Once upon a time machine

 Once upon a time machine, I went walking 

In the bar

The bar broke bent

And shape-shifted

And time was called done

And after hours I slipped forth into the dead of night

The streets they were a dirty, empty of all the time of light

I asked the bobby on the beat could he spare the time

He looked at me from his high watch

Said I can spare you none

I asked the guard did he try hard to kill the time he had

But he was bereft for the time left

Had for him turned out bad

Next I walked along the road and met a friendly horse

He neighed and said of course I can because time is what I'm owed

I'm too long in the tooth and I'm in the knackers yard

If you are wise oh son me lad, you'll mind your time and guard

I moved on down with a whistle

Until I heard its answer spoke in vain

For I had come to the station

And at the platform stood a train

What time have you? I said aloud, the driver said quarter to eight

But I was speaking to the train said I, the driver said then you'll have to wait

This train has never been on time, this train was always late

Whether you asked it a question, whether you showed to it love or hate

The train will always arrive, just when it chooses to

And no man's watch can determine when it stops, not me, nor him or you

So with this explanation I looked up into the sky

And saw there bright circling birds above

And diamonds sparkling high

How long, how long must I wait

Before time shows me her hand

I'll hold it now said time to me

And with that time dropped her sand

And the hours seemed to pass in the glass

As I did tumble and fall

And night and day exchanged themselves

Like books upon their shelves

First I read the beginning lines

And then I read the end,

And all that I could see was time out of mind

And I knew time was my friend

So eventually the time did stop

The sand it ceased to fall

And I was stuck like a cuckoo clock

Poised, frozen upon a wall

I knew if I should step out now

My shadow would not follow

But what had I to lose,

But the lost time blues

So I did grit my teeth and swallow

The time is now said a voice

This what you must master

And know that in each time you have a choice

You may choose order or disaster

But none who know the outcome

Would have it any other way

For unless you are Cassandra

Then the future must seem a haze

Life as art

 My prediction is we will all stop wanting

To be artists, because unless you are a millionaire

There

Really is no point in even pretending

You stand a chance

Against the closeness of killing time

That comes after you like baying dogs

And the train tracks of certain logic

Lead you on

And on in inevitable perfection

If you could only stay on the tracks

But there is some self destruction that leads you off

Whether the road is cracked

Or that you have hit the road

With your hammar of art

To break up perfection

Into shattered pieces of life

You try to put back together

In your own collage of life

Then walk over these "Tombstones of damage"

That lead you onto the next precipice

And they say life is art

And Art is Life

And "the moving hand writes"

But we know not what it writes

And who holds the brush

And who paints the light

Or tells the birds to sing

Or ever wondered about anything

Bloglog 2

 14th November

Today I woke up feeling more refreshed and listened to radio 4. There was a nature documentary on Roseate Tern on Coquet island - someone who was the warden there speaking about being humbled by the force and power of the sea. It made me look up the island and the RSPB and then I saw an advert for a job on Shapwick Heath near where I come from and have lived most of my life. So I applied this morning. It was as a car park attendant, but you know actually I think that it would really suit me, I love being outside, I like meeting people and I think that nature reserve is fantastic. It did used to worry me being a local there and seeing how many cars parked up there and along the road side, but since the car park that has significantly solved the problem. There will likely be increased traffic flow along that road over Christmas, if there is not another lock down, but I also expect that people will still want to get out.

I think overall it has to be good that people visit these reserves, because we need to protect the environment, but also stop peat digging due to the carbon loss. Ironically if there had been no excavation there would be no wetland reserve probably. Also ironically there must be quite a lot of carbon emitted by all the people driving there cars to go and visit the reserves. Perhaps it would be more fuel efficient to organize a bus or coach there, but that is probably too much investment and planning. There also used to be a train track running down there, so could there not be again a network of more fuel efficient or electric trains that run on solar power or the like that ferries people along the track and saves all the cars?

Anyway, perhaps all this is pie in the sky, or pipe dream thinking since I am currently in an attic room in Budapest.

Little Hawk

 Little hawk, little hawk, little hawk

Flying between the trees

Hovering while I walk

But which one of us is more free

Am I your shadow

Or are you mine?

Little hawk, little hawk, little hawk

Through the rain and shine

Cows in stampede

Farmers call their yell

Cattle clang and ring bells

Down the slope of green

They come pell-mell

But you little hawk, just swoop up

Into the trees and watch

So content with your skill and your speed

You can stay balanced on the edge of the cup

While it spills the whole river out

And your eyes will scan for a trace of what's strange, 

You are a hunter little hawk, out on the range

The slightest movement in a field of grass

Waiting for the shrew or the dormouse to pass

And then down like a dagger, like a streak of pain

Down with your claws to strike your game

And that is the life of the hunting hawk

All ways at work, not a wing beat in vain

Making your way across the field where I walk

Little hawk, little hawk, little hawk in the rain

Roof tops

 You know that I can't shoot you down

I can't pull you down today

Yet all my life you have been hanging around

Like cloud on a rainy day

So what is it that you want from me?

To confront me?

Or make me pay?

Because I was not who you wanted me to be

Well I can't be that person anyway

So can't you leave your sky to me

You know it is my sky too

Why do you want to try to frighten me

Into trying to be somebody new

Now I look out from the roof tops

Across a city scape

And All I see are the places people stop

When from their lives they try to escape

You can reach your roots

In the garden

But only upward can you be closer to God

So hold on tight 

To the concrete thoughts that harden

And go out, follow where the angels trod

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