Morning Blues

Woke up this morning

Feeling this bruise

It rose like a hill

I suffered its ruse

I woke like a fire

Set on a log

With the howling desire

Of a graveyard dog

I’ve got the blues

Got the blues for you

I needed a bank job

To put me straight

But they put me in a jacket

And told me to wait

I said I’m not used

To standing in queues

They said they’d put me in irons

If I refuse

I got the blues, got the blues for you

There are six dogs waiting

Waiting at your gate

They say I must choose

Between love and hate

Six bullets waiting

In the barrel of a gun

Waiting in the bed chamber

Of the Lady Someone

But I still got the blues

Got the blues for you

I tried to stay silent

Not put pen to paper

But its like the man said

She is an escaper

Always trying to break loose

Of the chains and her noose

But who could blame her?

Who could try to name her?

She’s every woman, and someone

I’ve got the blues, got the blues for you

Enough

The Northern diatribe of some folk

Is enough to make North tribe vs South tribe seem a joke

Its really important the North invented Industrial Production

And the South gave us Vacuum cleaning power suction

But the big question is do you push or pull your Henry Hoover

There’s an investigation in Shepherd’s Bush into the who pulled the wool

Over the carpet stain remover

Who cares?! I’ve had enough

I don’t mind if the North provided England with a power house

Made us super rich for a time

All of that is Post Modern now

It only influences our aesthetic taste for ruined industry art

For Nostalgia as if Britain wasn’t nostalgic enough

Why do we need reminding we used to have this stuff?

But screwed it up?

The fact is we were puritan’s who stood for something once

We had roots but now most of it is lost

Then you say we instilled the work ethic into the labour force

Well yes and no, though few people really starve now

Few people really grow, there is not such ambition in the working class

And the ruling elite are still hankering after the myths of the past   

They’re now too weird to be jealous of

The rich / poor divide is too great

They might as well be the Royal Family

And share their fate

But revolution is not on the cards – we have too many rules

And most of us through education have been turned into robots

So all we know how to do is conform

We are grey, we are a lifeless nation moving into oblivion

Ruled in part by people with no imagination

Who are too serious to fool

And that is one big problem of unquestioned authority

When students don’t question the teachers

The teachers don’t question their institutional rules

And the citizen cannot question the politicians

There is no accountability at all

But neither is there any room for failure or mistakes

Which is where the best inventions come from

We have gone in on ourselves in the best English tradition

When the world has gone crazy around us

We have retreated into the castles of our souls

And it will take a lot to unlock the door

To bring down the drawbridge

You're

You’re the most British person I know

Your hair wafts back like a sparrows nest

It looks like a thatched roof

Atop a croft that’s blest

You’re the most British person I know

You’re the most Greek person I ever knew

Your hair is so dark

Like Methuselah’s hue

Your skin like an olive grove

So dark green imbued

With the frankness of foresight for the

Tragedy new

You’re so Hungarian with your forthright airs

With your blood that boils

At room temperature

And your Saturnist cares

You’re so dying

In the now that you don’t care

You’re so hard Italian like

The stone of an olive

Cannot crush its essence

Get to the kernel

You’re so filtered coffee with

The heroics of Hercules

Its sad when your abandon

Leaves you roaming the open seas

The Wall

I thought about the meaning of it all

How when I go

There will be nothing but the wall

Which I have either climbed

Or let fall

Keeping it up high

Trying to stop it fall

And there is nothing but these barriers

That separate you from me

That keep us all apart

There is nothing but the Wall

Which we build inside our hearts

What are we trying to protect?

Some little piece of paradise

No one can reject

Our little square of green

We’d like to keep in the sun

But after all is said and done

Its just a Wall

Its just we all

Must love someone

From the dockyards of Bombay

To the sand hills of Egypt

We are trying to fill our cargo bays

With some thing they can’t reject

Something like a phenomenon

Of pride that writes the Edicts

Scribbled on the wall

That’s falling to pieces

Come climb my wall

I’ll try to pull yours down

The Queen dances in the hall

The king has lost his crown

He sees love and tastes

The bitter leaves of regret

Come help him pull down

These bricks and mortar

Of the Wall he tries to forget

Cambridge Analytica

They're Cambridge Analytica
All their words so Politica
So insightful, oh so true
Who ever thought they'd be spying on you?
Oh we trust them, yes we do
With their names in iron
Etched like lions on our national consciousness
Like Lords and Ladies walking through
We know they have the privilege
But what do they know about you?

