J:Has anyone seen the needle?

-silence
J;Has anyone seen the needle?.
E:-It broke.
J: What!
E: Yeh, that bloke Billy was with last night was usin' it an' well....
J: You don't say. Where is it? Where's it gone?
E; Threw it.
J: Where?
E; Bin. Outside.
J-rushes for the door. Emma blocks his way.
E: You can't. Too dangerous. That Billy's friend, he's got aids.
J: Need it. Stuff you. (rushes out) E follows
Voices heard
E;Pack it in J. I told you. It's too dangerous.
J;I'll wash it. Soap. Water.. I need it.
E: No.You can't.
(Rummaging is heard as J roots through the bin, emptying its contents onto
the floor)
J; Need it. There it is.(He grabs it. Rushes back into the kitchen. Runs it
under the tap.)
Be alright now. Just get it clean first. Then away, hay, hay!
E: You know what? You're fuckin'mad you are.
J: Fuck you , love. This is whey hay, hay and do I care.
E; Jesus.
J:
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
uuuuuuuck
slumps back in chair
motionless

g: walks in, sees j

kicks him
g; bastard, thought you were gonna share it;
spits on him
picks up needle from floor; leaves,
Hear shower running.
G; (singing) « I'm gonna get me a man, get me some money, some dope,
so I am. Get me a man, get some honey, with me wicked ways get planty o'
money-for that's what I call real funny»
The shower runs on. Stops. A door opens, closes, the singing ends.Silence.
J; coming round. What's a time? Time is it? Where am I? What's going
on? What? Who? I don't get it.
Slumps back into delirium or sleep in a deep arm-chair with wings.
G; Come on Emma. Let's get goin'. The streets are heavin' wi' blokes who
need bleedin' a little to set our kettle whistlin' we're gonna go get some loot
so's to shoot a line of hay.Watcha-say? Love, hey?
C : enters, book in hand, smiles at all. Sits cross-legged on floor & silently
studies.
Looks up from time to time to contemplate the sleeping J.
Time ticks by. A cuckoo clock sings seven.
J wakes. Rubs his eyes. Stretches, yawns. Focuses. Sees C.
J; Wow, Man! Some trip.
C: Where d'y'a go? What ya see?
J: Mind blowin'! Colours. Explodin' ecstacy. Shimmering dawns of human
consciousness. Apes. Monkeys. The jungle. Snakes slithering. Fruit
changin' colour in the wind. Leaves fallin'.New buds, new shoots formin'.
Baboons. Makaks. Tribes of 'em. All with peckin' orders 'n' hierarchies.
Laws 'n' rules 'n' restrictions where each creature behaved repeatedly in the
same way. Circles of light spinnin'. The sea crashin' on the shore sweepin'
all in its way. A man in white watchin'. Words disappearin'. Epochs
beginnin' 'n' endin' .Pyramids risin' in the desert sands. Lines of men like
ants marchin'. Stone circles at the summer solstice bein' kissed by the sun.
Giant wicker men containin' lovers burnin'. Plumes of smoke billowin'
.Mushroom clouds formin'. Children naked runnin' screamin' . Castles
under siege. Armies movin'. People starvin'. Children diein' .Human
misery, greed. Plagues. Canons thunderin' . Animals diein' .
Species disappearin' Sea-levels risin' .Cities drownin'.Ice-caps meltin'. Ice-
sheets advancin' . Freezin' gales. Men livin' in caves. Huntin' 'n' gatherin'
hut-dwellers. Spear carryin' nomads. Alexandria burnin'. Greek gods an'
godessess bein' carved in stone. War planes bombing. Cities burnin'.
Aborigines wanderin'. Indians listenin' . Bisson movin' across plains.
Plants flowerin'. Clouds emptyin' in torrential monsoon rains. Cities laid
waste. Devastation. Slaves in chains, singing whilst rowin'. Whips crackin'.
Blood flowin' through yellowin' wounds. Flies crawlin' over dead
children's bodies. The stench of death floatin' midst the ruins. Disease
spreadin', clawin' at the livin'. Bodies fallin' in pools. Man walkin' on the
moon. Empires formin' 'n' fallin'. Forest clearin'. Ape-men movin' 'n'
listenin'. Starin' at leaves. Trails in the mud. Sniffin' the air above the trees.
Vultures flyin', circlin. Ships sinkin' in tears.
C: Yeh, Some trip. Hallucinatory. Stupendous. Mind-blowin'.
But it's not rational.Just kaleidoscopic events randomly recalled.
Remembered. You didn't actually experience them.
J; I did. Each 'n' every one. I was part of the scene. I was both lookin' on 'n'
lookin' out. Surveyin' the world from the picture. Sometimes I was the
victim. Sometimes the perpetrator. Sometimes both. Simultaneously I'd be
the pilot droppin' the bombs 'n' the screamin' naked child sobbin' beneath
the plumed black clouds beneath which I was flyin', releasin' the bombs as
the targets came into view. Sometimes I'd be the arrow hurtlin' towards the
bisson. Once I was the last polar bear slowly swimmin' with exhaustion as
the last ice-burg melted. Once I was the chips of wood flyin' through the
saw I was holdin' as the last Boabab tree came crashin' free. I remember
distinctly the cry of birds singin' 'n' men hollorin' with glee.
C: That's hallucinating! Conclusions?
J: Bloody good dope. Got to get another fix. Can't wait.
Feels kind a strange bein' back down here wi' me feet planted firmly in the
ground. Kind a prickly. Wantin' to get back already. Start again. Seems so
grey here. Drab.Mundane.Ordinary. Hum-drum.I need to fly.
C;Read, escape in art. Isn't that what it's all about?
J: Get real! Didn't you hear what I said? Take drugs “n” your off your
head. Findin' the readies is the bind. Good job them judies are so sweet and
kind.
C: I wonder if drugs awaken the left side of the brain. Stimulate dreams
which once all men shared. Like Aborigines dreamtime free from words.
How strange it be that this side lies redundant, whilst other organs work in
pairs, the left side of our brains sleep. Yet experience has shown that if the
right side injured be, then the left can act as substitute.
J; Perhaps the left side evolved housing hallucinatory voices which spoke,
to which we listened, lost in thought, mesmerised,
C: Or simply that nature grew two, the second as a back up just in case.
J; But why did the two not fuse, form one from which more would result,
enhanced capacity, what luck!
C: Maybe as apes the left was used. Language acquisition raised
development in the right which relied on logic, rather than intuition, which
died.
J: Though language differs according to sex. Women love to chat, have a
flair for understanding the under-currents in the air which speak louder
than the words men reap. Given a problem, Man hides. Women discuss,
communicate in ways men won't use. Different tool boxes or wiring used.
Maybe one set has simply blown a fuse.
C; Or the whole lot would blow if it were to be all used.
J; How does conditioning require all that. Re-inforced stereo-types setting
out what's not. Culture codes which key associations of ideas that we see.
C; See? Hallucinating voices or silent dreams? A combination of the two,
together seems …
J; Seams? Homonyms confuse means.
C: Monitoring the self. Analysing screens.
J; Screens?
C: The auditory experience sways. The emotions are raised with tunes and
words, tears come to the eyes when a story is told in song. With the artist
we want to sing along. Cry when its over, sigh.
J; Aborigines can transmit images telepathically in real time.
Which part of the brain is used. And how come not in mine?
C; Use it or lose it. What's lost is gone.
J; Pray to the Lord.Exclude all other sounds. Heed only one set of
instructions, namely yours in the son, in a child-like state of mind
Listening to the Parent who's no longer around. Sing praise to Him in
sound. Produce. What about listening? By intuition deduce?
C: Perhaps its the left side which hears. Hears beneath the meaning, sees
beneath the layers. Awakening.A second-birth. Born again in belief that be
faith founded on a rock. Language and metaphor run amock.
J; Through projecting images one begins to see. A picture appearing, very
hazily at first, sketch lines traced, contours appear.Lo there is a
face.Bearded. We recognise the Man though none of us has seen him and
none of us can!A metaphor in place, timed in distance spaced.
C; Conjuring up the metaphors, imagining the scenes requires the
enriching experience provoked by dreams. Listening to the waterfalls,
heeding the birds' cries, seeing images in clouds floating by. Hearing the
undertones beneath the conversation's flow. Listening to the current, being
in the know.
J: Man? Did I say man? Yet you did not respond. Are you listening at all to
a word I'm saying, man? See how the image has been debased. Debunked
faith. Ye gods. Where have ye fled to? Are ye all dead?In that case I might
as well be away now, quite off my wee head!
C;Think of great composers like Mozart.Guys who began at an early age,
developed skills inside the brain. Where do they first hear the music they
compose by ear?Think of Mozart scibbling, deaf, yet still producing.He
must have had some way to hear the notes inside his ear.If not, why write?
J,To express the beauty the mind sees and commicate, like any primate
would. Give voice to gods who, once brought to lifr, explore a territory
hidden from mortal gaze; but glimpsed at through the words they speak in
vain, for the territory chages, for all is not the same. Yet it exists, an earthly
pradise, where each may shelter, dwell, aware of tthe space between
himself and others of the human race. For one may recognise other adepts
who tread earthly skies.For man is tree like, rooted in the soil, leaves in
dreams which break and fall in the wind.
C: This resource grants escape. Though the body may be chained to some
mechanical task, through the window fancy can take flight.Escape; a
human right.
J;Best be trained.It aint easy to slip those chains. The metal is so heavy,
cuts deep into the flesh. Yet it's in such conditions of persecution when
dissidents work best.
C; Under democacy who can complain? The whole planet feeds us, despite
being free in name.Why should we seek escape? Prisoners of greed, we
have so much to eat whilst the other half is one where children die like
flies.
J; The systems out of kilter, the cyclist's lost his balance. Wobbling now,
almost falling off, all can see he's heading straight for the ditch.
C; Empires come and go, civilations crash. Experience the instant. Be
prepred to laugh at the absurdity of life as we cycle down its path. For the
social cost of our actions one day will be payed by those whom today we
have enslaved.
J; Very democratic. Subversive to say so too, Chris. Come on? Produce
solutions. Every newspaper in the land tells such stories. Cut off the
invisible hand and your stumped. Go off 'n' eat honey 'n' locusts in the
desert, is that what y'er sayin'?
C; We have forgotten how to listen. We have to hear the music before the
notes are written. We have lost contact with ourselves. The gos have
gone.myths have become dtied up shrivelled twigs. We have lost the
capacity to believe.Believe in ourselves.
J; Yes we can. He's the man!
C We have to. But listening yakes years of arduous practice. There's no
quick fix.
J; Fix.Did I hear you say fix,man? Oh ye gods, grant me another.Where
have those girls got to?They should have been back ages ago. Hope
nothing 's happened.
C; Fix. Strange the meanings which have stuck to this word. Repair. Re-
pair. Put two and two together.See the link. One hallucinatory
system.Think! Perhaps the two brain sides evolved as one, then the tissue
in the middle shrunk to bridge. As language was born 40,000 years back,
came the fissure, came the crack.
J; Crack?
C; Glad to see you get the gist. News or coke, I joke in words which once
