The Pidgeon Thief.

The Pidgeon Thief

After chatting to the man who said he had to speak to the captain of the cry for the moon

A ship bursting full of gold diamonds and silver. I passed through the brick archway and found myself sat upon four steps striped in white. Underneath columns, towering pillars of stone. My eyes looked up, above the bell tower blue and white, a beach hut shining on creamy sand in the suns rays, a light house tower, a cool dream tower, the planks of blue then white, spoke of lazy enchanted summers days. As tick tock, hands, travelled through time, around a giant clock face of black and bronze. The year was sixteen eighty three. A craftsmen put the finishing touches of gold leaf to a spiky sun protected by spikes, petite smiling in the shadows cast above the glass and balcony.

I stand up from my seat on the steps, and move one foot to the next, to balance on the edge, of a precipice, high above a cobbled river, i drop my pen into the waters cobs, thankfully, it floats, beside train tracks, yellow bright, ripples upon the surface. From my perch stood up high, i jump two footed, feet first into the river, the road that leads us where we all belong, splosh.

A navy signpost opposite points directions in all manners of ways, left left left, back back back, on, on, on right right right, as my feet get damper and damper, wading into the cobbles, i turn my head to the left.

Heat waves bursting out of windows send glistening shimmers through the air, that sparkle, playing trippy delights upon lan ying stars of yellow, and iron bars stretching to reach out from one side of the river to the other, they look like wrought fenced gates, bridges in the sky that seem to move like a swarm of lively insects, alive. Beyond the shimmer. Beyond houses blowing out smoke, behind sticky trees, there is an solaced strip of green, misty, magical, in the summer it must shine, a top the green stripe, dark trees, about as tall as thumbs on the horizon, strikingly joyously reach up woods.
Spirits look full
Are they paint
Brushes
Some thick
Some slender
Some chipped
Hardly any
Bristiling hands
At all
Sweet natures
Spirit sleepers
Come to life and dance
Soft splendour
Act spiky
Brush
Wispy willows
Wood land forms
Sky is pure
White on the tree line
A giant of a moon
Is about to rise
And cover the land
In tree spirits fog

The sky above is baby blue for ever on and on and on, the trees and the heat waves call to me the signpost points but i ignore all. The priest, in black, collar of white, the trolley pushing, rattle ruttle clunk, a tinker clattering through the river. I ignore all and wade deeper and deeper into the cobbles until I’m sunk down to my waist, in fact I go right across the river, to the other side, climb out onto the bank i am dry, as if there was never any wetness or damp mould at all, i adjust my cap, before opening and then stepping through a door inside, into this towns guild hall.


Inside the guild hall Foggy Mossy was greeted by a overly large portly gentleman of a curious nature, who reminded him somewhat although he had no idea why of a pie in a sky,

Foggy Mossy surveyed the scene, he was through the door, without being invited in, always a neat trick, and he was quick to shake the portly gentlemans hand, and offered him one of him many alias’s

The man took Mossy's hand and, then spoke softly and gently as like a tender man speaking to his sweetheart,

"your cold Charlie come and warm yourself by the fire,"

Mossy, could see threw the portly mans game, and knew that no mortal of this town could prevent him from his mission, so he did, as the man whos job it was to guard the guild hall said.

Whilst sitting by the fire Mossy's eyes lit up on a bell. A giant bell, easily big enough to cover a badger, or a adult sea turtle.
Suddenly the round porter, of the guild, shrieked out,
"the bell broke
the bell broke
in thirty four and has been nothing but a nuiscance since,"

Mossie laughed, which he did not often do, and as he laughed the porter who continued to shriek,

"A nuiscance a nuiscance,"

shrunk, crumpling inwards on himself until. He vanished. All that was left, of the fat porter was a pile of dark garments, lieing on the wooden floor where he had been standing shrieking not a moment before, a long pink tail curled out from beneath the fringes of a cloak, squeak, went a rather chubby white mouse before scuttling under a desk.


Be just and not fear the pirate portrait on the wall.
A sheperdess with crook underneath the palms looks longingly to the left as her yews, nestle at her skirts, two swans float, another pirate, cross of England upon shoulder stares, ghoulishly out of the frame, in the background dark castle, dark clouds orange sky lit with flame. The light hangs in cauldron pots, a piano is draped in velvet in the corner, a chair with a important pillow, castle shield and lions, the symbol of this town.

