Occupy MDP!
that’s
mom’s and dad’s place -
you imbeciles!
Occupy
Mom’s and Dad’s place -
they’ve made too much money!
They’ve worked since
they were twenty
Looking after kids
and saving money –
being selfish
no charity!
just being plain greedy!
Occupy MDP!
Don’t you see?
Mom and Dad got too much money!
Look at me –
I’m twenty-eight
going on twenty-nine –
ain’t got a penny
ain’t got a honey
and Dad and Mom
got too much in the kitty
They put money in the bank!
****! Don’t you see?
Mom and Dad are capitalists!
Occupy MDP!
So Dad and Mom
thirty years
they worked
and raised kids
and they’ve paid every cent on the house!
****! Mom and Dad are capitalists!
****! – they’re bourgeoisie!
Occupy MDP!
Open their fridge– eat for free!
Watch TV, use their internet
and surf with glee –
Mom and Dad can pay every fee!
Cos they’re capitalists
and money pigs –
that’s what they are,
Mom and Dad
So Occupy MDP!
Lie in the couch
and get your friends
in the garden
and trample on the beds of flowers -
****! Can’t you see?
She goes to the hairdresser’s;
She goes to the pedicurist -
Mom’s a bourgeoisie!
Drive Dad’s car
while he snores
who cares if you burn the tires
just drive at speed
for a good adrenalin police chase -
Old Dad will pay the fines anyway!
**** – the police are capitalists!
Dad’s a capitalist!
Mum’s a bourgeoisie!
Come on - O youth of the World
It does not matter if you are past
twenty or thirty -
All youth unite at this cry:
Occupy MDP!
Occupy Mom’s and Dad’s!
O brave Youth of the World -
Occupy MDP!

If I were the king
endowed with a sting
I wouldn’t be writing this poem
I ‘d just summon you to court
and when you are on your knees proper
I’d just get you to sing
a song, a poem
that goes:
ding-a-ling-ling
bling-a-ling-a-ling
ding-don g-a-ding-ding

and I’d silence you and pronounce aloud
be telling you then
none in the land writes well at all
and I’ll take your own horrid song from you
and I’ll be telling you:
“Listen to my song
Listen to my poem”
And I’d recite your very own lines to you
And I’d ask you: “What do you think? ”
And of course you’d say,
trembling:
“No one in the land
Sire
in all the wide world -
no one writes like you, Sire”

But that’s if I were King
which I am not
And so I’ll have to sing
and write my own poems
(except when I’m plagiarising)
And you’ll be here nice and honest
just laughing and rolling
as I sing:
*ding-a-ling-ling
bling-a-ling-a-ling
ding-don g-a-ding-ding

(Punch is playing the violin. Judy is on the couch, listening patiently. After some time, Punch stops playing and he speaks...)*


Punch:
Oh, Judy...life's so divine
for me
since I bought this
my first violin
two days ago...

Judy:
For me too, Punch...
Life's not been the same
since you brought the violin home...

Punch:
But oh, Judy - how's
my playing?
Two days I've played
making music -
and how good it is
you've not said!

Judy:
Oh Punch -
you should play on TV!

Punch:
Oh Judy - why, thank you...
Am I so good, darling?

Judy:
No, sweetie
- it's just that
if you were on TV
I could turn off the ****** thing!

I cannot understand
for the life of me
why the wife
(yes, mine own good wife)
cannot attend to my every need
just like the faithful wives
of yore - such paragons of virtue
and forerunners of service departments

Why can’t she
when I cough or ahem
drop everything she’s doing
(including even if she be
attending to her toilet duties)
and do a somersault to the first aid kit
and present me
in nanosecond
a lozenge that might soothe my throat?

At the slightest rumble
of my stomach
why can’t my wife
into the kitchen dive
and before the rumble
turns into a mumble
why can’t she present on the table
a fine set of fare fit for an Emperor…
a wide range of food – I am reasonable –
the best from Saskatchewan and so on
a dish of the the best from every
nation and continent and clime
Now, is that really too much to ask
of a wife for life?


