel,

No matter what you’ll stay finds strange appeal,

Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…
Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…
Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…

Moonlight, descends

Our life, upends

My heart, a stone

Moonlight tonight my god I feel alone.

Moonlight…tonight
Moonlight…tonight

And all the wounds of life that she can heal,

Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…
Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…
*Moonlight tonight to see the sights revealed…

Why do we treat each other this way?
Feels like our words are only a chain . . .

Sister-chained
            why do you
treat me this way?

Sister-chained
            How do I
get you to change?

Sister-chained
            why oh why?
Oh why, even today,
            I'm sister-chained?

Noth-ing but pain,
Born to be sisters except for this pain,
That pain, the words, pain it remains. . .

Sister-chained
conflict between us al-ways remains,
conflict between us remains.

Sister-chained
            unchain your hearts for love.
Oh woe,

Sister-chained
            How do I
get you to change?            
unchain your hearts for love.
Oh woe,


Oh woe. . .

Americans, well, at least in the media believe that the way to change behaviors is to punish either criminally, civilly or socially anyone who doesn't fit the societal norm.

Think about that for a minute,

...when someone is emotionally conflicted to the point that their behavior is no longer considered within a range of acceptance and THEN society decides, or any group, movement, political ideology or party to shun or expel, to incarcerate, admonish and thereby torture an, "emotionally conflicted," soul what you have accomplished by society's response is to create permanent anger and hatred.

Permanent anger and hatred.

American society therefore can be said to relish hatred and permanent anger as a way of life for all of it's citizens since every single person whom is inflicted with pain upon suffering will be assured to continue inflicting whatever pain and suffering they can on everyone else the rest of their life. So your only solution is to remove these souls from society permanently.

Was that the intent?

Is that the goal?

Do we need law, rules and fantasy crimes for every single thing a person says or does?

Is the endgame to remove these from society or to reform them?


Imagine now,

America arrests or imprisons one million people per year for using drugs,

...there are forty million felons alive today.

Wow! Lot of bad guys off the streets huh? Let's put that another way shall we?

America ruins a million people a year.
America creates a million 'soon-to-be' violent felons every year.
"Felons," who were nonviolent before being tortured by society and tortured in prison...forty million angry people live around you right now.

Forty million people!

America must want the nation to fail for every year we destroy a million people just because we want to be able to say at least I am not as bad as that person and point your finger while knowing there is no reason, no civil crime, that warrants bankruptcy, imprisonment, violence, ****, abuse, belittling, shame and banishment just because you personally don't like video games.

...or you don't like gambling,
...or you don't enjoy ***.
...or you don't smoke marijuana,
...or you hate Hollywood liberalism.
...you can't stand alcoholics,
...or you're afraid of the mentally ill.
...or your jealous of the *** you perceive someone having,
...angry because you think you work harder than someone else,
...because you deserve a better life so why not destroy others right?

Hatred as a virtue.

I wonder what our economy would be like if the 'fifty-plus' MILLION alleged criminals had jobs instead of listing away producing the smallest amount of productivity possible because YOU THINK they deserve to have a worse life for acting in a manner you do not agree with PERSONALLY.

That is one out of every seven people in The United States.

Hatred perpetuated.

That is American culture and that is why Black Lives Matter.

...you are a calculated risk.
Anything else seems a burden,

Why bear it?

         Why bother dating?


My thoughts Tinder...

Two Maronite schoolchildren practice their English…

“Cedars! Cedars! Cedars!”
“See theirs, seethers, Caesars,
See her cedars Caesar?”
“See here, a sea-fare and see there?
And oh, I see Sir?”
“Do you see her? Yes I see Sir, -Caesar!”
“Cedars! Cedars! Cedars!”

And they are descendants of Solomon’s thirty-thousand, the great-grandchildren of Hiram’s workers.

“Sol Indiges!”
“Sol Invictus!”
“Sol-Ammon!”

“Now children, how do the three monkeys act?”

“Sol, the root of solar and it means the Sun, it means also to see or sight as it infers the light of seeing.”

“Am means fire but it is also the meditative word, Aum, therefore it cannot render evil through sound!”

“On is Egyptian and it connotes speech so it represents hearing.”

