Witch's wedding

 It was a witch's wedding

Down in a cave

A witch's wedding

But never a guest looked grave

Through the cob webbing

As the candlesticks save

And the yellow lights shone

On the walls

Who's echoing screeches gave

The tides on the shore were ebbing

The sun dial's chimes did call

A large cauldron stood four feet tall

And into the pot went all manner of fool

A four legged friend even one foot stool

Friends until the end as the frog's legs sprawl

And the preacher she was a creature of

A most hideous hide

Jagged as a stalagmite

Only matched by the wedding bride's

But beauty runs more than skin deep

And these had rhinoceros hides

Such beauty had never walked such caves

Not since the Halloween's tide

The witch was given away by the star of

The scene 

as the devil walked in there

Turning all the wedding guests green

Ah my sweet Papa said the witch

And bowed to kiss his tail

The mysterious man showed grace and poise

And in his duties never failed

"A fine young man your bride groom is

As father I do approve

Just mind he is versed in the dark arts

And his station it will improve

I shall turn the world to my will

And ensure his career is skilled"

Oh, but the Devil was no ordinary man

A real Prince charming was he

And as he let go of her hand

In the other he passed the husband a key

Now you and she will be locked together

Chained like the tides to the sea

And your life and hers will forever be tied

Round and round until in death you are free

A narcissist first, and a narcissist last

The devil's own sin was his pride

And as he vainly gave the key to the groom

He neglected to look at the bride

And in that short moment

When the wedding bonds passed

And the Groom did inherit the Earth

Hell wore a smile like a river wide

And his daughter's eye contained much guile and mirth

Yet she was a witch and could never submit 

To man's complete dominion

For in truth she hurt for the wild wind's course

And she ached to untie the marital union

Though love is a bond that lives wild and strong

And will pass beyond measureless time

The heart is an art that is a high road long

And only lives because others have died

This man she knew, she would tell to go to hell

And he would in truth dwell down there

But his worldly sense loved the commonsense

While hers was more a type magical mare

A witch's divorce is a thing to see of course

No solicitor could negotiate deeds

How to divide the keys to the Earth

Or pages of pride and of greed

Though he may leave her

She will never forget

And her curse will follow him

Like a supersonic jet

Booming the sound waves

And brooming the debt

He owes her his life yet

He owes her his life yet

The Journey underground -Jack in the box part 4

Bringing the skull on my shoulder

As I walk over the hills

Crossed rivers filled with boulders

Candles lit in windowsils

People stayed at home

But I walked the edge of the knife

Walking though never alone

Half way between death and life

Two heads are better than one they say

And this skull he was no exception

As day after day he guided me on

Night upon night gave me direction

Soon we came to a gully, with moss, and

grain on the ground

I followed a  trail that led like a snail

To a small house standing unsound

"The keeper of this Tavern", he said

"He will know where they buried the dead"

And I looked up at the sign hanging aloft

The Magician's rest was flashing on and off

It was too late now, I was stepping over the threshold

Would this be the test of the story the skull had told?

I decided in a flash, to conceal my bony stash

And tucked him under my arm in a headhold

What have you got there, the inn keeper spoke

As I approached the bar, my anticipation broke

Oh just a skull I am carrying, to reunite it with it's body

The whole company turned and faced me, I felt bashful in it's scrutiny

"A body, ye say?", "Aye", said I

"One without a head, have ye heard of it? " My accent I could but try

"Neigh", said the publican, and crestfallen was I

Even my skull companion, looked more ashen in complexion

Until a rosy cheeked jug swiller, piped up from his stupor

"You must be talking of the bodiless head of Spencer Hall!"

"The very same, my good man", and I fixed him with my gaze

The skull, who was disheartened, soon found his mirth raised

"Except", I said, "it be the headless body for which I am a-searchin"

"Yep that be the one," he said, "I can take ye to it," he said, swayin' and lurchin'

I surreptiously placed the Skull on the bar, in order to have consultation

The bar tender, looked a little quizzical from afar, but still served us with the usual salutation

"What do you think?", I spoke under my breath

"I say he looks trustworthy enough, come on drink up or you'll soon catch your death

