A bandonments …

 »They are coming to get you.«

The black sheep is looking up into the sky.

»They are close now. And when they arrive I will ask you to take me with you.«

Who is coming to get me? I ask myself, but I am not surprised that the strange mammal seems to be reading my mind.

»Your female friend and her offspring.«

Kylie, I think.

»If that is what you call her. Can you feel it through the stormy and rainy clouds?

»That they are coming to get me?« I ask kind of confused.

»No, can you feel the legendary thirteenth full moon in this year full of wonders and catastrophes?«

»I don't believe you, demon-sheep. There are only twelve months. How can there be thirteen full moons in one year if every month has got only one?«

»The blue moon«, the sheep's voice has gotten all dreamy and soft, »the most powerful of them all, being an additional full moon that appears in a subdivision of a year as the third of four full moons in a season. And you let it slip away without using it for my good.«

It is so frustrating, like spinning in circles around and around. I don't know what the animal is talking about.

»It has been too long since I have last seen the green hills of my home island. Your green hills are nothing compared to it, Bromford Bibble. And I cannot wait to hear the centaurs again singing in the pale full moon lights.«

Are there thirteen round lights dancing in the square pupils of the sheep's wet eyes? And can I almost feel infrasonic sound waves rising up from the ground into my feet and body being the musical vocalization of the beings the sheep just called centaurs?

»Greenlion, Bromford Bibble«, the animal is almost pleading. »Take me with you to the circle of stones and open the gate to my old home, the great island of Greenlion for me.«

Greenlion? Not a green lion, I guess. The sunken land and island the man we used to call Professor Burnside or Professor Sideburns was talking about? Nothing but fairytales and mysteries on unreadable treasure maps, I suppose.

»Don't let the next full moon pass by unused«, the sheep demands. »And stop thinking about me as a sheep! I am a faun, for all the gods sake!«

Bored of the life in the City of Gold

He'd left and let nobody know.

Gone were the towers he had known from a child,

Alone with the dream of a life

He travelled the wide open road,

The blinkered arcade,

In search of another to share in his life.

Nowhere.

Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail

They don't even know of our existence.

Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold

That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage

Beast that can talk, read the sign.

The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame

And questioned his story again.

But soon they grew bored of their prey

Beast that can talk?

More like a freak or publicity stunt.

Oh

No.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail

They don't even know of our existence.

Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold

That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And broke down the door of the cage and marched on out.

He grabbed a creature by the scruff of his neck, pointing out:

There, beyond the bounds of you weak imagination

Lie the noble towers of my city, bright and gold.

🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕

Today is Thursday, the 31st of August 2023.

Blue Moon

G abardines …

 

»I am so tired, mum. My feet are aching«, Nigel is moaning. »Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?«

»Shut up, son«, Kylie is shushing. »I think I heard his voice. I heard him speak. Maybe Bromford is just around the next corner.«

»I bet there is just a dangerous riddeling sphinx around the next corner of this hedge labyrinth«, Nigel complains. »Or some kind of jinxed wizard who wants to win some weird magical tournament or just his Quidditch field back.«

»What did you say?« Kylie asks combing some leaves from her hair with all five fingers of her left hand.

»Nothing, ma. Let's just go on. Is it just me or do you hear the laurel sing, too?«

Bored of the life in the City of Gold

He'd left and let nobody know.

Gone were the towers he had known from a child,

Alone with the dream of a life

He travelled the wide open road,

The blinkered arcade,

In search of another to share in his life.

Nowhere.

Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail

They don't even know of our existence.

Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold

That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage

Beast that can talk, read the sign.

The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame

And questioned his story again.

But soon they grew bored of their prey

Beast that can talk?

More like a freak or publicity stunt.

Oh

No.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail

They don't even know of our existence.

Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold

That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And broke down the door of the cage and marched on out.

He grabbed a creature by the scruff of his neck, pointing out:

There, beyond the bounds of you weak imagination

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Today is Sunday, the 27th of August 2023.

Leaves are singing

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 260

Today is Thursday, the 24th of August 2023.

 

Leopard shepherd deppart...

Sense? Went out to have a nice end of the world tonight...

🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆

🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆🐆

"Viva Bromford"

Bright light city gonna set my soul
Gonna set my soul on fire
Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,
So get those stakes up higher
There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there
And they're all livin' devil may care
And I'm just the devil with love to spare
Viva Bromford, Viva Bromford

How I wish that there were more
Than the twenty-four hours in the day
'Cause even if there were forty more
I wouldn't sleep a minute away
Oh, there's black jack and poker and the roulette wheel
A fortune won and lost on ev'ry deal
All you need's a strong heart and a nerve of steel
Viva Bromford, Viva Bromford


Viva Bromford with you neon flashin'
And your one armbandits crashin'
All those hopes down the drain
Viva Bromford turnin' day into nighttime
Turnin' night into daytime
If you see it once
You'll never be the same again

I'm gonna keep on the run
I'm gonna have me some fun
If it costs me my very last dime
If I wind up broke up well
I'll always remember that I had a swingin' time
I'm gonna give it ev'rything I've got
Lady luck please let the dice stay hot
Let me shout a seven with ev'ry shot
Viva Bromford, Viva Bromford,
Viva, Viva Bromford

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 259

Today is Wednesday, the 16th of 2023.

The day after Oppenheimer...

WHAAAT?

Asked the tiger... You know, the one from Riga.

Didn't some strange leader once kill a tiger?
STOP thinking, brain.