The instruction in language is not terse. Requiring broad-based understandings of how the West characterizes ideas. These two are particularly adept being taught from birth in both Maronitic and Latin and now English, in preparation for their exodus, as home has become a battleground where they must leave soon. Only in the West can they find peace and practice their faith so expressively. Only in the West can these two girls attend school if their lands are befallen…

“Now children, what does this mean?”

“See no evil!”
“Speak no Evil!”
“Hear no Evil!”

“And that children, is the Wisdom of Solomon!”

Breaking news! CNN reports that a car bomb has exploded in the ancient Lebanese town of Mejdeloon. Shocking footage now of a series of homes that have been reduced to rubble near a Maronite Church where rescuers are just now pulling out the bodies of two young school girls. Christopher Talias reports live from the Lebanon.

“Sol Indiges is the voice of god,"

Sol Invictus, in light, his mind;"

*Sol-Ammon is the understanding and wisdom for all time!”

Income is an intangible,
Taxes are an intangible,
Neither exists right now,
Only the promise of it in the future...

That's what credit is... a bet against a promise.

Which means all of nothing,
since it hasn't happened yet,
all credit is risk of one degree or another,
...based on tolerance or gumption.
If all people are, "risky,"
then all credit is risk,
none can be more credit-worthy;
less risky...

So why not turn future liabilities into income,
instead of future income into a liability?

Hmm...

Impossible?

Yeah, ...since anything that gives ordinary people power must be impossible. Jesus must not believe in individual power. The Founding Fathers must not have believed in individualism. No, ...only the state backed by a selected wealthy few should determine everyone's fate by economy.

Only a few should have it all....

...no opportunity for anyone else; the weak, poor, untalented, ugly, simple, ordinary, dumb, handicapped; those ones don't matter.

Just NFL players count.

Only singers and actors count.

Only bankers and doctors matter.

Jesus would agree.

Makes so much sense?

Cradled in the heart,
A catharsis I’m seeking,
Your light, your love,
It was a beacon…

Crow cackle! Crow cackle!
…cackling crow!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?

What does he do?
And what does he hear?
What does he see?
Why do birds fear?

Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?

The scarecrow sees bunnies,
the scarecrow sees squirrels,
The scarecrow sees shenanigans
of little boys and girls.

The scarecrow sees nothing
because he doesn’t have real eyes.
The scarecrow’s just hay, in a disguise!
The bunnies will stop put to him one eye,
they cannot seem to figure out, if he’s dead or alive?

Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?

And the chickadee and the finches and the wrens and the sparrow,
all want to rest on him but find themselves harrowed,
for his job is to be frightening, fearsome and scary,
…and blackbirds, ravens, crows here-ever are nary.

Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?

You’ll find him quietly scouting the good farmer’s fields,
If you could speak to him or hear from him, what could he reveal?

Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!

Eating your corn, tormenting fields that you’ve sown,
In the evenings or the mornings he’ll always be alone.
Squawking and screaming their terrible dread!
Crying at you, calling to you and filling your head,
Always complaining and shouting at your ear.
That field and its corn, is what they hold dear.

Crow cackle! Crow cackle! Cackling crows!
Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?

Protecting the corn fields,
forever in the throes,
Crow cackle! Crow cackle!
…cackling crow!

Who is this scarecrow and what does he know?

I wrote
a poem
about
the word,

“descant”

this
is not it.

In dusty fields of summer’s end,
Ancient fallow place from time,
Once was myth it did begin…
In writing, trade, language, rhyme.

High on'a farm,
make a needle biscuits
water-up sits creek
jostle potatoes,
pan-*** boiling
-with carrot cake.

Purple sky,
tractor runnin'
time of day,
sun low.

E'er body say,

"Why dou'a on'a farm?"

entered-dat du da future;
not Ford'ed fields.
Face it dou'a future,

"Dat future know it's place."

Sweet devils singin' to me,
sweetened tongue a' beautiful place. . .

"E'erthing set in place, ***** wit I say,
-dinner on-ma tray."

Sweet liquor only ages,
                      Sweet liquor only ages,

She looks -a still,
                  Young looks can ****.

Oh it breaks my heart…
                     It won’t be mine,

Bottled-up it gets better,
                Just give it some time.

Sweet liquor only ages,
                      Sweet liquor only ages,

Beauty stop, you stand still,
                              Young looks can ****.

I gave my heart and wasted my time,
Let my love out, let go-o-o-o-o…
Woman on woman -my Woe!