Wonders upon mountains, the white rabbits spotless gloves, sit on a curtain of blue, nut green, near another swan this one is the one that can make tea.


I come mighty close to putting on the gloves. So close in fact, a scissor snip in time away, but that is not why i am here, so i leave them for anothers hands, or paws.

Up creaking steps i step in up the red waterfall, into a resplendent room, up here i am level with the sun which shines onto my face. I see the river down below where my pen had splashed, beside the ripples like train tracks of meandering yellow.

The water creeps over my face in a wave.

Majestic red, this room is pure, red. A table on wheels rolls along the middle. We dance together the table and i, widdershins than round the other way, circular moon tides. In the corner is a fire place, above it, a smoke laced clock covered in flecks and smears of grime, which stopped at ten past five. The clock sits in between two hooks, and rests on the head of a winged beast. The beast has the body of a rabbit the legs of a lion, the feet of a hawk, and the bearded head and face of a wild man. Tribal eyes, big lips that blow blow blow,

"Hello," I have to speak out loud, "who are you then?"

At this the wild mans eyes widen in exclamation almost rage and i knew he was angered that i could see him. The beast blew out of his lips such wind faster and faster, it was a furious gale, i quickly opened up the top right pocket of my jacket, which i had purloined, let me say borrowed, stolen from the master, the pocket that can hold the world, and let the gale which was now a hurricane of wind, blow into it before sealing the savage and quite loud storm inside by buttoning the pocket shut. Peace quiet. As the rush of wind in the room, blowing curtains, and knocking paintings and the tables this way and that, had been deathening.
"There was no need for that was there," i ventured but the wild man chose to ignore me,

A new wind rush in the city tempest meets strom, a gypsy ship seting sail out the bottle, freedom, in the air to the passing clouds, the lights are on in the traffic, the rivers words, the voice that calls, i was ready for the voice and it spoke such subtle commands that i knew the sun was coming to whisper on my shoulder, your coming up, out of the water, this wind was sent to you from the lips north sout east to the west of the rivers daughter.

I am running water
you move like a leaf

Down below a naked women holds the earth
As lovers touch each others bodies
On benches and trees and the armour
And weapons of war full down
Into nakedness and peace
Pure naked bodies
Sit on the boats and catch fish
A fish in one arm
The other held to the
Tit of horned freya
Dryad of the sea
That rides bare foot
Upon a cat fish.

All around the lovers
Rocking in a boat by the tree
Everything is smashed
And the tree is ripped in half
Two almost naked people
A man, a woman, break each other and roll in pain or savagery
Wait
They are not smashing surf upon the waves, they are building, piece by piece
From the storm, and the woman fists clasped together are not in anguish, they are to cheer, cheer on this man, that must keep rebuilding day to day, for they are the accursed, eternity, scented inside the bottle, inside the bottle where beside a tree, they want nothing but to make love, endlessly and build a family, yet everyday, every sunrise the man trys to rebuild everything all the smashed pieces around quicker and quicker almost nearly but not quite before , every sunset, when there shore is wrecked as are all their belongings by a raging storm a typhoon, a tidal wave, only these two lovers cannot drown, they must go on and on, every day the same, the man rebuilding piece by piece, the woman cheering him on, quicker quicker, until once again they do not achieve there dreams before the raging storm, shatters all. I know looking upon these two, from where i stand that it will be my next mission to release them from their torment, for by the beating of my heart all the voices in my blood tell me i will set sail on the cry for the moon, and set these captives free, by ending the typhoon, tidal wave, that has them beaten down.

I leave, narrowingly avoiding the penetrating gaze of the lowest two, bare footed, and bare chested guardians, legs enclosed in sword clock trousers, a male guardian on the left a women on the right, both holding an arm over their stomachs and head into a room of tropheys and cloaks.