flown opened up a new dimension to the mind they own, possess. For
possessed with language, man is blessed, alone amongst all species, with a
tool which has such a multiplicity of uses. Communication being an art,
man could transmit what he thought, felt, hallucinated. From the unknown
religions grew, tooled by languuage, man grew. No longer considering
himself a beast, but superior, fashioning gods and godesses to reflect the
stature which they now possessed. As language and logic boosted chance
of survival the right side of the brain was sollicited more. The left side
became the domain of artists, poets and dreamers, the right scientists,
mathematical schemers. Yet for civilisations to advance, cultures grow,
visionary artists a way must show. Through the thicket words were
hacked.New perceptions, codes, cracked.
J; You're in danger of cracking up under such a strain of thought, what a
train.
C: Training of course is required. Many be called, but few hired.
J; Meaning?
C; It's impossible to escape the culture which, in our childhood, did
dominate. Yet one can open doors. Wander beyond one's cultural mores.
J; Mores?
C; Exactly. Culture, like a plant, grows. To be successfully be adopted it
must be adapted to the climate and the soil through which it flows,
permeates and irrigates with words whose music must sing in a fashion
found full of beauty where the truth doth ring. The latter being fashioned
on the anvil of the mind, thus can be seen by the blind.
J. Sounds circular.
C; Indeed. Logic being linear, the left side leaps, like apes, from branch to
branch. The spaces jumped can't be measured in length, though the ideas
be grasped, as we swing above the earth, in search of ideas to sustain the
train of thought we would not wish wain, in vain, since we, like words, are
weighted and will fall to the earth, from whence came all.
J. Sustainable is a word in fashion, though the sustainability of species is
in doubt.
C; Could it not be that auto-destruction is programmed in the genes?
Wanting ever more completes the cycle. Greed lays the earth baren.
Yet some of the species will survive. Those fittest, who fit the new
conditions which the epoch requires.
J: Like cultures. Words grow. On communication highways, ideas flow.
C: Like dominant genes and ways of being and doing. Treasures can never
be hidden, in vain man always must show 'em.
J; Off.
C: In riddles wrung from words once spun. Hey, what's happened to those
chicks? When will us guys get our kicks?
J; A short-term fix that doesn't last. Imagine the hallucinarory thrill
of transforming pictures into words to find the process modifies the
pictures one sees within the mind. Ideas evolve, spin off, take shape and
form, from where indeed are these images borne?
Carried the carrier lifts the load to find the load lifts him inside his
hallucinating mind wings sprout, a window opens, ideas flow out.
This is some fix in which one's self to find. What to do when words fail to
express what man, so frail, may see. Open-armed to the world outside, all
embracing, with but intuition to guide, how fearfully need he tread, for
fear of disturbing the living-dead. For though the picture remains still,
words are clumsy and do not fill the space assigned but wait, immobile on
the page once laid for time to erase at her leisure, though others may do so
at their pleasure as they seek to control and influence the meek. For thus
we see a power-struggle within as individual egos turn and spin exercising
authority in words, rarely heeded, often heard.
Organised religions a power serve. Politics pollutes the verb, tarnished
with ambition. Cynicism serves self-recognition as the soul tries to
maintain the purity of its whole. The integral-self requires that it can fly
beyond Oxford's dreamy spires where seated in authority voices animate
what is to be. The status quo thus centred is, yet the artist always seeks to
give vent to his voice, to grow wings, angel like and soar above mere
triflings. Some fix, some bind in which one's self to find! Icarus for sure,
felt such pain as did Prometheus on his skewer. For thus the myths
enlightened the world in which we live. The truth they held was and ever
is.
C; True. Just as the silence between the words which wove the tapestry of
the gods, by Jove! Men who could produce such cloth for words were
certainly at no loss, yet the words who coined their thread, transmitting
images from head to head through time and space? No mean feat, this
evolutionary human race hath caste in words which one day will fall and
crash, crumbling like pyramids beneath a sandy sea where oceans wash the
shoreline to be. Some fix in which man finds himself unbound, like
Prometheus, yet free to chose the path and word to use!
J; 'It is no matter.'; 'I don't have the choice''. Imagine a language in which
these expressions were synonimous. Where one accepted, what had to be,
unavoidable, 'un fait accompli'; or accomplished fact, one had to accept,
then act.
C: Act?
J; Act out a rôle, carve a part., accomplish, achieve, through art. Source
resources, as yet untapped, search veins, as yet unlatched.
C; Veins? Where are those skirts? To be kept waiting, how it hurts!
J; Listening to the voices of gods is, perhaps, that. I don't have the
choice-I am not me. The gods have decided what is to be. I can but listen;
and act, accordingly!
C: Never ending, incessant,that seems to be! Circular, revolvinng history!
J; Is there no escape from this wheel? Will we be crushed or brought to
heel?
J; In applying what the gods have willed, then there is hope, still. Victory,
should you call it that, is won by the swift and fleet of foot ready to adapt
to the changing circumstances that the fates blow, come wind, high water,
rain or snow.
C; Listen hard and here them speak, for men are gods, yet weak!To
themselves they must speak and heed the messages received. For when
intuition speaks, who knows the goal its voice seeks, nor why the earth
meets sea meets sky, where winds blow, ships go, not I!
J: One who has no god as he walks along the street- headache finds,
causing him to weep.Godless one searches but in vain. Wealth amassed
can not be eaten. What frustration choice provides. For how does one
decide, when godless one will never be entirely satisfied?
C: Listen to the gods, let fall desires. Material quest brings but funeral
pyres. Hark the voice which sings within. Like a drug, follow him!
Addicted to the word become. The opium of the people has no son!
J;Speaking of which, where's ours gone? Oh ye gods!
C;Maybe they have forgotten? Suffered some kind of collective memory
loss common to lasses!
J; Strange how speaking of someone makes them come alive. They may
long since have died, but visual memories of captured instants live, can be
resurrected despite the gulf of tides which separate the times.
C; In the ever shifting now accumulates the instants stored to be restored
to place us in the context of our race. Forget the context, lose all trace
of culture now effaced.
J; With the growth in the size of Man's brain came a capacity for storage of
events to retain. Strategies of survival still require a knowledge of the
terrain under fire. With missiles hailing down like stones, bringing up the
rear one groans!
C: Bringing up the rear one owns.
J:Supersize Me! Fantasize! How words are pregnant with meaning. Under-
currents of sexuality are heard in the tones. Fancy. A fancy man. Fantasy
flows in the bicameral mind.Flights of fancy unwind. For the meek and
humble at the bottom of the pile, contact with Nature took place all the
while. Listening to the movement of stars, the winds, bird flight, the
cracking of a twig at night signalled something had changed.The balance
of nature, disturbed, remained. How easy for the poor to fantasize. Dream
of the riches they'll never possess. Little to protect or enclose, an open
window the world to disclose in fantasic unfoldings unknown except in
imaginative flight in bed at night.
C:Buxom, long-legged, blond Barbie so pink! Fantasies fathomless wink.
J:Men altogether engaged in a dream. A last-supper together.What a scene!
Fantasy fingers to make Bacon scream. Sexuality,sensually unleashed in
the steam. Consciousness consumes itself in the roles it assumes.
C; Hear the sirens on the rocks. See the sensuality in the falling locks.
J; Locks enchain, enchanted by the sirens' song ye gods are slain. Action
consumed in haste, unplanned, oft' hath consequences undesired, following
engagement one soon is tired of the battle's heat.Heed not the sirens in the
street which wail, carting off prisoners to many a jail unfilled, unwilled by
those who now wait society's sentence at the gate of paradise should they
repent, 'tis ne'er too late.
C; Prisoners all of time long gone. Who is punished for the wrong or crime
committed throughout time? Desire for vengeance bitter tastes, better
forgive than repent at leisure behind the addictive bars of pleasure.
J: Let he who hath committed no crime engrave his name in the sands of
time.
C;With the perpetrator reconcile, free the bars with a nail file.
J; Outside looking in we speak. What drives the miscreant, what doth he
seek? Where lies the cause but love, lest the argument has flaws with
which to engrave new laws, in stone, alone, beside a bush which burns in
the silence of the wind which turns?
C: Let the act come to light. Consequences will tell evil from right.
J:Let the will of the Lord be done, be sung in praise. Egoless stand
as a child unafraid. Be there no choice, no matter, now begins here, no
later.
C; That circumstances oblige 'tis not so sure. Reflect, observe seek the
purer water to drink. Considering consequences strategically think.
Focus where the future is likely to place the coin in your mind which has
more than one face.
J:As a balloon is empty of air stand before the superego of gods who are
men. See what they can create from nothing but words which serve a
purpose providing they're heard. Empty, reflect, in silence agree, ponder
the weight of the sea!
C:Send away sin, from vice be free. Weakness erodes, crumbles and
goads.Listen to the silent light of the word. Let the voices of gods and men
be heard. Follow a star through the deserts of time. Cross the oceans
tasting the salt and the brine. The star will never fade from your sight. Fix
your sights on it right through the night whispered dreams, enlightening
the now in the instant which flees.
J:Fix? It seems a long and winding road we've come, though indeed we've
just begun, what on earth has to our girls become?Has some disaster them
befallen? Have we seen some sign or token?Has the voice of intuition
spoken?
C; Perhaps indeed they heard us talkin', then decided to keep on walkin'.
Perhaps indeed they heard the heaven sent message of the silent word.
J: Maybe in some bar they're loiterin', listenin' to some drunken talkin'
while we for ideas have been fishin' for the word.
C:For tis not possible to refuse what one lays upon one's self. The word
comes and goes, like the wind, whence, nor where none knows. 'Tis in the
listenin' that the word is heard.The heart speaks yet seeks to serve.
J; Humanity heeds not the prophet's loss.Take care these words are not to
cost.
C; If 'tis true, as has been said, that men be gods, then listening to gods
implies searching inside one's self for the truth hides in lies one may lay at
one's door. Silence is vanity, need I say more?
J; Could it well be that in believing in Christ, the 'I' becomes the word:
