Why is it so real?
Because it’s not allowed:
denied by the unspoken laws –
Love Laws!
Who loves who;
and how;
and how much…
Cannot just love away,
away with love
like a rapid stream.
Cleanse us all
of this incurable infection!
Deeply wounded
grounded deeply
pulsating and producing,
love-chemicals sinking
and sunk.
Side by side we lie –
similar in many ways –
but different still.
Simple and straight;
close enough to be together,
together forever…
But never quite joining.
We’ll never be one
(as much as I want it)
as much as I feel I need it:
we’ll always be apart
but always there…
Right next to each other:
never leaving;
never straying apart.
Equidistant feelings
between the slopes of
emotions,
struggles,
joys,
heartbreaks.
We can never touch;
we can never meet up:
there’s no point…
So I’ll be here forever,
by your side
infinitely in both directions,
never distancing myself from you
because I am what I am
only because of you.
how do you move on
on from the top
the best feeling
feeling of happiness
feeling of belonging
feeling of acceptance
how do you move on
when you feel so attached
attached at the apex
apex of passion
apex of care
apex of talent
how do you move on
when the heart holds you back
the mind confused
confused of the feelings
confused of the future
confused of the implications
how do you move on
on from the best
faithful leaps into unknown labyrinths
labyrinths of darkness
labyrinths of insecurity
labyrinths of fear
How do you move on?
When it’s so close you can feel it –
but you can’t actually feel.
When it’s almost real it seems impossible –
but really it is.
When it feels so right and real –
but it can’t be real from one side.
When you see every sign that shows it will happen –
but those signs aren’t for you.
When you think it’s your time –
but it’s your time to be denied.
When?
But?
Only time will tell but
slowly
it will wither you away
and hope will
gnaw
gnaw
gnaw
…
Coffee bean brown galaxies
eat all they see.
Process and perceive
the kaleidoscope world:
stained glass
of hate
and love.
I walk into their field
and they blink – disturbed.
Slowly, slowly adjusting
their centres to this
new shape in their universe.
Careful and weary:
they have burned from
salty tears too many times…
Adjusted to the new light –
bright and refreshing.
Coffee bean brown galaxies
sparkling in the presence;
trusting and no longer searching for fault lines.
A smile carved neatly by trust and friendship
into the gaze.
Gaze of giving.
Gaze of care.
Gaze of truth.
The changed gaze of invite
into the galaxy of warmth.
A man stands with a packed suitcase next to him or behind him. He stares out into the distance obviously thinking hard. He is wearing a jacket.
At first, I loved her and she loved me. Loved me. Loved me. She made me so happy. I never thought that I’d find that kind of love. I was prepared to settle down with someone I mildly liked. But she changed that. And slowly she started to change me. I was once brave and bold albeit a bit sceptical of love’s role in my life.
It’s been fifteen years now and three children later… And I cannot take it anymore. You know now days how you hear about how bad patriarchy is? Don’t get me wrong, I support feminist views and I believe in equality. But little thought is ever given to the minorities like me who suffer at the other end of the scale.
You see this suitcase? It’s packed. (He picks up the case, seemingly ready to leave.) And I am leaving. (He pauses and stares as he did previous. He then puts down the case softly.) I don’t want to do this to her. But I must. Please don’t judge me. Don’t judge me like her. Don’t tell me I’m a spineless fool. That’s all I ask.
I wear long clothing because of the bruises. This is my favourite jacket. Well, it’s my only jacket. I don’t get much money. (Ashamed.) Well I do, but she takes it all. I didn’t mind it in the beginning. It made her happy and when she was happy I was happy too. But you can’t take away a toy from a child… Especially if that toy is money and that child is a greedy human… (Pause. He is lost in thought now.)
Child. Children. My children… What about them? (He snaps out of it). I mustn’t worry about them. They’ll be fine. (He isn’t convincing). You know, she’s threatened them before… Not to their face but to me. She said if I ever tried to leave her she’d hurt them. And she will. (Getting upset.) Trust me she will. If she can do it to the father of her children she can sure as hell do it to them. (He is now notably upset at the idea of his children being hurt by her.)
