My Bad...

"Don’t swallow your food. Chew it.", the darling mother said. She wanted her child to live long. “Not chewing your food properly, effects your digestion. If you want to live long, you need to chew your food properly". How strange was her love; her wish. How could she guess, that food would be the only reason of demise, in this strange and sordid world without choice.

"You have to listen to your mother", spoke a gentle male voice, “Son."

The day of crumbling had far approached. The rumblings of sin had long been mounting. No deed was right, in its effect. The holy books saved no one from their eventual deaths. The day of judgment is here. God is calling, listen! we have to hear. HE arrived on the scene, the omnipresent, the all knowing; in a great chariot, driven by slaves; his personal disciples; angles we call them. He summoned all to attend.

The vast eternity was too small for his voice. It reached the further ends of the void. Of this universe. Of all being. The earth had become full of evil, so the creator had decided to shut off the seen; seeing. He had had enough! He stood upon some strange psychedelic platform of drifting colors. It seemed like a vast ocean of creativity. Man could have swum in it and discovered; himself. But it would have been blasphemy. You do not share gods knowledge. We were to live in ignorance, for philosophy was a sin. And we had to do good. Because good is the only route to attain the kingdom. But the good was not good, because to understand good we had to attain the knowledge of it. And hence would have sinned. So no one knew what good was. Man was just meant to be manipulated by ignorance. And our great lord was tired, of man’s ignorance.

“Now listen, I summon ye all. To this platform. The day of judgment is here. And all shall leave their bodies. And all souls shall drift towards this place. Ye shall all be judged in a moment. All the souls; the born, the dead and the once to be born. All ye shall be judged. And thy lord, me, shall be just. You can not question my judgment, for ye do not know as I know. And so come forth.”

And so the earth crumbled. And all of life turned to death, and flew, towards the omnipresent. And god started to judge, and condemn. All the holy ghosts struggled and opened the holy gates. Sudden light floated from inside. It filled in the space, it was deafening, loud and arrogant. It seemed to be deaf. It just had its own ways. Where it went was light, and the rest for it was only darkness. This was its understanding. The angels had opened the doors of heaven for those who would tread the stairs.

There were fathers and mother and sister and brothers, waiting in a long cue. All saying that god only knew. There were priests and pastors and communal charters, confident enough to know. The kingdom of heaven was theirs. There were more, but god only knew who they were, for no one knew them. They hadn’t been born here.

And each man’s soul came to the place and all his sins came flying from the deepest corners of some dreadfully dark maze. Alas! The burning world of sin was greatful to the king; the omnipresent. The souls kept flying anew. All were condemned for a reason or two. The stairway lay silent. None reached it as yet. And then came the turn of the gentle father and the mother and the son.

The son was a young boy of 6. His soul was hardly his. He didn’t even know what was going on. Such a pity for someone so small. His father was good and able. Young as he was, had tried to teach his son to be capable. His mother, oh! The caring fountain. The lovely beauty as she was. No sin could come of her. And they stood as a family in the presence of the omnipresence.

“Child ye have sinned! For ye did not listen to your mother.”
“Oh! Lord no forgive him”, cried the mother in agony of the future.
“Woman ye have sinned, for ye do not question my judgment. And ye son of man, the father of this ignorant child, and husband to this immoral woman, ye have sinned aswell, for ye took to scold your son. When in creating ye I made a gentle creature, never to harm. Ye have sinned for ye raised your voice”.

“Is there anything else my lord, that I have sinned for, or my family?”

“No ye have sinned no more. Ye have kept better then the others. But ye have sinned non the less, and did not repent. Ye did not lament after ye had sinned, and thus ye shall be put to hell”.

“As you command my lord, I would be most unhappy if I had not sinned, for I wouldn’t be able to live without my family”

“Son of Adam, ye are ignorant, ye do not know what ye say. I am the judge, and I am lenient, and forgiving, only ye had to repent”.

“Yes my lord, god, I can see that you are all you say you are, all they had said you would be”.

The Battle Of Evermore; The Symbol : Chapter 1

Lord wind helped the butterfly,
Dazed, enroute, protected under th' sky,
Ancient sun entangled in coloring,
On the yellow and white of its wing.

Gentle nature helped it over the hill,
Now it sat beside the queen on her sill,
The symbol of future on it stirred,
Fortune for the queen it brought; lingered.

Only for the appropriate eye to read,
Of coming days swathed in wicked greed,
For only the goddess, queen of light,
Such was the symbol on the butterfly.

She opened her eyes, glowing;
Butterfly held in her eyes, flowing;
She read the symbol with rabid calm
Hurriedly rose on her arm.

She deciphered no meaning useless,
Calculated the measure of the mess,
Anger bellowing under her breath,
But she only wispered at length.

"Come now black flags, riding;
Come on the cold wicked wind, hiding;
But cross not this land today
Greedy amoral as you stray".

You bringer of myseries,
Crowding faceless thieves,
I alone will shake your glory,
Translate it into a forgotten story".

Thus putting her promise in her heart
She lands her feet, to start
This day; mother earth puts across a smile
She feels the feet for a little while.

Something is spoken between,
No words can define what they mean,
The glorious queen has understood
What mother earth said to her foot.

Thus began the ancient war,
This morning as the forests roared,
The queen gallant, picked her staff,
And called the angels at day's half.

Soft swollen lips, wispered;
The names of the angels, spurred
With the wind, the message flew,
To all the horizons it blew.

Mother earth saw all this power,
From her eyes drew gentle shower,
She alone could foretell,
The future of gods as well.

She alone understood,
How these winged words stood,
The fortune they would bring,
All black flags, soon be crumbling.

The queen of light, aphrodite;
Gazed around outside;
From her lovely drapes today,
No black flags yet sway.

The chariots of the illuminant sun,
Swift across the horizon,
Rode to match and scale the hour,
Scaled along time's tower.

Laboured to take time away,
Memories mounting as they sway,
The present being churned;
Past; all churned glories earned.

Gentle queen, wore white crystal dress,
Magnificently flowing, touched the floor,
Calm and serene, her face bore no stress,
As messenger wind opened her door.

"My lady! I arrive this hour,
I swept aloud, all, too far,
I summoned all to this place,
All shall arive in much haste.

Angels woved through all the spheres,
All made aligience, and so their heirs;
Even now their horses trod this way,
They shall arive at the half of day".

Soft pink lids dropped over her eyes,
She pictured her words in sublime skies,
Resounding and echoing, away and afar,
Its meaning trailing; a shooting star.

Followed secretly the silence of wait,
The coming of the seven angelic troops,
Sun’s chariot trod at stupendous gait,
Lord Wind and Queen await the sound of hoofs..

***

No Eternal Reward Will Forgive Us For Wasting The Dawn

The Birth Of Tragedy

Scene Six

There is a grave in the middle of the stage. Enter Ray and Robby and Danny on stage, John is lagging behind.

(Ray) Hurry up John, we want to see his grave.

(John) You guys carry on, I’ll catch up at my own speed.

Robby is mournful and just looks back at John, but doesn’t say a word.