At that he drained his cup, but it didn't go as smoothly as some stuff

Come on I said, tucking him under my arm, I think you've had enough

And this pub has lost its charm

I collared the pretender, waved the bartender

And we left in a dramatic whirl

The pub buzzing behind us, my head in a swirl

At the same time we were followed by a girl

The uncouth one, whom we followed, he led

Moved confidently through the forest

So with torches we sped

The land it seemed was property of an old lord

Who went by the name of Spencer

His family had lived here since the 15th Century

It was said he was a dramatic contender

So spoke our guide, as he wound his way

Through briar thick clumps, deadly nightshades

Until at last we came to a woodland glade

Running along beside were orchids in purple shade

And then it opened to a clearing

Where a mausoleum stood

Strangely ancient hidden in the wood

Cracked, fissured, enambled and marbled

A wood chuck chuckled, a song thrush warbled

And darkness grew and the moon like tempered steel

Shimmered,

A dog in the distance barked, and from a hillside

A house light glimmered

And we had to huddle closer not from the cold

But the natural inclination in a darkening wood

To stir our heart to be bold

The mausolem was lit from outside by candles

But no door was there just a stone slab cracked and man-handled

Behind though it was noticed that a track ran up a hill

The ground there of seemed recently disturbed by footsteps

And evidence was there still

As we ventured round the ancient looming ruin

We could hear the sound of some singing

And smell the scent of something brewin'

Light there was also, but a strange and gloomy hue

As if the earth had opened up and let out purple smoke from a flue

The bravest among us - the skull, knew exactly what to do

We must venture up this winding trail, then he said "after you!"

Knowing then that here must be the end to all our earthly searchin's

I tremolously stepped up to that road where the nightly ghouls were lurkin'

I saw in one glance, after passing many a way crossing branch

That what we had stumbled upon in the Zenith of its carry-on

Was somekind of a witches coven

I will describe the scene. In the foreground was a clearing

To the rear was a deep black cave upon whose walls three shadows were learing

In the middle was where a tree stump smouldered

And all around large smooth rocks bouldered

And these gave amplification to their crooked demonic wailing

A man was there also one of fine dandyish attire

And in the centre a giant Centaur with a wooden spoon stoking the fire

I leapt back upon the sight and hid myself in the undergrowth

But the skull still wished to watch some more and so we crawled closer both

Upon our closer inspection we noticed another body slumped

But horrifyingly it seemed a skeleton instead of a head a pumpkin lump

The witches they were travelling all around the cauldron

That bubbled and that boiled in its fiery witchy oven

Who is the man do you think? I whispered to the skull

He is Lord Spencer the First Earl of this Manor Spencer Hall

But how can that be in flesh and bone, he must be over 300 years old

Three hundred and seventy one all being told

I knew him when he was thirty two

Then what could he want with a skeleton there?

And what of those old hags with the greasy hair?

What has happened is what I have long suspected

That the young Lord wishing never to be rejected

Made vanity his key vice in life, and learnt the occult ways of human sacrifice

To pay the price that the devil asks so he may forever wear youth's mask

Oh my gosh, I exclaimed aghast, and whose skeleton is that there

That watches the task?

That my kind Sir, is yours truly, it is Miklos Kundra's body

reassembled duly

"Yours, but how, how can that be?"

"Because, my boy, my body was invested with a magic quality

A spell I once cast near the fountain of youth

Gave me beauty and long life and there is the proof

He is the one, who rigged my box to break, he is the undoer of my mortal fate

And under him all cruelty made a darker turn

He twisted my magic to a devilish burn

And these witches you see, were once his sisters three

And they must rejuvenate also like he 

"And how, I ask tremolously again, will they do that?

They must seize young flesh and boil it in their vat"

"That is disgusting! We must flee right away!"

"But we cannot do that" said skull, "or I will not rest til judgement day

You my dear friend, must help me reclaim,

The body that belongs to me, and restore my good name"

"How said I do you propose we can recapture what was stolen

And now we hold in rapture?"

"I say we need to make a distraction"

We therefore asked the young girl if she would

Mind doing a twirl in front of the witches coven

She soon concurred, and then it occurred that they threw her

Inside of their oven

It burns, it burns she started to cry

And then the witches they started to cackle

"Now is our chance" spoke the skull with a glance

To see now their backs were turned they were easier to tackle

I saw a hauser and picked it up on my run,

And swung with the passion of glory

Knowing not which way to turn, the witches three

Did learn never to turn their backs on an unfinished story

With another fell swoop, I had cut down the loop

That tied fast the oven door, and the sweltering girl

Could return to fresh world, now with a story or more

Turning about I saw the skull had dealt a body blow

To the skeleton- the two were now one, and the ceremony was done

All but for the remortification

No wait said I, "That was not part of the deal

All you wanted was to find eternal rest"

"Well, what can I say I'd prefer to feel real

In a mans body, which I now have to test

This damned fool Spencer here will do

He owes me a few hundred years

Having been the maker of my fate before

Now he can lend me his ears and more!"