Inside a cabinet. Behind a wall of glass, beautifull smashable lovely glass, there is a giant silver topped mace, it hides amongst many trophies for heroes and what not that have done the guild service over the years. I also spy with an inquisitive eye, a silver goat with trayling flag, the staff of the flag pole being held in the goats front paw, i think,
Not today.
Creak creak creak,
I return down the stairs, the red water fall,
Maybe maybe today, I am trapped. At the foot of the stairwell
A dark gate bars my way.
Ive been locked in, locked in, behind a door of black.
Guildford is closed to me now. Prison is the place to be, the street outside the air is cold, floating through the door flowers, line the gate, vines and rose petals in gold, up above is a light, i could scale this doorway easily, up and over, i will have too,
Or perhaps, i should go back up the steps
Creak creak creak, break open the cabinet, free the goat with the flag and take out the silver topped mace, the mace that sings out to me,

"Foggy Mossie, Foggy Mossie i am here waiting for you,"

Two warders of evil, the beasts that blow, for that was what the wild beast man from before was, a warder of evil, breathe in, the voice of the mace is taken into their stomachs, and its words are muffled,

"Thanks" i whisper
"Its nice to know someone’s on my side"

my mind is at ease if the warders of evil are, with me, then i can be certain my mission is just,
I am released, beside the giant bell, heavy upon the floor.


Did you hear Foggy Mossie, the most notorious of the pigeon thief’s, managed to convince his way out of the gate and back through the door by way of a key turning in the lock, from the other side no less from the other side.

Onto the streets, keep warm, keep warm, here comes a basket up the river.


A raven flew in front of Mossies eyes to land on top of a lamp post.
Feathers were a gathering, Mossie decided quickly, to take action it was high tide to deliver what he had been sent to steal.

Mossie walked side by side with his bike stolen from the mayor of Londons daughter, before depositing it onto a wall, he then stepped through a gate which led to a wooden portal into a hospital. The pidgeon hospital.

The carved maple wood donations box lined with tribal like stripes was no problem for Moosies nimble fingers. He helped himself to a slice or two of time, for he was at this present moment quite in the need of just that extra spilt seconds refreshment. The slices of time glided and melted on his tongue like the silken kiss of a wasps lips vanishing upon a glob of honey stuck to the end of a cats whisker. Mossie sated, and beyond time, tip-toed past the door with the big bold black sign and silvery etchings in curvy gothic script, that spelt out two words. The Master.

In the private garden of the pidgeons Foggy Mossie chanced upon a red leaf, more maroon then red, valentine, the middle of the inside of a cooked duck, its y’s where tropical trees, limes floating onto the beach, and the leaf was covered in perfect drop after drop of water, that sat like pearls, they from afar looked like flicks of white paint,

“Jersey’s been painting leafs again” thought Mossie.

An archway lined by trees roots, and spirally out of control more of the marooned valentine leafs, led onwards to where Foggy Mossie had first learned the ways of the sneak thief. In the oprhanage of earth.

Chimneys covered in pidgeons, chimneys that looked like sweets made from bricks good enough to eat.

“I am here,” Mossie called out loud, his voice echoing of the walls in the private garden of the pidgeons,

“I have brought your gift”

Just as Mossie was about to step through the archway to return triumphantly from his mission, and present the Queen of the pidgeons with the object he had been sent away to bring back, just before getting through the archway in between the green, green, grass, a courtyard full of empty benches. He was pushed back a rushing wall of blue and the way through was cealed to him, gone was the beautifull valentine leaf and gone were the pidgeons and all.

In
Out
Public
Private
Garden
Perfect Sphere
Open
All

“Drat!” Said Mossie out loud, and on his way he carelessly forgot to tip toe past the masters door,

“Oi you scoundrel give me back my coat,
stop right there and bring me back my coat"

Mossie ignored the Master and jumped back onto his bike to race through the river rushing on and on and on.



On a flattened disc of gold a sign swinging through the air, I saw three pigeons in a triangle, carved out of wood, they called to me like a siren singing soft laced tune, notes tapping feet, the pigeons song went.

A little bit of love baby
Just a little bit
Stay with me
Drop me out of hay
Stroke me by the hair baby

Glockenspiels chimed and the song went on

i think i'm
a little bit, a little bit
a little bit in love with you
but only if you're
a little but, a little bit, little bit
in lo-lo-lo-lo-love with me

Then suddenly as it begun the song stopped.

Mossie was inside a wooden cavern a golden map shone off the wall, compasses spinning pointed the way to go.