(Danny) I don’t know how to explain my grief. He was such a boy, I don’t think he will ever be replaced.

(Ray) He doesn’t deserve to be replaced Danny. Hold your senses. We’ll see him again in the other world.

(Danny) There is no other world, there is this and once someone is gone there is only grief for the one’s left behind.

(Ray) Come on Danny, I am sure Jim expected you to come wearing a hearty smile. And say words of love to him. Just show your love Danny. We are all sad. We all miss him.

(Danny) May be! (With a bent head).

They reach the grave.

(Ray) I never knew I would miss him as much as I do.

(Robby) You are right at that. (In an undertone)

John reaches the grave.

(John) That’s it?

Robby looks up at him, sad yet surprised. All the others ignore him. Danny walks up to the stone and touches it with love. Ray stands at the side staring at his grave.

(John) How did he fit in there? He was above six feet! This is too small for him!!

(Robby) John!! He’s dead now, please stop it. (On the verge of crying)

(John) I am serious! Look at that.

(Ray) You want to say something you can to his grave but just stop the stupidity. (Pauses) I think I’ll walk back to the car. You guys coming?

(Danny) I cant stand here I feel like half of me is dead. I think it would be better to go.

(John) Just give me two minutes. You guys proceed I’ll join you.

(Ray) Alright

Robby and Ray and Danny Exit. The way they had come.

(John) (Keeps staring the grave for some time) (In a very malicious angry tone he starts) So there you ARE!? Dead! Gladly gone to the kingdom of doom, is it? I hope you found your land of wine and wisdom and feasts! I hope they are treating you like a king. Such a fool you were. Took your girlfriend with you, or was she your wife?...No…You had married that reporter right? What’s her name? (Ponders) Patricia. Why did you do it all? Was this what you were born to do? Die on us? You almost killed me with you. But I am glad you are dead. Really glad. I hope you are having a nice time, in your own box.
(Mixed emotions, he is getting a bit sad) Were you human at all? Did you have any feelings? For anyone? Did you ever think of anything except yourself. You self centered moron. Were you for real? I don’t know what kept me attached to the band. But if you wouldn’t have died, I would have. I was tired of you and your pranks. And you knew that didn’t you? Ignored it all with that innocent smile of yours. What were you Jim? What were you? I didn’t understand you Jim. I never did? (Begins to cry) Nobody did. You were far ahead of your time Jim. Too much to take in one go. I didn’t hate you Jim. (Weeping) No I didn’t! I loved you too. I was just confused. And I was tired of baby sitting you. I think it was all our fault. I think we could have stopped you from doing this to yourself. But we were too scared. It was our fault. May be you were trying to say something and we didn’t understand. WE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND! Why didn’t we stop you? I don’t know and may be I will never forgive myself for it! We could have stopped all those girls from filling your mind with all the crap. From you going over board. But just like you; even we didn’t understand Jim. And you took it too far. You stretched it all and it snapped. And we just stood there, amazed, watching how you lasted all the time that you did. I am sorry Jim. I really am. Give us one more chance Jim. Just this once. I will stop you Jim. I will be your friend. One that you didn’t have in this life. I will be there Jim. We will all be there. Please come back Jim Please! come back! (Pleading). (Weeps and puts his head on the grave.)

Lights fade to black.

...End Of Scene Six...

...The End...

The Hitch-Hicker

The Birth Of Tragedy

Scene Five

Pam and Jim are lying on a bed, in a hotel in Paris. There is are books thrown all over the place. The lights are dim, to create an effect of doom.

(Pam) Jim are you planning to start writing your book?

(Jim) Hey Pam I was wondering if I should…I wonder if me and my poems will hear our echo in the great monument of time.

(Pam) But you are great Jim, simply great, everyone loves you.

(Jim) They can’t love me, because they don’t know me. They love the singing shaman. The medicine man of the purple sunrise.

(Pam) No Jim they love you and I love you. And I am quite sure that Jim you will be remembered…forever.

(Jim) Such is the nature of all being. That when one dream reaches its orgasm, and stands on the verge of being transformed into a memory, the dream itself if forgotten like a surrogate mother. I will write, but it will not be enough.

(Pam) What do you think you want to write about?

(Jim) I want to instill the world with the true idea of freedom, for them to kill whatever they have been breast fed with and want them to acknowledge what they really want to believe. I wish to transform all of being into one womb, immaculate and content in its own existence.

(Pam) Don’t you think Paris was a good choice?

(Jim) Yes honey! It was but I miss recording and the concerts.

(Pam) That was not you Jim. You never wanted to do that. You had got stuck.

(Jim) May be honey, but I still loved it…
how do you like this?

There is one symbol beyond the fall.
The most beautiful of them all,
All but one, That startling sight.
Sparkling thought at creations height.
She strides across the pagan land.
And crushes competition with her hand.
She smiles and releases death.
In one foaming breath.
An archangel of this dust.
Bright light!
Bright light!
Follow her;
She sprinkle spectrums forever.

(Pam) That’s great Jim, who did you write that for?

(Jim) You honey. (Pam is fully conscious of his love at this moment so she hugs him, Jim stays like that for some time then gets up and leaves to the bathroom). I’ll take a bath. (picks up his whiskey).

(Pam) With the whiskey? (Jim turns around but says nothing)
but the doctor has asked you not to drink Jim.

(Jim) They wouldn’t mind telling me not to live as well.

(Pam) No Jim I am scared. Please don’t drink.

(Jim) Don’t be scared honey…death makes angels of all and gives us wings for where we had shoulders as smooth as ravens claws. Life hurts a lot more honey.

(Pam) But I am human honey, and I feel and react like one, and I don’t want you to die.

(Jim) I won’t!

Jim walks to the bathtub with his clothes on and sits in the bathtub. And starts to drink. Silence.

(Pam) Hey Jim. You there?
Don’t joke Jim! You there?
(Enters the bathroom)
Jim! JIM! “Jim!!” (screams)
Holy shit Jim, I told you Jim, I told you so. (Takes the bottle from jims hand and starts to drink and goes of to sleep crying). (At least 1.30 minutes to 2 minutes)

The lights fade to black. Enter messenger.

(Messenger) Look beyond the clouds
How are old boy sits
In the lap of Zeus
Just like you kids
Wasn’t he too strange for you?
Whispering shaman of the blues.
But now he is gone
In the great chariot
Amongst great cheer
To the wise and the dead.

But I still wonder
What you did
Ran from one world
To another, like you did.
And shook both the worlds
As you did.
Look what you have done
To a trembling fairy
She trembles like a sweet mystery.
It was not right.
She was human and you were bright
With a circle to protect you from life’s guile.

But you took her by surprise
and look how she cries
every moment she dies
closer to you and farther away.
Unaware that she will not find you again.

But such is nature
And such it must stay
Forever, today
Come now my child
I will take you home!

The messenger takes Pamela by the hand, she gets up and leaves with the messenger and Jim.

Lights fade to black.

