Bromford and Llama ...

 

»Hey«, the llama says puzzled, »that is me. That is definitely me. And the dude with the eyes and the beard, that looks quite like you, apart from... besides... although... with red dyed hair and once again way too young. Or well, let's say way younger then you normally look like. And the beard… well you don't have a beard. You cannot even grow a nice full beard, you are not able to …«

The animal comes over to the armchair I am sitting in and puts its chin on my shoulder.

»Does this mean«, the animal asks with a sentimental shiver in its voice. »Does this mean the casting is over? Does this mean you finally found your perfect match, your ideal animal companion? Does this mean I can stay and there will be no more new candidates?«

I take another sip of tea and zoom in on the picture of the hairy dude and the llama by his side.

»In other cases and situations this is what they call a truce. Let's call it a truce. Let's postpone my search for a new animal companion till after the upcoming Holidays.«

»It's the most wondrous time of the year.«

The llama is warily moving its head away from me.

»Some call it wonderful«, I add. »This picture is only the first of a whole series of pictures in the upcoming Christmas countdown.«

»Oh«, the llama says, »I see. It's that time of the year again. It's time for a - let's call it - 'advent's calendar. What is it this time?«

»I am going to tell you a story«, I say.

»About a Bromford and a llama?«

I am nodding.

»A crazy story which makes little or no sense?«

I am still nodding.

»And there are going to be songs about cities someone - let's call someone 'doggy-picture' - has to guess - or let's call it 'google' - the names for?«

I cannot stop nodding.

»And this story of yours, what are its settings going to be? Fiction, reality-report, political documentation?«

»Let's call it a fairy tale«, I say closing the laptop, »the fairy tale of Bromford, the bard.«

»I cannot await it but I guess I will have to. Or should I replace the word 'await' with 'avoid'?«

⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭
⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭
⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭
⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭⏭

Today is Thursday, the 28th of November 2024.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 325 & Part 326

 

Today is Tuesday, the 26th of November 2024.

The flamingo landed in a deserted jungle palace resort somewhere in India to watch the peacocks dancing and singing.

Behind a curtain of creeping plants an elderly peacock who had lost all his  impressive and colourful tail feathers hissed at her.

Come here, pink beauty, the peacock said to her. Have you heard about the SLAS?

The SLAS? asked the flamingo. The Secret Life of Animal Society?

Yes, the peacock honked.

No, not a word of it, said the flamingo und moved her head from side to side on her long neck like a cobra snake in the rhythm of the jungle music.

OK, whispered the old peacock and disappeared again between the leaves of the creepers, not the time of year for an animal rebellion. Maybe next year.

And in a trance-like state the flamingo sang along to the peacocks' loud and intense dancing music.

SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!

🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚

🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚🦚

"Bromford Of Everlasting Light"

Will I ever see the pleasure that will never end
Hidden in the misty forest that desire sends
Mesmerised like fireflies that are falling through a flame
If I wait I′ll be too late to holler out your name


If I wait another day to travel to the east
Time may prey upon me dance upon me with its feet
Hidden in the Bromford they are building to the sun
Hidden in the forest hidden figure with a gun

I have waited to be here
Now I feel you, I feel you near
Take me home

 

 

 

 

 

"Bromford Intruders"

We are the Bromford intruders
We are the Bromford intruders
Muddy with twigs and branches

Turmoil!
Carnage!

Here come the Bromford intruders
We are the paratroopers
Stampede of sharp shooters
Come straight from voodoo

With our feet thumping
With our feet marching
Grinding skeptics
Into the soil

Shower of goodness coming to
End the doubt pouring over
Shower of goodness
Coming to end

We are the Bromford intruders
We are the sharp shooters
Flock of parachuters
Necessary voodoo

I have guided my bones
Through some voltage
And love them still
And love them too

Metallic!
Carnage!
Furiocity!
Feel the speed!

We are the Bromford intruders
We are the sharp shooters
Flock of parachuters
Necessary voodoo

There is turmoil out there
Carnage, rambling
What is to do but dig?
Dig bones out of Bromford

Mud graves!
Timber!
Morbid trenches!

