Extended Megamix of the track 'Dada Wouldn't Buy Me A Bauhaus' from the album 'Soundings'.

PLEASE NOTE :  The deliberate mispronunciation of Bauhaus ( from the Germanic norm) follows the provocative tradition of Duchamp and Dali.  


Dada

Bauhaus

Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus

Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus

Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus

Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus
Dada Bauhaus

Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus

Dada Bauhaus Dada Bauhaus

Dada Dada Dada Dada Dada Dada Dada

BAUHAUS

DADA

Dada Wouldn't Buy Me A Bauhaus (Marcel Duchamp Megamix)

Ampthill Station

Everything has happened …
my god and I’m still here wondering why, while
white like snow, like milk, like bone
something stolen is coming from light.
Hope blows across the tracks of day ,
as the sandy soil shifts with countless scurrying ants.
The power of the ripening sun 
goes into grain, self-regarding lives –
happiness and family, food and affairs –
split ups and heartbreaks and houses sold.
We cry for the future, what it may take and certainly shall!
Seed grain saved for next year’s crop
Is scattered across the solicitor’s desk.
Yellow and orange and aubergine for all our failures,
all, all our aspirations – little corn dollies yet to be,
as the sandy soil shifts with countless scurrying ants.
For nearly 14 billion years, they say, the galaxies
have been speeding ever faster astray. Ceres slowly
eats an apple, Demeter, anachronistically, plays her old sitar,
chomping on a fat, Juicy pear. Helping keep life and humour
intact -Albion, my familiar stranger, serves me yet another pint.
Time possesses what it drunkenly plagiarises.
Past seclusion, the grain planted again, craves itself.
We are all waiting, waiting for the train-
but there is no platform, no Ampthill Railway Station
and through the shifting, sandy soil, scurry the countless ants.
Everything has happened before.

David R Morgan

Ampthill Station

LAUGH

I have this dream where I save the world …

I’ve always had a keen sense of humour;
yet jokes, like atom from atom, soar apart-
their centres do not hold; as gnomes escaping

from their respective front gardens
and where they once stood -
the grass tearful with dew.

I have this dream where I save the world
with the ultimate joke, bringing things together.
A gag, subtle as syllables of sunlight- revelation bright.

So I tell myself joke after joke in my head in my bed.
Just before sleep my pillows smile, showing their teeth-
my neighbour’s dog howling its psychic head off.

Did you hear the one about? I saw this bloke
the other day! Shadows murmuring, Terry keeps his clips
on … through my mind, Mona Lisa giggles frolic free.

Yes, I’ve always had a keen sense of humour,
but it’s mine and no one else’s. It’s all mine
and that’s why I laugh alone!

David R Morgan

LAUGH

Where’s Melissa?

(1984)



Melissa dreamed that she could fly       

like a bird-girl in the sky;

she took with her a diamond spoon                                                           

to eat the cherry pancake moon.



Phone phone. Phone phone…

everything’s a fragment-Lemon Betty Melissa’s secret-

and everything’s not a fragment- dream becomes memory-

11 years old; the moment Melissa went away.

In this flat now, this moment contains

all the fragments of yesterday and

everything we’ll ever know of tomorrow,

sparkling through nuances of singularity.



In that single moment as she cycled to school (never returned)

our daughter shifted and splintered. We watered her

with blood and DNA, from absence to atom,

faith stronger than fear; particle to person to what ?



Melissa dreamed …    



Melissa dreamed that she could fly

like a bird-girl in the sky;

she took with her a diamond spoon

to eat the cherry pancake moon.

 

Phone phone. Phone phone…

dissonance of separation, why didn’t we take more care?

A drooping crimson flower drops tiny shining diamonds

of loss, onto emerald blades of grass haunted by ghosts

of small feet. Honey coloured shadows drip strange,

unfathomable fear onto an empty playground,

where one swing silently sways.



In a dark forest, a body, beyond finding,

free at last, becomes a body no longer;

as bodies trapped in longing lives

become childless and lost.