…End of Scene Five…

The Last Supper

The Birth Of Tragedy

Scene Four

Lights turn on. Robby opens the door of his house. Enter John And Ray.

(John) Happy birthday! (Shaking Hands)

(Robby) Thanks boy.

(Ray) Happy Birthday killer.(Shaking Hands)

(Robby) Who’s the killer man? You get all the girls, and I get all the gifts. What a horrendous killer I make? (laughing)

(Ray) (Laughs)

(Robby) Where’s mad man Jim?

(Ray) No idea! (Both look at John)

(John) Must be swimming in drugs and girls.

(Robby) Hey man its my birthday, please don't start today. I think he’s coming with Pam.

(John) That’s all right. But I seriously think we need to talk him out of his drugs and drinking. He’s loosing it now.

(Ray) I don't think I have ever said anything like this before, but I would be wrong if I contradicted you.

(Robby) He was such a shy guy! I don't know what happened to him. with all his talk of freedom. He’s something else now.

(John) He’s turned into the devil himself.

(Ray) I am not sure myself if he said all that for fun or he meant it, but now after all these years and transformation from a shy guy to a rock star, to the wittiest guy in conferences, he is coming to his end.

(Robby) From Jim to Dionysus to Nietzsche to Freud to the devil himself…right?

(John) Maybe, and to tell you the truth, its not the end of us, but just the end of him, the end of something that doesn’t deserve it. Some things wrong and I tell you that. And I don't want him to die. I think I really care for him. apart from all the fights we have.

(Robby) I know man, we all love him. We are just tired of baby sitting him.

(Ray) Anyways boy its your birthday. Lets cut this talk for now, and we’ll see what we can do when he comes.

(John) Please make yourself comfortable boys. I’ll get you the beer.

Bell rings. John opens the door. Enter Jim and Pam. Greetings are shared.

(Jim) Hey guys…I am back. (Smiling)

(John) We can see that. (All laugh)

(Robby) Thanks for coming Jim.

(Jim) Thanks for inviting Robby. (Smiles again) Happy birthday, boy. May we play for
long and forever.

They greet Pam one by one and make her comfortable.

(Robby) Now, now! Lets start. Please have a seat.

(Jim) Where’s the acid boys? (Taking the beer from his hand)

(Robby) Not today Jim, we’ll try to keep it cool today. And we really want to speak with you today.

(Jim) What could that be brethren?

(Ray) Something about you Jim. We think you are getting too deep into your drugs man. We really want you to get out of it.

(Pam) There is nothing wrong with him.

(Robby) There is nothing wrong with him right now, but sure as my name is Robby, there will be. And we don’t want that to happen.

(Pam) Nothing is going to happen. (A bit pissed, and defensive)

(Robby) Whatever you would like to believe. I know you love him, but make sure he stays around to be loved.

(Pam) Hey Robby don’t scare me.

(Jim) Are you all discussing my future. The future of the shaman?

(Ray) You are human Jim. Atleast in this room you are, and you are our friend. Please try and understand.

(Jim) Do you know when you’d die? Could you stop it if you knew? I do what I feel like doing.

(John) All that we are trying to say Jim is that we love you, and that we want you to stop your drink.

(Jim) I know everything. And I know I will die, when? Is a question. But that doesn’t matter, so I am going to live, and death is my friend. It cant hurt me anymore then life does.

(Robby) It not always about you getting hurt. Sometimes its about how hurt, the people you leave behind will be.

(Jim) So you wouldn’t be hurt if I died after some years?

(John) JIM! Please you are not even trying to understand.

(Pam) Nothing is happening so lets just enjoy.

(Robby) Ya may be that’s a better idea.

(Jim) Bring on the syrup of my desire and set me on fire. (Smiles)

John brings a cup full of something. All share the cup and seem to be in a trance.

(Jim) Adolph Hitler is still alive
I slept with her last night
Come out from behind that false mustache Adolph
I know you are in there.
Lots of trouble lots of loose,
A whole lot of nothing and nothing to loose
Alright!!

(John) Stop it Jim, you scare me.

(Jim) Don’t be scared John. I am here.

(Robby) I feel like I am going way up man!!

(Pam) Will you confront nature when you die?

(John) Nature is here in this existence.

(Jim) Nature is the mask of lie worn by all being in this sphere, we call on the angels to protect us from something that we can not see or feel. We petition the lord for protection from an animated imagination.

(Pam) I think you are right. We are all just one, and there should be no fear, not at least of another human. Are we cannibals? We have been bread on fear, and uncertain anxiety.

(Ray) You sound like him. (All laugh). But you know, there is only one source of everything. And we are all just raw forms of energy, changing form. What I don't understand is why all the energy is directed towards war?

(Robby) Because all the colors of the spectrum are not white. Everything is so purple now.

(Jim) I think it should be mandatory for all of mankind to smoke at least two joints a day. And the world will know peace right then. We need a new religion, one that does not survive on revenge and repentance.(Pauses for a while. And all are in a trance) .I think I can see the angel of death. I think he awaits me, to deliver me to the other world.

(Pam) You can’t leave me like this honey. You are going to wait until the opportune moment. Will you do that for me? Will you be there forever?

(Jim) No vastness is so vast that It would fill in eternity itself. But I promise you I will take you to the other land beyond time.

(John) But you are not god Jim.

(Jim) Neither are you.

(John) So how do you propose to take her all the way?

(Jim) This space in all its cosmology, is a will. And I will take you all with my will.

(Robby) Lets play some music. (Stands up suddenly)

(John) Yes, lets have some fun. Let us go on a pilgrimage to the
gods of music. Lets do it!!!

(Ray) I am far out man…you guys continue.

(Jim) I am all for you.

All get their instruments. John gets a table. Robby gets a guitar. And Jim stands up to sing. Pam is dancing to her own tune. And ray is lying on the ground, in a state of trance. They start to play.

(Jim) Work in progress; Take one.

What are they doing in the hyacinth house?
What are they doing in the hyacinth house?
To please the lions
This day.

I need a brand new friend
Who doesn’t bother me
I need a brand new friend
Who doesn’t trouble me
I need somebody
Who doesn’t need me

I feel the bathroom is clear
I know that someone is near
I feel that somebody’s is following me
Oh!! Yeaaa!! Yeaaa!!

Why did you throw the jack of hearts away
Why did you throw the jack of hearts away
Why did you throw that jack of hearts away
It was the;
Was the;
It was the only card in the deck that I had left to play

What are they doing in the hyacinth house
To please the lions this day

But I’ll say it again (Starts to cough)
I need a brand new friend
One more (More coughing)
Well I’ll say it again
I need a brand new friend
The end. (Gets into a fit of coughing, and falls on the floor)

Pam And Robby and John rush to him. Ray is still lying on the floor, but moving and turning to have a view of Jim.

(John) Are you alright?

(Pam) Jim.

(Ray) He’s just playing man. Up to his old tricks again.

(Robby) No. I think he’s serious now.

(Pam) Get up Jim. Please!! I request you. Get up.

Jim tries to take control of himself but it seems he cant.

