Riding the tram

Riding the tram, choo, choo
Here I am
Running the rails again
Run, run Roman rails
Run through gullies and arches
Stones laid by men long ago
At the end of terrific marches

Run in the stinking light of dawn
Chock-a-blocked like chocolate shops
Cars and trains, cranes and cans
Being kicked, lowered, spilled and rammed
in traffic jams
In the Roman way
Kind of straight like the Danube
But running wheels ran
Like curly currents of the river
Or white gulls that scan
With their photographic memory of
Every fish they ever landed
Implanted like spies
In the minds of fishermen who stand
But never minded

Altogether elsewhere, the river strains
And the land extends its hand
Evidence of man
In castles and squares
Protesters meet and chant
Play blazing, strident revolutionary music
That shocks people, in amazement
They too stand and stare
At this band of loyal half-brothers
Blood brothers perhaps
Surrounded by a ring of cops

In another time it could have been
a folk dance, some dramatic scene
Displayed by actors frozen in character
But for the reality of visceral movements
Voices and chants of down with Orbán
Which Puts it squarely in Széll Kálmán Tér
The year two thousand and nineteen

Bricks and Mortar

Bricks and mortar

Of the son and the daughter

Come tumbling, tumbling down

Then the lives in the water

Full of murder and slaughter

Of the man and woman in town

How now holy man, where is your crown?

In the pond where your children have drowned

And the stars and the stripes

Fall across the sky of black

And like scars across your back

they bring you down

And the crosses that you bear

Are caught in the cross hair

Of the snipers who shoot from the other side

And the stigmata on your palms
will not wash away the arms
That you sold to ensure your own pride

So be careful of the tide
That's been sleeping your bride
She's been married to the moon before
And the sea is her rich aunt
Who's grown her like a plant
in her arms, in her arms

Away from all her dreams
And the troubles that she's seen
Every time she killed someone
She liked
So forgive your brothers too
Who's been playing the deep blues
In the shadows of the clock tower
At night

Even leaving before midnight
Left the spoils to be bright
As a leaf is left on the ground to mould

Half of everything I've owned
Has been sold before I'm old
Twice as much as what I started with

If it seems a great idea
You'll be sorry to hear
That the love I felt was sold
At first sight

Going easy in the sale
Like a Chippendale
Like a wind that blows away a grey face
And leaves the walking dead
To be suffering instead
From the troubles of a life
Made in gold

Because we all were born so innocent
Of the forceful arms of incident
The systems, the memes and the tones
of government
That rule each individual hue
Is no different in the queue
Where they march into the fiery mold

To come out a human adult
Built to work suffer and submit
to the will of the government
When they are told
And they shall never know
Of the possibilities foretold in their stars
When they were born like any other

Of the pure and simple diatribe
The luxurious fireside
Or the lake or Lagoon
Where they could live away from busy strife
The machinations of Machiavellian wills
The dominance of others to love
Marry, steal or kill
To get their property man or wife
To own authority over others
Acquire meaning in their life

It all seems so antiquated
Like from birth to death
Everything is metric
And measured is every breath
and you must break free

Upon the Sea Bed

Terrific hieroglyphic
Electro-psychic, Pyrrhic
Formaldehyde cyanide
Toxic Bride
In buried pride
Keep alive
Your good side
Marry off your endive, cheese and chive
Dip into Hemingway
It is important to be Ernest
Anyway
If not try to match the macho
Machismo of Italian Baptismo
Of fiery pride

During what seemed to be a sleepless night
I turned and elfin' like
Let forth a colossal sigh
My ghost shivered then dived
Into the splashing water by my bedside
As a float was the bed
On a sea alive

The captain called from the bed head
All hands on deck
We threw up the bed cover sail
Recovered our sea legs
The springs they sang
As we sprang
On to the gunwale
And a passing humpback
Surfaced

I cried the sleeping leviathan
Does rise! Lo ahoy!
Man and Boy
Awake from your dreaming slumber
She has come back sea-side
She of the lumpen-humped back

Lumber splintered
Cracked and shivered
The timber bed-frame shook
Captain Ahab in his mad
Arabian curb
Threw his insults to our wonder
At the shaking blubbery blur
That blew her whistle
As a steam train on time
Clocking into platform number nine

And I fell sleeping in her cloud of steam
Such was the thunder aloud in my dream

The Bag Song

Ransacked
Cul-de-sac
Everybody back-packed
Fanny pack, bum bag
Everybody carry a swag