I fell for her and I fell hard. But now I realise that I didn’t fall in love… I fell and broke. False happiness hid the bruises. Well, this jacket too. (Pause.) I must go now. (He picks up the case again. He takes a few hesitant steps but then stops and drops the case.) I can’t… I just can’t. (He is now on the edge of a breakdown – tears if possible.) She has me trapped. What am I without her abuse? I’m nobody. She’s right. Without her I’m nobody. I’m useless. I’m, I’m… I’m fucked up. (He gains composure.) I know – I’ll leave tomorrow. I promise I’ll leave tomorrow. Just one more night with the kids… Just one more night.
On stage is a boy holding a weathered book and a pencil that is almost finished. He is sitting down with his legs crossed and is dressed in rag-like clothing.
All I have is this book and this pencil. I mean it. That’s all I have. Well I lie, I have these clothes too but they aren’t much anyway. Look for yourself! Holes everywhere. Much like my life… Missing pieces, ripped edges, filthy marks… It’s quite funny actually that all I have is this book and pencil. (He chuckles.) I can’t write. Or read. Or count very high. But that’s me. I can draw though. Look here! (Standing. He shows the audience a picture he drew – it’s a simple stick family) That’s what I imagine my family looked like. (Pause. He seems a little sad by mentioning family.)
When I said this is all I have I meant it. I have nobody. My parents died when I was still a baby. I have no brothers and sisters – well none that I know of at least. I was raised by an old lady, she had a face like my clothes. That’s all I remember about her – I never knew her name. She left when I was seven. She went to the clinic – she’ll be back. I’ve been on my own since. It’s always been natural for me to find food for myself. I manage. I think I should be bigger by now though… I’m sixteen. I think I’m sixteen at least. When I said that old lady left when I was seven, well that’s how old I think I was. I don’t actually know.
I don’t count days very well… I just draw a picture for every day that I don’t get hurt by them… I haven’t drawn many pictures. When I say ‘them’ I mean the guys who sleep under the bridge. They hurt me whenever they see me with money. And they take the money to buy this green stuff and smoke it. It smells horrible. Sometimes they sniff this white sand. But that’s not often. I just try avoid them, but they always find me. If I have something to give them, I know I won’t be hurt that much.
They also call me names. They tell me I’m worthless scum who can’t even read. But I know that I’m not worthless. Just because I can’t read or write or count properly doesn’t mean I can’t think. I’m good at thinking. I think all day about my parents. I know they loved me. Just like the old lady with the dirty face. (Pause. The emotion shifts to very sad.) I lied when I said that all I remember is her face… I also remember she used to hug me and I felt warm. I want to feel warm again… Why did she have to leave? I want her back. She’ll stop them beating me. She still hasn’t come back from the clinic. Maybe she’s waiting for me there… Or maybe she’s, she’s… (Pause at the realisation she is probably dead.) No! (He cries. He then rips out the page of his family from his book and crumples it up in anger, frustration and sheer desperation.) Why?
flirtatious sensations
ripple
rippple
ripppple
through the stagnant air
and stir along:
Stale Smoke
&
Sweet Surprise
mix in chemical convulsions
ecstasy smelling
cocaine crazy
hallucinogenic happiness
and a cloud of clarity
a reminder tied around your neck
loosely leading toward my heart
please don’t cut it
please don’t cut it
please don’t cut me
Walk out; walk in,
into my restless life:
a lie
a waiting
a lie…
Waiting for you; lying about me.
Let you in;
let me out.
I want to shout!
Hold me close;
hold me far.
I might not die tonight.
Be with me –
complete me.
It’s cold out here
where love don’t shine.
Give me a reason,
stay for a while.
Give me your shirt –
let me inhale your fumes.
It feels so right!
This can’t be wrong.
“Why do you
do so much for
the Blossom-tree?”
“Much? Hardly so!”
“But I’ve seen you at it
day and night;
at the call of the roots of
the Blossom-tree!”
“The Blossom-tree
has taught me much,
I owe it ten-fold its lessons.”
“It seems like all it does is take,
take up your nutrients
and gulp your precious water-hours.”
“I do not see it as so…
For when a tree as beautiful as
the Blossom-tree
is planted in a field near,
it is a blessing, a rare-blessing
only afforded to few in this
brief life-breath.”
“Be careful, I say!
Snakes love the trees of beauty.”
“Being bitten is worth
the blossom-beauty.”
“Don’t let it take on constant-occasions!”
“It is not an act of taking
so much as
the blossom-tree
giving to me in memories
of beauty and
sweet fragrances of life.”
Mr Individualist 