Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 391 & Part 392

 

Today is Sunday, the 28th of September, 2025.

The reign of the cats is over, said Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl.

I don't know what the bird is talking about, said the three pouting cats.

We are all still here, said the two cats with wry smiles, all twohundredandthirtyone of us.

When did it start raining cats?, asked the two Baby Chicks shyly.

When the dogs flew to the moon, the astro-cats answered mysteriously.

Maybe cats stopped coming, sang the nine little red birds, but do you see those monkeys approaching over there?

Will it start raining monkeys, now? all the chicks asked confused.

No-one wants and needs a reign of monkeys, the fifteen scorpions growled. Monkeys are close to men and we all see and feel what the reign of men brought to us animals and the whole wide world.

Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is, as Albert Camus once said, said Twenty-Five, the tawny owl.

And a group of twenty-eight see-no-evil-monkeys joined 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…

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"Planet New Bromford" 

Do you know there's a new Bromford
Where the moon we're watching is all-sides silvered
Now I'm walking on a road
Made of plexiglass and down a deep pink light
It brings me up to the sky with a wonderful power
Where the scent of some angels makes my skin immortal
Hey babe, please don't you go

Here the time has gone away
To another planet that it needs it more
Now I'm living on a plane
Where it seems to be the center of a universe
Every star of the sky makes me happy tonight
And they will dance for us all the night
Waiting for a new day

Hey babe, please don't you go
Hey babe, please don't you go
And throw away your golden dress
Don't go and polish your white wings
Don't go and throw away your fastest car
Don't go and you will fly so high that

"Bromford"

She is trapped inside a month of gray
And they take a little every day
She is a victim of her own responses
Shackled to a heart that wants to settle
And then runs away

It's a sin to be fading endlessly
Yeah, but she's alright with me

She is leaving on a walkaway
She is leaving me in disarray
In the absence of a place to be
She stands there looking back at me
Hesitates, and then turns away

She'll change so suddenly
She's just like Bromford
Yeah, but she's alright with me

Keep some sorrow in your hearts and minds
For the things that die before their time
For the restlessly abandoned homes
The tired and weary rambler's bones
And stay beside me where I lie
She's entwined in me, crazy as can be
Yeah, but she's alright with me