The Troll


Image credit – Woody Hearn &


The Troll, a mighty man is he,
Hidden in the Net's fog.
A marauding thing who lies somewhere,
Beneath the level of a dog.


The muscles of his skinny mind and arms,
Stick out like knots in cotton,
Spawned with problems of the mind,
And can only be viewed as misbegotten.


Slithering around like a pond-life thing,
This parasite he sucks the blood with fatal sting.
Of other’s hurt he seeks to cause.
Will he ever learn, or ever pause?


A slimy, slithering, sorry type is he,
Deserving only of contempt.
Far too blind by ego’s drive and lack of seeing,
Hate alone controls this moronic being.


So turn deaf ear to his regard.
Ignoring him can't be too hard.
But pity not his poor attempt,
Just treat him justly: with contempt.

2015 © Bob Crosbie

Be yourself



In all things pertaining to the striving of mankind, no matter how humble, or how great the ambition, a few have the magic. Many seek it, but it isn't in them from the beginning, so it never will be. So what do they do? They waste their lives trying to be what they can't be, and this is a total waste of what they are, and can be, as what is possible and real is never developed. What they are and what they can be lies dormant; unused and ignored. They are therefore doomed to live within their imaginations. Continuous and numerous failures never deterring. They plod on, seeking meaning to their existence, seeking the magic, but like all their ambitions it remains out of reach, because it was; and never will be there.Trying to be just like someone else is futile

All is therefore wasted, simply because they cannot accept that they are just as they are. Unique and individual. They cannot accept that they cannot be as the one they seek to ape. By aping others in personality, their own personality is diluted; destroyed.

Trying to be just like someone else is futile, yet they still do it. The final question is, “Were they ever really there?” Or are they just like the scent of smoke hanging in the air, around a long dead fire? Think about it.

Bob Crosbie