All I have to say is that
Suitcases can make your bum look fat

Handbag, wag-bag
Baghdad satchel fad
Leather-case bootlace
Tie it satch-mo face
All I have to say is that
Bum bags make your bum look fat

Tie it, Zip it, no body rip it
Sainsbury's, Asda, home shop in Mazda
Sling it in, bring it in, fold it up,
Ring a ding
All I have to say is that
Carrier bags make your bum look fat

IKEA Tarpaulin, Marks and Spencer
Hempen thing
Fabric, magic, silk wool or plastic
Top end, bottom shelf
Pick one up, help yourself
Throw away society
If it doesn't fly, it isn't free
Nobody needs a bag (for life) for their health

Carpet baggin', carpet shaggin'
Brown paper bag of gin
Dumpster, thumpster, down and out gangster

On a plane vomit
Save yourself, breathe calm again
Feel like a comet
On a rise, then a fall
Visit the can, then bag it all
all I have to say is that
A body bag can make your bum look fat

On a mountain, in a fountain
Hike it, bike it, everybody like it
Advertise for sore-eyes, everyone economize
Too big, too small, over shoulder tennis ball
Hurricane too bad, Glaswegian Bawl bag

All I have to say is that some bags don’t make your bum

Look fat

String strap, chin-strap

Everybody brain rap

All I have to say is that

Purses don’t make your bum look fat

Purses, curses, everyone reverses

Inside, outside, make it black or white side

Lining, pining every bag defining

Each a different lining

All I have to say is that

Diamond studded handbags don’t make your bum look fat

Silver buckle, copper knuckle,

Knuckle duster, feather fluster

Pretty, frilly, every kind of silly

All I have to say is that laptop bags

Don’t make your bum look fat

Snake skin, fake skin, even keep a steak in

Make-up, lip stick, take up a dip stick

Micro-wave seal-able, Gold fish save

Its steal-able

All I have to say is that coconut shies

Don’t make your bum look fat

Man-bag, grab-a-bag, what a slag in  Baghdad

Make a point, turn a corner, light a joint

Feed a feeler, all I have to say is that

Metrosexuals can make your bum look fat

Here’s a bag, there’s a bag

Everybody Hacky-sack

Feed the lack, fill the black

Bag it, sag it, everybody hag it

All I have to say is that

Everybody makes out everybody else is fat

Sure, you disclaim it, you may even exclaim

Or claim it – its in the bag, it’s yours

Pull up your pants

Fill up your draws

Don’t try to shame it, explain it or name it

That bag is to blame for it

All I have to say is that

No bag can make your bum look fat

It doesn’t matter anyways

The writings on the motorways

The plane takes off

Another lands

It's all the same in a bag-less land

For nobody carries you

No dog collects its own poo

We all choose to use you

Even throw you out, abuse you

Oh bag, only a bag lady really does love you

Let’s leave it at that

Only a Bum can make a bag look fat

Pilgrim part II

I'm absolutely sure about the direction I'm moving
I don't doubt anymore
I'm straight as an arrow
As true as a bird
Its as clear as the marrow
Bound like somebody's word
The promises are kept
I can rely on someone
All the corners are swept
Nothing's left undone
And I can be sure
That I've won
In the lottery of life
My sun has shone
There's a truth I'm revealing
A covered up door
Some secret I've been concealing
But not anymore
I can be brave, I can be true
There's a life I can save
Its made for you
So come on to the wave
Its breaking on the shore
The moon pulls the tide
Like it always did before
And I can abide
In you I can trust
With God on my side
Nothing I do will rust
There's a gold vein inside
I tap to make sure
That its the treasure that I hide
That its heart is pure
So I'm absolutely convinced
There's no doubt in my mind
That the things that we are
Are all the things that I find

Pilgrim

I'm absolutely convinced
It makes no dint on my confidence
I'm a believer, a follower to the core
I'll follow you anywhere
Through any door
Follow in your footsteps
Every step of the way
From that true path, I will never sway

I'll swallow every word from you
Like its the bread of truth
I'll even swallow a sword for you
Without any need of proof
Walk across hot coals
Find my bare feet untouched
There is nothing I wouldn't do for you
No vow left unvouched

So I'm saying I'm all in
I'm totally behind you
I've got your back
I've been searching now I finally find you
I can keep on track
Follow your trail
Read the signs you left behind you
In my pursuit I shall not fail
Unflinching, no denial
No question of faith
On the Pilgrim's road mile after mile

I have to serve you master
Have to make you smile
I'm in your light
Despite any disaster
Through any trial
I'm at your feet begging
To be released from these chains
Break them, I must know you
To be one and the same thing
That I knew before
Unwavering wave
Of salvation to save
My heart and mind and soul
I am sure
I am in the ocean
But you are the shore

