Nothing is to change in the world,

  what alike can't do already.

Or shouldn't

  or should've done at that.

So it remains only a question

  of what one did with the choice one had.

And it was not on the legs, this one:





  Out of the night that covers me,

    Black as the pit from pole to pole,

  I thank whatever gods may be

    For my unconquerable soul.


  In the fell clutch of circumstance

    I have not winced nor cried aloud.

  Under the bludgeonings of chance

    My head is bloody, but unbowed.


  Beyond this place of wrath and tears

    Looms but the horror of the shade,

  And yet the menace of the years

    Finds and shall find me unafraid.


  It matters not how strait the gate,

    How charged with punishments the scroll,

  I am the master of my fate:

    I am the captain of my soul.

<img src="photos/dear-ernest.jpg">





<a href="wells/imperialists.pdf">Used up for the propaganda machine;

  when classified information services speak.

But you gotta let them that,

  beautiful words are both sides gist.</a>

<img src="photos/nuugs.jpg">