Spencer looked mortified at the reanimated corpse

That now stood dancing before him

He buckled at the knees, and then he did freeze

As the skull bore down upon him

"I cannot sanction a further horror show"

I spoke with renewed indignation

This has gone easily far enough now

"And you must return to your own mausoleum"

The Skeleton now bowed, but snatched up my hauser

And pushed me back while I tore my trouser

But a bigger tear was being ripped right there

As he hewed the weapon through Spencer's bone lair

And chopped down the lord with a stroke of his sword

Then fed the pieces to the cauldron

"You blood thirsty Hungarian Magician!",  I cried

"Why can't you see you have already died

And enough blood has been spilt already on your account

Your poor wife, your son, these witches and now Spencer on this mount!"

He answered "Every life has its price some are cheap and some like dice

Can only be measured once they are rolled twice

Thus my own I will live again following this human sacrifice"

I could not argue with his logic, it all seemed sound

But the moral reasoning by which he came to it

Did not follow strict Kantian ground

So I asked him "Are you a believer in the categorical virtues?

The Golden Rule or the law of moral curfews

Karma, or justice or the moral law

For what you have now broken my good dignity must abhore

I cannot turn a blind eye to this deed, to know you have done

Wrong since by my hand you were freed

It seems up to me to settle the score"

He cried "That may be so, and it may be thus

That you do what you know and you do what you must

Though you be minded to remember my name

Magician so don't imagine I won't have a trick that still remains"

With that he disappeared in a flash of light 

And the cauldron too with him into the dead of night

It was black then and only the centaur and me

Stood staring at one another and I could not believe

That he too had not been stirred into some kind of action

Then I realized he was but a wax work maniquin

And so I then left him melting by the dying fire's embers

And I thought on Miklos Kundra and the things one remembers

Goliath

 

Two pigeons I saw on wild windy moor

A floating and filling the air

Death held their hand

Like a skipping companion

Death in a Peregrine’s stare

 

The z car beeped inside the busy street

But Goliath was empty dead on his feet

And he toppled the bean stork

Where jack and his mother talk

And Jack has more business there

 

Goliath, Goliath why do you take thy rest

In the grass of the wild moor?

The children are going and their mothers are sewing

Clothes for you elsewhere

Why do you think this the time to blink

Can’t you see Jack has his medallion?

And he’s swinging it around

It's making that whirring sound

Soon he'll let it fly in your direction

 

Goliath went to Ireland

He walked along the pounding streets

And upon the causeway

He met Danny Boy in a hostel

And Danny Boy did try to kill him

First he sang his song so sweet

And then he sang his shrill hymn

And it was someone from six feet

Who threw the stone that killed him

 

Yes they buried dear Goliath

Down near the cliffs of Moher

They lowered him down as a king

As Lilliputians did with Gulliver

 