It was dark in the wooden hall of the three pidgeons. I took a candle from off the spidery wall and struck a match to put the wick to flame. It alighted, in the flicker of the candle light fire i now held i could see that vines and flowers grew in white all over the ceiling, the rose petals, the same pattern as the gate at the guild hall that held me trapped before.
I looked down, underneath my feet in a pool of light surrounded by shadows, was a carpet made of peacocks feathers and dancing toes. I held tightly onto the candle and leapt off the carpet, just in the nick of time, escaping a clawed beak from beneath that lurched out to bite my feet.
The vines and roses seemed to be following me, chasing me, as did feathers, and leafs, drips of wax dropped and spilt from the candle as I ran through the hall of the three pidgeons they landed, sticking onto the wooden floor boards, they left my mark, the sign for others of the pidgeon, that the author of the sneak thieves compendium Foggy Mossie had been here, and that they were to be watchful of fear, quell it.

Candle Talk

See the spell
melt like wax
as it lights
the rei
fire spewed
a twist kei
pattern
candle on a plate

The sign of the pigeons hadn’t led Mossie any nearer to delivering the object which he kept safely hidden in the top pocket of the masters coat.

A small white feather floated up off the floorboards as i ran. I knew then it wasn’t safe here, I leapt head first into a mirror hanging on the wall and found myself somewhere all together different.

Rushed through space, to the sound of clocks ticking, silence filled Mossies ears, the river underneath crashed a softening blast of crest light curling waves, four wheel beasts peeled, and putted, in this way, in this sound, Mossie travelled through the mirror.
His eyes were taken through the glass, where they could see an arch beyond, cubes, checked guards on board, a tree taller than a building.


As i stood my eyes taken through the glass to a chequered board made of shrubs and cubes of maple. I knew i was being watched from behind by the goddess of Tragedy Jan. The white masks of Jan follow me, everywhere i go. I pinched the flame of the lit candle that still burned in my hand and flicked the flames over my shoulder in order to ward of any tragedy for myself. The candle went out and the Goddess Jan worked her way into my hair. I wiped the strand she nested upon and listened,

“head for the sun, head for the sun.”

Sun day doesnt have to be a dark day sun day can be a bright day like dream day of sun.

The entire world wavered, i was beyond time, it was like the world was spinning, back on itself, a gravity blip, it felt like i was dropping backwards as if i was a dead body falling into a coffin, as if my ribs had been squeezed and i was about to pass out, as if an earthy quake or something had just happened, a gravity blip, that lasted for a moment in between a split second, a wave, i closed my eyes and let myself fall backwards sinking into the floor, the Goddess Jan touched my body, and sent me like a barrel bouncing off the rocks, wood splitting and spinters flying this way and that, as the water carried on pouring.

Up here, high, parallel with the setting sun, half a disc of gold, behind the trees, I stared out at the grey blocks of Guildford, the hills were browning orange, lapping up the light, the sun sunk forming a blob on a far away tree, mullticoloroued streams flew into my eyes, i let my ears listen.

Fountains bubbled, beautifull chilled out water pools, perfect, three ripples of harmony, I could see stepping stones, carved out of white marble, that led to an island across a square pool of water laced with lilies, as the sun went down the voice of Jan, rang true and i knew what to do,
A pidgeon flapped its wings as treacherously gorgeous sirens from beneath the lily pool wailed,

Circle the moon the moon the moon,
Follow the knife
Not the fork
Or spoon
Ride the crocodiles teeth
All the way
Down
To the circle of the moon the moon the moon.

I travelled very far very far
And on my way i watched the children of the stars play.
All around me even on me, they scribbled tea time special cake graffiti, all throughout their vast playground, space, for that was the children of the stars game today,
There young voices, older than time herself, sung, graffiti after graffiti.

Yum I went there!
Rachel was here
Tooth paste teeth
Robot Joe
I have two eyes
My name is Rachel and i have a hamster called billy
Mouse in cheese
I smell flowers everyday
Diesel
Yummy nob nobs
Tomatoes make me happy.

