The news is broken

Breaking news inside my bed

Breaking news inside my head

Breaking news and breaking bread

Don't worry the news is broken

 

Breaking me, and breaking you

Breaking what is false and true

Breaking good and breaking bad

Gets us so we don't know what we had

 

Breaking faces and make up too

Breaking car chases and cocktail screws

Breaking beaches and breaking seas

The ice is broken, it has broken free

Oh mother, the news got broken

 

Out the bag and out a mile

Into space like a missile

Breaking moon rock on the moon

Breaking mars bars, and bending spoons

 

No one tells the truth just lies

Getting like you can't believe your eyes

And no one knows which way to turn

Breaking students are too broken to learn

 

You can try shutting your eyes

But they just open upon new lies

Same old faces, and the world got sold

But nobody told the news of the world

Now the news is broken

Oh, how the news got broken

 

It's a sad thing to have to say

That the truth can't have its day

And sadder still to see fake news got its way

Oh mother, the news is broken

 

Oh mother I had to be sure

So I checked behind the kitchen door

No one fake is hiding there

 Yes the news is fixed like a stare

Like the horses and football matches

You can try to beat the egg before it hatches

But that won’t get you anywhere

Or you may choose to light the fuse and blow the news wide open

But its cover is already blown, yes, the news is broken

 

Well it is like in the morning,

when the sun comes without warning

Don't look too long into to its face

Because you'll go blind and they'll find no trace

You'll get lost between the lines

Like a sheep lost inside the pines

When the wolves of Wall Street howl

You will know the newspaper growl

 

Or you may lay down and play dead

Like the high ups and the plebs

Who ate whatever they were fed

Yes the new got broken

 

Oh the news is like a fine lace

That falls upon the world

And it should walk with grace

Like a lady wearing pearls

 

But instead, it is downtrodden, it is hidden in the mud

It comes from all kinds of places squirming, wriggling through blood

And we love the guts and gore

Oh we love the broken egg

Yes and if you should abhor 

Then you'll find you're dropped down a peg

 

Oh, the news, the news got broken

By the fishermen laying lines

Out on the public ocean

Trying to catch fish upon which to dine

 

And willingly and pliable the public take the bait

And swallow up with love and greed

All things they're taught to hate

 

Yes, the news, the news got broken

By newspaper men in capes

Out to save the world from

All those things we just can't escape.

 

Like living together without conflict

Living and loving a fight

Loving and dying to recover

From a sea sickness or a fear of flight

 

And the rules, the rules got broken

But that is quite alright.

Because the newspaper men were the ones who wrote them

And they're the ones who must be right

 

Yes the news, the news got broken

And I say it in the drowning West

That the Eastern tiger is growling

And is hungry for the rest

 

He'll devour all the sacred cows

And steal from the witch’s coven

The food that made a meal of vows

Set out in cookie cutter American ovens

 

Yes, the news, the news got broken

And now it needs a fix

But what is offered is but a token

No better than a Weetabix

 

So, sell all the stories now!

Sell them to the other side!

For they will be writing in their letters

About how no more Oxford commas they can abide

Yes, the news, the news got broken!

 

You shovel shit down on Fleet street

Where the mighty flagships meet

But it’s not the end of the world that taste sweet

But the lies that set off the whole darned fleet

 

And you can look into the mirror

And try to figure how to get thinner

But the world is small enough

For the daily news to reach the rough

 

Out on the golfing green

Where the Rolls Royce and limousines

Are parked by the eighteenth hole

Where the newspaper lost its soul

Oh mother, oh yes the news is broken

Fresh Air

 Out of whack, hay stack

I'm in a field without a meal

In the can without a plan

On the straight and narrow arrow

I'm in a jam with a little lamb

Down the pan and far from real

Making an appeal

To an orange peel

Too much to grind its rind

I'm asking it to slip and slide

Off the edge of the tide

And be my bride, be on my side

In the war to end all wars

I've got my Goat, but whose got his?

Is it yours or is it the Kid's?