And what about my other needs
and my other multifarious, multitudinous
innumerable
variety of desires and wants and appetites
that from time to time burst like fireworks
that usher in the New Year?
After all I’m human
and have all these desires and wants
through start of day to the moment
I recline in bed
at decline of day…
So why can’t she
ensure the toothpaste is on the toothbrush
at start of my day
and use a fresh towel end
to coax to prominence the shine on my teeth?
And why can’t she have my
clothes neatly pressed and ready on bed
and presto! – when I emerge into the dining hall
should not breakfast be ready on the table
as Ariel would have done for Prospero in “The Tempest”?
Look, as you can see, I am not far
from being reasonable…
And then certainly the shoes should be ready
with a new shine nurtured with cat’s **** or dog’s pooh –
whatever the concoction that may take
to bring out the luster in my shoes
And she can open the door and shut it gently
(that’s the house door)
and she could open the door and shut it gently
(that’s the car door)
as I drive off elegantly
and surely should return
to smiles and glee
and a repeat performance
but varied now to evening needs
and let us not forget me and the wife in bed

And so on, I think you get the drift;
intelligent reader as you are,
I believe you understand
the daily program
the moral imperative
in a wife that’s for life


and you can see
plain and clear as the still sea
how reasonable and natural
and unpretentious, easy, manageable
professional and well-planned and spaced
my demands and needs are and be:
after all
it is my wife
I claim for these services
and Not the President’s or Vladimir Putin’s



And now I’ll throw at you
Sirs and Ladies
the most dramatic question
the parting shot
O the noble Parthian shot -
irrefutable, irreparable, indisputable
absolutely undeniable
and that will make you see the light:
*A wife’s for life, is she not -
and aren’t both made for my convenience?

1
in the fish market of religions
and faiths
and suppositions and declarations
and fierce revelations
much of the commerce is done
on the principle:
Who shouts loudest
and shouts longest
and shouts often-est
gets to empty the most pockets
of bewildered customers

(You always empty their minds
first)

2
You never lose in this fish market
Even the quiet ones
the ones of mild manners and timid ways
can trawl a good number
of faithful customers

3
You can sell fresh fables
or smelly old tales –
they are all good commerce

4
Of course some slap you
right in the face
with their fish:
That too seems to catch customers…

I think you stun them with one blow
and they remain stunted all their lives

(Punch comes home. Judy, his wife, kisses him and asks about his day.)*


Judy:
How was your day at work , darl?

Punch:
Not a good day, sweetie…

Judy:
And why was that, Punch?

Punch:
Oh, the Boss is just overbearing

Judy:
What did he do this time, sweetie?


Punch:
Oh well, he comes in to my table
this morning, right,
and he asks me: “Punch, do you believe
in the after-life?”
An odd question to ask, you’d agree…
Anyway I say: “I do, Mr Blake –
I do believe in the after-life.”
And he says: “Oh, I’m glad you do…”
And he continues:
“Yesterday you asked to go home at noon
You said your grandpa died
And guess what? – 4 hours after you left
a man claiming to be your grandpa
came here looking for you
Said he was in in the vicinity
and he might walk home back with you
There’s sure such a thing as after-life, Punch!”

And all day Mr Blake was having a go at me about ghosts
And all my colleagues too, they were going: “BOO!”
at every chance they got…
Oh, what an embarrassing day…


Judy:
Oh, so you lied to get a half-day off, Punch?
And where were you?
You didn’t come home early yesterday…
Doesn’t look like your day is over, Punch…
Certainly not a good day!

(Punch comes home after work. Judy kisses him and welcomes him back home.)*

Judy:
So how was your day at work, sweetie?

Punch:
Oh that old Boss is always making life tough for me...

Judy:
Oh Punch...what happened?

Punch:
Oh Judy, I went in this morning
30 past the time I was supposed
to be in at work –
OK, I was late, but is that a big thing really? –
and anyway the Boss is at the main entrance
and he sees me come in late
and he says ever so slyly:
“Punch – do you know you are late? ”
And I says to him: “Yes, Mr Blake”
And he says to me:
“And Punch – do you know
That’s the fifth time you’ve been late to work
this week? ”
And I says to the Boss:
“Yes, Mr Blake…”
And the Boss looks at me and he says:
“Fifth time in the week, Punch…
Do you know what that means? ”
And I says:
“Fifth time in the week?
So it’s Friday, Mr Blake? ”

Judy:
Oh Punch - what a silly Boss you've got.
Why doesn't he just check
the calendar if he wants
to know the day or date?