Sweet Liquor only ages,
                      Sweet liquor only ages,

Here with a feeble mind,
                                 Now drinking all the time!

Sweet liquor only ages,
                      Sweet liquor only ages,

Plump lips, her curly hair-r-r-s,
                                 Never a boyfriend, -she swears!

Sweet liquor only ages,
                      Sweet liquor only ages,

That body, does it shine?
                                       I’m drinking all the time!

Sweet liquor only ages,
                      Sweet liquor only ages,

Sweet liquor only ages,
                      Sweet liquor only ages,

At the top of the pile,
***, Drugs, Parties and Pampering.

At the bottom of the heap,
Disease, Prison, Debauchery and Punishment.

At the top of the Ego,
*******, Model, Heartthrob and Princess.

For having Ego like they do,
Gangster, *****, Repugnant and Scandalous.

* It is amazing to see,
how these social standards work.
For only THEY can be,
ones who receive these perks.

Well it’s a thing about wood,
a sea-cret about stone
a tension in the heavens;
has left earth all alone…

You’ll find it in your heart,
see it in your mind
hear it in the sounds;
repeating over time…

That’s the thing about stone,
the difference in the wood
all the loneliness of earth;
out of a darkness came good…

A secret in a song
a music in the wood
a message in stone,
from the heavens;
as it should.

Secrets in song
music from wood
messenger-stone
a feeling of good…

Love of your heart
found in your mind
beauty of the heavens;
and it’s repeated over time.

I could see it as,
. . .you're always looking down on me.

Or you could see me as,
. . .I am always looking up to you?

Two melted cubes and a sugar spot
                                leather cusp to arm...

From clear enclosure I **** it down
                                tasty, not my charm.

. . .because they are partially made of salt.

One has to lose,
                       part of oneself,
                                              to find them.

What am I?

"Cast your body into the ocean,
   ask if there are Greeks down there?

Sail, as it were, upon the Seas...
   ...and find yourself; every where."

even a
Paper Tiger
is seen
at least once,
as a

'Tiger'

Does it help?

The whirlpool, it spins,
while the mountain, it twists.
As two serpents entwined,
are surrounding this.
Some had once claimed,
that it started as a bear,
others claimed it began at Canopus,
way over, down there.
Multi-headed or spring of rocks,
cavern, mountain or egg,
a great wheel forever-turning,
with a circus and a one leg!
Pushed along by two giants,
grinding up salt with its gear,
thus responsible for the seasons,
floods and movements and the year.
Two horns of the monster,
but not found on its head,
the Earthen plane a giant treasure,
where Drakon made his bed,
with two stars on his brow,
like the two in his eyes,
the porthole of the ship,
a flying horse in disguise.
Scylla, Charybdis,
Jason, Argos, Deucalion,
Ziusdra, Manu, Noah,
-and the two birds who carry on,
and the mountain from below,
which they all rested upon.
Ameleth or Kullervo,
…and brother Utamo’s great wrong,
…and the whirlpool from above that created this song!

And the evil found inside us, the Id and its kin, will nurture the abused child and continue the sin. The great black wheel of madness, as always, will spin, churning out more abusers to fill the Hell that we’re in. When, where or how did the wheel of blackness start? Corrupting the love and joy into the evil in man’s heart and turning family into tragedy and tearing them apart? Next time you feel weak and let the succubus inside, just remember all those in Hell and the reasons they died.

It's not that I want to fail. . .
just that, if I am going to anyway
why not do it spectacularly?

At least there's gossip. . .
that counts for some,
-thing, doesn't it?

Doesn't it?

The boy, shaking with excitement, nervously bangled the key into the tiny obscuration, just as he sank it deep in the purse and twisted it began to give as if to break and he stopped. The wretched key would not turn no matter which way he fumbled it into the opening trying. He, puzzled, sat back on his haunches and squeezing his countenance…carefully, slowly, measured in his way, he slid it in without a waver and sank it into place. A foul wind blowed and forced his cough but with it came the flutes…and just then, as if by magic, a voice so resolute;

“Heaven’s treasure cannot be seen or known except in heart’s desires,”

“And certainly never be known by a farmer-boy or filth-trodden squires!”

“For ancient sealing of box so great withheld Pandora’s fires!”