Here come the Bromford intruders
There'll be no resistance
We are the canoneerers
Necessary voodoo

And the beast
With many heads
And the arms rolling
Steamroller

We are the Bromford intruders
We are the Bromford intruders
Muddy with twigs and branches

Forgive us, tribe
We are the Bromford intruders
We are the Bromford intruders
Muddy with twigs and branches
We are the Bromford intruders
Muddy with twigs and branches
We are the Bromford intruders
We are the Bromford intruders
Muddy with twigs and branches
Marching
We are the Bromford intruders
Muddy with twigs and branches
Marching
Marching
Marching
Marching

Bromford and Monster - Part 2

 

»Well, that dude really looks like a resident of Sesame Street.
And what about you, Bromford? Young Indiana Jones without his hat and whip?«

»Indiana who? Blue, this monster is blue.
Blue is the colour of the American Democrats.
Indiana is red. Indiana voted for another kind of monster.«

»You mean the orange monster, dude?
The one the majority of the United States of Part of America voted for?«

I am sighing and nodding and sipping from my bowl of hot chocolate
in fornt of the crackling fire in the fireplace on the tv screen.

»It is like it is«, I say, »we will have to wait and see.«

And the llama tries to spit out the digital fire.

»Stop it! That's gross.«

⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮
⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮⏮

Today is Wednesday, the 20th of November 2024.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 323 & Part 324

Today is Monday, the 18th of November 2024.

Eighteen flamingos, crowed the parrot. I see and count eighteen.

What an intelligent bird you are, parrot, said the flamingo standing on one leg

and enjoyed another shrimp cocktail. And tell me, 'cause I can't remember,

Are we flamingos herons?

 

You are no heroes, that's for sure, answered the parrot.

And the whole flock of flamingos set off as one
as if being startled by the sound of a blank-firing pistol.

🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩🦩

"While The Bromford Sleeps"

Da li znaeš, mila majko
Što sum nesrekna
Cel den doma sama sedam
Na dvor ne smejam

Da li znaeš, mila majko
Što sum nesrekna
Cel den doma sama sedam
Na dvor ne smejam

Da li znaeš, mila majko
Što sum nesrekna
Cel den doma sama sedam
Na dvor ne smejam

Hold the rest and let them go
Hold the rest and let them go
No, no, let them go

Da li znaeš, mila majko
Što sum nesrekna
Cel den doma sama sedam
Na dvor ne smejam

Da li znaeš, mila majko
Što sum nesrekna
Cel den doma sama sedam
Na dvor ne smejam

Hold the rest and let them go
Hold the rest and let them go
No, no, let them go

……………………………………………………..
On the road let the rain right down
……………………………………………………..
On the road let the rain right down
……………………………………………………..
On the road let the rain right down

"Bromford Motoboy"

Motoqueiro chegar
Antes da chuva cair
Motoqueiro entregar
E fugir no ar
Disparado
Disparado

Avenida Marginal, motoboy na pista
Jogando o destino
Calor assassino e veloz
Em cada curva um amor tecedor
A vida no retrovisor, não fica parado
Formiga em ação
Minha moto é um avião
Bromford afogado
Tráfego danado
Fluxo quebrado
Minha moto é um avião

Motoqueiro chegar
Antes da chuva cair
Motoqueiro entregar
E fugir no ar
Disparado

Asfalto molhado, duro, danado
Bem olhar de lado
Joelho ralado
Minha moto é um avião
Surfando o Minhocão
Quebra mole vai pra o céu
Para-choque vai pra o chão

Motoqueiro chegar
Antes da chuva cair
Motoqueiro entregar
E fugir no ar
Disparado
Disparado

Tanta gente na parada
Tanta gente acidentada
Motoboy caiu no chão
Caiu na fumaça
Caiu e levantou
O joelho quе dói
Quebrado o farol
Tanta adrenalina
Cheiro gasolina
Sucata voadora
Minha moto é um avião
Quеbra mole vai pra o céu
Para-choque vai pra o chão

Motoqueiro chegar
Antes da chuva cair
Motoqueiro entregar
E fugir no ar
Disparado
Motoqueiro chegar
Disparado
Antes da chuva cair
Disparado
Motoqueiro entregar
Disparado
E fugir no ar
Motoqueiro chegar

Beaver Moon …

 
A Beaver Moon is rising. The second to last moon this year. Penultimate. The Moon Year is coming to an end.