They pinned his bones between the rocks

As a shipwreck, like a warning

So that if any giants should show their socks

They’d be dead by the next morning

Jack in the box part 3

I decided there and then

I would know his ken

And bravely strode over to appraise him

As I let down my hand

Like a gangway he climbed on board 

To the port

Holding him as Hamlet

Once held Yorick so

I asked him alas what his name was

And how he came to be this John Doe

He answered his name was Miklos Kundra

A Hungarian travelling magician

That he had been touring this land

In the year 1597

Not long after the great dissolution

All had been going well for him

London had been his home

He played on the great stages and theatres

Of the Age

He had known the great playwrights

Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe

Ben Johnson had sponsored him

To perform for the Queen

And she had loved his panache and bravado

But the forces of jealousy were quick and great

And rivalling acts competed for his space

Until he found himself ostracized for some minor disgrace

He was not as refined a courtier as he might have been

His acts they were audacious

Disappearances and then the revealing

And the source of his magic so mysterious

The religious fanatics began to question quite what he was concealing

They pushed him out of court

One day he was toast of all london and the nation

The next he was an abomination

He was forced to play the taverns

He drifted down squalid alley ways

The sounds of bow bells left his ears

And he was a cast out, to the rural condition

Being of strong constitution

And robust matter of fact way of thinking

His attitude and skill got him a new position

With a travelling circus which stopped him from sinking

The troupe consisted of a milleu of characters

From the sublimely beautiful actress, to the thieves of ill report

From troubadours with trombone tones, and mandolins with strings taut

They toured the village fairs, the country lanes were their companions

They slept in Gypsy caravans or under the stars as the notion took them

They were welcomed as fascinations

But sometimes shunned as charlatans or crooks

They carried no identifications, they lived by their wits and their looks

It was one night in little Thumbstead

That the caravan drew up outside the woodland's head

The fields hay was fresh in their nostrils

And the midsummer haze rested on brooks

The evening sun was setting down

And Miklos was preparing his show for the town

Checking his props worked, his devious mechanisms

Of fiendishly complex invention

They left the onlooker in some despair unable to work out

What was going on there, and beyond their comprehension

Soon the time came to go down to town

And set up inside the tent

The atmosphere was dizzy with jovial excitement

With men swigging ales and women tittering, 

The crowd swelled to enlargement

And gaiety and blessedness of the cider that flowed

And then Miklos saw the face of a lover he once knowed

"Nessie, what are you doing here?" he spoke

But he said it in Hungarian and it startled a few folk

What strange language was this foreigner speaking?

unlike the French tongue, the German or Anglo Saxon

The only other place they knew of mysterious words spoken

Was in the Latin mass, a practice outlawed and forbidden

Suspicions began to spread through the crowd 

and Miklos pulled Nessie inside the tents shroud

He firmly gripped her and asked her again

"Why did you follow me here from the Hortobágy plain?"

"I followed you Miklos to let you know

That you died for that day you left me alone with child

To pursue your great and wonderful dream

To be the court Magician to England's great Queen"

"I followed you here to say that your boy is now a man

He is a soldier fighting the Turks trying to defend his father's land, 

While you bleeding heart go and suckle on England's Rose

Oh you great pretender now how does your garden grow?"

Miklos turned away, in shame, this woman, his wife

knew not of his fame, nor indeed of his rise and fall in life

"One day I will win back the Queen's favour

As the finest magician living in all the Western World

But the trick to make you love me, is like a flame I eat that's curled

It's like a fire snake inside me burning a red hot ember

And I cannot escape the past, and now you make me remember"

"Your son Miklos will likely die this year

The Turks are over running us, we run away in fear

They burn our villages, babies from the breast they tear

And dash apart their brains on any rock that they find near"

"If we are not enslaved we are punished, humiliated or maimed

And to live life we must adopt Islam as our religion as well

You must come home now to help fight them

You must help vanquish from Hungary this hell

I know you have the ability to lead

And inspire a spirit to fight these Turkish devils !"

As Miklos was about to speak, his name was called out on stage

The act was about to begin, quickly he changed into the guise of a mage

The crowd was hot in anticipation and some rebellion in the ranks

The cider, Miklos thought, was getting to them, but for the chance to perform

He gave thanks

Some local girl he picked out from the crowd to assist him

In his magic trick

It was the end of the night, the fire flies were bright

And under the torch light he sweated from his flanks

The thought of his son never left him,

In fact it recurred as a bad dream,

What if he should die on the battlefield

Abandoned while his father pursued his mad scheme

The trick was one he had performed before

A simple one with a box and a saw

A trick of light and mirrors

Of sleight of hand, and lightening fast manouvres

That would see the girl's body apparently cut in quarters

By Miklos' own hand as he wielded his saw

Then by a miracle the crowd would gasp 

As the box's parts would be pulled apart

And the girl still alive with her beating heart, 

Would then be returned to what she had been before

But as the lights dimmed

And the girl climbed into the Magician's trap

Miklos felt a shiver, and the signs of a nervous attack

A panic, that turned into a mental gap

What if he had failed in his magic?