Creator of awareness, Lord? I am who I am, that is for sure, though I have
many a mask in a jar by the door. If I be the door which opens the way,
then I am the light which comes with the day to illuminate the shadows of
greed and rivers of hate which flow through the silence which all of us
know.
C; Be there in doubts a reflection of the bicameral mind?A double, cynical
side which reasons and figures, leaving the hallucinating to the other.
J; The other be I, for I am universal. Present everywhere, inter-temporal.
C; You're off your head, like St Denis. Mythologies reflect universality.
For brass betrayed. Art for art's sake, unburdening the burden on one's self
one's laid.
J; Could it be that the second birth is the awakening consciousness in the
bicameral mind, at around the age of thirty a flowering of awareness of the
beauty of life and the vastness of the impenetrable universe? Birth of the
left side yet death of the right. Only through listening to the word doth
resurrection raise the living from the dead. For did we not say before that
he who walks godless in the street is cloaked by headache, since if the
inner voice be drowned, then the man be possessed, owned by desire,
vainly seeking ever more to satisfy an insatiable appetite for material gain
on which a spiritual death may be blamed for a rich man will not seek to
pass through the eye of a needle in the street.
C:How these metaphors be mixed in language sparse. Be this the
uncovering of wisdom ploughed verse?Indeed doth it suit thy need to
explore the thicket, listening to the wisdom in the words of a cricket which
leaps, as in the leaping ideas fleet, form and fade on the horizon which
time betrays.
J:For listening is indeed drawing water from a well to satiate the thirst for
knowledge and see in the light drawn up from the dark waters within
which the voice of wisdom doth sing.
C: Yet what stress, duress first required quenxhing from such heady
spires.? Why the need for contemplative flight through thicjets of darkness
in search of light?Why the heartfelt need to hallucinate?Escape in dreams?
For the shepherd to find the lamb lost, apart from the flock?
J: Guilt forces robbers to flee in the dark;searching themselves for escape
they hark the melodies they heed surging from the depths in dark hours of
need. Transgession thus causes a man to run amok, like a fool, hunch-
backed, burdened by his own tool which his conscience has pricked.The
prick!
C: Apes use tools to feed. Language is a tool which allows us to explore
and communicate more. Words open doors in the dark, through which the
light shineth in the silence we hark. Memory recalls images
past.Transmission of light travels fast.Words weight. Waiting man
observes his fragile state. Buffeted by cross-winds,tempest-tossed, needs
must keep a look out for land lest he's lost. Once ashore why then he seeks
to understand the languages those around him speak in a world become
flat, since Columbus, by trade, where ideas flow along the highways made.
J; Highways of the mind. Ideas feed off each other, need exchange to
survive, grow in the minds of those who speak the language in which they
reach out and grab the attention of the audience waiting to be had.
C: Tricked? Hood-winked? Touched? Attained? How words are clumsy
and metaphores stained with the culture of their birth. Little wonder then
that they are so closely bound to earth.
J:Earth from which all seeds grow. Words seed the metaphors they sew.
Climate and soil, husbandry, determine whether or not they grow.
C: As ideas mingle roots mix, intertwine, new genetic combinations form
new vines, new wines and spirits, according to climes, times.
J; Speaking of which where are those bints?
C: Indeed see how words trade, forming the reality from which dreams are
made, expressed in thought, taught, memorised; transforming the future to
which man aspires to change.
J,In changing his environment man has changed the nature of the planet
over which he reigns.
C; Rains? Floods? Perhaps we'll need an ark, like Noah, to protect species
from extinction at best. Oh man, what a pest!Teeming in numbers will he
sink the ship on which, traversing time and space, he slumbers?
J:Asleep at the wheel. Whilst time itself doth steal a march on the boat
which flounders on the melting ice-burgs and ice-caps. The wheel turns,
change can't be spurned, evolution sees to that.
C: In darkness man fall over obstacles he himself has placed. He closes
doors on himself in his own face. On the door see written 'blind faith'.
Blow the door down. The words become stepping stones engraved with the
memory you had when enslaved. Entering into the light filled room,
wondering whether it be a tomb or a womb, you are wrong. Duality has
disappeared. It is one! For to be born twice you must die. Duality fades,
you become one with the sky. In spirit torn, born and borne high; moulded
from clay wondering why! One becomes all. Division, duality fall.
Becoming the circumference with no centre, a lonely cloud which doth
wander where the wind blows, fix a star to follow for you have gifts to
show, talents to grow.Yet only through careful cultivation will the world
your fruit know. Seeds in the air may be from flowers or weeds. Selected
to fit societies' needs, is the beauty of a flower not that of a weed?
Propagating with the word in the wind, seeds of time through space spin.
Airiel, heady, you'll be known by your talk, by your walk or gait, for
indeed you have become a gate for others to open at will. Unhinged? Open
to the wind? Transporting memory through a torrent of time into the
future, borne in rhyme accessing the source of water within your well,
listening to the wisdom within which silence dwells, shoulder high, hunch-
backed, flying high true colours to a mast, fix a star to the future to your
poetic last from which ringing words spinning in the future are heard.
J; O, ye gods!
C: Om by Jove! Hear how the sound begins deep within, circulates,
circulating, resounding from the depths as the breath is exhaled, how
vigourous its meaning and all it entails.
J; Love one another in a light-hearted way, enlightened and gay.
C: Gay?
J; Love all, love one, I say. Love the Lord. Seek him out, listen to the
word, or voice of conscience within, which resounds with the love of every
living thing. All life is sacred; everything which lives, exudes love, gives.
Should evil be dealt you, forgive. Should evil you do, reject, no longer
walk that way which you once went. Reflect.Bitter is the taste of love
betrayed.Do not for pieces of silver become enslaved. Follow the
meandering bicameral mind hallucinating as the images through time
unwind whilst the silence is like the crashing of the sea on the sandy shore
where a timeless horizon awaits evermore.
C; We've been waiting for them galls for quite an age. Maybe they're in
some kind o' fix. They need our help to escape, our tricks and wits.
J: Witless they're not! Practical planners making use of what they've got to
ensure the survival of offspring, of a nature, tribal.
C: For all our cunning tricks, fate shalt not be outwitted. A spark spreads a
fire which gets out of hand. War is a scurge which destroys a land. A word
may set a tinder-box aflame.The world may watch, crying out in vain. The
flames rise higher, plumes of acrid black smoke blow from the pyre until
only dust and ashes remain. Dust and ashes where once stood the cradle of
civilizations, now soaked in blood which drains through the sand in floods.
J;Let all voices be heard, considered, by the leaders of this global village.
Let all seek to grow the opportunities for the poor and meek.
J:A cradle where highways once met, ideas grew with the mixing of
cultures which the cradle once knew.Amid the cauldron of emotions words
flew through the silence anew to communicate the hallucinatory
experience man sought to designate, transmit through time, using his wits,
with wit, wile and craft in art that his voice may stand, apart, be heard,
midst the silence spun verb which clothes the king and common folk, for
the word is contagious, borne in hope-filled dreams, desires, screened!
C: Addictive too, a garden of grace, flowers and scents beneath an ever
changing sky, songbirds sing as a river flows by. Mental constructions
mathematical in form add to reality shaped by the images it reflects as
light slants and slides, as through the heavens stars and clouds glide.
Immersed in such beauty, creating afresh, in search of the images
reflecting the self, pictures are transformed from words. Images glisten
among the silences heard. Through silence contact is made, with a deeper
self where plans are laid. Hark, the gods speak. Helping the individual
reach the goals which he seeks. Thirsty, astride a well, asking a woman to
draw water one waits. Through a deep contact with the universe wisdom
replies. Understanding and comprehension twinkle in her eyes. Pallas
Athene smiles with such grace that being elsewhere would be hard to face.
For Ulysses is everyman, questing home. Crossing seas of adventure,
alone.Listening to the gods, the ways he perceives. Unknown is the future
and the fates which it weaves. Listening in the present, aware, awakened to
reality as it flows, searching for words of wisdom one seeks to know.
Contemplation brings rewards. Insight is earned from the experience
taught, in the words and silences which can not be bought. Humbly
requesting the gods for their aid, helping one another in the exchange.
'O, I get by with a little help from my friends, O, I get high with a little
help from my friends..' one hears, 'mother Mary's words of wisdom'
ringing in one's ears.
J:Raging the flames which burn in your bones yet the fire contains!
Strike a light and you're gone in song, unrestrained!
Perhaps you're ear, better to hear, should be trained!
Why the flight, metaphysical fight, pray disdain.
Scientifically proceed to analyse your needs if must you dare
opening tombs, examining wounds, take care
that the past doen't bite at last, don't breathe such poisonous air
climb hills where love spills and languish there
breathing deep waking in sleep love life everywhere
drink it to the lees, trust what thy sees for e'er.
C;For air? For her? The White Goddesse thy seek
humble and burdened thyne 'I' seeks flight
Fantasy unfolding second sight
where dreams unravel silent scenes
encircled snake like in the grass
unrolling with the waves which crash
upon the shore, where sea-gulls wheel, your
dreams take you where they will
while, you lie still, cloud-struck, dumb
founded in the symphony of life which sings
rings encircling in a trance
those who see the Lord of the dance
play on in the symphonic silent song
love whispers, murmering along
with bubbling air rising through the water
white spray and foam, whilst Pallas Athene
rises from the dark blue sea, Zeus's daughter
smiles with wisdom and laughter
ripples across the sea as mortals thunder
praise and wonder, tradition steeped speech
stoops to plunder the instant flowing free
time splits assunder in the cinematic scenes to be
transported on the waves of memory
rolling with the tide of history, wheeling,
uncoiling, the snake slithers
behind a tree whose roots reach deep
beneath the silvered surface
lit by the moon rising in the distance
mountains stretch up towards the heavens
as on the shore a lonely figure wanders
listening to the sighing of the sea
awe-struck by the beauty and ponders
listening to the symphony with all senses
absorbing the wondrous harmony
silently gazing out to sea.

