I have a problem with timing I can't do a soft boiled egg They either come out solid or slimey As I hop from leg to leg I know the time and temperature I'm waiting with a spoon But I drift off or go early Ovoid perfection is doomed.
There's a sweet silver hue on the grass this morn Soft defracted through the dew A warm misty drift is formed Soundtracked by the pigeons Moaning low A quiet transcendent being is born The briefest of existence Magnifies it's vague brilliance As a cloud bank rolls over And screens it for awhile You know that it's still there A bulwark against the care That been persistently nagging you To be alive But when the sun appears again something has know changed It's flattened out All joy gone south Your eyes cast down And once again Yourself you do chide.
My auld man Saw a ghost when he was alive In England's most haunted pub Strangely enough He swore he wasn't lying Or that he was half cut The ***** doesn't work that way Unless at the extreme edge Not in the middle of the day When asked what the spectre looked like He said "Just some normal fella." He liked a joke Jimmy did But in his voice there was a tremor And a tone not oft heard from him in point of fact not ever His mates started calling him The Exorcist A double meaning both were clear For he'd visit you in the evening And make your spirits disappear.