Such as these were whispering
Beneath the stockade
When they crucified Jesus, King of the Jews
They were the ones who got paid
Such as these have testified
Against youth and against old age
And if you don't measure up
To their examination box
Be sure they'll try to push you off stage

Oh they're Cambridge Analytica
Full of the fascism of Hitler
Held in place by their prestige
But take off their face and you'll see their greed
Their tongues lie, their voices are grey
Their blood is Luke-warm, like that of a snake
But not cold blooded, they would never make that mistake
They are too precise to fool -every correction they make

They're Cambridge Analytica,
Cambridge Analytica
Robots of the system never sympathetica
Machines who do no wrong
But their hair is always grey
Mind they don't catch you too
In their Spider web way
Cambridge Analytica

Jail House Blues

The jail birds of a rotten rock
Jangle their chains
In the stocks
The balls of iron round their ankles haul
Across the rain soaked
Jail house yard
And from a distant tent of blue
They spy the hill top climb
They knew
Before this incarceration time
Came like bonds to bind
Them in their prime

Then others of that certain hue
Came by them under skies of blue
Blue like their jail clothes
Blue like seas where the sailor rows
Blue as eyes you look into
Where forever dies on tomorrow's knees

A dog

And a dog followed me back
He gave chase like
A twister in the field
Between the nettles
And the Elderberry
Around the Spinney he happily played

And a dog he followed me back
And this hound he ran around
And this mutt he moved his butt
He wagged his tail
And shook his head
And a dog he followed me back

A Springer Spaniel
Louis the 16th century style
Curly locks and floppy ears
Bounding about
To my cheers
Go back home said I to him
Too far have you roamed
You'll be lost at sea

He listened not to my pleas
So I returned with him
To his Farm stead lea

And a dog, he followed me back
Across the field
Under skies of blue black
He was free

Because you said that thing to me

Because you said that thing to me
Because you did and meant it
The words that left the orbits spin
Flew off and I got dented

You see I've been off in space somewhere
Exploring darkness
Isolation, despair
And I was hit by
Your space debris
Which reminded me
Life is so fragmented

Pieces hit and bounce around
We all spit
But not all hits the ground
And Some spaceship
Ends up in lost and found
Because you said those words to me

Just little things
That make the world go around
Little words
Little sounds
But they turn great cogs underground
And water wheels
Flood with oceans pound
And enough of mud and blood
Its drowned
Out by the echoes
Of your words to me

cemetery nights

Cemetery nights
And the wild wind
The holes in the heart
Where the rain gets in
The dogs that lose their barks
Each time the song begins
On those Cemetery nights
When you're under my skin

The frozen love triangle
That they fit over the balls
Then the reds and yellows
Like ghostly eyes that roll
And you hit them with your
Bone white cue
And they knock around the table
Going this way and that
Looking for escape where they are able

And all the sockets full of lockets
With photographs for my heart
Of lovers stuffed in pockets
As deep as I can laugh
But the joke was on me of course
Because I could not draw the graph
Of each pulse beat I made in retreat
From the position at the start

These Cemetery nights
Keep rolling off my shoulder
Billiards in graveyards
Tomb stones getting older
And we're a long time dead you know
We must live for the ones we love
And never give way to
The Grim reaper's sway
When he gives us the cold shove

There are Eleven bone rattlers
And twelve gravediggers working
In shifts
And they're burying more than
For what they get paid to lift
And they're using all their cunning,
looking at you kid
But you can't give them their way
Don't ever accept their gift

When the Cemetery nights are over
And the Sun begins to jowl
Then you'll see me from over your shoulder
And the dogs they'll begin to howl
For the crows have flown in the morning
The dust is blown from the flowers somehow
And I know I'll see you tomorrow
Each day is a tomorrow until now