Melissa dreamed …



Melissa dreamed that she could fly

like a bird-girl in the sky;

she took with her a diamond spoon

to eat the cherry pancake moon.



Phone phone. Phone phone …

and when the phone call comes: “No Lemon Betty here!”

The photo of Melissa, at which we stare,

stare so long, is blank. Has always been blank.

Where’s Melissa (who or what is she?) Lemon Betty

all alone wanders the winding path,

through childhood myth to grandmother’s house,

not knowing the woodcutter never really existed.



But wolves are always waiting.

The drone of bees deafens the meadow.

In a lone puddle, lost down a lane, a tiny

red spotted moon wobbles, rippling into dreams.

                                                                                                          

Melissa dreamed …



Melissa dreamed that she could fly

like a bird-girl in the sky;

she took with her a diamond spoon

to eat the cherry pancake moon.



David R Morgan

May 2019

Where's Melissa?

IN ONE END (Repetition)

 In one end and out the other, 
ceaseless birth from mindful mother.
 
Repetition, repetition, repetition-
again and again and again and…

Reason shines and fades like fashion,
violence takes its turn with passion.

Repetition, repletion, repetition- 
again and again and again and…

pray one more time with feeling ,
another more time with feeling.

Repetition, repletion, repetition-   
again and again and again and…

another more time with feeling; 
do you see what Time is revealing?

Repetition, repletion, repetition- 
again and again and again and…

born from earth, return to soil;
scuttle off this mortal coil.

Repetition, repetition, repetition-
again and again and again and …

again and again and again and …


David R Morgan
June 2019

In One End (Repetition)

ONCE BITTEN

He had been blind to the plot against him. The plot
inspired by the Generals who had helped him to power. 

Power! 
He had never expected opposition from that quarter.

He was gunned down in dark morning malice, 
on the steps of his glittering presidential palace.

A firm believer in reincarnation, 
he returned... as a vegetable.

Lying deep in the earth, near the colour of earth; 
he managed to avoid the ravages of the fork. 

Thus, he remained uneaten.
the oldest vegetable in the patch, he was unbeaten.

The oldest vegetable, he was revered-
and envied.

When the carrots, onions, leeks 
and parsnips moved against him, 

he was prepared; it was no surprise-
potatoes have eyes.


David R Morgan
August 2019

Once Bitten

As Time Goes By


Tock tick tock tick …

Old man                                          
Standing in the corner
Of a once familiar room-
Holding your own hand for company-
Attempting to multiply a number
You can’t quite remember
You can’t quite remember
You can’t quite remember

Old timepiece
Standing in the corner
Of a once familiar room-
Love gift from a love long gone -
Attempting to tell the hour but
Repeating yourself all day
Repeating yourself all day
Repeating yourself all day

Tock tick tock tick …

Poor clocks


David R Morgan

As Time Goes By

Plastic Suicides
 
 
Twilight, drenched in driftwoods of sunset,
shimmers with its heavy insinuation of stars.

The taste of sun-saturated ocean salt
seasons the dreaming town’s night-time streets.

In silent school windows waves split the moon
into a thousand soaked fragments.

On climbing frames, albatrosses flap
filling the answering air with questions.

Straining to mark classwork, I see shipwrecks,
guttering dolphins, suffocating mermaids seeping through…

plastic suicides beneath and beyond the seas midnight
zone, where sun and stars can never penetrate.

Poseidon runs faithless fingers through sticky polymer;
Neptune scratches at unscratchable chemical rashes.

I take your wet face in my thirsting hands
and lick the perplexed salt from my lips.

This teacher has no need to wake;
the ghosts of drowned children long to learn.


David R Morgan

November 2019

Plastic Suicides

A Very Merry Critters’ Christmas
 
At this special time of year
When lovely bugs are full of cheer
With wings and stings and many legs or tiny horns-
They celebrate the Baby born 
 
On Christmas Eve - at twelve o'clock
Around colorful Christmas candles, the critters flock;
For He who made the lamb, you see,
Made the ant, the worm, the spider and the bumble bee.
 