They graffiti covered me until i was reduced to nothing but a child myself, i could remember my childhood, flying through the air to land on the ground scraping both knees below my shorts until they bled and revealed bone beneath, i could not be broken by the star childrens graffiti, even then it went on and on and on, for the passing of millennia, i was still beyond time, i hung, click, upon a lunar tick, until the scene caved in like falling shards of glass from a window pane, there was no smashed window, the glass never fell, and i landed with a flump, onto a cushion, which i discovered to my delight was in fact a flower, a soft rose petal, pink and white, spotted stripey paterns like the skin of some tropical fish, the flower was sticky in an steamy jungle way and i felt at ease sitting on it. I felt almost like a chameleon, that was climbing up a tree in a tropical mountain rain forest, my breath was different, as was my actions, i hummed like a bird of paradise, my body and the flower cushion became one, joined together in nature, the petals licked over me, the colours of the petal ran all across my skin which now felt moist and humid, my lips pursed and i became like a spirit of an amazon rain forest warrior, swaying this way and that, we danced our dance perfectly i and the flower cushion, kissed by the rain forest of the moon, as i slid, into space,
I moved my head back and forth, swaying with the dancing lights that sparkled from every diamond star,
The colours shone through the entire spectrum of the galaxy.
Three dogs one dressed as Napoleon, His first mate on the left, Drake, and on the right the Cardinal Richelieu, turned into pillows and landed onto a sofa which flew beside me and the flower.
Ahead of us all, a flame burned, in a slot, a hole in space, where two heads bobbed, crafting stars with their fingers, the flames burned, lamps held by the heads in the holes hand flickered blue. As more stars were craft, two chairs greeted each other with a hug. As is the way, in space, sometimes, things change in a wink, a blink, or a scissor snip, the moon laughed, and the flower i had joined with disappeared, i fell back back back through space, it was like one of those dreams you have when falling for what seems like a never ending fever, at one point i turned into a wheel, a golden cart wheel of a carriage, that was being pulled by two shire horses.

I think it was this that saved me from death which is surely what befalls others who have falling off of a flower amidst the stars out in space.

My eyes where fixed on a whole host of objects that were displayed in pretty open boxes behind a window, i saw a wheel, a tiny wheel on a rod, a long golden rod, about the length of a little finger and thin. Thin as a tooth pick, a golden fishing rod prettily displayed in an open box, with a blue jewled merlin attached to it, springing free, I climbed into the box, which snapped shut.

Next to a red dotted star of Russia, clean and sparkly white blossom pears, a bell rung, turned on in some court, and a blue blooded lady with soft white hair, in a pink ball gown, and waistcoat jacked, with a fan, waft waft flutter flutter flutter across her face, then delved in with gloved hands, blue with five buttons in a line, from the wrist, quick hands, nimble fingers, the box containing the blue merlin rod along with Foggy Mossie, went into waistcoat pocket, as did, a silver panda holding onto a bamboo sitting in tree shade under coiled leafs, jade, and a large watch the tiger at two plus for good measure and why not a sparkling pair of ear rings.

Mossie had travelled in a box before and knew exactly what to do he pinched his nose tight between finger and thumb and the box shook about, as the lady walked in the darkness, trapped next to the golden fishing rod, Foggie mossie blew and blew and blew, until pop, went his mind, like the build up of a washing machine song rocketing rocketing, then drop, he was back on the steps by the cobbled river, where he had been sat before.

Only now it was dark and cold, colder in space, the sky swam blue, deep down dream blue,


“Pidgeons,” I shouted “Pidgeons” and I took out of the top pocket of the masters coat the object I was to deliver to the queen of the pidgeons of the crooked claw. Above a rushing window of rain the drips came a tip toe tapping, for even in the darkness the sun shone hot, the river bubbled with warmth, the cobbles teemed with life. I took out the object. Gorgeous Shadow Wax. Shadow Wax that begun life as a roman candle. Shadow Wax the guitar of Khengis.

Foggy Mossie stroke a match, flare, the candle melted like chocolate in hot porridge, and smoke turned like silk spun from a spiders web into Shadow Wax the guitar.