(Pam) Jim I told you not to do all this, I reminded you on way Jim. And you promised. Now I am not going to listen to anything Jim. I am taking you to Paris. (Sounding a bit desperate)

(John) Take him to Paris? He cant even stand for all I know. Don’t you think its quite a far fetched thought.

(Robby) Shut up John. Lets take him inside.

All exit taking Jim on their arm. Pam follows. The music follows. Lights fade, enter messenger, a red soft light engulfs her.

(Messenger) You have seen the bright soft sad light
You have seen it coming from beneath the heap
You have wandered in myriad dreams
Before you crawl towards mellow sleep
You are choking when you were supposed to weep
No wonder you do what you do,
You are a son of the great deep.

Your time is coming through a vast lullaby
You are forsaken by the crowd of cursing flies
You knew you didn’t have time
You knew you didn’t have time
So you crossed the edges in your prime
But it all ends with the last line.
And nothing is the same and nothing defined
When you are dead and you are mine.

Fret not my child
Your father has the vehicle
Waiting for your drive
After you become the silent screaming.

Your time beckons you
To follow through
To follow through
To break on through
To the other side.
My son now you can’t run
From the great divide
Of the living and…the…Great.

Lights fade to black.

Exit messenger.

…End of Scene Four…

Thoughts In Time And Out Of Season

The Birth Of Tragedy

Scene Three

Enter manager in a set up of sofa’s and couple of tables, to denote a comfortable cozy press conference.

(Danny) Hey guys!...How are we doing today?...Great, you should do good. Anyways, first and foremost I’d like to thank you all for coming here. I personally feel at times that being the manager of a band like the doors, is a job of Himalayan responsibility. And standing in front of you all gives me jitters…God only knows what you will ask and what I might have to cover up later, if you know what I mean. I hope you guys will chill for some time.

(First Rep) Hey Danny, don’t you think, your boy Jim is a bit crazy?

(Danny) No. (In a very composed manner)

(First Rep) Then probably you should better start thinking. (Trying to sound funny).

(Danny) Never you mind. He’s not affecting you anyways. When he does let me know. I’ll help you out. He my Jim.

Enter Robby, John, Ray and Jim. They go and each sit on the sofa. Where as Jim goes to the bar and makes himself a drink.

(Ray) Hey guys! good to see you all today. Though I remember some of you folks from the last interview. But I’d still take the liberty to introduce my fellow band mates. (Gesture of introduction) John…Robby…Jim…and that’s our great man,
behind the scene. Danny Sugerman.

In the meanwhile Jim comes and seats himself with his drink, and is smiling to a particular person in the crowd.

So you all wanna throw some catches at us now?

(First Rep) Yes, and on a serious note; do you think that your lyrics promote the usage of drugs?

(Ray) Well. (Smiles at Jim and Jim smiles back).

(First Rep) Well?

(Jim) Well. (In a very chilled out way)

(First Rep) Do you consider yourself a part of humanity?(Understanding that he is not going to get a reply, so he moves on.)

(Robby) Good question. (He’s not sure if should laugh or cry)

(First Rep) What do you have to say about your tag as the devils showmen?

(Jim) I didn’t know they wore leather pants in hell?

(John) Why does it always have to be all about drugs and chicks? We just play music.

(First Rep) Isn’t that the best way to hide all the evil deeds you do. Do what you do and then just smile innocently from behind the veil of music.

(Jim) You judge like god.

(First Rep) And you act like the Devil.

(Robby) Correct me if I am mistaken, but wasn’t the devil an angel? (Defensively)

(Danny) Stop it. I request you to please ask logical questions. This has nothing to do with the band. And so please refrain. The lady over there, please you may…

(Patricia) Aside from the Devil, what actually inspires the Door’s music?

(John) The idea of freedom.

(Jim) My cock.

(Danny) That was too original Jim.

(Patricia) Does it think on your behalf? (Walks on stage by now)

(Jim) It functions on my behalf.

(Patricia) So your muse lies below the belt!

(Jim) This is the muse girls love to use. My poetry comes from the shadow of the moon. (All are getting irritated)

(John) Are any of the questions and answers going to be products of the mind? (Completely irritated)

(Patricia) Does that imply that you believe in sorcery. (Ignoring the comment)

(Jim) Do implications become judgments of your reasoning?

(Patricia) My reasoning says one thing and the message is ‘I AM IMPRESSED’…By you…

(John) Why don’t you just take a room and fill in all the implications on a wet sheet. I am disgusted!

John gets up and leaves in a hurry. Ray and Robby leave as well. Danny hangs back. Unsure of what is going to happen next.

(Danny) I think that’ll be it for today.

Acts as if he is greeting the guys while departing.

(Jim) Hey! Will you die for me?

(Patricia) What? (Surprised)

(Jim) Lets get married. A pagan blood union of the eternal. Nothing would remain otherwise.

(Danny) Jim!

(Jim) Danny come now don't be so human.
(to Patricia) lets go…right now...get married.

Jim and Patricia walk out of the stage and Danny lingers on, a bit sad.

(Danny) Hey Jim what are you doing this for?...I know I am human Jim. I know that. Sadly Jim you aren’t. And it would have been a whole lot better if you were. But you are a god Jim, a GOD! And I am sorry for everyone you’ve touched. I really am.

Exit Danny. Lights fade to darkness, enter messenger, the soft red light engulfs her again.

(Messenger) Come now
Don't fret so much
Over what he says
Is and does.
He is amongst you
But not you.
You might try to understand him
Might pretend to understand him
But he shall forever
Sneak your understand.ing.

Lights fade to black.

Exit Messenger.

...End Of Scene Three...

Rabid Foaming

The Birth Of Tragedy

Scene Two

Ray, Robby, John and Danny, the manager, are sitting in the recording studio. They look tired and angry, except for Ray. He is happily busy trying to figure out something new for the next song. The others are discussing. Robby is sitting on the floor. The manager is anxiously moving around. And John is beating the sticks on his legs.

(The manager says something and laughs. But his anxiety is obvious in his laughter)

(John) What are you joking for man?

(Danny) oh please!!

(John) fuck you!

(Danny) Relax I am as disgusted as you are!

(John) I know! Why cant he just be on time! give his band some respect they deserve.

(Danny) Though I love him more then anyone else in this room, I would still say, I wonder if he was on time when he was born. (raises his arms in disgust)

(John) Ask the lord! Friend!

(Ray) Oh give him a break; for crying out loud, will you?

(Robby) Hey (attracts attention, with his hands) listen to this.

(Ray) Ya man go on, these bunch of whiners will never stop.

(John) What you protecting him for, all the time?

(Robby) Knock it off John.

(John) No!! that man is insane, he fucking drinks and goes home and screams, just so he can disgust the hell outta his folks man. He is weird man!

(Ray) He’s just Jim, our old boy Jim and Nietzsche’s left him fear less. So why don't you leave him alone.

(Danny) Ya man lets practice, that dropout, doesn’t have any ethics. You remember the way he walked out of college? I wouldn’t be surprised if someday he chooses to just walk out of the band. (says the last part with greater emphasis)

(John) I am as unsure of his walking out, as I’m of his walking in man. Where in the fucked up name of the greatest mammal is he?