Hears the silence deep within

the distant moon-landing
flickers brightly on the screen
memory neglects the imaginative scene
men walking there upon the crust
orbiting earth midst space dust
biblical images from childhood learnt
chapter and verse
in the culture growing at the time
transposed now in rhyme
meter and song
so why not too sing along with the flow
letting the words transport us where
the sun leaps in the sparkling; splashing waterfalls with the fish
beneath pines
of love, lingering in the laughter
of smiles

the white goddess speaks

but only the silence replies

J><<hey Chris it seems your poetic licence has unleashed

cinematic scenes recreated from fragments and leaves of yore
history into which you bore
while a well of words casts a spell
of time in which to dwell
in the quest for the core
where truth resides
in the silence which rides
this tail of your
imagination
bringing up the rear i fear
there is more
to this than meets the 'I'
though I can't see why
it should not be so

E;Fuckin' complicated those guys are.Didn't we ask 'em to wait here,

without movin', whilst we were off gerrin the wherewithall? « n » where've
they buggered off to, I'll be blowed.Down the pub? Doubt it- they don't
have the brass.
Sees J & C

E Oh, There you are. 'n' where 've you two luvvy doves been 'idin'?Idlin'
while we 've been out slavin'? A right state y'er in too.

L Yer ne'er drunk are ye?Aw cum on guys.What've we said?

J: Whilst we've been foolosophizing you've been out on the town.
What have you to show for it, what's the news goin' round?
E:Got some stuff, clean needles, cool no?
J; Show!
E: Feast y'er eyes on this, my boy, us chicks ain't we coy.
J; Wow, Now that's a sight for sore eyes which have na seen
the makings of an unmade dream in weeks. I'm parched just to see such
crack sends myself spinning back to the days when I would just lie down
and hallucinate.
C: When two screw a third is always present. In the mind of each, fantasies
stretch and reach through space into the time which now we face.
G: I see that you're still off your rocker. Unbalanced, as ever. Deranged,
disturbed. A side affect of the balls you've curved, cocks sucked, fucked?
C; Hard's the life the journey's run, yet today, right now, I feel it's just
begun. Re-conquering myself day by day, creating ever a new, an inner
way, has 'opened up, say, new vistas within which to play.
J Play?
C: The thing, 'tis so. Besides which all is sorrow 'n' woe. 'Tis best to live
lightly, dance to the tune, of the mountain beneath the full moon.
G; Well it doesna look like yer gonna be stuffin' yer veins wi' this.
C: Aye, vain indeed, I fear I have no need. Walkin' in the light I canna
stumble, feeling a giant, yet humble, aware, awake, to the whispering
snake I flee, into the arms of poetry sweet, all embracing, who sets my
heart racin' with intoxication I am who I am, an also ran, in the race of
humanity flying through space on this vessel which is listing with the
weight capitalism has placed on it. Children diein' every second, disease,
malnutrition rife, war, conflict, strife. What do we do? Laugh? Guffaw!
Wash our hands and ask for more?
E: Hey, guy, cool. What's eatin' you, fool? Do you think we're blind
too?It's just there ain't that much that we can do. The system sucks, that's a
fact! Make it better?You're fucked!
C: Abstain. Refrain. Hold back in check.
J: What the heck!
E: Check?
G: Mate, the dice were cast by others in the distant past. What can we
mortals do but watch and wait a knocking at some inner-gate, which once
opened, we follow into heaven?
J;Or hell. There's no escaping. Us four are together, whatever our wanting.
Enchained to each other we be, though the chains are silent, free we'll
never be. Except...(takes a syringe and fills it from a flacon) ...(holds it up
to the light)...(admires its colour and reflects, tints and hues)... with a wee
drop o' the old elixir. Fixer. Needle sharp and pure, be prepared my vein to
skewer, let thy poisonous venim in, free me from the hell I'm in.
C: Addiction too is but a hook on which to catch a fish.
J: A fish that flies. Flying-fish, just feast your eyes! (Holds up the syringe
and twirls its contents around).
C: The dog, ye gods, he's at it again. When will release come without a pen
to give vent to the flight of fancy through the darkest night? Does it make
you grow, this liquid fire which enflames the desire to break these chains?
J: Chains are for dogs in the street. I am my own master and I'm hungry for
meat. Oh, how I seek to hallucinate. Tangerine dreams and marsh-mellow
skies, a boat on a river, with goodbyes time flies.
C: Goodbyes? Break down the word. Good by es..by yes.Yes. I will, yes.
E: Ulysses, my hero!
C: Penelope my heart. Elope with me for a penny worth of art.
G: Art is for angels who dance on a pinhead in trance. Whirling the
dirvishes dive. Spinning in the dance they jive. Off their rockers, in
dreams. The ways up the mountain are numerous indeed though one never
takes the same path twice, even by mistake!
E: The route which rises is that which descends. Heaven or hell it's the
same bell ringing in the ear. The question is, which note does one hear?
G; Notes did I hear? My ear? My eye? Fay how do you imagine by the
elixir of life in that phial came I to obtain, were it not in selling my good
name, body and soul, to come by the stuff needed to make you whole.
Selling for sex to those who bid high. Fuckin' the cunts 'til they're dry.
Takin' their loot. Do you imagine it's but a hoot?
E: Unleashed the imagination of these dudes sucks. The cocks are up, the
masts, from which they unfurl their sails, freeing the imagination to flights
in gales. The seas are rough.These guys are mental, stuffed with pride,
desire, to see their masts rise ever higher, we galls are up for hire to the
highest bidder, enslaved, we can but wonder, dream, escape, in a word,
hallucinate.
C: You too, the bicameral mind enthralls. Reigns, as logic fails light falls.
(lights dim on set)
Blind are those who can but see themselves facing eternity. The earth, its
fruit and clay, straw and water brought us to this day yet, there's some
ingredient missing.Love's sweet whisper hissing though the winds which
time doth blow, come high water, rain or snow, the word is but a metaphor,
the silence waits, evermore.
Lights return;
The set is empty.
All have disappeared.
Curtain

