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In between the twilight
And the breaking of dawn
I hide in the shadows of

Robin Goodfellow
Does all his work at

Robin, also known as Puck -
is my alter-ego -
A figure of the shadows
And farmhouses

And as the new dawn breaks
I disappear
Like a vampire dies
I used to be a night-owl and so I know the early hours like the back of my hand
C Jun 6
I made it into Fern Land,
The deepest dark of the wood…
What's there that lies down here
They say we never should

Meddle or interfere with;
The nettle or the grub,
Not trees and not the ivy,
Not tick or grass or shrub.

"If people keep on meddling...!"
Shouted angry Puck,
And stamped his usually cheerful feet
And the mighty oak tree shook.

Puck continued, thunderous loud:
"You wait and see our luck;
Our homes will not long be exchanged
For flats, that them rich *****

"Like to keep all sparkling clean
And empty as a bubble...
For assets, don't you know, not homes!
This, my friends, is the trouble.

"Now, if money didn’t rule their world -
Our crazy human doubles -
They'd appreciate, like we do all,
That they don't need all this hubble.

"What a blindfold are these dollar bills!
That stop them seeing; all they need
To be happy, healthy and prosperous
Comes through strong communities.

"And not just ones of your own kind
Excluding other beings…
We've lived alongside each other
For tens of thousands of years!"

The crows and magpies, foxes, rats
The pigeons too, of course,
All shouted out in dear support
For their human friends and thought:

"Without those messy, greedy ones
Who buy more than they ought,
And throw the bits they cannot eat,
Our food stores would run short!"

"Whose news have you been listening to
My brainwashed forest folk?
You know **** well they tell you that
So that we here don't revolt!

"They treat you with disdain or pity,
Or want to keep you like a colt
Who lives but only half a life -
Unless they dare to bolt.

"Listen to each other now
And take in what you see...
Trust your fellow forest friends,
And you too can be free!

"It's something we must do together:
No man is an island, and nor is a tree.
All creatures here, we must have sign
That on this we agree:

That they must stop their tribal games
And fights for territory -
Terra is not theirs to own;
It belongs to every being.

They can't divide and conquer us
And if they try, they'll see -
The only option left to us;
Our wrath, on them, unleashed!"

Well I was in a sticky patch.
Oh, what was it to be?!
I did agree with Puck alright -
But what would become of me...

If I betrayed my human friends
For these ones to go free,
Would their blood then be on my hands?
What would become of me?

There was only one option left -
An obvious one really....
What if I could unite my people
Like these people in the trees?

What if they all thought,
And could picture perfectly,
That it was really possible
To have love and joy and peace?

And to have all that above without
The thing that we call money...
That there's more power in something else:
It's called community.

Let's stop those corporations,
With too much cheese already,
And distribute their gains
Amongst the poor and needy.

Let's think about our values
And not our property,
Let's take charge and make our own rules
Not live by others' shoddy,

Grim idea of what life's worth
Without having lived at all -
Or only a very privileged life,
So big that others seem small

As small they treat us, don't you see?
They WANT us all to fall,
So that they can pick us up again
And make four feet feel tall

Let's band together, all of us
United, organised,
To march on them and let them know
We're no longer satisfied.

Nor will it ever be enough
To eat the crumbs of their pie;
Not even a big fat slice
If it's not a fair divide

The energy of Puck
Ignited my insides;
For my efforts, courage
And certainty inspired:

The truth I must go out and spread
And nevermore shall I hide
Behind my privilege,
That sees the facts denied,

That forgets about so many,
Not noticing the lies;
Those convenient untruths
That turn our blind eyes.

And if the truth is difficult
And my humans, they deny,
And say they rather like
Eating the crumbs of that big pie…

That crumbs are the best part!
And if we beg we might get more.
Why cause trouble, rock the boat -
What you're saying is war!

War is not an option,
And that we'll see first-hand:
The wave that takes us there will melt
Their castles made of sand.

I'll say not war, but peace
Is what we will demand.
And if you doubt our human strength
Then with the forest we'll band:

I ventured into fern land…
And at that I'll hear them gasp!
The lure of the forest
Is something some can't grasp.

