Poetry

Wednesday, 1 November 2023

Budapest Hotel

 The dumb bells spoke 

And the fires smoke

The travelling salesman

Told another joke

About the poor folk

And the rich folk as well

But he can't tell you nothing

Except what's good to sell


The Arabian knights

They charged in ten thousand

To the top of the hill

Where the dunes golden sand

Glistened and sparkled

And listened like the stars

But they only spoke silence

Like the surface of Mars


And somethings stand

While other things fall

I thought the hotel was grand

Until I saw the holes in the wall

From the bullets that were fired

When the communists came

Well they never said nothing

Except nothing does change



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