(Danny) There he comes!(whispers under his breath)



Jim walks in, with a bottle of whiskey and carelessly loiters around, all of them. As if he heard everything and doesn’t care. He goes to the centre stage and sits down. Pam enters stage with a glass of water, as Jim sits, and greets all. They all greet her, except John. Ray and Robby call Pam to hear the new tune as they have it, Robby shows her the new lyrics. The manager goes behind John, as if to hide, and then starts to speak.

(Danny) Do you think you are late?

(Silence)

Hey I asked you something.

(Jim) Would you believe everything I say? (takes a sip)

(Danny) NO! (As if that was his eternal judgment)

(Jim) Then why ask?

(Danny) Because I want you to realize that there’s money involved and that you waste it royally.(completely irritated)

(Jim) I have better things in cue to realize. Do you want to start?

(Ray) Hey Jim…you read about what they wrote about your childhood man?

(Jim) (Takes another sip) No.

Ray points to Robby and Robby brings out a piece of paper from his pocket. But its not the one, then he searches another pocket, and brings out another piece of paper. And reads, while looking at Jim, Ray, Pam and the audience. The manager walks out of stage.

(Robby) This is what it says man. “It so appears that the lead singer of the band ‘the doors’ is not so much of a man to be trusted. Behind all his confidence. Is a deep rooted lie. His current claim as to his being an orphan is a forged lie, to accumulate some sort of sympathy from his fans. And happens to be just a publicity stunt. His parents, both of them are still living, and prosperous…blah blah blah”…and so on and so forth.

(Silence, Jim is casually sipping his drink, Pamela is surprised)

What you gonna do now?

(John) Look what you have done? Now all that we have earned will be lost. All because of your one lie. Couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut.

(Jim) Fear is the loom for all failure. The whole world revolves around one symbol, the great forest of death. You want to win the world, win it in one stride, before you walk languidly inside the tomb of freedom and wish; And don’t look back! I don’t care what people thought and think, because the day I start caring about what they think, they’d stop thinking.

(John) For all I know you just sounded like an electric train tripping over a cowboy hat.(sarcasm intended)

(Jim) We trip over all sorts of hats my friend, but this world is left listless by those who crush. We are content in the 'given' in sensation's quest. We have been metamorphosised from a mad body dancing on hillsides to a pair of eyes staring in the dark. You begin the show; leave the show; no matter how…Become the show!

(Robby) Hey drum boy, give me some beats. Here’s the new tune, and please stop your banter.

John raises his arms or shows his amazement at the crowd by some other form of body language. To show his surprise at him always being blamed for everything.

(Pam) Hey I think its really good. Hey Jim why don’t you give them the lyrics from your poem the moonlight drive. I think it will fit the tune.

John expresses disgust and distrust towards the crowd, the rest wait as they trust Jim and his writings.

(Ray) Ya Jim come on man, lets show the crowd what you got man. Lets make this one as good as your movie back in college man. And we’ll rise behind the sun the next morning.

(Jim) (Jim stands up and goes to the centre stage. All of them prepare to play the tune. Jim starts to sing).

Lets swim to the moon aha,
Lets ride in the tide,
Penetrate the evening,
As the city sleeps to hide,
Lets swim out tonight girl,
Its our turn to try,
Parked beside the evening, on a,
Moonlight drive.

John looks at Jim in amazement. He is confused as to what to say. He could not figure out what sort of a lyric that was. The rest are glad. Really glad.

(John) What the fuck was that? Do you know that one word should relate to the other to make a complete sentence?

(Robby) I think it was good. Really good, I think it was better then what they write these days. Amazing imagery! And it’ll fit. Jim man you are the lizard king; you can do anything !

(To john) Why do you want everything spoon fed to you. Cant you for once be glad when everyone else is glad.

(John) That was creepy man. And I really don’t care what you think of me. But that was creepy personified. And no one will like it.

(Jim) Real poetry doesn't say anything, it just ticks off the possibilities, opens all doors. You can walk through any one that suits you. If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people, from the limited ways in which they see and feel."

(Robby) You have been breastfed with your art man. Try to think out of that box of symbols you already have in your head.

Manager enters with a glass of water and a newspaper. Hands the newspaper to Pam. She begins to read in a very animated manner.

(John) You all sound frustratingly like him man!

(Ray) What the fuck are you talking about? If you are so good at criticizing, then why don’t you write some lyrics like Robby does. Lets see what you got.

(Danny) Hey you guys stop now. Enough we aren’t sitting here for free. Do you guys plan to play and record or fight over every damn thing you could probably think about to fight on, and find more when you are done with that subject.

(Jim) Gone are the days of the dancers on the hill side where soft music lulled strange thoughts and calmed the spectrums of our mind. But I want it to continue, today and tomorrow, and there after. Don’t stop the music, don't fight over me, not for me. Remember we are a band, we stay a band, John. ONE BAND!...(casually goes to the mike, and pointing towards the back of the stage as if talking to someone)…hey boy get the tape moving. Ray you think you can fit some music to this before the conference?

(Ray) We’ll try Jim.

(Jim) Alright!

Before you slip into
Un-consciousness
I’d like to have
Another kiss

Pam rushes to Jim and slaps him.

(Jim) Hey honey, why? You are the one. You’re my girl.

(Pam) No Jim it ain’t true(reads from the newspaper) “The rock magnet has had another flinging night of stardom. This time in an alcohol flamed encounter with Janis Joplin, that led Janis in tears.”

(Silence)

(Jim) Hey honey it wasn’t meant to be.

(Pam) No Jim…no excuses! (screams in desperation) Please! why do you have to do this every time. You promised Jim, you promised!(crying violently)

Pam exits stage in a hurry; crying.

(John) There goes the last chance of a peaceful recording.

(Robby) Oh! shut up John! (completely irritated).

(John) Why do I even think of stopping in. I have no idea why I stick to the band. This man will drive me crazy. (pointing towards Jim. Stands up violently and walks out).

All exit after John, to persuade him to come back, except Jim. Pam re-enters stage.

(Pam) (pleading) Hey Jim! Come lets go. You weren’t born for this Jim. Come with me. We’ll go to Paris. You can write there Jim. You can be a writer. Publish your work. Write all the scripts you wanted to make into movies. Finally be what you always wanted to be. You are a poet Jim, a poet.

(Jim) “Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh”

(Pam) What does that mean Jim? (completely confused at his sudden ejaculation)

(Jim) I am what I am honey! I am in this moment a multitude of perspectives. I am nothing infact and everything in thought, I am this moment, and this moment is here. I enjoy it, till it is in itself confused. No Paris can do to me what America has already done. (Pam looks completely helpless)
I love you Pam, lets go.


Exit Pam and Jim. Enter messenger. All lights fade and a red soft light engulfs the messenger, and he starts his monologue.


(Messenger) Do…as you wish;
Swim in this void of time
As a hungry fish.
And time shall come,
And greet you someday.
Heal you of life,
And take you away.