But if they went, they'd understand,
When the woods take off their mask;
The leaves, they whisper in the wind
And the magic, it would last.

I'll tell them how the forest
Is angry and upset
That those who go to visit there
Rarely show respect.

They worry for our humankind
That we're too easily led,
And silenced into endorsement
Of all sorts of crazy ****.

Their homes are due to be destroyed -
Imagine if that was you?
And not to house the needy, no!
But to keep governments blue,

So their rich friends can own yet
Another piece of cheese.
They don’t care about us, no!
They'd rather see us freeze.

We suffer here with no safe homes
while they live a life of ease,
And the forest creatures, just like us,
Will have to scavenge on the streets.

Their trouble is the same as ours -
We all want the same things!
So why not join with them
And see what change it brings?

Let's trust each other, take a chance...
It has to be better than this!
And if not for you, then think of another
Who's suffering you missed

One who suffered prejudice,
Whose hand at the deal was worse;
Let's join all as family
And together lift this curse

We can write a new story
Where life and soul come first;
The soul is always equal,
No matter how big your purse.

Let's put our heads together
And try some different things
We'll get it wrong, sure! Once or twice,
But our aim is to have wings…

Let's keep that always in our sights -
Freedom to dance and sing,
And be ourselves in harmony -
Back to life us we will bring!
I overheard a six year old shouting "We made it to Fern Land" a few weeks ago in a big urban park...his mum was teaching him about plants, and how ferns had been around since the days of the dinosaurs.  Thanks, kid!
Jon Thenes Oct 2019
Shriking up the proceeds
he shrinks away
from his own revolution

he shivers free of his clothing
and a fine layer of skin

Puck Talon withdraws ;
crinkles from his human form
and sheds the used fruit of gender

the Puck withdraws ;
a hot wet breath in cold damp air
passing from lamplight
into the fool hold
of nocturnal plight
Jon Thenes Sep 2019
no picnic when panic
no streets unborn here

germinal ;
creature undresses
from his cool rubbery dead skin
scent free
into the sodium light
and works on its pallor

fleshed out from the plumbing
a manic talent
it sports the label , Mr. Talon
and favours a facade of mercurial cosmetics

a character most vividly colourful and male-ish
a voice
a maddened song
he breaks his face
and makes it a smile

armed with this sickle
bringing his comedic heavings to the public
he goes gory across the fresh laundry
a violence upon the canvas
a spree upon welcoming sadness
an open mockery
breaking ease
and seizing upon an audience

no more chiding
from within the shade
(egging on villains
and dropping muse-meal)
the folk hero
the prankster
this fierce performer of mischief
takes the stage
in a full suit of teeth-skin
and he’s really quite ravenous
for your abiding applause
‘popular in the mutterings
  founded in the gutterings
  bring out the chalk lines
  and biohazard baggies
  for this fierce performer of mischief !’
-- Nov 2017
O’ watch for a spindly ****
of a boy, with freckles
scattered like ants! With
timid face splattered with sins
and grins alike, he’ll dance.
Round dawn and night he’ll go
till eyes grow wide with fog.

Down his belt swings, tight and old,
his laughs creep long like silver snakes
birthed from mountain spring.
Yes, this youth of sparrow-chatter
had naked apolline humor, though
quietly when morning spread past his reigns
Dionysian he was in bearer pinker treads.

O’ know him you may as the flitting
shadows that wrap your eyes in sleep,
But test his temper! Bleat and ba
and call him friend!
And know, as bushes are coloured
with flower and thorn,
no dream is sum nor ample
lacking the seventh young prince of discord.
Dreams are empty without a little chaos, without a little remorse.
Jack Underhill May 2016
Call me such the liar and fool this is true, give no notice of the kindness and careful actions I have given you; but if still you feel cheated and swindled by my small offense, then I offer up in recompense. That while you sleep and so soundly slumber in your bed, behind your dreams I visit you in your head. A more clever prankster there never was to prey upon your petty needs, only to guide you through your misled deeds. However you may have strayed so far from these your gentle homes, I will have you back before the sun arose. Call to me not before the midnight hour for from your lips my name will hover, and roll along your awaking tongue the name Jack Underhill will be far gone.

— The End —