I've asked you twice now I can't write

The potato blight has blotted my ink

And I can't think inside the sink

No I can't stink on the brink

Its in my brain I've got the grain

Its all this toil in the soil

Washed down my drain with the rain

In the forests of the night

Its off the leaf and suffered relief

It's dripping, tripping donkey brief

As Ehor, or Elron, deltron, electron

Mastercard poor

American express, is useless, unless

You can self-express first

I don't mean breast milk

But the best silk or satin sleeves

When the shore rises and you can't believe

Your luck to be where you were born

Inside the truck driving through the storm

And suddenly bright lights are torn

From the dawn's hue, as cascading

Valleys of thorn criss-cross in virtue

Of being new

Or solidarity of what we've all been through

Before, before the storm

There was no time

And 

We wait it out

And give up doubt

Because somewhere, somehow

We must come out

Into fresh air

Bloglog13th Nov

 Blog log -Friday 13th November - I arrived 3 days ago on the 10th into this hotel/house named SXXXXXX HXXXX in Budapest. It seems interesting, and nice staff - the one I have met named Brigi offered to do some shopping for me, while I am in quarantine.

I do not know why I returned to Hungary, perhaps it was a divided sense of loyalties, perhaps I have become more attached than I thought here. Probably I feel more independent here living away from my home environment.

It is a hard one to grasp because it is also more lonely but because of that I feel I must challenge myself more, and I enjoy the challenge.

I teach online and this is going ok from here. There are the odd clients who do not see things from my perspective  - anyway I need the money right now so I can't or should not complain if their wife hangs around the screen also.

Besides this I am living in a small attic space and I am not meant to go downstairs to socialize or cook - so I order food in the evening, which is nice but unhealthy - I feel I am getting that way. I have borrowed a stove which makes things easier - to make a cup of tea for example.

The guy living opposite seems a bit strange. He has been friendly but I have been more guarded. Perhaps I went a bit far - he just seems a bit imposing.

This morning I started a new fitness regime - online video workout to strengthen core muscles. I am hoping to keep it up.

Last night I watch Once upon a time in America by Sergio Leonne and starring Robert Deniro with a musical score by Ennio Morricone which has a beautiful theme -called Ampala-my choice about the girl called Deborah who rejects the protagonist David "Noodles" Aaronson.

It was a very long, but inspiring film. So I did not go to bed until 1pm then woke at 4.30am and so I'm quite tired, and have my first lesson soon.

God Bless America

 Young blood

That built a nation

Disaster and infection

Leads to reincarnation

And swallows swoon in the pale afternoon

After the dust has settled on the moon

And God bless America

The swollen prides of immigrants

Who rose up from the gutter

The tongue-tied eyes of star crossed lovers

Who dance their way to stardom

Far away from freedom

But God knows they tried

And God bless America

The half lights dim, inside the gym

Where boxer sits and cries

The titles won, the lovers lost

Still stardust swims in his eyes

He used to walk along the coast

And kick the pebbles there

But now he hosts and gives toast

To others younger fare

And God bless America

And all the ghosts that haunt his house

Might fill him with despair

If not for those, whose sunlight rose

And cast away dark care

God bless America

And her only son

Who could not forget the burning flame

The torch of marathon

And carried it for his first love

Even though she had moved on

So God bless America

Until their race is run

Penn hill

 Upon Penn hill

Where the pheasant trill

Their startled bagpipe tones

I am alone on cobble stone

Where the bridlepath lays still

Where is the bride? Whose marriage is

It I am running to?

And where is the altar of marathon

Who will be my bride?

