The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Time is On Our Backs

Do you have more today than yesterday,
Do you think that life seems simple now?
Do you ever wonder how?

With all the advancement in the world,
Time seems to be going so slow,
But the joke is the opposite flow,

It can’t seem to slow,
It is going so quick,
It gives reason to worry of when we all shall slip,

But is the problem in action,
Is the problem in cause?
Is the problem even bigger than “Ours?”

And the answer is yes in all of the above,
It seems we humans do this on a regularly staple,
Again and again it’s impregnable,

Caught in a dance of social proportion,
But we seem to bite more than we chew,
Instead of enjoying the ride we try to break through,

Now advancement is good,
Progression is fine,
But advancement and progression are not divine,

They are tools to use for our survival and hope,
But playing a gamble all in on the first blast!
Means we don’t get a continue button or second pass,

Humans are always in an ebb and flow,
When too much peace exists we go to find wars,
When too much war abounds we plead for peace on stars,

Its ironic that we have the change in us that deep,
It runs from individuals to the biggest societies,
It is inside our inherent causalities,




So let us see ourselves for moving with life,
Enjoying things for free,
Breathe into each other more life,

For man is a singular creature its true,
But a wonderful community should try to unfold,
I just hope we take up smaller ambitions to hold,


For stars should be reached and man be spread,
But a healthy behavior must arrive,
Or a virus we becoming like alien invaders rampaging lives,

So what problems do we provide?
I think the look should be viewed from outside,
As anyone looking in sees a cell getting eaten from inside,

The cleaver will find us underground,
Make drastic changes and doing things unheard,
But why not live conjunctively with contact but separate space for human world,

Travel and trade can abound but for more individual groups not men,
Not communes either but civil states spread in numbers of equality of land,
Just only playing with the resources gained on their own stand,

Then trade becomes luxury,
Life becomes grand personal small scale achievement counts,
And we have to back each other in realistic amounts,

For this means that man can be greedy seedy and rude,
But has to keep his shit on their states only terms due,
And that nations must stand together when tyrants break through,

But many say nice pipe dream it will not come true,
And I say yes but how sad that our conflict socially makes it impractical,
For no trust sits between large countries with past militaries fracturing us all,

An honestly it’s hard to feel for each other after such extremes,
But we can solve half by forcing leaders to be from virtue,
But that takes everyone everywhere to take on sharing truth,

And that’s a lot of damage between us all before we find growth,
But what good is it if we stand back and don’t shout out for lovers,
To take down those who poison our water as harsh as those who kill others,


For we all share this world,
And because of a few we all now stand on toes,
Just waiting for when the billows light the embers glow,

For nature will stand tall even with our reckless actions,
But for human kind is now where the arguments stand,
And we need different ideas to make a real difference come on hand,

For when we say we are so advanced,
I question it with the Amazonian tribal discoveries,
The truth that hundreds of thousands lived and improved outside trees,

That seems more advanced because if you take the only real benefit we have,
That good old medicine and show them what’s in our hands,
They will be trading for real cures but with actual goods not deeds to their lands,

With technologies used to make a few plastic goods,
That should last for generations to come,
To help solve disasters that might form,

And with digital continuity a practical thing,
We could begin an age of trade like nothing ever seen,
Using a balance of new age and naturalistic living,

And then with balanced populations,
Balanced conflicts on agreements beyond vendetta,
We could see worldwide strives take fold,

To get off the planet before our sun’s death,
But billions of years of mastering balance are needed before we seek,
Other resources for us to strip,

These of course are my pipe dreams but even if it never made it to fruition,
I choose to enjoy the idea that if we played through each other’s eyes,
Then the differences become culture and the hatred subsides,

And that ugly foul smelling over stretching unstoppable monster culture,
Is a mouse that the populace uses to pull out the thorn,
And not the reason to attack, bleed, and hoard,

For we are the composers of man’s future dreams,
How much cost can you justify until we all start to scream,
And no one wants for force to come on either end of the spectrum,



If you do then hold yourself from power for all that will do is catalyze,
A fire that means to burn out all men from the inside,
Not an evil monster from the ends of time but a personal dissection from feelings inside,

For look at what the common man in this awesome age attempts,
To give money to stranger charities when money is almost gone,
To feed the giant beast our daughters and our sons,

To digest slowly in its belly,
Giving little chance to try to heal,
Then allowing them out to fall prey to the same choice that attractively got them sealed,