Last train

Its the last train out of nowhere
The last train tonight
Batthyány tér I'm a nomad
Get no sleep tonight

Rails in the midnight
Wheels running fast
Making miles
With nowhere to go
Nowhere but the past

On the last train to nowhere land
The cities of the night fly by
Their lights remind of a certain regret
A certain twinkle in somebody's eye

Their flat iron sign and rails
Everything we should do
Follow the tracks where they trail
Don't do what you feel you'd like to

The last train out of nowhere
Last chance to fight
Step on board, I'm a nomad
Get no sleep tonight

Magazine People

Magazine People
They are ruined radishes
Playful carrots in the field
Felled cabbages in baskets
Brussel Sprouts whose storks
Have lost their zeal

They are greens gone black
Chard that's gone hard
All the wet lettuces of a farmer's yard
They are onions that smell
And garlic gone rotten
And piles of peas gone soggy at the bottom
Strung out parsnips and hung up runner beans
And this is what I think of their magazine

Their world is a balderdash
Their lives are a joke
They fill up their time
With mirrors and smoke
And none of them know
What they really mean
Now this is what I think of their magazine

They are liars and cheats
And cowards and scoundrels
Sheep that bleat
Horses hooves and pigs feet
And rotten chicken dirty meat
Fouled by the fowl it comes from

They're over-salted pork
And twisted metal fork
That gets stuck their teeth
And jerks
And all the above and some underneath
I can ascribe to my general belief
That all their words are daisies under a mower
Headless ineffective
An insult to the sewer
And soon their seed dies
For it falls on fallow ground

And their crops will fail
Their birds make no sound
It will become like after
On nuclear scene
Now this is what I wish for their bloody magazine

They could make it better
But their vision is so mean
No hope for the future
Only keep doing what is clean
And sanitary and safe
And nothing worth spit
Just a puddle of martyr's blood
Has washed down their screen

And their front covers lie
About what has been
And which celebrity does what
With whom and in between
There lies nothing of substance
Nothing to glean
Just another pack of lies
With each new page that's seen

And this is what I think of their magazine

Magazine

See their faces in the magazine
All traces of the scum they've seen
Obliterated in the cases of
Top quality wine drunk through a skein

All the faces on the magazine
These old rotten guys, these girls
In the knackers yard
These caked on masks
They light comments that bask
In the glory of former days

Those days of Hey,
Of when the grass was green
Those faces in the magazine

Whose faces are they we've seen
Bits of our own broken skin?
Flaking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle
Because if you don't ask the questions
Of your own life in childhood
Beyond a certain point
It doesn't exist
And no amount of interviews
Can ever summon back those summers
Except on the covers of those Magazines

Those film stars of films that they've starred in
Like your own lives only you jarred
And forgot to grin
Or grinned to hard
And lost the musket, lost the mustard gas mask
So you choked slightly all summer
After the war
And in the yard your pet dog died
In an agricultural accident
But it didn't play out that way in the film
It was edited down when they cut that scene
Just so it would fit into the magazine

So what we want are the lies
Fill us with bull shit
Make us eat pork pies
There are no more spies
No more double agents
Double pages of print
Of ties that leave you
With tears in your eyes
Nothing but splints, crutches
Pig sties and butchers
Who hold up bloody shoulders of lamb
That has been fattened on the green
That once frolicked on the
Pages of the zine

In the heat of the sun

In the heat of the sun
In the dead of the night
I carry a gun
So I know I'll be alright

But the Stinging bees
Begin to bite
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

I'm at a million to one
In the odds at the fight
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

50 times fifty ton
Of weight feels light
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

Don't shoot me son
I'm far too bright
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

The bulls in the field run
Broken fences in sight
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

Who knows where they've gone
If there will be a fight
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

The land is undone
The sea is in flight
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

The baker burns his bun
The king turns white
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night

Blue habit of a nun
Black birds of fright
In the heat of the sun
And the dead of the night