Go my child!
I was ordained to;
Watch over you.
To bring you back soon,
Thus summoned your father,
But your deeds lead you
Faster to him,
Then my fastest wings.
Soon you will play again,
In the land of the kings.

(And speaking with the crowd now)

And all who follow him,
Shall soon see a great mist.
The power of reality,
Will simplify your list,
And your thoughts will be confused,
And long lost and gone.
He shall bring to your bosom,
The last purple song.
He is the king of mysteries
Lord “Dionysus”
After all!...

The lights fade to black.

Exit messenger


…End of scene two…

We Need Great Golden Copulations

The Birth Of Tragedy

Scene One

A white robe laden messenger appears on stage and comes straight to the centre stage. There is no light anywhere. And a spot light engulfs him.
He waits for the crowd to settle and thus begins his monologue

(With arms stretched, as if addressing the crowd to settle down, in a godlike manner)

(Messenger) Behold
I come this moment
From the house of the unseen;
The house of the lords;
The house of all; born and the dead.
As the messenger of my lord Hades,
The brother of Zeus.
And I bring you message of a great coming.
For this morning as, Helios
The sun god, came upon the horizon
The whole of the house of Hades fell silent
The soul of Dionysus,
The very heart of Hades,
The bringer of mysteries,
The god of wine and fertility
The god who they say makes you go crazy
Has run away, from this land I speak about;
And awaits his coming into your world.
He hides in a womb
And as Helios shall touch thy horizon
He shall be born;
As ….

Backstage we hear feet rushing and trying to calm down a pregnant woman and the nurses calling for doctors and thus, we see a great womb on the screen and we here a voice from inside the womb.


(Jim) I am the mystery king
I come to copulate and sing
To touch that feather
Of your innocent dove
I come to drown between
Your sweet settled love
Come follow me
Drink and be free
They will say I will be understood
Only when you would have gone;
Completely crazy.
(screams)
Wake up!

We hear a child cry and sounds of greetings as being shared backstage, to signify the birth of a child.

(Jim) Silver syrup of thy lovely womb
I am born…
To begin the show!

(Messenger) As…James…Douglas…Morrison.


The light gently fades.


…End of scene one…

The Sons Of Mothers They Never Hoped For.

Oh! Wax! Oh! Light!
Take your wow!
Upon this
Place of stone.

You flicker! You flatter!
All day long,
Waiting;
All Alone.

The buzzing bee
She hums to thee
Her song of sons;
She loaned.

She whispers soft
Flames flicker flop
She sings her ode;
Alone.

She flies on by
You wither and die
The flame of trust;
It blew.

You changed your mind
Her hope had died
To start the song;
A new.

No blame should come
To you or her
There is no way;
To choose.

You had to die
Her sons had lied
She'll cross this world;
Like you.

Infinte Love

I tripped over my heart; just fell. Like that. From over the bed. A warm squirrely feeling was rapidly rising underneath my chest, right next to my heart. Stroking my senses with rabid sensations. I swam out of the room to find empty air, rich with your perfume and screaming silence, whispering your words. It delivered me to a strange land of…of something…something I can not define.

The breakfast lay on the table. The newspaper on the sofa. Everything was as it would have been. But nothing was as it should have been.

This morning I woke up to an empty house, numb senses and infinite love.

She moaned in her wake the most rabid question; "Where is my soul?"

"It is here", we said " Right here".

Certain Questioning

Doesn't the ground swallow me
when I die, or the sea
if I die at sea?

Music Calls; God and Satan Falls

Drums and guitar reverberating
stating; a reign of music
calling us to the mist of sleep
the sleep of utter wakefullness
A man wakes up
and kills fifty children
to score his lust;
he was named satan
they versed his monologue
and gave him freedom
the freedom of glory.
Let us devour him
let us stand and play some music
the glory shal be gone
with the hundredth note of my guitar
satan shall crawl
and god cry,
for remembrence erased:
we shallnt recognise
play the music
let us swin in the music
lets us live again
jst some more days
to play some music
just some more music
why shouldnt we
I say let there be
no more monologues
no more trouble
the music fills me with
soft bubbles
and my eyes dance
and melody streams
towards the oceans
and rivers and dreams
and we gather the lives
we left behind
decidedly again and again
and this time.
ooh!! the soft hum
the strings in my ears
they fill me up
with tender tears
touch me, oh no, not jst me
touch all and stay
music calls us
to start another day.
and we laugh aloud
we dance and sing
the music crowd
we become the born again
walk our way to deaths train
and music shifts
beneath our feet
and we rise apon
the clouds and trees
and nature smiles at us
we became the wisest ones
the trees they hum with us
sing together like in a lost bus
we dance towards the end
rising rising ringing again
we share the clouds and now
we slip again towards the snow
towards the path where music calls.

Joint Thought

Someone is smoking in the skies
he puffs and there is a mist
he pulls on the cigerette
there is day,
he stubbs his cigerete
there is night
and the trenchy smell
dies in the thunder of
the moral police of death.

Princes

Steep wishes, of the young princes,
her daddys tumbled over in desert distress,
she asked him over the last letter
"daddy will you remember me when u come back?"
the father grew red and failed to recover
now lies beside his cousin
beside some strange person.

Roses

A silver tray carrying two cups of tea, some bread and omelet, in the hands of a florescent fairy wearing a white translucent kurti, reaching 4 inches above her knees; and she entered the room, with a soft hum; probably an old song she had heard in the kitchen on the radio, and was now an ear worm to her. He was still sleeping. She was born an uncomplaining person, could understand everyone’s problems, sacrifice herself for anything anyone wanted. And of course he was a nice person, and she understood and loved him.

"Wake up!” She whispered softly in his ears, a bit teasing in manner.

And he opened his eyes in an instant. He loved her voice. But he hated life, and that annoyed him. The feeling of wakefulness was not something he liked. He liked to be sleeping. He didn’t like the world, and he didn’t understand what exactly was wrong with it. He wanted to live in a better world, and that world existed beneath the parameters of his closed eyes.

He pulled her towards him, as she put the tray on the table next to the bed; and gave her a full kiss. He was never going to be happy without her. And he wanted to say so much to her.

"What time are u going to leave for office?” he asked her, in a desperately wakeful sounding voice, as if that was the best sentence to describe his love for her.

She sat on his lap and looked in his eyes and wondered if he really loved her - kept wondering forever. She gave him his tea and took one for herself, still maintaining her seat; all this while wondering if that was the question she expected. Deep down inside she didn’t want to reply. She just wanted to sit there. She knew it made no sense; she would never be able to have a satisfying conversation with him. They were worlds apart. And he was too ignorant to notice even this.

He was not blind, only sleeping, never ignorant, just absent from thoughts that wandered in this real world. Half of the feelings and complications of this world never struck his mind. It was as if he lived for his ID only: an animal. He had skipped a couple of stages of evolution in terms of the growth of thought in the human mind.