While all others live in fear,
Of some threat pro-generated from media scares,
Of course the monster exists we know none around us how else do you breed,
These extremist monsters so far under seen like bowels of dark caverns that light doesn’t see,


And believing that control doesn’t come from comfort understood,
These people need an outlet not a game the peaceful are playing,
But locking them away doesn’t withhold them from staying,

Let’s make some thought through each other’s eyes,
And uncomfortable live alongside,
But hate comes from frustration illogically placed,

So the only thing that can police this is you and me,
And it’s impossible to play if you look at our totals,
It’s like trying to fight as a human sized object to an infectious disease,

Some of them are caught,
Some killed through vaccine,
But some get set up into established being,
But are then only tolerated by killing worse things,
Like mob informants being used to accomplish ending activity,
Is like expecting to kill off the enemy you just agreed to work with,
And then being held as far away from the human as possible
He is really sitting right next to you,
He takes the advantage from the area’s most lucrative that are right in his grasp,
Instead of leading his mind to aggressive action but with task,





You can make your enemy a friend with limits set in place,
No longer fighting to get at one another,
We fight on what terms to survive with each other,

For then the only villains to pursue,
Are murders, thieves, and rapists,
Which feed on the need to bring about instability,
As when substance and sub chance get freed,
Why does the mob need a hit man to murder you see,
They’ll probably need accountants to try and launder money,
Which can be the nonviolent crime war for us to try to solve,
And we can address it through a smaller country but majority holding up this cause,
With computers becoming the virtual ground to fight,
But with us taking hits through balance not through strife,

But how can you win long term when this all is in worry,
Of one thing getting too strong or too affective at damaging a regulatory function,
Then a plague kills as many people until one appears,
That is independent or immune to its disease,

If we all act the same that disease eradicates us all,
But why not play the game a little smaller,
Grow in stages that allow for breath,
And give what we take from the world just as much back…



Sean Stutzman

COMMENTS

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XLittleAkiX
04:52 Jul 14 2017

Wow again I'm just left speechless it's so true though some of the cases pointed out :/

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Sanguinepsychadelic
21:04 Jul 14 2017

Thank you I really wrote this wondering what the future would be like and I was trying to make solutions and then break down the ideas until I could find something good but I like the thought that it ends hopeful :)

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POST COMMENT

Brigid

Lady of the burning fire,
No man calls you equal to try to be your sire,
A goddess of the past for the people for pilgrims came,
Like the images of dancing woman at the tips of your flame,
For you are our root,
Our Link,
Our Chain,
The great lady so strong,
They made her a saint,
Our friend,
Our nature,
The love of a mother,
The kindest aspect of worldly order,



For great ladies guarded your special temple,
A place that gave Boudicca refuge,
For the horrors brought by the power of man,
A thing rearing its eyes in the modern lands,
For strength of the feminine you voice truth,
That without the feminine no birth continues,




Something conservatives of “traditions,”
That barely stretch back,
Claim are the reasons to hold women back,
A deck with only one history to play out its stack,
That from even common living now makes look like asinine culture slack,



So great lady teach us to bring back the flame,
Remind us in nature we started this game,
A place that we tied to no matter our shame,
And if neglecting our bodies will even become lame,



Brought by religion demanding universalism to a monotheist shame,
Funny when thought and practice just not details are the same,
If bringing back dualism we might find full brain,
And discontinue destroying our lady Brigid a task that’s insane,




A bridge that both paths can meet and agree on,
Was a beauty that even cardinals of the past had to rely upon,
A duty to give back to the planet we come from,
And hold honor to the ancestors who gave us historical bread crumbs,
Let the lady in the material give us bounty,

Let the fire we meet at be inviting,
Let the politics of the modern day,
Learn that from giving respect back gives us more play,
And then our green ladies sweet lips,
Might come like a mother giving sweet kiss…




Sean Stutzman

The Carnival of Reality

The pink lights burn deep inside my skull,
The feeling in the air has changed as if energy were building up round me,
I looked up to find a menagerie of different faces,
Different glances,
Different spaces,
As if moving between the stalls was changing lives,
The interaction a super surreal world of spiral splendor,
Step right up! Step right up!
You have made it to the carnival of the modern,
It is very fun, it’s fancy and always classy,
Look up to see rollercoasters of daring do,
The sign towards the coasters are lit up too,
Dancing with light it spirals and swivels,
Like insects crawling the arrows point inward,
Yet I look and see that at the booths the common worker stairs at you,
His eyes dim with light as all day long he looks up to ride,