Upon Penn hill 

Where the scruffy magic mushroom pickers glean

And hurry and harry the tuffts

That carry their magic bean

And the farmer who sits in his rover and scowls

And the mast's falling over

Because of the owls

The red planets are rolling down pen hill

And a mars bar a day will likely make you ill

The red planets are tumbling

Like bulls down the meadow

Rolling over dozing sheep

There is a war of bells

These red globes collide with churches

Knocking over towers, and school halls

And crushing cars parked in roads

Others swerve out their way

Out their way run the flock, the parishioners, the beadle and the cock

Who crows out his warning in tides of socks

That come falling from the farmer's wife's chest

The mushroom pickers themselves probably think they live on Mars

Wandering around the base of the Microwave tower

Sending them their digital waves, or beaming out to stars

Their mushroom addled brain saves all this as useable power

First they see the footage of the first man on the moon

Then Neil Armstrong is next to them feeding them from a spoon

Saying get better young man America will need you soon

When in reality they are in a Mendip field on a Saturday afternoon

Then suddenly a pheasant beater is perched upon a wall

Calling to his pheasant shooters with his favourite border collie

And as you jog the trees they toggle, in a sense they freeze

And rocks and salt all fill your throat with words you cannot say

And daleks from Mars remind you of those heady summer days

When all this dust, was just like lust, that fades into moon haze

And I can hardly hold it, the weight of boulders up the valley

The weight of feathers waiting to be exploded

By the shot-guns held in shoulders, or cradled in the arms

Of rich and upper class tories who love to tell their stories

Of how they shot down Mars with one moon shot

And wiped out the disease of the red spot

When really the virus like the pheasants came from

Jupiter instead

And Io was with Europa looking on shaking her head

Funny Ha ha

 Now I'd like to say that you were cool

Like cucumber 

But more a tool

With an itch to get her number

Don't be a snitch

It's way past slumber

This party's over

Like an over boiled egg

It's turned hard 

And I'm going to bed

I must be up at the crack of dawn

Oh that's a funny one

A Brazilian, like a pussy that's shorn

Well sheep shaggers aside

You really took me for a ride

I spent far more

Than my beer budget can abide

And now I've installed your bloody fridge

Some bastard from America

Is gonna use it for his bridge

Damn it I'm drunk and that doesn't rhyme

But anyway

Life's like that

I fucks it up time, after time

And if you haven't a penny

A hapenny will do

And if you haven't

A hapenny, then boy

You are screwed

Icebergs Ahoy

Well I guess I must have hurt her
Yes I got away with murder
But hey somedays that's just
The way things go

Well I ran on to the border
And said now I know you heard her
But you said you thought
That I oughta know

Well it happened on my watch
I fell asleep and I did botch
The one job that a sailor
Oughta know

Well I thought I heard it coming
That low and distant drumming
But the night was full of fog
And my eyes were full of snow

Well I guess I must have hurt her
Yes I got away with murder
And the criminal they brought her
Down below

Well the engines they were humming
And the sailors they were bumming
Cigarettes to bet with down below

A black jack game was running
And the thief he had great cunning
And he won his fortune
In the stow

Yes he guessed he might have hurt her
He got away with murder
But somedays, you know
Thats just the way things go

And he was just a passenger
Holding up the messenger
Who was running to tell
The Captain of the ice floe

But they never saw the danger
No they were safe asleep in manger
And it happened on my watch
So I ought know

Yes I got away with murder
I thought my medicine had cured her
And I rang the bells full stop
On the decks below

And they say that natures red
In tooth and claw
And all is fair in love and war
But it happened that her ship never
Reached the shore

And the ship it lurched sideways
And the Orchestra played
My Way
And I thought I saw Sinatra
Sing for sure

As the Ice berg cut the violins
They bounced and jumped upon the strings
And tore great holes in the hull
Of her score

And I guess I must of hurt her
Yes I got away with murder
But now I'm in the water
And nothing's like before

Well I hear the silverware clatter
Collapse, and shake the chandellier
The Piano is swallowing sea water
Like the shore

And it happened on my watch
I was dreaming of my scotch
And before I knew it a mountain
Had come in the door

Well the ship went down near Labrador
The cargo was jettisoned
The luggage was soaking wet on and soon
The passengers in life boats
In the flotsam

And I keep dreaming of America
America, my saviour
Who could save a wretch like me?
I keep swimming for that dream
For the land of the brave and free
Because I got away with murder
At the door