Outside as the frosty wind moans
The insects start to  prep their homes
And as the church bells sweetly ring
The ants their fluffy snowballs fling.

The bees are busy sipping eggnog with honey 
While spiders make snow spiders looking funny 
And all Earth's creepy cute crawlies 
Throw happy seasonal Christmas parties
 
Then ‘Oh my!’ What does appear?
A tiny sleigh drawn by beetle reindeer
led by a bug with a bright red nose 
As Santa Spider’s silky white beard flows.
 
Every young one gets a present tonight
And the mini beasts are welcomed without fright.
Each and every festive bug
Deserves a blissful, happy hug.

While crickets sing, Oh Holy night
The glow worms come  in with Christmas lights
Slugs and snails snack on mistletoe
While Earthworms, eat mud pies below
 
So deck the halls with boughs of holly
Full of beetles, butterflies and bees so jolly	
and more  who dance and play 
-  no bug should  hide this special day 

By the stockings and the Christmas tree
Little larvae swing so merrily 
While a magic wand  waves across the World
Warming homes as golden webs unfurl.
 
For Christmas to critters is no stranger;
There were many little ones around the Manger
And sometimes the most special presents of all
Are the ones that are very, very  small.


 Merry Christmas to you all .

On the twelfth day of Christmas
my true love sent to me:
12 Beetles a Drumming
11 worms a Piping
10 crickets a Leaping
9 spiders Dancing
8 bees a honeying
7 snails a Swimming
6 ants a Laying
5 butterflies a fluttering
4 happy wasps
3 smiling slugs
2 funny fireflies
and a glow worm in a Christmas Tree

 
 
David R Morgan
December 2019

A Very Merry Critters' Christmas

Crystals & Light 
(A New Year's Tale)

She’s forever dancing up the driveway,
sarabanding snow about her, this special day,
In fluttering ribbons of sparkling delight.

‘Leave those boots on the porch tonight.
Take my hand my little Snegurochka maiden,
shake the whiteness from your coat so laden.’

Sweet soup, warm clothes, an hour of songs
and a story where tangible magic belongs,
before an arm-cradle to boundless dreams.

But all of this is crystals and light; not what it seems;
what might have been reflecting off of snow;
a story hanging silent that no one else can know …

yet I will replay these scenes over always, all I’ve got,
until they come solid, become true … or not;
for, as crystals love light, possibility persists

and it is for this, that true reality exists.

 
David R Morgan  

January 2020

Crystals and Light

SELF - ISOLATION

Now, taking yesterday for a walk,
I feel the soil prepared, driving its mill, then
isolated seeds in its heart imagining a stalk
consuming sunlight ; what’s not eating is eaten.

I am in the street of the past;
of lives lived and lives lost, so much meant,
as the windows return my stare at last,
separated between the future and the present.

I think about those long gone I can visit, how
before I leave I can grasp what I didn’t when young.
“Don’t worry, come on in – have a drink now.”
Everything has been completed that’s just begun.

 
David R Morgan

April 2020

Self-Isolation

The Digital Lavender Suite

And now may I present, with mum and dad in mind, The Digital Lavender Suite:

Wisteria: enthusiastic, dance- lover, whirling on Percussion.

Peony: living in the moment with a touch of melancholy on Piano.

Iris: creative, showy, with a sense of humour on Ukulele.

Hydrangea: jazzy, team player with versatility on Saxophone. 

Foxglove: fantasy lover, such a happy soul on Harpsichord.

Delphinium: positive, forthright, Monet Blue on Electric guitar.  

Rose: sophisticated, circumspect, yet can show off on violin.

Wallflower: Quiet with gentle understanding on Harp.

Snapdragon: Jaunty individual, lively and bold on Drums.

Hollyhock: Old fashioned, with a sense of History, keeping the beat on Double Bass.

Lavender: chief lover of the uncanny and the unknown on Orchestra + Choir.

And so to flower … bed .


By David R Morgan
With music by Tobias Morgan

David R Morgan

Popular tracks