But don’t worry my friends you’ve come just in time,
Although there are five thousand people in line,
The coasters called the Corporate Express with lines lining up to take the test,
The common people scramble for they want to go where their lives will have comforting flow,
Yet what’s this I see as I walk to the sign your income level must be this high,
The sign points up to the upper few and I looked around for what to do,
My heart starts to pound as if in a race,
You don’t have that well your family should have been here to start this magnificent place,
I walked up to the line but had to turn round,
As the people at the back mocked and belittled me with sound,
What waste, how sad, and he never would do,
Look at how he looks of course he can’t come through,
I walked back from the line sighing and crying,
Yet there was a man with a clip board beguiling,


Oh so you can’t make it on yet,
Well cheer up work hard and to the front you’ll get,
My parents are riding I want to be with them,
He laughed and whispered forty years it took to mend,
Then smiled and said from the bottom you start,
I’ll give you a job to get to the top,
Why don’t you start working the carts?


So daily I sat with people like me,
They would get off their shifts and come up to see,
I would say don’t you need to save to get up in front,
They would reply I just so burnt out,
I stand and let people on rides all day and at the end of the day just one ride I desire,
I would nod and let them on,
Then feel just as compelled as my shift end came,

But getting up to the front I had to succeed,
Well then I start to coerce my feeling,
I started to pay to get on the rides that took two weeks to save for and strive,
But a new group of people I met and did find,
They also wanted to get to the front of the ride,
Jobs they offered me and new rides,
But a weird feel I got right from the start,
Playing like you had the cash was where these people acted smart,
They never wished to be looked at like my friends on carts,
No, no for ambition they held in their hearts,
But funny the same frugalness I brought to go higher,
Was railed against like a peasant trying to make it up to the emperor’s choir,
I remained the same and made some friends,
They always would talk how good they had it,
Yet question them on getting on rollercoasters,
And a single interaction most could give,
This place I called the corporate corpses,
For most had tried to get there themselves,
Some even starting their own coasters to avail,

But they all seemed to settle back in,
To circle of trying and then with no success to binge,
The idea of their precarious position seemed to undermine their dreams and aspirations,
Funny though they always picked on the carts,
Made sure that their lives seemed “better than that,”
Yet almost identically they seemed to live to me,
And the irony that their trip on the ride wasn’t a reprieve,
They would complain when they couldn’t ride the fancier ride,
Not just be happy they could even enjoy life,
I got a nostalgia for the bottom again,
But that ambitious mind kept me in,
I made to the back of the coaster line,
Though scrimping and saving made me outside,
But soon it would be worth it I said to myself,
I have an idea for a ride that everyone will want,
I sat in line with the thousands of waiters,
Make conversation and watching out for idea snatchers,
Then finally after what seemed like forever,
I stood in front of what I thought was the man with the clipboards brother,
Maybe his twin I don’t know but when he saw me he grinned,
State what ride you would like to be on,
I said I am looking to open one not ride upon,

Well then go in that line over there,
All the while I was using money waiting for the line to keep moving,
But finally I stood in what looked like a hive,
With hundreds of clipboard men standing with dead eyes,

Name Number Address please,
They were processing humans like meat packing,
Each person would walk up and tell them a thought,
They would either tell them no or in a new line they would start,
I finally got my turn and said my idea,
And a light lit up on the clipboard man’s face,
“Really,” he said, “Now isn’t that quite a novel thought,”
A light went off over his head,
Into this line please he said,
I had never heard a clipboard be polite but I wasn’t going to question it and stepped right,



Into a line of maybe ten,
I stood smiling a thing I didn’t notice no one else did,
We walked into a giant room,
The giant clipboards with arms stood watching our moves,
No longer would human faces or bodies do,
No these men had turned into giant number sheets,
They couldn’t open their mouths without ticker tape pouring out,

The first five guys walked up to the front,
They said they would help each in turn,
But ironically only one of their features turned,
My eyes got wide as the slum coasters pitcher body got broad and wide,
He laughed as ticker tape came from his insides,
And like a new brother they ushered him come inside,
Immediately he turned to judge my idea,
As if every memory of the effort it took no longer gave his ship models steer,

I stammered and said all the ideas you’ve heard come nowhere close to what I’m concerned,
I said people want to make coasters and ride them all the time,
I see you clip board men kicking people off every time I ride,
People want that feeling inside,
Like what they are working for on the carts gives them luxurious ride,
Why not make a luxury ride that the middle people could sell and the poor could ride?