The thoughts of Jason Statham

I have a body, I am steamy and smouldering
In an internally conflicted way
It is a strain sometimes
With the burden of my life's work - Assassin
Which I had thrust upon me
Now here is the girl - Jessica Alba
Who clearly I will get together with
Because we are approximately equally beautiful

I am ideally suited with my body and
my gravelly, husky voice

The main thing with a sex scene
Is to show my sexy and muscular back,
Sort of arched and for
Us to writhe a little in apparent passion or playfulness
And then you must show your back to the camera
And then I squeeze your bum
Camera cuts

Now that the money shot is out the way
There is the action
Fight sequences and shooting guns

Damn this plot is looking rather like James Bond
With the yachts and high rise hotel ponds
But then I am of a lower class altogether
At least I could not pull off Daniel Craig's look in leather
And my rough hewn features are ideal material
But I'm a little too bald to be considered 00-real

Still money talks and America cuts deals
We make the boulevard walk in the tinsel town reel
And the sun goes down on my mechanical appeal
Yet I've fought the good fight with 00-zeal

Love Song

Freedom is the great retainer,
Bold new reasons for a justified remainer
Earning crust in a lip less land
Where lovers walk hand in hand
Sharks and storks, stalk the sand
Following currents of words

Following currents of words
And grape vines of news
Berries like snippets of information
Pipettes of a muse

Love is pigeons freed
And tying me up
Only to let me go
Love are the dying leaves
On the pavement
Where builders have scored
Their lines in old cement
For plans of ill pursuit
Plans of ill pursuit

Love is the I
The spit in the Eye
That makes you get up and try
Some more each morning
It is the bitterness of dawn
When you realize she's not there
Or when you forget she was even there
Or when money surrounds your thoughts like sharks in a calm lagoon
Spoiling your fun
Like pricking your thumb
On the needle of the loom
Like focusing on the sun
With one
Eye on the moon
Hoping it will work out one day when you're too old
To climb a dune
Like in an American movie
Where they all eat apple pie
But they never show the apple pickers
Nor the millers working
Their fingers to the bone
To give you flour in your home
For 5 cents an hour
Down in old Mexico

Hollywood sweet bread rules the
City arcades
It is in the faces of the charades
The hopes of young girls and boys
Who would have been better off playing with toys
Than joining the real world so soon

Tear drops for Yesterday, a pasty smells of Summer

I figured you were up with that
The single cream for the cat
The only place I thought I knew
Just a Parker
pen or two
Just a reasonable Policeman's conference
Made up of small faces
In the mugshot gallery
All the toothless wonders of a frightening history
Beamed out under American imperialism
The Chivalry of Donald Trump in the
Space Race
with book ends from Romania
And Nuclear War Heads from Iran
The thought in the head of Spying
From a Russian co-federation
Of Interstellar bar staff

And all those records that lie broken on the moon
The longest long jump
For example
From a standing position
It isn't difficult to win the Olympic medal here
When you are literally in the house of the Gods
But what do I know of the odds?

The American Corner

 A little piece of heaven

A slice of the American pie

A report of the news at seven

Your own private cloud in the sky

Come here to read, or unwind

Come here to leave behind

Those hours of nine til five

Dolly Parton eat your heart out

Now the American Corner’s come alive

Pieces of the American dream

Gradually fall into place

They fill in the Hungarian scene

Where reality wears a different face

Yet we all wear masks here

We’re all part of the carnival

Some clown sheds a tear

Another actress shines a knowing smile

The American corner revolves around

The spirit we can all better ourselves

And the queen of that dream

Is Bogi who's seen sitting, working hard

At her computer among the full book shelves

It’s a place of Education

A place for rich and the poor

It's egalitarian Librarian

Is partly fraternal, a little maternal, 

Showing us the score

Giving us the US quiz, to improve our knowledge some more

So roll up, roll up come join the parade

We're marching through the town

People of every colour, creed or shade

Everyone is equal and we all have the right

To pursue our own happiness

And to fight the good fight