There by the river in the dark of night, i let Shadow Wax hang over my shoulder, and played her with my nimble fingers on the end of my tender and strong hands, just one perfect chord, that rung out like a sonic boom a wave that washed across the whole universe all the way round in a perfectly complete circle. The three wooden pidgeons cased on gold in a triangle were no longer silent they came back to life and the disc began to sing again

hands down
i'm too proud for love
but with eyes shut
it's you i'm thinking of
but how we move from A to B?
it can't be up to me
'cause you don't know
eye to eye
thigh to thigh
i let go

i think i'm..

a little bit, a little bit
a little bit in love with you
but only if you're
a little but, a little bit, a little bit
in lo-lo-lo-lo-love with me
oh

ooo-ooo...

and for you i keep my legs apart
and forget about my tainted heart
and i will never ever be the first
to say it
but still I,
yes you know I..I..I..
i would do it,
push a button
pull a trigger,
climb a mountain
jump off a cliff,
'cause you know baby
i love you love you a little bit
i would do it, i would say it
i would mean it, we could do it
it was you and i and if only i..

i think i'm
a little bit, a little bit
a little bit in love with you
but only if you're
a little but, a little bit, little bit
in lo-lo-lo-lo-love with me

come here, stay with me
stroke me by the hair
'cause i would give anything, anything
to have you as my man

come here, stay with me
stroke me by the hair
'cause i would give anything, anything
to have you as my man

a little bit, a little bit
a little bit in love with you
but only if you're
a little but, a little bit, little bit
in lo-lo-lo-lo-love with me

The moon became so happy that tears of joy fell down to splash onto the cobbled river, as the night got darker and darker turning from sweet deep blue to purple malven black, the smiles on faces got larger and larger until they were turned into bigger smiles than theyd ever been before, Foggy Mossie played and diamonds floated from the sky they sparkled, glimmer sparks into eyes, everyone who heard Shadow Wax played, was to become, safe and warm, and alive, alive enough to live their dreams, be who they wanted to be, to trust their hearts and leave their clouded minds behind or have just good times and peace,

The Queen of the pidgeons of the crooked claw flew onto my foot.

“Why didn’t you play before”

“I did,” I replied “I did”
“Then I was locked up, and kept out, many many times, then it got dark and bells rang”

The queen of the pidgeons cooed softly like a dove, soothing my story

“So i decided right here and now in the cold and dark to play your guitar Shadow Wax on Guildford high street and watch the cobbled waters flow”

My tale to the queen was finished so my next four words seemed simple, as always did any words, spoken from out my mouth,

“So here i am”

“As am i”

Foggy Mossie took the Queen of the pidgeons claw in his hand and shook it,

“May your claws be crossed with silver”

The Queen replied,

“May your palms be crossed with silver”

The deal was done, and the gift, Shadow Wax the guitar of Khengis was returned to its rightfull owner, the queen of the pidgeons claw.

Foggy Mossie winked to the skies, then, stood on one leg, he sailed into the air, then turned into a ship in a bottle, the bottle landed in the middle of the street with a smash like a sea sauce snip.

Smash!

I was now on board the cry for the moon, sailing down the river followed close behind by a million or so leafs and feathers, i laughed which i seldom do and the leafs and feathers turned into wooden boats that couldn’t keep up with fast pace that the cry for the moon cut through the ocean.
My smile grew ever more larger, i was on the mission that i knew in my heart was to be my next, to save the lovers by the tree from the turmoil and tragedy, of the sun set typhoon, i took out my compass, a silver spoon, and it spun round on my out stretched palm until it pointed to my hearts desire,

“Captain,” I yelled, “Captain”
“Looks like im here to take over your ship and crew.”

Tonight we fly our flag a skull of white, smoke of blue mixed together to form a grey sky, the colour of invention, set sail for the passing clouds.

Dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot

I see a ship
go sailing down the river
Inside a soul
gunning to deliver
Two hundred thousand wings
Of gold in an empty basket
Singing songs for the sunrise
Moonlight in a casket

This road a flowing river we can walk upon
Gently if we let it
takes us where we all belong

Home where the one heart is
Today is a day
To get these waters parted.

One soul searcher
Burning for another

You could make me live big sister
For now I’m just a little brother

One gold worker
Turning to another

When the sunlight hits the spinning leafs
It take you
Builds you stronger

Like bright lights dancing off the water
I see so many ships
go sailing down this river
inside each a soul gunning to deliver
Two hundred thousand stars in an empty basket
Singing songs for the sunrise
Moonlight circles in a casket.