Marvelous they echoed an idea of nous,
Well of course we will charge them more for a luxurious tax,
Right the middle won’t like that the poor can ride,
So we will charge with brackets that say they pay more cause greater risk is their ride,
No I said you aren’t listening to me,
I want to give this ride altruistically,
Not multiple of them just one they can have a surplus of you guys a good feeling to share,
Preposterous you want us to do this the clipboards sighed one even grimaced,
We don’t do anything that doesn’t make back the cost,
But I said you all get benefits that would justify this,
Every time you kick off a regular guy we all defend your importance and let you ride,
Of course they said we deserve it the most,
Yet we as the operators could tell you no and make you get in line with other people,

We have no free time to wait for others,
Our time like now is wasted by others,
But you have nothing if the others never played the game,
Your whole empire is supported by those lowly (as you see them) cart hands,
You bastards would have nothing if not for the horde,
We explained this to slum coaster a minute ago they retort,
He made the right choice as we know you will too,
For secretly we can’t be on top unless others are screwed,
Well what about the carnivals in other places,
They laughed and said same principal different [FORBIDDEN WORD REPLACED] orchestration,
He laughed and said the others say they give aid,
But only choice families and the top really get to play,
And they give less opportunity then us playing our game,




My world crushed I said you all are insane,
You realize they will kill you if that still remains,
The biggest board laughed and said not if preoccupied on look for ways of making a ride,
My anger shot through the rafters,
A facial expression which to them brought laughter,
Well then I repeal my idea,
I don’t you bastards to have it that’s clear,
They laughed more and said too late remove him from here he starting to stink,
I said well at least my ideas safe,
He said oh I came up with that doesn’t everyone here agree,
Well yeah wouldn’t be possible without you Mr. Clipboard,
The voice coming from slum coaster made my nerves run,
I mean I don’t even remember this guy,
Send him back to the middle portion rides,

I screamed and yelled their all crooks,
But the new ten line gave me sideways looks,
So caught up on smiling and escaping to clipboard status,
They saw me just as a rejected husk,
A cautionary idea of what not to become,

So down I went and study the carnivals past,
Lists upon lists of rides that were had,
And at the beginning I saw Mr. Clipboard’s forefathers,
But a different idea of a carnival they shouted,
For they had just broken free,
From the Barnum and Bailey of back in the day,
They said that rides should be for the most,
And that the game should played so that cart men can boast,
More and more I realized that the circus they left,
Was looming more and more over our heads,
A feeling that gave me an internal dread,

For if they were dreamers a hundred years ago,
Then what does it say that machines again they’ve become,
That man is trapped in a cycle of desolation,
So longer back I moved to start of the Circus,
And realized that because of bad interaction the trouble started,

I cried eureka I can inform the world,
I said everyone look at what I discovered!
But the middle riders clung to their ambition narratives,
And the lower class people said our belief is what is needed,
I stood back and said I proved that’s false,
But they replied but it’s not what the clipboards told us,
I said because they are feeding you into a machine to profit off of,
But suddenly they put me in a new group,
One I never had seen or related too,
Ah here you belong with the rest of the loons,
They scream there is problems with our perfect view,
Some have no control and can’t work the carts,
We put up with them but they can’t really be apart,




But I yelled I did my research and this group before was in charge,
They used techniques to control their mental scars,
But they were better at trying to help others,
Because their lives from the start were naturally challenged,
Remember the little groups that cared about each other,


You mean those primitives that don’t even have rides,
The clipboards tell us they are behind,
That’s why we pitched and put circus tents,
Up where the trees and flowers beds started,
We give ourselves props because middle ride people,
Contributed a lot to helping those people,
In fact you see that’s the charity we need,
Why do you think with your idea we don’t agree,
We already have paid our comfortable amount,
To trying and helping those poor people out,

But you never gave them the toys you just changed them to carts,
I don’t see benevolence I see you feeding clipboards hearts,
Well do you have a better idea to run the circus?