Knock on

So things went from bad to worse
You might say they snow balled
I was rushing for a train
It was a quarter to six on a Tuesday
After a little rain
The steps down to the underpass
Were damp in that new feeling way
And busy commuters were emerging
and swarming up the stairs the other way

As I approached the entrance
A woman stepped in my way
She was old and frail, so I left her
On her way, thinking I may
Side step her, I maneouvered in that direction
My momentum carrying me like a truck
Just out beyond the filling station
I was fast but not fast enough
For a not so young buck
Had stood in my way
And began his encumbered traverse
Down that royal highway of stairs
One might say, he considered himself king
Of it for that day, a king stuck not in forward, but reverse

Now I must say
Before I go any further
That I consider myself fair
In most circumstances demanding faith
And patience in another's ability
To climb or descend, I take a deep breath
And breathe deep, an internal sigh
Feeling in the next life I maybe rewarded
For such virtuous self-sacrifice
However I had already been this paragon
Of uncommon common sense
Probably at least twice before that day
One on my way up from Lehel (or the Hell)
To translate
Another I can't remember now
And this third on the way down at Corvin Negyed (the Crow)
And each time, I stepped in tow behind
I trudged like one of the lost souls
In the inferno
But in this instance- seeing as I was in a rush for paradise -the pub
(Which I actually call an English lesson)
I thought I might skip the purgatory
Of existence
That is the downward resistance to flow
That equals following a very slow fellow

So ladies and gentlemen of the jury
I ask you this
Is it right that I should be condemned
When feeling the need not to extend
My sorrows, I borrowed a leaf from the rabbit
and hopped the queue?
I leap-frogged -metaphorically speaking
Went around my obstacle to freedom
Like any sensible person would
My only mistake was this
I brushed him as I passed
I cannot believe it even constituted a nudge
Did he budge - no way
But he reacted like he was hurt by my affray
Like some wounded animal he began to howl
Like some howling banshee down to hell's bowel

I like the good Christian, I did not wish to engage
You might say I fled, but I did not fight that day
One has a sense sometimes of the murderous intention of folk
I have no doubt that he was capable of all kinds
Of horrible things if he had me in his yoke
But witnessing before in the eighth district a fight
Of a maddened man getting out of his car to yell
In the face of a passer by
I had sensed this feeling of his injustice, his injured sense of pride
That is really his general nervousness encumbered
By an instinctual feeling to fight
Unfortunately my own instinct did not show up in a similar light
And I chose the way of survival - I chose the path of flight

However when two opposing instincts do not agree on their way
What follows is a pursuit down through a subway
And if you can imagine I am not that young myself
Though not that old either nor lacking in legs
To put some distance between me and this red faced elf
I could tell he was behind me, because of all the yelling
and I surely received some quizzical looks
From astonished commuters passing
But that is the trouble with rush hour
As I immediately found
That I came up to a long queue of people waiting to enter the underground

By the time I had entered the escalator
I could still hear my foe
Shouting Blue murder - hey you, hey you
Though in Hungarian I suppose
What did he expect that I would turn and apologize?
By the time I did that he would have hit me
Or spat more insults into my eyes

There are times when I would have stood and fought
Or at least calmly tried to put my position and what I thought
But let's face it I do not speak Hungarian
And I was not about to repeat an encounter
With an enraged and nervous barbarian

Now I reached the platform
And panicked I had no where to go
The train had left in the direction I needed
And kept coming did my foe
My only chance therefore lay in boarding another train
One in the opposite direction
And my thoughts were not in vain

So in the calmest manner possible
So as not to stick out in the crowd
I briskly walked through onlookers
Hoping my pursuer too slow
And that I would lose him somehow
It even entered my brain
To embark a few carriages down
For the last thing I wanted
Was to be trapped in a car with a mad cow

The upshot was I got off at Kliniak
Shaken and somewhat stirred
But unlike James Bond I had no Martini
And the comparison is quite absurd
Next I re-boarded a different train
Travelling in the right direction
So as to make sure I was not followed
By a mad Turk intent on his own correction

Later in the lesson I did have a drink
And it was not that it tasted bitter
But that it gave me time to think
Should I have had more courage and at least socked my foe?
He was an older man and I do not think that was the way to go
Was it my fault? I confess yes
I should have behaved with more decorum
And less rashness
But alas I was rushing
And that is the scourge of the modern age
And it shows how even an English man
can in a foreign country, behave as a knave