“…but listen closely for a truth is hidden in conundrum,”

The little boy gleamed with excitement as he dropped on his hands placing his ear to the keyhole whence the fluting and cherubic voice extruded…though nothing came forth? Try as he might, the key again and again, there was nothing more to the magic of the box. Though he was sure that in this box a treasure was to be found, in all his days, the many numbered, never did resound, never did the voice again give instruction to propound, never did it give again to magic thus profound and never did he figure out, the mystery which did confound!

  To wit the newest little boy said;

“But grandpa how does the story end then?”

  Without haste he replied to the child;

“Never want-for, nor ask, nor seek out, all the paths of heaven’s fortunes,”

“Never covet sacred knowledge or doubt the god’s contortions,”

“Forever all will be as well as good as you can be, if you can be a richer man when giving other's portions…”

  With that said the old farmer died. His daughter and the child’s mother, tears streaming down her flustered cheeks, grabbed him up and began to say a prayer for her dead father while unbeknownst to the family; a troupe in their employ had been employed by someone else and that someone was waiting for a signal. At the moment of the man’s passing the horse-hand ran from the sprawling estate to a well at the fork in the dirt road leading to the local town. There sat a traditional well and bucket with a large copper bell at the top and he rang it with a fervent vigor. The black horses in the thickets past the field bellicosely retorted as they were whipped into an action. Then along came the banker’s chariot, filled with three men in black, riding quickly to the manor’s door;

-judge, pastor, banker.

  Storming into the home the pastor ran to comfort them and strutting-forth, so the banker and his judge in stride comportment too. Slight his pause and nary couth the banker announced his judge and from his handbag produced a document, an unwieldy scroll of parchment…

“Alas my dear and sorrowful child be happy for this great farm! Your inheritance is more than most and do not be alarmed! For we have come upon the courts with documented trust, read this here then sign away to keep the farm you must! For all you see and gathered to you, bought upon agreement, that on thick trunk with gleaming content be exchanged to me for deed it seem-med!”

  Shocked, the woman protested;

“Never nay, what’s this you say? The box his greatest treasure…he would not have done, no this cannot be, sold it without inform me and in measure, for he hath had this since a boy of youth collecting wood in winter’s cold displeasure?”

  The judge stepped forth to conclude the matter and gave her some, though curt, respite;

“Now, now dear we feel your loss but see these lines and see these costs? Chickens, horses, sheep, a wagon, seeds and stock and land, a home, -the lumber, nails, the roof of stone? O’er the years buying more and more, whilst only for once to settle this score, upon release here is your deed, give us the box for which you have no need, this is not a matter of one man’s greed for it says in payment here and here, collateral, that box was dear!”

  In came the horse-hand with axe and fury, chopping apart the bedroom floor, -and in such a hurry, the four they cooed and sighed aloud, as a gleaming treasure chest appeared before the crowd, dropping all the four to knee as banker cried his rapacious glee;

“All these long years did I thus wait and now will find the heaven’s gate! Load it men, the treasure ours, the moon and sun, the awesome stars, the untold secrets of millennia past, we are rich as all the ancient Kings at last!”

Before they left he turned to her and proudly presented his palm extended;

“The key there deary…”

She begrudgingly removed the necklace about her neck and handed it over…after the men had left her little boy said;

“Don’t cry mom and don’t worried, boy have I got to tell you a story!”

The End of the Golden Key

The woman of the roe, she hath wished to hath but something,
Stumbled and fell low, for some life’s more, is stumbling.

But as she gathered quick and made for her future love, quiche-pie,
Came attracted-too, her morning dew, a man who made her sigh!

He owned but just a farm, some animals or such,
Not much else but kind his touch and here a fellow once yoked too much,

Of beauty’s graceful arm…not the beauty of his farm,
He sold it all upon heart’s fall and bought her one fair ring!
And she a dove, did fall in love; her child years still bearing.

Once ready to wed she doth had said;

“My early years spent erring,”
“But came at last to change my past and seen me for my caring.”
“I love this man, this farmer-fellow, the one at which I’m staring!”

The priest he asked, “What are thine names?”

And both of them stuck glaring…
For neither knew, though love was true, they replied;

*“I think tis time for fair rings!”

Push, grab, steady, stand, wobble, wobbly, walk, there! ...and there! Oh and there too!

He goes...