The one trick he wished he knew

Was how to make somebody love him

And their life renew

And as this thought rebounded inside his skull

He began to cut the girl's box as well

Then with a rush of realization he knew

He had forgotten to replace a vital screw

That meant the false box had not 

Properly slid into place

And as he looked to the wings

He witnessed Nessie's white face

For on the floor surrounding the box

Was a pool of blood the colour of a fox

A second later the crowd knew as well

And there was howling and whupping

And the scenes of a living hell

As frantic relatives, husband and wife

Fell over themselves to try to save the girl's life

And Miklos could only stand and watch in utter disbelief

Until the angry mob gathered round

To vent on him their grief

The harrowing scenes took a turn for the worse

As his Hungarian name was revealed

And in torture he uttered his native tongue of course

The sign of the devil, must be witchcraft or spell

Must have been plotting to kill the Queen of England as well

Turn the nation into Anarchy and hell

And so he was tried as a traitor to the realm

And also under witch craft laws was tied up to an elm

And whipped until blood came curdling from his mouth

And Nessie she begged them for mercy, if he would only renounce

But Miklos was so strong willed, he confessed he only loved the Queen

He had been trying to make her better,

He was branded obscene

He claimed he was no sorceror, just an honest magician

He had only smoke and mirrors, but no malicious intentions

They hounded him from Basingstoke up to Bayswater

They said he was the son of the Devil and Nessie was the Devil's daughter

They were to be burnt at the stake, their bodies drawn and quartered

A retribution for his mistake, for killing the girl a dunking under water

Their bodies they were flayed, women and men turned away,

Then they chopped them up, in a darkened corner of a forest buried them

Somewhere in Cirencester or it could have been leeds,

But that is where their bodies now lie, and why

This skull needs the help it needs

Jack in the box part 2

She picked up the box and replaced it
Safe in its hiding place
Just to one side of the mantlepiece
But behind the bookcase

I was ready for bed
So I retired
Heavy with drooping eyes
My brain had fallen into a stooper
I was swooning on the edge of surprise

Too much now had I seen
That I must shut my eyes
And allow my soul, to
Travel through the veil
That separates the truth from the lies

It must have been two in the morning
When I awoke in a cold sweat
A knocking and a kind of groaning
Had commanded me up like a pet

I obeyed this call like a madman
And followed in like one hypnotized
I knew not what I was doing
Only that it was my duty to surmize

Unnervingly, no other sleepers had awoken
And I was all alone down stairs
Even my footsteps were soft words spoken
When to the incessant knocking I compare

What could it be I asked myself, or I would have
If some rational thought was working
Instead I traced the sound to the front room
Pushed open the old door kept on walking

The old musty room was a token
From the Dickensian age
The books filled the shelves floor to ceiling
Each had a well thumbed page

Suddenly with my presence came the silence
Like an awareness of my own form had broken
The incessant knocking ceased, and I questioned
Whether from a dream I had awoken

Thinking this must be some result of
The strong impression of the skull the past evening
Mixed and conjoined with the concoction of spirits
I had imbibed I turned and was already leavin'

When suddenly the knocking recommenced
Now with an urgency quite immense
And a rattle and a surge that that book shelf was purged
Of titles I had recently been quoting

One it was a Frankenstein's monster
The other Shakespeare's Hamlet
As I held them in my hands,
 a chill ran up my spine
And I knew the box was now open

I cannot tell you now why, nor
How I found the courage to look
I suppose it was pure curiosity
Or some words I remembered from the book

But I approached the still rattling book case
And peered around its backside
And there on the floor was the skull box though no more
Was there any skull left inside

I looked to my left and my right
I looked under the case and to my fright
I saw the skull in the opposite corner
Determinedly facing the wall,

The rattling had long since ceased
Now what was left was a soft muttering beneath
The sound of an owl hooting ouside
The skull was distinctly grinding its teeth

With some trepidation I felt I could move
Formerly from the shock my bones had frozen themselves
But now I edged towards the open door
Thinking my self to remove for sure

Suddenly again without warning
The skull began to speak,
At first it was just a groaning,
But soon grew more strong out the weak

Take me back, it seemed to say
Take me back, take me back to my grave
They chopped off my head
And stole me away
Now I pray
Return me back to my grave

I want to live the life
That they stole
When they quartered my body and
Cut out my soul
Bring me back to life I'm pleading
Its in your hands I leave my needing

What was I to do
What was I to do?
How should I help the skull

I thought for one fleeting moment

Could I snatch it up

And lock it back in the box?

But then the thought occurred

The knocking would continue

Until forever and a day

And as if the skull

Some how perceived my thought

It turned and looked at me sideways

No there was no way I will be his haunt

I thought, and anyway surely I must try at least to save

Him from this torment and taunt

Why of all the men

Who could have been saved

Was he condemned? 

Who amongst us is better than him

What if it were I in his place?