Yes but the clipboards will need faces,
The loons will need care,
All these things you say we can’t spend time on we can begin,

Sounds wonderful but what is the cost, what will it take?
Well the clipboards will willfully have to give up their stake,
And the middle will bounce and take a hit,
But then more money for everyone like when the circus began,
But this time no megalomaniacs allowed,
We set the rules so that advancement abounds,
Not for everyone that is impossible,
But for the cart riders and loons to not be starving,
I really don’t think it is that farfetched a dream,

But too my amazement they went back in line,
My position and my ambition they chanted in time,
Not effort to put to help another,
No for that idea had been fed off by others,
And no authority model seems to go,
On terms that benefit the mold,
Something that saddens my eyes so,
When examples of my idea I found long ago,
With people who didn’t just make more people,
To lead them inside and strip them of equal,
Hierarchy may always be needed,
But this poisonous identity was a modern preceding,
Only changeable if all the circuses were agreeing,
To play without the clipboards heeding,
Yet if even one machine man is left,
No other circus will compete with him,
And as his power rises the others change,
To do the exact same thing as they detach their brains,
Until only pieces of paper not men remain…


Sean Stutzman

The Night of Serpents

I drank down the last of the green lady as sleep called,
Like the last kiss of reality as my brain went to being stalled,
A final inhale and my mind rushed to dream,
Trying to escape into the fabric between the seams,
As my head went down I entered several frames,
The memory of which I have no recall to claim,
But the night crescendo with an interesting vision;
Something maybe tied to subconscious intuition,

I was walking with my girl and another who I can’t remember,
No reference of time no tell towards a September,
The room we entered was smooth and decorated,
Almost sterile of objects minus what was future fated,
On the side of the room sat a terrarium and behind a man,
He sat with vigor a huge smile at hand,
His hair blonde I could not recognize him,
But uncomfortable or voices matched hymn,

But inside the cage there were beautiful rattlesnakes,
The glass between us and them seemed like it break with minimal force take,
The biggest laid in the front of the tank,
Like a long lost guardian like king to the others rank,
I met eyes with him and felt a deep connection,
Something palpable and like friendship without translation,
His eyes spoke as if with sympathy,
To a feeling in my stomach I felt inside of me,
Yet erratically I saw my fiancé and my friend walking towards the cage,
I rose to protest but my voice was made but had no rage,
I felt discomfort I felt the untamed,
The man behind the tank a mystery he remained,
The blonde picked up the snakes in his hands,
Smiling still the glass no longer in front he did stand,
The three other snakes in the cage lashed out at my fellow travelers,
I immediately tried to help but found I could not move forward,

I felt something behind me call,
Like an old beautiful whisper like an echo bouncing on walls,
So I reached to help my fellows and grabbed them and turned to go behind me,
Twisting to grab them and put the snakes between and make my fellows free,
Yet only I stood in a new room,
The problem from before no longer consumed,
Nothing was inside this area but one figure I could draw,
A room with only a giant jet black cobra,
Yet no threat as before I felt and no desire to run,
Like old friends our eyes locked and returned each other’s sum,
We seemed to speak without talking and then my mind returned to my fiance,
A panic of the previous room as if from another day,
I nodded and then turned quickly back into the other room,
Swirling back to vision from previous pseudo-doom,
The snakes still lashed at them but never struck,
Though their heads dodged and moved down to duck,
I felt angry to the man who kept pushing the snakes at them terrifying them,
But now I felt like I had the right to defend it to end,

I did not know the blonde man and he moved inhumanly,
No matter how loud I yelled he never even looked at me,
Yet I tried to run to them but was stuck,
I kicked hard dug in and tried to buck,
So again I reached out as before but pushed through to past the snakes,
Covering and protecting my fellows with whatever it takes
I awoke in my bed the anger draining from me,
Like an image from an alternate life it all seemed to seem,
The dream foggier but the eyes of the old passive rattlesnake gave me comfort on the other,
As if like the loving eyes of my departed grandfather,
The smile and the happiness of the cobra gave me courage,
Like speaking to an ancient friend with a casual badge,
Still I wished to release the snakes from the others held at bay,
Something that felt religious as I went to do my day,
As if the man was using reality to entrap my fiance and friend,
I felt the breath of awe on my mind and the start of the day began…


