There's an evil demon lurking
On the edges of my soul
I try my best to push him off
He's stubborn, very bold
He tries to sway my thinking
And how I look at things
I tell him, “Take a hike!
Get lost, you ding-a-ling!”
He never seems to listen
He insists on causing trouble
It's his role he always says
I'm about to burst his bubble
Demons don't tell me what to do
Don't need these guys to coach
My standards are extremely high
My actions beyond reproach
There's an evil demon lurking
On the edges of my soul
But this here dude's not worried
I'm the guy that's in control!
© Jack Ellison 2012
Let me sing you a tale, a story of old,
Of a man without fear, of a knight brave and bold,
He sought out adventures, whenever they called,
And the name of this knight was Sir Archibald.
Whilst out riding his horse, a steed of great power,
He saw in the distance a creepy old tower,
At the top of this tower lived a pretty young maid,
Who was cold and was lonely and longed to be saved.
“Oh Sir Archibald, won’t you please rescue me?
I’m stuck in this tower and there’s nowt on TV.
I’m forced to stay in here, and wash all these socks,
While the evil Black Knight holds the keys to the locks.”
Sir Archibald loved the maiden so fair,
With her glittering eyes and her long golden hair.
“Of course I will save you!” was the knight’s brave reply,
“Or at least I shall give it a jolly good try!”
Sir Archie rode onwards, as fast as he could,
Until he came to the edge of the wood,
And there stood before him a terrible sight,
The tall, strong and mighty, the evil Black Knight.
The Black Knight was massive, someone to be feared,
With a scar on his face and a huge tatty beard,
Our villain’s description is only complete,
When we mention his dark eyes and big smelly feet.
“What do you want?!” called he with the big booming voice,
Of a man you’d avoid if were given the choice,
“You’ve got a young girl there, who you must set free.
Let her go now, or else answer to me!”
Batman and Robin sped to their car
But the Joker outran them by far
Joker got in it
But he didn't fit
Then yelled" Guess have to throw my guitar!"
Dorian Petersen Potter
Larry was the oldest, seemed every day he grew
Bubbling with mischief, like a cackling witches brew
At the time just 10 or so, but that’s a long way back
Humorously independent, the joker of his pack.
And then came Jan, smiling face of missing teeth
Radiating freckles, a tomboy underneath
Followed by little Davey, and his demon dog named Stiff
Really good at misbehaving, or some real mischief.
There are potent spells a witch can cast, riding on her broom
Sorcerers tricks from ages past, weaving trickery on her loom
To ferment a brew with some illusion, and a spell or two
With spirit salts and then confusion, to make her schemes come true
Johnny was the toddler, did pretty much as told
Shook his rattle, sucked his thumb, let his world unfold
So that’s team, the whole groundcrew, dynamic young and bold
With dreams and schemes of their machines, something to behold
With sticks and gum and elastic bands, a runway made of tiles,
Perched upon the old shed roof, it could be seen for miles
Gleaming in the evening sun , the plane was quite a feat
A firecracker in an upturned pail, as an ejector seat
A barnyard roof may not seem high, 20 feet I’d guess,
The main thing was to make dad proud, something to impress
But to the boys quite high enough, for their first flight test
To act like men by doing good, and sticking to their quest.
The plane was much too hard to move, even with all three trying
They ignored the pilots grumblings, leaving Johnny close to crying
What it really needed was a magic wand, the ones that sorcerers use,
One with proper magic powers, that could also light the fuse.
One more shove is all we’ll need, lets give it one more try
I’m guessing theres trick to this, to making this thingfly.
Then Abracadabra he had the thought, that used a pole and levers.
Come on now, You’ll all be proud, we’ll show them non-believers
See it’s already at the edge, nothing can stop us now.
But as the plane started to tilt, sweat on the pilot’s brow
Litltle Johnny started to sob, and could not hold back his tears,
And within the nearby kitchen, the cry fell on someone’s ears,
What wicked spells a witch can cast, as she rides apon her broom
Using evil tricks from ages past, and illusions weaved by loom
But that’s no match for a prairie mother, running with a scream
With terror in her eyes, to end an evil scheme.
Even an invader's air raid
can be, as we're told, for aid.
The mind holds terrible things
We wish no one could see
It tells a flattering story
As flattering as can be
Deep dark secrets fulfill
This space of air
When we think we are loved
The mind says; I don’t care
In this empty space we
Somehow call our minds
Deceive a person’s heart
And somehow keeps them blind
We will never know
The inner thought
Buried deep within
In a selfish twisted mind
That somehow has no end
In a quiet place is when
The mind works best
It always distinguish itself
From the boundaries
Of all the rest
It sees things that ordinarily
It feeds on overload and
And why, we cannot see
You thought lies, envy, jealously
Always come from the heart
It always starts in the mind
The utter most selfish part
There are two things in life
You will never ever know
How the mind functions and
And how evil in the heart grow
You would be surprise all
The things the mind occupy
And all the dark evil to
The heart it can supply
It buries things you simply
Would never and cannot see
It’s like a silent hill and
A hundred year old tree
So never underestimate
The power of the mind
It somehow brings out
The worst in all man kind
For a Semite a mite
is an anti-Semite.