Act 2

C: Listen to the voice within, confess. Today these words seem full, of
emptiness. Who cares today for spiritual growth. Prayer has withered,
cynicism spread, belief, indeed, fled. With the withering, creativity's dead,
consumers consume what they are fed. Pre-digested, prepacked, self-
contained, commercialisation maintains consumers enslaved to the
machine which they made. Indebted, productivity must be raised. Social
costs are not counted though weighty they be. Individualism has its rôle to
play. Ego's desires know no bounds.Ever-more, faster goes the rounds.
Pollution, the environment, climate change, toxic waste, the list is endless
as is the pace of change, ever accelerating, soon space to invade. The
machine outweighs the silence within.Empty as the tomb, an echo of sin.
Culture has become a product to sell. Best-sellers, top ten, Cannes. A
recipe fits-add the ingredients, wait for the hits.
Once under assault, bombarded, blitzed, the left-hand side of the brain has
surrended, atropiphied, withered and finally died.
Authority once held in high-esteem has been plundered and is hardly seen.
Contracts are negotiated between pairs where once obediance was
heard.Blind-faith, exploitation, misery too, but dignity, respect Man knew.
Savage barbarians now prevail. The concrete jungle and all it entails.
Drugs, prostitution, crime. A civilised society in decline!Egalitarian ideals
may be fine, but where is the work ethic which allows them to shine?
As prayer has perished the gods have fled. Man has been reduced to man,
humility humbled. Fear of the morrow, Nature's grasp is unknown in a
factory plant where machines dictate the optimal performance to date.
The consumer is king.The gods, once enslaved to man, have gone. For
gods could be supplicated, called, appeased. Mortals knew how to handle
them with prayer and gifts, seeking to please. Dependent on friends,
friendship taught bonding thought.Ideas were shared, energies spared.

J;Confess.See the power which flows from the word.The authority of he

who hath heard!What power he holds.Silence.Do what you're told.Obey!
Sin no more, walk in the light of day, no obstacles to find, barring your
way.
C;Except those in your mind, placed their by yourself, when blind to the
existence of the bicameral mind.
J;Two in one, so to speak. Good and evil, heaven and hell, opposites unite.
In the union, beauty perceived to be true.
C: Perception's deception announced by the fool.
J; Who sees the sun going down, and the world going round.
C; Who?
J: Hear the power of song, hear the words resonate as we sing along, the
sequence of words memorized in song. Oh troubadores, to what tradition
you belong! On an i-pod can be stored many thousands of songs,
melodious music which flows through the culture which grows.
C: Capitalism promotes an earth which is flat.Egalitarian. Where's the
problem in that?
J; Egalitarian? A concept of Math. Can all be measured by stats.?
C: See the light. Open the door.The question of numbers won't worry no
more.
J: Be content, you're poor, know your place, occupy some inner space
which lies elsewhere, in the confines of the mind?
C: Imprisoned, yet free. How many paths cross the sea!
J;Yet the final destination is on some lonely shore.
C: Appreciate the amazing miracle of the world which we share before it's
too late!
J: All ya need is love, love is all ya need. What message could be stronger
than that, like?
C; Yer, right, see how yer say it impacts what yer gonna say, like.Like
Received Pronunciation. Received wisdom. Know whar I mean, like?Like
the Queen. Head of the Anglican church. Why? Like Prince Phill an' da
Dalai Lama are not exactly bussom twins. It's like creativity creates a
machine, which grows, matures, dies. Like culture, like.Like a plant.'T's
only natural, like.Just flows.'N' yer know wha'? These big institutions, like,
they've got a vested interest in the status quo 'cos' they're enjoying the life
o' Riley. Number One. The tops. 'N ' they wanna stay there, so's they sets
the rules to make sure they do, but there are like loopholes 'n' sea-changes
'n' stuff so they lose their grip on power. Things fall apart, like. The centre
cannot hold. See whar I mean, like? Mere anarchy. Right. 'Cos' the
machine moves on. Like empires are built on slaves. Egypt, Greece, Rome,
the States. Then comes emancipation. Luddites. But it's too late. Once an'
ideas sewed, it's off, in the wind, like G.M.
J:General Motors?
C Crops. Genetically Modified. Seedless. Like raisins. See whar, I mean,
like, Algennon old boy? Dolly the sheep. Growing stem cells. So wha'. It's
LIFE! To be shared, unsparingly!
J It's like The Bible isn't one book, but many. Written at diiferent stages of
the human race. But life extends beyond the circumference of the void.
The limits of the word are infinite. Its echo too.
C; Yer Wha'?
J; Language is organic. Lives. Words come 'n' go. Ya, Oui. Intermingle,
melt. The river of time carries all in its course.
C:Oh Aye. Steady as she goes! Equilibrium. Balance. Weighing the words
with the silences heard!
J; Creation. Life. From what well does it spring, its source? From the well
which our batteries may be resourced? Re-charged up from the emotions
deep, where oceans of energy meet. Opposites unite, love swings on a
hinge of time, throughout eternity man has sought the divine, within,
reflected in song. Sought to explore, looking for more answers to questions
posed, seeking to know.

Nowhere Man, please listen

you don't know what you're missin'
The world
is at your command

Doesn't have a point of view

Knows not where he's goin' to
Isn't he a bit like me an' you.......
Sang the sirens, as the cyclopse listened, a tear in his monstrous eye
as he coveted his cavern from which there was no escape. Ulysses an ' his
man, listened, sought aid from the gods, prayed.
A solution sought, appeared. A strategy was devised, deployed. Escape!
The cyclopse met his fate! Such greed. Always give succour to those in
need. Welcome the strangers who pass. One of them will await you. The
angel of death with his scythe. For one day you will become death's bride,
wedded for e'er to the clay cold earth from which thou was't raised, like an
ear of corn, then flayed.
In between times listen to birdsongs, oh the wisdom they hold is a wisdom
long gone. Yet hark, take note, heed the music as through the air it doth
float on the breeze by the brook. Hark the music of love! Let it lighten
your load, shine in the night, empower the imagination with flight!

C: To exist, be perceived, perceive an awareness without, and within,

the universe outside the frail shell within which we sleep, and within the
depths where the mind doth meet illusions, phantoms, constructions of the
mind which do all but rival those seen outside which change, moving,
shifting with the wind. Struggling one must plot a course,betwixt the two,
fix a true North, to follow e'er the tide, o'er which thy boat must ride in
silence, movin' forth,rising, falling with the waves which wash, whilst all
the while keep watch, keep a weather-eye upon the breeze and sky. Hark
the movement of the wash, the birds, the fish. For all is changing, all
moves on, fixed in words the image has gone, and so the words themselves
do fail to express the instant in the gale which blows, from whence to
where, no one knows.