»I think, you should stop counting your Years in Moons«, said the llama, »and start focussing on the Sun. The Sun is the most powerful of the celestial bodies. And a Year on Earth is the time taken for Earth to revolve around the Sun.«

»A year is the time taken for astronomical objects to complete one orbit«, I think out aloud, »so Earth is the main player in this game. Earth's speed is what defines the length of one Earth Year. So maybe Earth is the most powerful of the celestial bodies.«

»How Earth centristic of you, dude. But at least you admit that Earth is orbiting the Sun and not the other way around.«

»Science«, I spit out the word, »nothing but fake news. And scientists? Nothing but liars and fakers.«

»Are we changing roles now, dude?« asks the llama. »Are you having a denying stroke now? Are you playing the denier of science and truths and facts now?«

»I am just tired, animal«, I say. »Let's go to bed. Good Night!«

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕
🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

Today is Friday, the 15th of November 2024.

Beaver Moon

Yes, I′m being followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow

And if I ever lose my hands
Lose my plow, lose my land
Oh, if I ever lose my hands
Oh, if, I won't have to work no more

And if I ever lose my eyes
If my colours all run dry
Yes, if I ever lose my eyes
Oh, if, I won′t have to cry no more

Yes, I'm being followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow

And if I ever lose my legs
I won't moan, and I won′t beg
Oh, if I ever lose my legs
Oh, if, I won′t have to walk no more

And if I ever lose my mouth
All my teeth, north and south
Yes, if I ever lose my mouth
Oh, if, I won't have to talk

Did it take long to find me?
I ask the faithful light
Oh, did it take long to find me?
And, are you gonna stay the night?

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 322 & Part 323

Today is Sunday, the 10th of November 2024

'Goose!' screeched the parrot. 'A goose!'

'I don't know what you are talking about', said the swan and kept on circling proudly on the smooth surface of the lake.

'A goose!' the parrot crowed again. 'That is the solution to the movie quote from last week's blockblog-post. A swan painfully resembles a different kind of bird when she waddles up the bank of the lake. And this kind of bird is a goose.'

'Are you calling me a goose, you colourful clown?' asked the swan furiously and flew away into the grey morning sky. And while trumpeting towords the heavy clouds she asked herself if that quote and that movie were still relevant or meanwhile more than a bit misogynistic.

🦜🦜🦜🦜🦜
🦜🦜🦜🦜🦜

"All The Gold In Bromford"

Come on

All the gold in Bromford is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills
So if you're dreaming about Bromford
It don't matter at all where you've played before
Bromford's a brand new game

Tryin' to be a hero, winding up a zero
Can scar a man forever right down to his soul
Living on the spotlight can kill a man outright
'Cause everything that glitters is not gold
It is not gold

All the gold in Bromford is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills
So if you're dreaming about Bromford
It don't matter at all where you've played before
Bromford's a brand new game

"Bromford"

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

We
Belong
To
The
Bromford
Doesn't
Belong
To
Us

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 320 & Part 321

Today is Saturday, the 2nd of November 2024.

"Your father used to call you his swan. At least I'm told. I think that's a good thing to remember. Think what it means to be a swan. To glide like a dream on the smooth surface of the lake and never go on the shore. On dry land, where ordinary people walk, the swan is awkward. Even ridiculous. When she waddles up the bank, she painfully resembles a different kind of bird, n'est-ce pas?"

🦢🦢

"Night Sky Sweet Bromford"

Fragrance clings like smoke to my clothes
Autumn trees shed leaves over me
Colours bring new life to the Bromford
I swear I can smell the sea
I swear I believe in love
I swear I can smell the sea
I swear I believe in love again
Lamplight sucks the town into view -
Paper cups, and drunks against walls
Ripped and torn, their hell doesn't burn
I swear that I'll never fall
I swear I won't ever turn
I swear that I'll never fall
I swear I won't ever turn
I swear I can smell the sea
I swear I believe in love
I swear I can smell the sea
I swear I believe in love
Out here where wind is howling
I watch the rising flames
Out here where leaves are burning
I smell the sea again
The night sky, the sweet Bromford;
The night sky, the sweet Bromford
I talk to you, but you cannot hear;
I'm talking to you, but you cannot hear

"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
So Viva Bromford, Viva Bromford

How I wish that there were more
Than the 24 hours in the day
And even if there were 40 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 every deal
All you need′s a strong heart and a nerve of steel
Viva Bromford, Viva Bromford

Viva Bromford with your neon flashin'
And your one arm bandits crashin′
All those hopes down the drain
Viva Bromford turnin' day into nighttime
And 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 everything I've got
Lady luck, please, let the dice stay hot
And let me shoot a seven with every shot

Viva Bromford, Viva Bromford
Viva Las Vega, Viva, Viva Bromford