Budapest

My first poem, written at 5 in the morning having stayed up drinking all night with a swedish girl I met caving.

Budapest,
why do your bars close early,
why do you have muscle on the metro,
why do you have a blues bar that doesn't play music,
crazy locals with 50 yard killer stares, trippy teahouses,
girls in bars selling carrots, fight or eat Mary Jane.

Budapest,
why are you full of Americans on spring break, red blood,
red blood, countless stupid things to be done,
why do you have scary transylvanians,
drinking from the bloody cup,
hunting drunk Germans with dark face and darker intentions.

Budapest,
why do your skies open and your winds rip,
covering the town, erasing the trail of revelry,
of a chance encounter,
of a stolen kiss,
of a last embrace,
of the shared beauty and knowing of the midnight hour with a blanket of snow.

Budapest,
why do you give then take,
wrought then break,
leave me in the light of morning with a cold dawning and a painful head,
knowing that she's not here,
that she's in the air,
in the the sky,
on her way back to Dr Gonzo, Scooby Doo, Schnapps, Europop, swearing parrots, Malmo FF and sleep.

Budapest, why do your bars close so early?

Searchin

One of my first poems, searchin, here's the link to my soundcloud with a performance:
link


Searchin
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Well yes I been searchin for some answers now
Up n down the line
In the smile of a pretty girl
In the innocence of a child
In the bottom of a bottle
The butt of a blunt
Ever onwards, an endless hunt

Been lookin for a while now
A couple of years or more
Lookin since it all came crashin down
Upon the kitchen floor
They say a door closes, a window opens
Guess I've been startin to feel the breeze
That mean old east wind done knocked me to my knees

I been lookin in foreign lands that I never been to before
On a seven hour train
In a swedish hire car
Up and down this continent, near n far
Atop a Magyar Citadel
A snowcapped Austrian peak
But it ain't no Delphi now n I'm just about too drunk to speak

Yes I've taken some things now, strangled up my mind
I ain't leavin no stone unturned
Not even the metaphysical kind
Had to hear what it was all about
Rolled up twenties, makin me spout
I smoked stuff till my eyes got sore
I hear the crackle n the pop
Mary Jane knockin at the door
Well I guess I came up empty handed
Rising from the deep
When I look upon that good time picture I hang my head n weep

But I know that I gotta keep movin on down the line
With Frank in my ear and the horizon in my eye
For what is the point of existence
With no objective in sight
I live in the present tense
It's from here I sing of my plight

When I see birds

When I see birds I wonder,
Why are they here,
They could be anywhere,
By wing, by flight,
Over the channel by midnight,
Why are they here,
In a bustling city,
Aint the sort of place I'd think they'd find pretty n call home

When I see birds I wonder,
Why am I here,
I could be anywhere,
By car, by plane,
Why am I here,
In a grimy city,
Aint the sort of place I'd think I'd find pretty n call home

Where do birds go when it rains?
Do they head south to Spain,
And eat paella and dance salsa under andaluscian stars?

Where should I go when it rains,
Should I head south, hop a freight train,
Or board some budget no leg room plane,
In hope of sunnier climes,
Happier times,
And cheap continental wine

Maybe it's them air currents,
That take em unwillingly,
Like them currents o' life,
That tangle us up,
Turn us around,
Stop us from getting birds eye picture n lie of the ground

I guess they're here just like me,
Hung up on used to be's,
Well I guess it's really the mind that sets you free,
And not wings

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Written in Brum