J: If Bad Faith be painting an image one knows to be fake, should one

reflect first, then create? For in the creation much is revealed, though truth
and falsehood themselves be concealed. Be Bad Faith uncaring, deceipt,
then little will come of the picture we paint. Falsehood unmasked by truth
will be, as good and evil fall from the same tree. Consequences yet to be
will unfurl, as the unfurling stem of a fern.
C: Since consequences carry into the future, why tarry, wait, admire the
instant afore 'tis too late! Hark the birdsong. Love others and let love carry
all along in its wake. Heed the silence within, open the gate of the
imagination and ride, surf sky and tide in dreams, breathe the intoxicating
air, high in the realm of nowhere!Paradise lives in the now, and how!
Consider all that seems to be real, touch it, believing what you have heard.
Once having touched, follow the flight of birds in the sky, rising and
falling without wondering why. Just live, smile, witness life, bear
testimony to being in peace, free of stife. Peacefully reflect and weigh. In
peace go thy way. Throughout the day give thanks to the Lord. Let peace
and understanding follow the word.

J: Foget the instant, time is a flow, the instant, time does not know.
The flow is continuous, time never stops. Be alert and attentive, take a turn
on the watch. Attend, wait. Consequences will be forthcoming; open the
gate. To circumnavigate the world, a baton take. Observe its shadow turn
with the world, never stopping an instant, like the flight of a bird!Pause a
while, wait, observe time flee through the gate!There's no sign except
memories, to witness the passing of time! Seasons come and go and to
each a time to know. Linear, circular, how can time be defined, when when
we search, time we can't find, for its gone, in the wink of an eye, passed
by. Attend its passing, be it not too late!

C: What madness drives hallucinating. When a ship of fools lies waiting,

be it some strage desire to embark, upon a journey, in the dark, to see, as
dawn breaks, a new territory beond the sea? A landscape, pure, where, lost
in thought, the truth doth lure the ships fog-bound into a realm of light to
explore, within, soul searching, exploring tunnels, caves? To know!
Discover, uncover, upturn?
J: Upturn? Over-throw? Sounds subversive. Hast thee on to this been
pressed by gangs, co-ersed, to row, enslaved,to verse. Be it a vice, a
weakness of the mind; Some inability to conentrate, focus on the job in
hand.
C! As tourists visit foreign lands, bring back souvenirs, the exploration of
which I speak is an adventure to create anew man. Transform through hard
labour, mental effort, grow new skins to shed, for groth is not just inside
the head. Then return with what has been found, bringing to light that
which lay underground, for Man's common good. Perhaps its gold, or
wood, or vain, words which will end up in a roadside ditch to rot; become
the loam; of tomorrow's consciousness in which my mind, perhaps with
others will roam.
Subversive, let's expolre the word. What can be found in what we've
heard?
Subvert, convert, overt seem related. Where is one going, tending towards?
Be it open, with others or underground? Is the goal to destroy the temple?
Within three days it will be raised. Culture grows, it can not be enslaved.
Seeking freedom to express, daubing fish upon doorss to avoid the angel
of death. See how the metaphor, the words change, to express what is
universal, the same. A landscape of the mind, within, where dreams create
space to live in. A land of milk and honey.Bliss. Yet bombs drop, bullets
fly, for words such as these. Subversive indeed for can one change the
machine built, guide its direction, where its heading to, by being part of the
machine one belongs to? Those in command their seats they wish to
keep.Pass on to offspring who may leap at the chance to try their hand at
corporate governance or international affairs of state. There's plenty of
room to speculate! Dictated to by the laws of the market,, Smith'sinvisble
hand holds fast the fortunes of millions past from one generation to the
next, all status quo seeking, to survive. Fit perhaps, cultivated to rule.
Driven by market forces, suffering not fools.
Yet the machine does not take social costs into the equation. Pollution is a
case in point. Tomorrow bill will land, preferably in a foreign land where
labours cheap. Children working for peanuts, a family to keep. Sending
money home-following models of development we in the West once used,
who can blame whom?
Driven by greed, profit, exploiting, , sellers of doves from the temple were
sent home sulking. Desire for personal gain stood on the spot where the
creative side, religion, in the bicameral mind should. Hollywood! Box-
office block buster. Pulitzer prize winner. The masses to enthrall. Export
earning culure spreading dreams, the American screen. 'I have a dream'
'Yes, I can.', in Iraq, Aphganistan? Hey Man. Ye gods!Lend a hand.
So I do. Subversively its true. Solzenitsin, Hugo too knew the price for
dissidence, annoying the few at the helm of the ship with which they had
been entrusted. Yet the compass they had had rusted. Times had changed.
A new direction needed. New grains.
For culure never dies, for the seeds blow in the wind. Dissent spreads.
Ideas take wing with the worrd passing frontiers, heard.
Satellite T.V;, internet, the landscape is shifting in a technological leap.
Hopefully the imagination will be as fleet!
Changing from below. In the sub-conscious mind the seeds of culure do I
sew. Watered by wisdom will they grow? Flower? Bear fruit? Seed? Take
root? Spread? Who knows, I myself may well be dead. Shot for
subvertively trying to divert the direction the ship of fools was about to
take. Grabbing the helm from the Captain's grasp, wrestling with money-
lenders on the temple steps. Who knows? Yet I care. For this planet is so
beautiful, surrounded as it is by air. Water enough it contains. Managed
sustainably perhaps it could be tamed! An oasis or watering place for the
spirit to enjoy as it travels through space. A stepping stone for the human
race to enjoy, not destroy, in peace.
Why cry out? Why write? Ask the prophets what drove them yo shout?
Ravaged by madness, hallucinating, after all , who will listen ? You, my
friend, might here, speak to another. Transmit the light to another. Thus,
the lord of the dance goes on, the music never stops, and the Lord has
gone, listening to the silence within the yet to be created word.
J: How?
C: Coming out in the open, the wibbly, wobbly, web. Freely, for nothing,
my load to shed.
J: Thoughts to spread. Ideas cost lives. Suicidale? Midnight at noon?
Paradise?
C; Casting pearls before swine ? Runes in rhyme? When there are so many
Fatwahs decreed, who'd draw the line, for such a small seed.
J: They don't make diamonds the size of bricks. Beware the rose, that thorn
pricks.
C; I see the dilemma, and other avenues to explore. Collective suicide, for
example, may well be in the genetic store of genes with which we have
been endowed. In which case GM human genes might well be preferred.
J: Science Fiction?
C; A possible track. A.C.Clarke, H.G.Wells, to name but two developed
ideas which were later to come true!
J Strange this bent for rhyme.
C; Keeps the words flowing, all the time there's a rythm dictating the pace.
Then there's a need to find a new face to put on the coin, whose name is
lust, and is born from the loins and dust!
J; Vanity be spared. In search of a new identity- a writer of the word, poet,
prophet, how indeed will you cloak it. The message you past must be
easily digested, be it to last!
C: Words in the sand were writ. The sea rises, the pyramids crumble, ideas
along the silk road tumble and turn. Instructed, informed, man progresses
and learns. Standing on the shoulders of giants others have stood, for all
help one another to escape the flood, the fall, the collapsing wall allowing
barbarians to strike, in the darkness of an unknown night. For culture is
local, located in time. Hence the need that words flow in rhyme, unread,
for whoever reads this must surely be off his or her head or rocker.
J; That's not so sure.Who can tell a tale so well turned, surely will not be
spurned by those in the know. Why not, this seed, fling and sew?
Scattering words, scatter brain, all you need now is a little rain for the idea
to germinate. Take root.Then wait!