She handed him a toast and some omelet in a plate. And he took it, looking through her. He loved her. He loved her so much, that now he was perpetually dreaming about her, even when she was there; right in front of him. She stared at him- hard and penetrating- she looked for the man he was. But he was there and he was not there. He was having a conversation in his mind- with her – just like old times. He wanted her never to get up. He wanted her to be there. He loved her. And she loved him back. But what is one supposed to do when there is a feeling of mutual love?; Hold hands?; kiss?; make love?; what? No one knows what?

Is it mandatory to give answers to questions like these early in the morning?, when the thought of parting for the day is most painful, and yet one is reminded of it, when one is assumed to be like a log of wood, worse then Pinocchio, for even Pinocchio had feelings and his master loved him for that. So instead she chose to ignore the question. But then she wanted to make a conversation with him. How desperately she was attempting to form something in her mind; some bright star of a thought; something that would start the rolling of a forest fire. Lead into a perfect fairy tail early morning conversation. But never mind. Truth is there are some things money cant buy, for everything else there is money.

She was still looking at him - concerned and loving - in a very unconcerned way. Hoping he would look at her, and smile. Just then he did. And took his bite: and!!!!

“Why do you even try?”
“Because I want to make you feel that I can do things for you”
“You are most welcome to do things for me and I will feel them, but please stop wasting bread and eggs. Will you?”
“You know I try hard to cook, but it’s as if I just can’t!”
“Well then don’t. I will!”

And all of reality tumbled into her brain in an instant. She was right there, eyes full of tears, waiting for him to say one more word of care.

“Will you get up from my lap now?”

It was all over! In an instant! She would desperately try to make things right now, until she goes of to sleep. In her desperation she will only add to the trouble. But that is a long way from now. Here is the moment, which could have been starry in broad day light, and seems dark and dingy. Why couldn’t she be lesser in love with him? Why couldn’t she just relax a bit and then may be things would fall automatically into place? Why doesn’t he understand?

He wouldn’t so she got up and she wanted to throw the tea on the wall, but she couldn’t because she was born a very understanding sort of a person. So she took it all and got up - left the room.

Wondering why she didn’t feel like going for work today, she went into the lawn with her frustration and a scissor. She went and she pruned the rose that she had been waiting for, for the past some weeks. It had finally bloomed, and she cut it. She had been very patient with the rose. She had nurtured it with utmost care, just like her parents had been with her since her birth. And now she cut it; ruthlessly; mindlessly. But it was born out of patience, so had to be very understanding. It won’t mind. It will just wither by evening and leave behind a shadow of itself in her mind, while she will repent her action or rather actions. Because at the end of the day she might want someone else to understand. But then by the time she starts to need someone to understand her, she probably will understand that no one will. So lets just never mind!

Shephard Boy

Shepherd boy;
sickel grabed young boy;
kill no sheep.

Shepherd gurl;
put your apron again;
love him deep.

Shepherd dad;
send not your son far;
Loose you may.

Shepherd Mum;
Put your light in him;
he kills sheep.

My Silence

This cuboid room has harboured me for a long time, and it is beyond assumption that I do not seek refuge anywhere else except here, most of my days go without any mortal company, hence its just me and my bovine walls. Similar to my terms of circumstances, are the walls behind one of the doors, leading to the other room. The other rooms of the house have been deprived of conversation for a very long time, the cause being lack of visiters, and by now I contemplate, they must have forgotten their dialect altogether. There's another door which leads to the verandah: my teacher. The verandah opens up in sudden limitless fury to the skies, the bold superlative unostentatious skies, throwing all variations of expresions through climatic and weather changes. I love the skies for they never cease to speak, their voice can be heard all across the ages. And they hold my imagination particularly because they do not confabulate, their wisdom is himalyan, and their wisper, the sound of a thousand saints, of unquarelous eternity. Each cloud has the capability to answer a new question in the most inarticulate and most expressive manner.

On one such thought provoking, lurid day, as I was gearing my thoughts for another battery of questions; there was a gentle knock on the door. Much to my excitement I jumped and opened the door, only to find empty air standing there, and the walls turned to me in the laziest manner contemplatable, and I would not be surprised if they would have cursed me then for making them turn; but the fact of the matter remains that there was no one at the door. I turned and banged the door behind me, and gave up on any clandestine who or wht? no giving way to the dellima of imagination. case closed! Seconds later there was another knock, this time though a timid one, even gentler, quite an unsure knock. It was now that i realised that it did not come from the door inside, but from the door leading to the veranda. Are you surprised? I was! but I was only surprised and not afraid so out of sheer inquisitiveness i opened the door - only to find empty space and fatigued skies. R u Surprised? I wasent! Being a hot summer day, the sun, itself drenched in sweat was gradualy being quenched of its ever-so glorious flaming powers; tired of buring all through the day, it planned to extinguish and retire. The clouds werent much shady and seemed to have made excess love and lay distant on the sky bed, too tired to look at each other. There still lay a question seducing an answer which lay hidden in some unknown force too minute for reality and too obscure for imagination. There being no angel outside all that lay to uncover from anonimity needed a certain amount of observation. Who Kocked The DOOR?

Scanning the marble floor and then one corner and then the other, I saw only dry leaves and some dried bonsaies here and there in small mud vessels, ants playing chain games and parading to an undisclosed destination. In one corner, by the shade of the wall sat a pegion, looking stoned with the maculate arid heat. It sat unmoved looking at me, with as curious eyes as my own, big and bold. Lying in the shade like an admiral hiding frm his comrades in the house of his mistress. Could it have been the visitor?

I apologise but I am not much of a nature person, though to be honest I have no grudges or misunderstandings with it, its just that I live in a metropolitan city, and nature has long evacuated this land. I have never been ignorent of its immense and imaculate powers, but the fact lies that it has been ignorent of me, it devoured this city of its favour long ago when men learned to be greedy and started worshiping the lust for materialistic and monetary belongings. I though, have felt the beauty of it through books and films and through hightened imaginations, I have read the poetry of flowers and trees and breezes and much liked the feel of those imaginary gifts on my skin : but I am not entiteled to witness it in person with naked eyes as I live here.

When one has such deprived powers of understanding of nature, all gaps of comunication between beast and birds are broadened. The pegion looked with silent eyes, corners filled with expectation. I did not have any knowledge of comunicating with such organisms and thus was left to my instinct. Motioning it to wait with my hand (as if it understood, but still!), went inside to fetch some water, assuming that to be the centre of inquiry. Moments later returning, placed it in front of the pegion, fearing to scare it away returned to the door with slow haste. Mr.Pegion took a couple of beak dances into the pot and returned me with the same look he had been carrying. Was I wrong in my contemplation of its need? I wonder. Out of the infinite ways of communication, I choose to speak to erase all bonds of physical distinctness.

"My apologies with you my friend but I fail to recognise your need and my unruled mind can not reconstruct any structure of want of yours from my being, I rather request you to plainly inquire and if it shall be in my capabilities I shall diliver without hesitation", trying to sound formal. Returned by the same look but a little more weiry.