Sean Stutzman

Following the Madman and the Forerunner



Mastery of twisted thought I came across your text long,

I saw the words I came to dream flexed in your songs,

I love the words for they come to my heart like fire,

Gibran you genius from before I hear your words and smile,

For almost what I had sung in heart in poetry your words beguile,

For intrinsically anyone as a single man you think your first to have your thoughts,



Then listening in to thoughts of past blows the lid right off,

And your ego smashed you realize that a mirror your voice is aloft,

The masks the same the scarecrow framed in metaphor I wished so bold,

A gift given by living with biblical tale a rebellion I myself sold,



But should I be shocked that a man before seems like minded in voice,

Even more in line I give praise as his life could be challenged by written choice,

I back this light for sage insight as Lao Tzu even said,

That even when a message of intelligence is wiped out and made dead,

The message doesn’t matter from in the same game you play,

So the truth will come back through from intrinsic forte,



For we are all the madman at a certain point of life right?

His message of 7 selves’ show where he thought the sage brought insight,

A message matched to classical wisdom,

As the people of the mind never do well in cultures kingdom,

The rights the wrongs the rules in full limit their imaginations,

The voice behind the sages mind is from hermitage of social instigation,



So why then if this voice echoes through histories halls,

Does the message get construed the learning made psychotically small,

For without those outside how do you know what inside,

How without the hermits of old do learn secrets from the tide,



For who else put wild-hermit-persons have time to watch the stars,

Who else but the man in the woods knows what lies outside the cultural jars?

And if removing this identity then the human frame because domesticated,

Something that steals the natural birth right of men into societies indoctrinated,



But Gibran gives hope for the future dopes,

Ones that many call anti-social lopes,

Bounding from knowledge to wisdom like tight rope walking daring,

Calling out the established frame like Shiva’s destruction blaring,

When brought back to societal frame he comes off as insane,

An insight in his title he owns with full acclaim,



For like he says of dog to cats how dare you pray for mice,

For when don’t they know the bones are what you need asked for when rolling dice?

A brilliant frame to say we are in the same game,

The deaths of thousands of mismatched beliefs now tracked can start to be tamed,



A message that we should look at in its first stage as its base foot,

For the bronze age never claimed they weren’t from the same root,

Just said as neighbors died and language changed they all forgot too,

Especially when priests from then never a single commoner was let to do,

The holy work or know the secrets except in smaller form,

Then when the empires fall the cults of ecstasy are reborn,



For this I lean back and laugh as he states the grave digger’s tale,

For who else but philosopher steps back to laugh as life fails,

Not in general of course,

But to his own frailty he recognizes the power in force,

That death is a thread that every man has,

Making trivial long time dreams and material to be had,

One that shows the heretics forever bring discourse,

For as with Nietzsche the word must be from all class,

Or else the one sided arrangement of Pergamum makes civility an ass,



More built on title and fancy made up shirts,

Lost are the people of the outskirts,

Like medieval premise damning the common serf as pagan,

Yet blessing fields and waving staffs acting just like them,

A motion that when tracking popes makes your skin crawl,

For the power mongers of old still hide and condemn with brawl,

Then ask in Europe no Christian togetherness is found,

And realize that the elite of before killed the other St Bartholomew’s Massacre unbound,



Then see the names that match the industry like Medici show their forbidden of faith,

That god was for nobility the early Christian apologists made wraith,

For all they had read that the festival were of old,

All of them knew the symbolism and lives lost so bold,

All of them controlled the serfs with words hiding concept,

A trick that should be watched as it has roots from before Imhotep,





So I align with Gibran a man of outside stance,

The man running to the future by more than happenstance,

But the future from models so very old has to burn down the presently formed,

Meaning that even by looking to the past the new ideas are adorned,

And that when in reference you create new concept never thought before,

A thing so normal it seems impossible as then from where comes lore,

But totally inherent when you realize it is you imprinted to the words,

Why when using his writing I build my thoughts his words trees the writing my brain the birds,

For insight is built on the revelation of before,

So by greatest build up downfall is instore,

And when falling down the greatest potential is re-engorged,

Probably why most men of thought were at one time idiot servant from books stored,



So to the man I tip my hat an outsider from before,

And build in his legacy a model of the same score,

Maybe my words are different,

Maybe they are same,

But the of course have different flavor coming from out my brain,

For men have thrown out those of the wild inactions they said were bold,

But without the hermits of the world how will the future be foretold?









Sean Stutzman