C; Wait?
J; Of the fairer sex must we consider? What has't become of them, why are
they not here, with us to celebrate, to cheer, the victory of what we hold
dear?
C; Dear?
J: To the heart. Survival determines the strategy from the start. Long-term
aims, goals, carved in silence, in stone or sand, it matters not by whose
hand the words were writ, for in the awakening lies the script. Do thy bit.
Follow the stars. Awareness resides 'twixt Venus and Mars.
C; The girls? Which star did they fix? Which side of the brain dicatates
their tricks?
J; Why?
C; Such questions considered reveal as much as the quest. Be merry, jest.
J; Sub-merged, lost, lacking light, trapped in a world where there is no
escape other than seeling one's flesh. Butchered, can one be less than a
beast, unaware, of the pain of not being born where money flowed in a
vein untapped, where love glowed warm with the sun, warming the
meadow with the silence unsung, time yet to travel a distance unknown,
words yet to be sewn in the soil from which roots spring, searching
sustenance, the yang and the ying.
C; The choice is made.It doesn't matter. The table is laid, carts dealt.
Waiting to be played. Where are the actors who the show made?
Where are the props, the costumes, the rôles, the words, in short, the
public. For without spectators what weight is the word, be it spoken in
silence yet go unheard? For actors themselves the audience perceive.The
fee paying public they know they must please to sleep sound. The despotic
power flows round.
E ; Costumes we have beyond recognition. Let the fee paying public cheer
in admiration. We have strolled the streets. Destinies multiple need we
meet. Survival requires escape into the netherworld where we do what we
hate. Elsewhere we exist.Men take the pleasure, can we resist, when
enslaved to the machine which devours, consumes, engraves?Soldier on
we must, in the imaginary quest where lust enthralls, love stalls.
G :Bringing up the rear. Some choice! Hark? Heed? I hear no voice other
than lust, crying for more in the dust. Pity. Is there room for the meek in a
world where power is what all seek? Domination? Silence be damned!
Ever more vanity with which the world will be crammed to explode, burst,
as all desire to come first. Number One! Egos an' all.
J; The needles?
C; Nape's needle awaits to be climbed, in the Alps they are to the forefront
of the mind. Elsewhere, doubtless, they are not inclined to thrust their
challenge to man's lust for adventure, desire to climb higher than the spire
which waits, the wind turning, the shadows to abate.
J; Yet in the climbing, the challenge doth stretch. In the learning,
knowledge be fetched from the well within. Hark. Heed that tinkling!
Of what doth it tell? Ask not for whom the bell tolls. The puzzle is a jig-
saw which time juxtaposed!
C; Waiting by a well did a man request that water be drawn to quench his
thirst. A woman replied, with an intuitopn of the universe in the smile in
her eyes she divined.
J: Divined?
C: That the water was clear. The truth in the tinkling that she could hear.
For the silence foretold, past, present and future turning on old hinges
which squeaked, wept, for time in the silence crept, stole a march, was
gone. Change ever constant flow on!
J; Feel the energy flow. In touch with the source, let go. With the current
become one. Lost in the movement, flow on.
C: Taste the water so pure which flows from the well, as pure as the sound
of a ringing bell. Make a wish. For the water so pure encapsulates bliss.
Cleansing, refreshing slaking one's thirst. Blessèd be the water which
flows to the sea. Without water what would become of humanity?
J; Without wisdom,without prayer, oh ye gods, show me the stairs!
A lady...by a brook, by a tree, climbing a stairway to heaven ...Oh, it
makes me wonder....
C; Stevie Wonder,
J ; What strength is contained in sea shanties sung by the enslaved?
Escape! In dreams fligh. High.
E; Hi. (enters)We were waiting but you guys never showed. What kept
you? What load?
J The road was both winding and long. Shortened it was by our singing
along. Together making light. A lamp in the night shines forth. Saving
from stumbling one knows what it's worth!
E:A light in the window may shine, a symbol of the bicameral mind?
Escaping reality in the realm of dream flee those who society were rather
not seen. The excluded, the poor, the dispossessed, those forced to work
the street, the meek, beggars, thieves, the deformed. See how Christ
welcomes them all with open arms. All embracing, towards each facing,
through time which flows with the water from the well that women know,
in close contact with the universe, through giving rise to life in childbirth,
nourishing seedlings from the earth.
G: Artists who in their work create, in their creations escape.wandering
through the labyrinth of the meandering mind, amazed at the wisdom of
the blind. Gifted with insight, extra-ordinary perception, amazed at the
beauty of the universe's reflection, man's power, desire, self-destruction.
For whom the bell tolls, whose hour hath come, let the will of the world be
done.
E: The world?
G; The word. All those with a voice to voice.
E: The silent majority sleeps. Those who revendicate, speak.Throw stones.
Break bones.
G: Bones break. To ashes, dust, through hate.Cast not pearls before swine.
The future cometh, what will it bring? None know, yet sing!
E; Consider the future, consider her ways.Consider the nest which a couple
of birds build to raise their young. Soon the nest is empty, the offspring
sprung, released by the power of flight, the future to meet on the wing!
Yet whilst in the air do they sing!
G: Then praise the power of love, and sing! For songs of praise the spirit
raise. Tears flow.Emotions welled up within spill out in song.As life flows
then sing along!

