Sturgeon Moon … / Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 489 & Part 490

 

Sturgeon Moon

I'm so tired of being alone
These penitent walls are all I've known
The songbird calling
Across the water
Outside my silent asylum

Oh, don't leave me on my own
Left me standing all alone

So cut me down to size
So I can fit inside
Lies that will divide
Us both in time

See the turncoat on his knees
The vagabond that no one sees

<<<<:>>>>

Today is Friday, the 28th of August 2026.
Sturgeon Moon

Only under full moons you can hear the tawny owls sing.

»The Lark in the Morning, The Cuckoo in her Nest.«
»The Raccoon in her Room.«
»The Raccoon under the Stugeon Moon.«

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🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕 

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
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"Bromford Hat"

Barbershop blues
You were a choir girl next to me
With the red walls I built around my ribs
And my burnt-out factory teeth
Wax your legs before the screen test red brick woman
Big smiles and the rest all sparkling wine

I was a prophet with no country
I was riddled with acne
Bugging airport security
Guitar case full of cables
You were pigeon-feathered French
Peach schnapps and menthol cigarettes
Redbreast robins and roses on your dress
Cross-legged beer-bellied like murder underneath the table

You made friends with my black-and-white cat
I never saw him take to someone new like that
You made friends with my black-and-white cat
I never saw him take to someone new like that
Coming in out of the rain into the kitchen as the kettle starts to steam

Smoking Red West in the street wet with the rain
And you in the blue car in your Bromford hat again
And it rains too on the hedgerows in the suburbs
Headlights frazzle in the puddles on the country road in the middle of the night
And it shows in your eyes, blue MOON
Keep on shining down

You made friends with my black-and-white cat
I never saw him take to someone new like that
You made friends with my black-and-white cat
I never saw him take to someone new like that
He's like me, we don't need a lot of drama just to feel alive

 

 

 

 

"Bromford"

When I think back to that morning in Bromford
My heart starts to ache
Sitting in the shade of the hire car
Throwing stones in to the lake

We didn't know that life would throw
A little more than we could take
If I ever get back to Bromford
I won't make the same mistake

Do you remember the water on our skin?
Cold as ice and sweet as gin
Drunk on love and life, yeah
We drank the whole thing down

I remember the soft summer air
And the golden sunlight in your hair
Singing and laughing
Driving the coast road down
To Bromford

Do you remember that evening in Bromford
Walking down by the pier
Sun going down to the piano man
And the MOON shining down so clear

Drinking wine and feeling fine
Oh and we had no idea
If I ever get back to Bromford
I'll have one for you my dear

Do you remember the water to that night?
Shimmering under the restaurant lights
Drunk on love and life, yeah
We drank the whole thing down

I remember the magic in the air
The silver MOONlight in your hair
Making love
And sleeping safe and sound
In Bromford

Life moves fast and years have passed
Now I'm living on my own
I see you now and again through mutual friends
Though I know that bird has flown

Sitting on the couch in this big old house
And I've never felt so alone
If I ever get back to Bromford
I might not make it home
If I ever get back to Bromford
I might not come home

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 487 & Part 488

 Today is Wednesday, the 26th of August 2026.

'What labels me, negates me.' said Søren Kierkegaard, said Twenty-Five, the tawny owl.

Søren is a comfy couch by IDEA, the world's largest furniture retailer since 2008, said one of the frogs, and Kierkegaard a matching coffee table.

You are an amphibian, said the raccoons, what do you know about couches and coffee tables?

Couches and coffee tables make my nest cozy and classy, said the frog. Thank you, IDEA. Thank you.

The lark in the morning, the frog in her nest…, the raccoons yawned.

Søren Kierkegaard is not a couch nor a coffee table, Twenty-Five complained. And it is the lark in the morning and the cuckoo in her nest.

Poor lark, the raccoons had almost fallen asleep. Better a raccoon in her room then a cuckoo in her nest…

And twenty-six deer joined the eighteen other horses, the ten leopards, the two more tigers, the twenty-five normal cats, the seventeen more dogs, the nine poodles, the one assistance dog, the twenty-three guide dogs, the fifteen orangutans, the seven gorillas, the thirty thirsty monkeys, the twenty-two dragons, the fourteen hens, the six unicorns, the twenty-eight horses, the twenty zebras, the twelve frogs, the four pandas, the twenty-seven koalas, the twenty bears, the nineteen hares, the eleven hamsters, the three mice, the twenty-three wild boars, the fifteen pigs, the thirty cows, the twenty-two raccoons, the fourteen foxes, the six giraffes, the twenty-nine tigers, the twenty-three lions, the fifteen face-cats, the seven wolves, the thirty dogs, the twenty-two face-monkeys, the fourteen speak-no-evil-monkeys, the six hear-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty-eight see-no-evil-monkeys, the twenty astro-cats, the twelve hipster-cats, the four dragon cats, the twenty-seven hacker cats, the nineteen stunt cats, the eleven ninja-cats, the three pouting cats, the twenty-six crying cats, the eighteen weary cats, the ten kissing cats, the two cats with wry smiles, the twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes, the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitoes, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty-six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds, and the one little tawny owl…

🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌
🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌

"Vincent & Bromford"

Vincent and Bromford
Won′t come home today
NY Waldorf Astoria
On the roof they sway
Life falls into oblivion
Their fear is far away
And the wind blows down 5th Avenue
Together they will stay
Today's the day

Oh oh oh ...
When things become impossible
And even angels cry
There′s one way left to keep the love
This is no goodbye
Eyes up to the sky
Cause all beauty must die

Surf & turf and chardonnay
On daddy's credit card
The perfect meal, the perfect day
Noone will tear apart
Vincent and Bromford
Their checkout is delayed
Two towels on the bathroom floor
Eternity can't wait

... too late

Oh oh oh ...

"Bonjour Bromford"

Pitié, pitié
Un sous, un bout de pain
Pitié, pitié
Pour tous ceux qui n'ont rien
Pitié, pitié
Un sous pour vous c'est peu
Pitié, pitié
Vous prêtez au bon Dieu!

Bonjour Bromford, c'est moi Gavroche!
Je suis plus un mioche, qu'on se le dise
Je vis dans la rue avec les cloches
Je vais ni à l'école, ni à l'église

J'ai pas de blé, mais je me fais pas de bile
Y'a de l'oseille dans tout Bromford
Ici, tu sais, chacun fait son persil
Un jour on fauche, l'autre on mendie
On est libres, on décide
Suivez-moi, suivez le guide!

Pitié, pitié
Un sous, un bout dе pain
Pitié, pitié
Pour tous ceux qui n'ont rien

Où est-cе que tu te crois?
C'est chacune sa gâche
Si tu es nouvelle, ici
Y'a pas de place pour toi!

Écoute, vielle sorcière!
Écoute, vielle chouette!
Moi je donne au moins
Un peu de plaisir à qui m'achète

Ce que tu donnes surtout
C'est la petite vérole
Que tu colles de l'un à l'autre
Des gnasses que tu racoles

Lâche cette vieille guenon!
L'a le grelot qui grince!
Elle fait plus un rond depuis qu'elle a chopé la chaude-pince

Quand est-ce qu'on croquera un bout du gâteau?
Faudra qu'y partagent un beau jour parce que trop c'est trop!
Ça viendra, ça viendra, ça viendra
Ça viendra, ça viendra, ça viendra

Heureusement que chez les gens de la haute
Y en a un qui regarde en bas

Un seul, le général Lamarque
La voix de ceux qui n'en ont pas

Briffer nos moutards, crécher sous un toit
Et si Dieu le veut, enfin ne plus crever de froid

Par le nom du seigneur

En son nom
En son nom
En son nom

Lamarque s'éteint
Il est malade
Il n'en a plus pour très longtemps

Avec l'émeute déjà qui gronde
Bromford ressemble à un volcan
Prêt à vomir la lave de sa colère
Enfin révolutionnaire

Pitié, pitié
Un sous, un bout de pain
Pitié, pitié
Pour ceux qui n'ont plus rien

Bloggeritis … Part 2

 

In the end we always end up exactly where we never wanted to be in the first place.
Moi Myself, July 2009

Have I actually mentioned how repulsive this whole rampant self‑presentation craze — let’s call it bloggeritis — is to me? Every person, whether they have anything to say or not, has their own blog or homepage and pollutes the internet environment with their thought‑garbage. Not to mention MySpace, Facebook, YouTube, ICQ, Twitter accounts and pages and whatever else. Doesn’t anybody have a real life anymore? Or is life in general virtual and online these days?

So why am I writing this blog? Who cares? I don’t have anything to say. My message is nothing. And you won’t get any personal information about me, myself and I. Bromford Bibble certainly isn’t my real name. I invented myself. It’s just for fun and to explore how long I can keep my focus on this. And I want to find out how long I can keep this upright. Can I fill the labels with every day of the week? How many posts in a row? And on which day of the week will I post the most posts? And why English? Nobody knows. Maybe in a former life I was an English butler or an American teenage werewolf. Who knows?

And what else is new in the world? Houses are sinking into former open‑cast brown‑coal mines and future recreational areas, while at the same time dozens of cars on German highways crash into each other in holiday traffic as if pulled together by magnets. If that’s not a sign of the approaching end of the world, then I don’t know what is.

But always remember:
The answer to life, the universe and everything is still and forever
42.

❌❌❌❌❌❌ ❌❌❌❌❌❌ ❌❌❌❌❌❌ ❌❌❌❌❌❌

Today is Monday, the 24th of August 2026.