🐅🐅🐅🐅

🐅🐅🐅🐅

🐅🐅🐅🐅

🐅🐅🐅🐅

"Rise And Rule (She Was Born In Bromford)"

She was born in Bromford
She was raised by the Ohio
Her life was full of vile explosion
Ever so

She turned to God and posed a question
"What can I do with the cards I'm dealt?"
She looked hard and wild at God's creations
"I can make a new way," is how she felt

She yanked her dreams down from above her
She looked a monster right in the eye
She said, "My children won't see me suffer
They'll see me rise and rule before I die"

From scratch she carved a woman's vision
But was beat down again and again
She used her hands, she used her troubles
God took her mind, God took her men

She lay confined for years in silence
Unembraced by everyone
Did she lose her faith? I'm here to sing to you
She didn't lose a thing, she passed it on

She built a garden, she drew a drawing
She looked her shadow right in its eye
She said, "My children won't see me suffer
They'll see me rise and rule before I die"

Kids will play, kids will wander
Every day farther from home
Hold us close, mother and father
Friends, don't leave our friends alone

We roll in waves at Makapu'u
While those afraid sit on the shore
We roam the roads, we follow clues to
Where we've never been before

We build a fire, scream at a star
While the laughter rolls sweetly by
Holes in our lives, and still we are
Going to rise and rule before we die

When our body's turned to cinder
And our names are rarely said
And I wonder, do our friends ponder
How we are, now we are dead?

Wounds are healed so forcefully
And as we think of the deceased
When we say thanks around our table
We say their names with some relief
We skip their names with some relief

They melt away like heat and moon drops
Into a space in black beyond
She comes in colors even there
And so she'll rise and rule, now her burden's gone

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 258

Today is Tuesday, the 8th of August 2023.

Cats and dogs on a heavy metal festival.

Think about it. Do you remember Kurt Cobain?

🐈🐈
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🐈🐈

"My Revenge On Bromford"

Maybe there's more to life
Than just writing songs.
Maybe not.
Maybe there's more to life
Than just righting wrongs
Maybe not.

I grow so cold, you reach for gold
I fail to hold your attention.

Their pretty boy ways
Always take you away,
Take you away.
My revenge on Bromford -
I retreat from the battle.
Won't you stay?

Maybe there's more to life
Than just biting tongues.
Maybe not.
Out of the sky
And left to die -
Believing the lie of protection.

Their pretty boy ways
Always take you away,
Take you away.
My revenge on Bromford -
I retreat from the battle.
Won't you stay?

Their pretty boy ways
Always take you away,
Take you away.
My revenge on Bromford -
I retreat from the battle.
Won't you stay?

Maybe there's more to life
Than just writing songs.
Maybe not.

E arnests …

 »Too bad we missed another chance.«

The black sheep went back on all four legs again and is chewing on the leaves of the hedge-labyrinth now. Aren't laurel leaves kind of poisonous for sheep? Should I stop it from eating from the hedges?

»What chance?« I ask without thinking or wanting to know the answer.

»The Sturgeon moon, man! Full-moons are turning the dials«, the sheep says. »But We will get a second chance this month. Wait for it, man!«

»A second full-moon in one month?« I cannot keep myself from frowning. »A month is a unit of time, used with calendars, that is approximately as long as a natural orbital period of the Moon. It takes the Moon one month to circle Earth once, ergo one month - one full-moon, you demon sheep, you.«

»Wait and see, human. You know nothing, Bromford Bibble. Wait and see.«

The sheep keeps on chewing the laurel leaves.

»But what to expect from a beast without any horns and tails?«

I take a deep breath.

»Why are you talking to me, sheep?« I ask. »I mean I am used to one walking and talking llama. I have been living with that animal in that penthouse in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and shore and seaside, for almost twelve years now. But why do you insist on talking to me? Am I some kind of Doctor Doolittle, now, or what?«

»I am no animal, human«, the sheep who claims not to be an animal says.

»I know«, I answer, »you told me before you were a faun. But what the heck is a faun? Some kind of bird or what?«

»Wait and see, infidel. We will wait and see.«

When running gags are running out…

Bored of the life in the City of Gold
He'd left and let nobody know.
Gone were the towers he had known from a child,
Alone with the dream of a life
He travelled the wide open road,
The blinkered arcade,
In search of another to share in his life.
Nowhere.
Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage
Beast that can talk, read the sign.
The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame
And questioned his story again.
But soon they grew bored of their prey
Beast that can talk?
More like a freak or publicity stunt.
Oh
No.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And broke down the door of the cage and marched on out.
He grabbed a creature by the scruff of his neck, pointing out:

©©©©

Today is Friday, the 4th of August 2023.

Earnest Black Sheep

O arsmen …

 
»Looks like you almost missed the August full-moon, Bromford Bibble.«

»Ah, shut up, you demon sheep. What is the first rule of the blockblog?«

»Don't talk about blockblog?«

»No, we don't need this rule. Nobody is talking about this blockblog. Nobody is reading this blockblog. The first rule of the blockblog is, there are no rules in the blockblog. You will never guess and never know when the next post will be out. And you were the one who brought all these full-moons into the whole thing here. I had almost forgotten my were-bus-problem.«

»Whatever you do, human«, the black sheep that wants me to call it Mr. Tumbleweed, the faun, says, »you always have to remember the Sturgeon Moon.«

Bored of the life in the City of Gold
He'd left and let nobody know.
Gone were the towers he had known from a child,
Alone with the dream of a life
He travelled the wide open road,
The blinkered arcade,
In search of another to share in his life.
Nowhere.
Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage
Beast that can talk, read the sign.
The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame
And questioned his story again.
But soon they grew bored of their prey
Beast that can talk?
More like a freak or publicity stunt.
Oh
No.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And broke down the door of the cage and marched on out.

🌕

Today is Tuesday, the 1st of August 2023.

Sturgeon Moon