Sunday, 22 May 2011
The Sunday Post
Hullo ma wee blog,
The goat, with amber dumbells in his eyes,
The blase lecher, inquisitive as sin,
White sarcasm walking, proof against surprise.
The nothing like him goat, goat-in-self,
Idea of goatishness made flesh, pure essence
In idle masquerade on a rocky shelf -
Hangs upside down from lushest grass to twitch
A shrivelled blade from the cliffs barren chest
And holds the grass well lost; the narrowest niche
Is frame for the devils face;the steepest thatch
of byre or barn is pavement to his foot;
The last. loved rose a prisoner to his snatch;
And the man in his man-ness, passing, feels suddenly
Hypocrite found out, hearing behind him that
Vulgar vibrato, thin derisive meh-eh.
Hush, hush, time tae be sleepin'. Hush, hush, dreams come a-creepin'; Dreams of peace and of freedom, So smile in your sleep,...
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If we lived in a world where bells truly say 'ding-dong' and where 'moo' is a rather neat thing said by a cow, I...