Maglodi ut

 I'm in the land where they walk down straight

The dogs are the gods behind the garden gate

And I'm in a condo with a bottle full of hate

The dogs in the farm yard

They double up late

Calling us angels, calling

Pigeons on the lamposts

Carex in the garden

Tumble down Hungarian

buildings that stand on

Their last legs

Well I went to walk where

the dead don't talk

And the living all are sighing

And the breeze like chalk

Cut in circles and forks

Around the ones who were crying

They said you're a marked man

We have you in our sights

I said "I am what I am, now don't

forget the plan-

I won't go down without a fight"

But then the tombstones baulked

Under their ivy leaf storks

At all their words that were dying

It's a living language, a honey tongue

And the bears are off fighting with the dragons

In the grit on the dirt road lying

with butterfly wings and dead acacia blossoms

 

I see the Roma women calling to their husbands

Convicts inside the prison

And they call back darling what I lack

Is the eyes for you to be seeing

"Your children are here, come on shout to your daddy

Don't you know that he is your Father

And you are his sons

Though many horizons

Have set while he's been in prison

The children are well, another says with a yell

We love you the mother prompts the little boy 

To holla'

He he cries back, I love ya, though the lack

Of seeing is like I'm dying

In this living hell, where everyday gels into

The next and the next one

And it's all just a rap

I've been caught in the trap

Of being a young gypsy man caught in the system

It's the same as well for those who ring the bell

The prison yard bell it is chiming

And their crawling along the floors

Their rapping at the doors

And those prison walls they are climbing

But the bell still tolls for one and all

The bells of freedom are a ringing

One day the siren calls, will not herald what befalls

Every young gypsy man in the system 

They come out again, the family, this time

Another young boy is with them, he is getting

bored and restless sitting on the grass

Scuffing his feet in the gravel

Sending up a shower of angry stones

To heaven

On my way back after they are gone

I see they have scrawled with pink and blue chalk

We love you Apa (father) on the side walk

While I hardly dare look or listen, but I must

To the sounds the men make in the prison

As the daylight dims on a hot Sunday evening

And they face another night in the cell

Without his family, whose graffiti on the pavement

Is the inverse of his own howling sentiments

To the government

This is justice, this is the consequence

For the criminal all life is denied

Outside visiting times, if there are any,

And the high prison wall that keeps him

Mightier than thou

 Mightier than thou

I really do not know

Mightier than thou

Coming on so slow

Well I hear it when you talk

Like the winds do blow

You are so Mightier than thou

Outside my window

Whistle for me honey

I'd like to hear a tune

Whistle for me honey

By the light of the big full moon

Well Magnolia in the swamps

And the hanging vines and broom

They're so mightier than thou

On a Summer's afternoon

French fry me baby

Give me a liquorice spoon

Let me take your medicine

I'll be coming home so soon

I can even taste it, clear as I hear the loon

Who goes crying in grapes

And howling at your moon

Who chose you baby, to stand for right or wrong

Whose needle did you crotchet for it to turn out bad?

I've been to the desert and I've sung my desert song

But now I'm returning to the table lands

And for that I should be glad

Monday

 There's that time in the city, when it all stops

When the fury of the hour is over

When it looks like the day will relinquish

Its headlock hold, and the penny drops

Then the wind stirs in the trees

The hammer blows continue

Deep rumblings of trucks

Are heard again

Engines start

And drills brrrr into walls

And voices continue to chatter

Like a thread in the stitching of the universe is dropped

And we all stare at the dark matter

Has the creator a synaptic gap

That's a little too far to leap?

Or has he or she simply taken a nap

Had 40 winks or a sleep?

Whatever the answer it's Monday today

And here comes that start the week feeling

I should have washed the sheets over the weekend

I should dusted the walls or ironed the ceiling

But it is a loss I'm afraid my good friend

Time has crept up on us again

There's more to be done under the sun

More of interest that this start the week squealing

Wandering

 And Mercury came suddenly,

And Saturday did sluice

Into the old rapsodies

Of a summer and its juice

Through the water melon gateways

Rolled the conquered goose

Ridden by an elf or a goblin anyways

He didn't suffer any fools

I should have held you like a candle

A loft as a guiding light

Instead I let you be my handle

And turn my days to night

I had to escape your clutches

I had to escape your farm

Get away from Chiken hutches

And women doing me harm

I know we all harbour

Our good intentions

To rest

But what becomes of the forest farmer

When his words

Fail in  lifelessness?

He must move on to pastures new

He must plough the green highways

There is more to do under the sun

Than stay put at home anyways

So I am off I make a beginning

I venture

Where others have roamed

But it's all not the same

To be in the game

You must wander far from your home 

The rise and fall of the clown

 He was so high

As high as a clown

But from being so far up

The only way is down

And he slipped on miss buttercup

And a banana skin on the ground

And he fell from the trapeze

And caught the disease of the drowned

Don't you tell me he didn't love the highs and lows

As he swung through the crowd

On his finger tips he did go

Tip toeing like a ballerina

Then growling like a bear

Ferocious as a Hyena

Then as sweet as a lover's care

Oh he had the crowd in the palm of his hand

They were lapping it up

They were begging for more

And he kept them titilated on the edge of their seats

He was hansel, then Gretel,

Then the old witch with the sweets

He led them up the garden path

And they were baying at the door

Howling like the Hungry wolf

Who cries out for her lair

And just when they felt they'd had enough

He let his act fall

He played his hand like a maestro stands

As the audience applauds

But that was all then he thought

Now nothing's like before

Now I am in Neverland

And they've gone and closed the stable door

My horse has bolted

And I forgot to climb on board

It will all go unnoticed

Like a shadow in a darkened land

I am abandoned and forlorn

I call out to the prairie and

A lone coyote answers my call

And I am left singing kareoke stanzas

To my shadow on the wall

Tell Tale heart

 Oh you have a telltale heart

Yes you have a telltale heart

I can hear it beat in the dark

Oh your tell tale heart

Bring me down to the old canal

Where the dockers work

And farmers pull the plough

Show me life in the here and now

Listen to your tell-tale heart

Show me up on the face of the moon

Let me see you in the reflection of a spoon

It is all about the cruel art

Of your tell-tale heart

The deception has gone

In old Babylon, the stone that spoke its part

Well the blood was dripping from the Stone of Scone

And it bled like your tell tale heart

The war rages on

And your thoughts may belong

To the lover and his arrow dart

Or is he the assassin with weapons of passion

That kill your tell tale heart

When the sheep bleat

You must discover your art

Yes to have a tell tale heart

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