Nocturnal Creatures

[A poem by Beleaguered Servant]

The night knows its own.


The Night Man

The night spreads out its gloomy arms
Embracing minds befogged with hate
Who linger in a shadowed world
Where sickened spirits congregate

They cannot come into the light
For to be seen is agony
The night will always welcome them
The dregs of our humanity

A Verse Review: Heroes of Burke County

Heroes of Burke County


“It is the surmounting of difficulties that makes heroes.”

– Louis Kossuth

I’m guessing not too many folks
Would see this film the way I do
But it’s my blog, these are my thoughts
And this is my dang film review

I admire those who try
To do something that others can’t
I admire those who some
Would look down on as miscreant

This film, it documents such men.
They try to entertain a crowd
And while they are not world renown
I think that they can be quite proud

That they both came and overcame.
And yes, the whole thing’s quite bizarre,
But heroes are made of such as this –
Burke County Heroes? – So they are.

Soy Estate

Soy Field
Field of soy. Isn’t it beautiful?

Yes, I am a soy farmer

And I know you eat my product.

But then

You all tease me about it.

Saying, “You’re just a poor soy from a poor family” —


People make fun of me for being a poor soy farmer

I say, “Hey —

You shouldn’t

Kikkoman while he’s down.”


How Smart I Used To Be

Graduating Class

I used to be quite a bit smarter
I feel it whenever I’m stressed
For seizures have mangled some brain cells
And old age has taken the rest

I think I was once a Rhodes Scholar
And I won a Nobel one Fall –
I’m pretty sure I was once smarter
But now I just cannot recall

Loch Lomond

[I don’t post a lot of music because my tastes are somewhat out of the ordinary. Still, this is amazing.]



By yon bonny banks and yon bonny braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae,
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond.

O you’ll take the high road and I’ll take the low road
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond.

‘Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond,
Where deep in purple hue the Highland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.

The wee birdies sing and the wild flow’rs spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping,
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again
Tho’ the woeful may cease from their greeting.