Murder in Alexander Brody Street (Budapest 23rd October 1956)

Murder in Alexander Brody Street
(Budapest 23rd October 1956)

It started off quietly
- just a peaceful demonstration
and ended with murder in Alexander Brody Street

Singing happily, the crowds
twenty-five abreast
link arms, united together
student and soldier and factory worker
at long, long last
neighbour talks to neighbour
the veil of stifling, strangling silence
is ripped away,
and the throng thickens
and the pace quickens
as they march towards Alexander Brody Street

Meanwhile, Death dons its dark boots
....and waits

The rhythmic chanting of the slowly moving mass
mass in firmament
rises in crashing crescendo
frightened, guilty faces, peer quickly
then palidly hide
behind heavily shuttered windows -
a brick is thrown
and then another
as gaiety turns to fury -
there's murder waiting in Alexander Brody Street

A heavy machine gun stutters
gutterily
and in the gathering dusk and gloom
figures crumple and fall
the crowd, as one, staggers back
A young girl, placard smashed
lays mutely in a shop doorway
covered by long, long shards of glass
and there's murder in Alexander Brody Street

Last Poem (April 1986)

The Last Poem

The Last Poem is spoken
the Last poet fallen
and the beat of his heart like his rhyme
is destroyed

The music has fled for
the Last Verse is dead
and the Wild Gods of Mammon
now reign overjoyed

So come to me quickly
and I will enfold thee
Whilst all around rages
the now shapeless storm

Let it rage in its millions
whilst emptiness fills them
but I and my loved one
will wait the New Dawn

A Nighttime Walk (April 1986)

A Nighttime Walk

When the corn shines blue in the cold moonlight
and the wind whistles low over yonder hills;
then I walk alone down the winding lane
around all is quite, silent and still

I turn my face to the moon and clouds
as the wind streaks my hair from the side of a field
and I smell and I feel the sounds of the night
then like the Sun, to the night I yield

As dark shapes scurry and branches creek,
Owls hoot soft and stare down at me -
A passing intruder from the daylight world
Yet no stranger than the night, abroad and free

When the minds of men are dead and asleep
As the light wink out and darkness reigns
Then I rise from my tomb, where I've lain the day
and my ghost's stalks back to where my heart remains

Stenton Street (July 1989)

In the tumble down backyards
of Stenton Street
where half-burned mattresses live
where the Cola cans are born rusty
yet lie in the trash trying to give

And the Zombies that walk in the alleys
some wear suits, some wear feathers and rags
there are no strict rules
for the Wise Men and Fools
that eat out of Stenton Street's bags

You can go away and stay, any day friend
and you know that they'll welcome you in
as they pawn all your clothes
and hand you a Rose
'Oh friend - where you been? Where you been?'

Ave Satana (July 1989)

Ave Satana
I'm as scattered as the ashes of a pauper's creation
I'm as morbid as Original Sin
I was doomed before your God ever thought of Creation
I am Him

I'm as violent as the centre of a hurricane's Black Eye
I have Horsemen, pale and deadly, ghastly thin
and the Legion of the Damned, will ride at my command
I am Him

So walk swiftly, rose-tipped Virgin
do no stray in this Night's way
scurry onwards past the shadows, ever grim
'Lest my hands reach out to snatch and drag you in
I am Him

The Coming Storm....2006

The Coming Storm
There is a Darkness
in the skies over England
Rolling Black stormclouds
gather and thunder
the lightning bolts
are building
stronger each day!

Soon, and now, they will
strike our Nation
bringing fire and unholy
Black brimstone
to cover our land

Gone our meadows green
Gone our cities of fire
all consumed in a mad, mindless
Savage rage
that will sweep all
before it

Where England's beauty stood
will stand the Beasts of
the New Planned Apocalypse

And what shall we do?
And how shall we fight?
Will our hearts be strong?
Will our Will be true?

And will we rise as men
and face the Coming Storm?
or will we hide -
cover ourselves
in the False Cloak
of Blessed Respectability

and seek - hopelessly
False Shelter from
The Coming Storm?

Thatcher's Legacy (2006)

THATCHER’S LEGACY

What of our busy Mill Towns now?
What of our shipyards roaring?
What of our coal mines – turned to dust?
And no more steel mills soaring

Once thriving towns reduced to ruin
Once youth had hope and trade
Once village galas still allowed
Fulfillment in the doing

No more alas will British cars
Speed workmanlike and brave
For greed and gain and profit now
Have sank them in their graves

Eddy Morrison 2006