The sweet regions of Uelkerig

But then: the hero breaks the dull - rearranged in bloody reds,
in light and though tough is, he shows softer inner natureness.

He does not search, just on his way: a strong, a headed light
he makes his way, he cuts through the darker valleys of night.

Oh, do not forget this is a melodramatic image of what is life or can be.
No more, not less, so can't avoid this shot of too sweet heroic eye honey.

There here are better images, nailed to the wooden walls in our skulls:
but can't do November with all going back, need, maybe wet, but balls.

There here are newer images, you do hang to your fogged wall today,
their sweet romantic lession is: greased leathers, thicker socks, they say.

What bears this title following:
"Where the heroical staff is luxuring some more
sung doubts in special and general. Well,it's now
getting deep into the plot, I, we need a dramatic
situation to thrash it t'wards it's end in month's time."
(Read this with some Bach-tuba in the background.)

So say what are we doing or are we just the ones that done
are we what or not that? - Words fly, flow out, over and on,

the choir now strikes in: the blues, paints pictures of some
realistic abstract scenes that find in your mind a blue home.

Again the word: doubt, ugly, off-sense, but keeps you warm.
Yes, blues is a mass of shades of a colour not doing harm.

So hero and his co-heroes stomp cold grounds and yell:
Earnestine I' ll wait for you under the droning Spring bell.
(Until then - no doubts - fun suits my time better than just well.)

[narrator]

So turn and turn it again, if you watched until now,
there is no cure other as to keep on 'til the end. I
heard rumours the author of this thang learned
recently that even ambition needs time to act out.
So he could possibly set gray sails and thrifts or
thrusts this boat of word and pix'l in the serene
harbour of December...

[author]

Emmm... *yawn* yes, perhaps...

Hey no this is no monster show nor one musical featuring such.
This is high time for hero in disguise to make this way stop.

Easy job (for a hero) so after it he got time to spend again
hanging 'round near tracks and stations: waiting for a train.

(please, dear visitor and visitress:
these texts above are not to read,
I would be pleased if you sing them ... aloud..)
......

Strange and stranger, seems this act-ion to go forth,
the music goes real slow and low, look: is this a horse?

In this now dull, gloomy scenery a song like lark
breaks ringing through the density of novemdark.

When November rushes windy wet the sideshows will be done,
beats his big visual drum - the second act: it goes on and on.

This scene is not less and nothing more to offer deepest depth,
blending, harsh and deep contrasts that November's echoes hath.

Like rolling, wailing stones hero calls up and out his friends:
it's now, it seems the time is back to dance in camp and tents.

So sends some mails ringing with all burning violins, with facts:
meanwhile the audience takes breath, breaks are between two acts

Our hero meanwhile morphs, shifts gear and gets up and flies
and with these old songs nearby he lies across the skies.

He posts up signs that are and were to sing: 'Warning! Watch out!' -
Although: still fallen is the melo and dramatic mass and crowd.

The side shows provide us raging stunts
magic, punk 'n' pomp and circus dance.

As I kindly may remind: on the main stage goes the plot,
where fascist shadows fall on minds set for the polka dot.

So masks are worn behind the masks and same too in front
of audiences who came to get the actions, that they want.

And even the sky works out to darker masses soft enough
to permit some pounds of crashing light pass through.

So, then the main hero appears, walks in
so tall, strange moustache and kind of slim.

Every actor now and soon, hides behind natual mask,
pretends to be what going plot will show: he really was?

So they started to turn, turning gone on, it never halts:
swirly visions, this is shadow? this body? - all is waltz.

The audience's attraction is drawn and the stage is set,
through this small corridor to the light: danser menuette.