E: Sing, muses, sing. For your songs make, me, not I them.
Composition trains the mind to speak the words which otherwise it would
not seek. Re-collecting, re-arranging thoughts in a search for clues to the
process which brought one hear, listening to the voice in one's mind dicate
the words flowing onto the screen in haste lest they disappear from the
brain, yet which sphere, or orb, they spring from is vague, endowed with
music they sing as they praise.
Yet without song what could one express?
Emotion, tenderness comes from the heart
May it be plucked by the Muses' art
that we cry, tears welling up, as the song floats by?
Scenes and songs memory doth store
How can one forget those first hits,
at the time of first love and first kiss
when the teens tore, wrenching the self to the fore?
Oh how songs make us to what we are,
Our attitude shape,
allowing in words feelings to escape
free the mind from the drudgery of the bind
in which one waits, a prisoner within one's own gates
by the well from which wisdom flows
be it sourced, sought in song
Drink from the creative act. Sing along!
Divine words heaven sent in rhyme
in music and melody sublime
freeing the heart so one feels fine
catching the rythm, stepping in time
to the tune which dictates
the flow of the words one awaits
to discover the path which they weave
through the consciousness in which we live
bubbling up voices sing
as we follow in vain the ring
in the song which erupts
like a volcano, from the depths of us
the guts which give birth
to the gods which walk on earth
in dreams, hallucinated
through the means which create
the creator who doth undertake
the journey to capture
the Muses who free themselves through rapture
as we listen entranced whilst we dance
they escape, we wait
the sound of the lyre
waxing lyrical in words which we won't tire
to sing, in hymn, we praise
psalms raise words of wisdom which guide
freeing those who Egypt fled
across the desert and sea which is red
in the words inscribed
in the heart, which the Muses inspired
making a people, a culture which spread
in the mingling music which fed
the imagination and flew
into the future anew.
C/ Hark the songs which Ginsberg, sings, note the notes on muses' wings
which soar in praise, note psalm 1 in which he says « But tlury nnoe
of teshe is aouccblatne for the mitsejac fwlas of mnid whcih hvae lfet my
biarn oepn to hoitnaicualln. »
G: One imagines constants - Change takes place – Death approaches –
Creates space- A void- Devoid of meaning, metaphors-yet Man(thought)
exists inside the word. Makaks dream, to them the world is as it doth
seem-they can articulate-emotions, fear, joy- yet there is no 'I' to reflect an
eye, nor aye!
E: In a coma, unconscious, where is the Man who once thought, spoke in a
language now forgot? Which side of the brain has declined to express what
there is not?
G; No thought? Slumbering, aye, whilst the brain restores the all seeing
eye which roves, rewiring the network that nature grows. Tissues restored,
awareness returns, expressionless a desire to communicate burns in the
embers of the soul.
E: The sole? Oh Ka! Perhaps it's in the double where we are! Potter's
wheel molded by Mother Nature, the Maker, turned on the disc, rotated in
time, from clay borne mist, life infused, with love igniting the fuse, from
which passions spring forth, regenerating that first birth, burst of energy
which all share, though it can not be seen, it floats through the air, on
wings, dove-like,angelic, and sings in the flowers of spring, the bursting
buds of May, the running brook, the smell of hay, a ship's horn in the fog,
an entry in the Captain's log.
C: For logging one's thoughts as they spring to be keyed feeds a must
which we need to forge an identity, an idea, in a word struck nowhere, for
the poet's last exists in thin-air long-gone, flown the coop, for words are
like swallows migrating in loops, looping the loop, beginning again the
end in the wake for the ladder follows the snake in the rise and the fall,
love, riding waves of emotion, all.
E;See the sea.Gulls on the shore. Hear them communicate, What for?
C; Survive! Only the fittest are fit to ride, surf the waves which wash, on
the shore of the present foam flecked tide.
E; Yet the lame see! Unburdening the hunch-back sings his ballad in song,
the burden has gone, in his eye he is strong, for his aye doth go on and his
'I' doth belong, thus he sees, creates anew through the thong which singing
along be transformed by the song, hallucinating, and is gone.
G: Water evaporates. Substance transformed. Recreates equilibrium. All
returns from whence it came. The spirit sings, the songs the same, with
different keys, words, rhymes and rythms. For the metaphor exists where
consciousness subsists.
J:Within Man's bicameral mind. Let imagination find outlet, escape, in the
desire of Man to create.
E: Coupling is required, mate.
C: Check-mate? A mast? A tunnel past?
Moving pieces on life's chess board, playing against one's self moves
memory stored which shapes the future moves one makes for one has
learnt indeed from the errors one made. Word-forged!The maker makes,
creation creates!
J; Hark the silent picture hanging in the void!
C; Picture imagined in childhood, seen before being understood,
unquestioned. Blind faith requisitioned in the construction of the 'I'.
J:Zeus, Bon Dieu!Sacré Bleu! Hercule. Récule mon vieux, récule!
Vers où tu menes cette barque, philommène?
C Ya. Si, Damn Oui! Noona!
J; c'est du patoi,ça!
C, The language of the land which raised the words on which we graze.
Language feeds ideas we need to grow, sew. In the mind's eye grow.
Cultivation is an art. Cultures don't grow in the dark. Conditions need be
met. The desire to communicate, the appetite wet.
Jwhet? The mind sharp, for word play, sword like, in the dark, with but
ideas to illuminate, indicate the moves we make?
C: See the whetstone made of grit. Take your sword and sharpen it! For in
the debate's cut and thrust, feel the spinning power of love.
E; The yang and the ying are enclosed within!
C: Let duality clash! Pick up the pieces from the mess.Re-arrange the
letters of the alphabet and wrdos yulol otbian.
J;Oh how mysterious is the brain! By Jove we have yet to hear it's last
word!c; Sing on in song, Venus and Mars will sing along!
C Yes gods!
E; Of mice and men.
G; Farewell to alms?
E; Alms?
C: Give, charitably, to live! Expecting naught in return, you'll be rewarded
thricefold should you learn to give, receive, live!
G: See the beggar with stumps for feet. How else can he eat? Yet so few
give a doit!
E; Doit?
G;Shakespeare quothe I!
C; Words flee fast, like time. Change is constant, coated in slime it slips
beyond the grips and grasp of words which can not hold it fast,'tas gone,
fled, leaving the words stone dead.
E; Brain-dead? A cabbage? A body hooked to a life-support machine.Is
there a spark of life? A dream to be seen? Detect? A flickering eye-lid in a
body wrecked by a boot from a lout, seeking money for drugs, one mid-
summer's night?
C; What booty be this? Thirty pieces of gold for a single kiss?
E;Brass. Located where muck is! For culture and civilisation hath come to
this. A boot put in, a person robbed, not of his life ,not yet, for the life-
support machine turneth.
C;In vain.The victim will ne'er be the same!
E;Victim is he that doth accuse! He robbed himself of his humanity when
violence he chose to use!
C: He chose it not.Alcohol-fuelled drugs began the rot!
Poor housing, brought up in the streets, little love in his life did the looting
victim meet!
E;Love!
C;A flow. For spiritual love then a higher being one must know. A parent
state. Kingdom, realm, a higher power at the helm.
E; The vessel?
C;Lieing in a hospital ward, in silence, not a word!
E; Perhaps he can sing? Maybe, one day! The brain's such a complex
machine! Perhaps it depends on love flows.
J; Explain.
E; Flows which energise, transmit, love, bit by bit.
J; Computer speak, illucidate.
C; Re-arrange the roads repaired so that the circle may be squared, ideas
flow, through the brain so the 'I' doth know itself in speach, to others
communicate, reach and touch, perceive, and perceiving, believe. Thus
returning to a state, kingdom, of consciousness, where the king is the
parent of whom Eric Berne did sing.
J:Hello, waht do you say? I lend ear, speak, I pray.
C: Goodfellow may it not be thus, that consciousness is a state within us?
J;Flow.
C: A stream. Words bubble to the surface, seem.
J:To exist.
C; They do, but only in the state.
J;Of consciousness. I grasp thy thread. But what if the brain be dead.
C;That term means naught. Under-repair be better.
E;What if the damage be such, that even the repair won't result in much?
C:A cabbage.
J; Should we pull the plug?
C; Why? Doth the body not serve as a museum piece, though still
breathing, to what society has become through weavin' words with gold in
a tapestry where words have been under-sold.
J.Discuss.
C; Devalued, debased.Spiritual life effaced. Gold idols built.
J; Yet the bicameral mind must hallucinate.
C; Drug fuelled since words lie dead. Language has been lost.Hear how
people communicate.
J; Pray.
C; They do not!
J; You don't say. But this is nothing new, dear fellow, have you not heard
the news today, oh boy? How many holes doth it take to fill the Albert
Hall?
C; Indeed. Man's destruction is sewn within the seed!
E; For the cycle doth flow. Day follows night, and so doth it go!
G; What language is this? I can't get my head round it!
C; Words betray the thought which lies whilst man resides in the skies he
paints, a tapestry of words which wait.
J:Weight?
C; Duality once again 'tis thus. For flows to flow there must be two of us.
J; Two in one?
C; And a third. To hear the word!
E; Created monster of the deep! To hear thy voice first we must speak!
J. Not so loud. Poseidon doth sleep.
C; In truth he doth. Not a movement, motion has come to us whilst at his
bedside we've been. The gods are dead, they fled unseen the night the boot
went in 'n' now yon chap lies in a dream.
E; An endless night, since words themselves took flight!
C; Oh Ka! Is this the state in which we are? Civilization? Peace and love?
I'm hallucinating, by ye gods above!
G; 'Tis true, internet confirms the attack took place, the assailant fled when
Samaritans he faced.
C; Oh strangers who pass, be ye angels in disguise? Sent to show us our
ways, our wiles, save us after a night on the tiles?
J Saviour?
C; Did he cross the street? Speak? To any meet? Or did those who
witnessed hallucinate? Touch? Perhaps this word-play is falling apart at
the seams!
E; Ragged and frayed. The tissues worn to a thread! Patched! Will it last as
a loin cloth to cover manhood's needs, quothe the serpent as it slipped
through the leaves on the tree, rooted in the sub-conscious bicameral
nature of humanity flowing free.
J; Can the centre hold? Wisdom regained is never lost. All comes in handy,
but at what cost?
E; The planet's population is unfolding, will the vessel last? Where's the
destination, the next port of call, who are the passengers, when began the
fall?
C; Questions the future will have to face, has faced since the beginning of
the human race
E; Against time.
G. Flowing in the moment divine. Divine. Shine.
C; Like Helfgott when the Rach Three he played. For by a woman, his
career had been saved. Writ in the stars, so 'twas siad, shine on you crazy
diamond, inside my head!
J; For the echo speaks. Evoke the words, the wisdom's message leaps to
the fore, though the events were of yore.
C; Imagintion.
J; Imagine all the people, living for the day. I wonder if you could.
C; Imagine!
J;Just!
C; Wow!
J; Hallucinating!
C;Right on, man, right on!
J; Unreal.
C;Surreal. André Breton. Dada. Kadinsky
J;Go with the flow.
C; Picasso.
J;Bacon. All up there, with the gods!
C; Lord help us! Look where we trod!
J; In the clouds, where the fool on the hill sees the world going round!
C: Day after day.
J Somethings are better unsaid.
C; Turn off the machine. He's dead!
E(Screaming) No.......................................Wait.................
There's a chance of survival.Still it's not too late.
I saw an eye-lid flicker. He's beginning to come round.Hallucinate!
C; In dreams? Be it so? He seems ….
(Lights go off. Audience hear the breathing of the sea, its unfolding and
unfurling waves washing the shore. Silence.)
Screams. Laughter.
M.What is this place, so cold and clammy? The very walls are soaked with
sweat. Will I escape? What next?

Stage directions; Lights return.

On stage; a hospital bed & patient.Hooked up to a life-support machine.
Judge. Prisoner in the dock. How do you plead?
Prisoner; Not guilty, my Lord.
Judge; Mitigating circumstances?
Prisoner. I was off my head at the time. Dunna recall a thing.
Judge. Nothing?
Prisoner.Silent. Thinks.Not a thing, your honour.
Judge;Mmmm. Thinks. Five years. Unprovoked assault. Community
service. Remand after three.Sound of a hammer blow.
Music. Bang bang Maxwell's silver hammer went down upon his head,
bang bang he was...(fades)
Judge: Next.
Cries of shock, horror!
Judge: Silence in court!

Stage directions.
Flash guns going off in the dark. Confetti falls from the ceiling, littering
the audience and the stage.
A mirror descends at the back of the stage.
The audience see themselves.
The lights dim, go out.
Lights return.
Lots of mirrors (smaller in size, mobile on strings) appear falling from
above the audience, around the audience, on the stage(whichever possible).
Audience now sees images of itself, light colours changing, hallucinating.
Sound of waves crashing on sea shore.
This is the end of the play. There is no returning of the actors & bows etc.
The audience is free to sit, absorb, listen & reflect, or leave.
The actors have gone round to the exit./entrance door. Thanks.Flowers.
Smiles etc.take place there!!!as the audience drift away in dribs 'n' drabs.
End.