"Dont you have friends, I have very rarely seen any of you alone like this?". This did stir some chord in his orchestra, for he moved closer. I went on with my verbal dysentry, for when a man has not had company for long and does not fall into the category of a loner, erupts like mount zeus upon recieving one. I asked him questions which could have had only verbal answers, but to my surprise, a companion with silence as his gift, presents more tolerable and less pitiable answers then those with them. Amazement comes very often to people who seek it, in their unconscience; I did not recognise the hour as i went on with my monotone and recieved languid silence for answers. Soon enough the sun was perched at the lowest point and was almost deprived of all its flames and looked like a vermilon mark on a beautiful forehead, and under it lay two wicked concrete eyes. I had quitened for some time now and the pegion walked up a little further by the end of almost an hour and a half and took off. Look at the courtious bird, it waited for my silence, look at this divine creature, it waited so not to insult a beast.

Much like myself I returned to my room, fell on my bed and meditated upon the incident and started writing about something that had been on my mind. The monotony of the day overtook me again and soon everything say in the lap of earth's shadow. The daily chores takeup quite a lot of one's time and so my dinner and deeds happened pricicely before I was about to sleep. I think my sleep is more punctual then anyother phenomena, it is so ruthlessly punctual that most times it arrives before its prescribed hour. The day was gone and dreams followed.

Apparently, the coming of this bird became a habitual thing. And every evening it would come by itself to make short or long conversation. Every evening it brought its silent answers and I confess now that I have had the most beautiful conversations with this soft feathered bird. We talked, how?; Any attempt to question the nature or dialect of the first person answer would end up in pure mind boggleing techniques, but that is nature, the simplest things about it are the toughest to understand. Why do we have to question so much. Can not one animal have a respectable and sanguine conversation, with another animal; Ok, bird!

Mr.Pegion or Perrora as I named it(I wonder if we social animals ever refrain from naming anything, I have named my aya fishface, because she has a face like a pyrana, and now the whole neighbourhood says she is fishy), had a wife and a family, his wife was taking care of newly delivered eggs and Perrora thought that the eggs looked very cute. His love for his family was quite heart touching. He flew all around the city and looked for food so his flock could feed and that is how he earned a big name amongst them and lived of his own. His vertual dislike for his fellowbirds was because of their narrow nature and lack of learning. His flock which I presumed like most other flocks were only interested in eating and nothing else, hense wisdom was not a part of their understanding and parrora always stood out. He also informed me about the various methods of weather focast, which unfailingly have helped me to this date. But I shall deny to share that information for it was quite out of secrecy that he thaught me all that.

What he learned from me would in short be put as nothing, but he kept coming. His repetitive visits ofcourse brought some form of conversation in my life and so he was quite welcome. But he amazed me with the fact that he always came alone, never once with neone, upon my insisting to bring his wife, he hoarded the request aside, for fear of too many people coming to have my food, which I said was not a problem. But he never did. Perrora was a far better person if I may call him so, then most two legged beasts I have seen. He sang with the wind and flew amongst the stars, yet he held his head firm on the ground. A great companion as he was. But something was not right. He was not happy. He was running from something, something that I could not contemplate. He was afraid of something. His wife and his children, were there but they were not there. neither were mine. They left me long ago. Left me to myself and my walls and my skies and everything in the wide world but them. Perrora was afraid of this feeling. I am not sure but he was.

True to his word, he never brought a single friend along with him. But one fine evening he came and knocked. It was very different this time. He came with the wind, swaying like death itslf and knocked upon my door. I am not sure if all of it was a dream but I could hear him talk and he made me promise him that whatever mistakes I made, I would not make them again. He made me prominse him that I would love my family in my next life and I did! I did; I swore and tears ran down my cheeks and I missed my baby's voice in the house, and in a flash I knew that the walls wernt bored they just missed the child they had supported. I had not only given up on my family, I had taken away a lot from this house aswell. I was the factor, and all along I had made only one friend, only one, near my end, before falling to the ground because of heart failure, I realised, just one friend in all my life, Mr. Perrora; MY SILENCE!!!

Poor Old Chair

A half backed chair presents itself in sheepish expression, inviting the boy to sit on him. But before he chooses to sit on it, he has to put a pillow to prevent his back from hurting, for the chair has grown old and frail, and his bones are pointed. The boy wakes up in utter disgust from the floor. Wakes up to another day, another stupid day closer to the end. He follows the floor towards the chair, puts a red towel on its back, and adjusts his bottox on the seat. The chair gives away a low creak, may be in greating. He's a good chair, very educated, very courtious, very gentlemanly. If he would have been born in the 18th century, he might have been assosiated in society with the best gentlemen, but unfortunately he belongs to our time. He cant even complain, or question it. Who does he ask or blame? Its not as if he was asked before being sent to this world. We are all created in some hot furnace and then moulded in another and then sent off to be sold to some low rated shop, to satisfy someone elses comforts and desires or greed or lust,for whichever the need be; in this case for the boy to sit. So he never complains, because he knows its only futile and painful. He has read many a books sitting by the table and he has aquired a sky full of wisdom. But look at him, he cant even share it with our boy, because by the time he starts to creak, the creak already ends. Oh poor old chair, i wish i could help you, but i apologise, we are all in one way or the other the same. we all become half backed by the time we have finished reading as much as you have. and then we realise that its apparently useless, because no one will understand. oh poor old chair, this is not our home, this is just a voyage, we shall reach home soon; all alike. The end of the journey, joins us all in a bond and we become; colorless; and formless; and needless. So we become harmonious, out of compultion. But until the journey we are to distinguish and be distinguished, accepted and discarded, bought and sold, molded and destroyed. This is us! just commodities to satisfy needs, the real one alive is money. He can be happy and do what he wishes, we just serve him, for better or worse. And return to scrap before, as i mentioned returning to nothingness. But why am i telling you this? you already know the process and the result. But poor old chair what of the boy? the sweet boy! the boy you supported for so long. Dont shake my friend, dont! i suggest you let him be.

The Blue Eyed Boy

She gently weeps on her pillow
Beside the sleeping eyes of her boy
Afraid to awake her reflection hollow
To walk away from her dreaming toy
In sweet melancholy her tears follow
Consequences of her frequent high
Her diseased body swims towards the gallow
Everyday she hide her tears with a vacant lie
The noose tightens as evermore she swallow
Bachus's gift in the drifting nigh'
She dreams of remaining life; shallow
Singing her last lullaby
Her last sip end lifes wallow
Tender soul lift and fly
No loving touch awake tomorrow
The radient eyes of the blue eyed boy
No one shall weep for his sorrow
After knowledge strike the tree of joy
Then he will weep in his lonely pillow
In bottles, his sorrow he'll cry
Drink his way past each morrow
Pray Hades end his morose life
Each new day will bring fresh horro'
While memories will casualy crusify
Until the night one such tomorrow
Hades shall hear his quivering sigh
One such sip shall then follow
He leave this poem with words goodbye
To lay together on a soft dry pillow
Under hade's, singing tree of joy
Wine and death bring together
The pink eyed girl; the blue eyed boy.