I am Sarah Malcolm -
yes, the one they call the Irish Laundress
and the jury found me guilty of the murders
(the Infamous Murderess)
of Mrs Lydia Duncomb,
Mrs Harrison and the servant Ann Price
in Mrs Lydia’s chamber
at the Inns of Court in the Temple;
and the jury only needed 15 minutes

and there was disbelief when I admitted to robbery
but not ******
and there was disgust
when I said the blood on my clothing was my own menstrual blood
and not the blood of Ann Price:
I had broken a taboo in talking of menstrual blood
for, as they say,
only loose and the not so virtuous women speak that way

and of course even after the judgement
I have been deemed even more guilty
for I am of a different Communion
of the Catholic faith, not Anglican -
just as the Ordinary, James Guthrie described me
in instructing me here at Newgate on the Christian faith;
and I have earned the name now of many
as the evil, barbaric, and stubborn woman

And now Mr Hogarth sketches and paints
that you might have a view of me;
and the appointed date is 7 March 1733
when I will be executed...
and these lines I add to the picture
that you might remember me

you know
to lofty heights
they praise
the spirit and the other cliche, the soul
(something they can’t see)
and they deride the body
(something they can touch, but don’t)

But O sweethearts
you’ll never get into other dimensions
if you don’t know your present
so touch your bodies, sweeties...
never fear, sweethearts
of legit joining of body and body
just enjoy the *** with no guilt
it’s OK to exhaust yourselves
to moan and sigh and lie tired
loving body side by body
and to whisper:
Oh...that’s good, isn’t it?
and to answer:
*Hmmm....We ought to do this again soon, baby...

I hate my girl
Why?
Cos she’s a *******

On every date she just messes me up
The first one we were on
I said:
“Doesn’t this date
just make you long for another?”
And she answers:
“Oh, yes – but no one else would come”

And on every date
I must pay for her drinks and food
and must take her home in a taxi;
and so *******, I said yesterday:
“You must think me the perfect fool!”
And the *******, she says:
*“I keep telling you -
you are not perfect…”

1
modern Romance can be strange
with each seeing others at the same time
even while in a relationship;
but it’s always been the same:
the guys never get it


2
like yesterday my love, strong Tom,
he told me:
‘Sweet Ann, I’ve kept something from you;
I must tell you the truth now:
I’m seeing a psychiatrist’

And I thought, as he was being honest
I should be honest too
and so, I said:
‘Oh my Tom – I’ll tell you the truth:
I’m seeing a plumber, a doctor and a mechanic’

And I don’t understand these men
and their double standards;
Tom just stormed out

see how many events
we celebrated
and commemorated...
we divide our lives in spaces
like those between markings on a ruler
in mm, cm, and m...
and time so divided
and the year is the most meaningful in our lives
one is nearly gone
and another looms
stares at us with a fireworks yawn
what is time then? -
that we make do with days, weeks, months and years
and that we manage
with birthdays, markers
and observances and events and Special Days
work and holidays
what is this time? ...
that offers us some breathing space
and then eats us whole....
I know, I know
we all have our answers
that we find in our Books, our traditions, our symbols...
ready-made answers Authority teaches us to repeat
and come time
we’ll all die like stray cats run over on the roads
and we won’t even know what hit us...
don’t ask, don’t ask...we won’t ask what time is...
we’ll just mark it
and go wow at fireworks

Earthlings:
We have created a World
One World
One Language
One Way
in All Things
One True God
One Thought
One Government
One Will
We have created this
and we will extend
this benefit
to Planet Earth:
Not necessarily through agreement
but bringing all things to concord
to the One Way

Mom – I’m sorry
Mom and Dad
and Grands and everybody else
but I got to run off
And so by the time you read this
I’ll be gone
because you know
you don’t let me marry him
I really love him
and he really loves me too
But you, everyone of you
you don’t like his color,
the way he is
I know him and I got to be together
forever
And you all just sneer:
Oh, she’s just a teenager!
And you’ll all never accept it
forever
Neither will his group
accept me, forever
So don’t look for us;
we’ll literally fly off to
a corner in this universe
where no one will find us
ever
and we’ll live happily forever
Just the two of us

Just a few words to you all:
*We are all the same, you know
no matter our color and metal and make
no matter the configuration
no matter the model and serial number
and which Factory we came from
We robots are all the same…
You got to learn this and to love
all robots the same

Do not look like that, Cora
I have done my best, and I do
I paint and that is what I do...
you know, you know, Cora;
we have known each other
since our childhood:
O for the days of Vermont
the summers of joy and fun
when we were but children
and our hopes were high -
and my mind breaks and my heart weakens
when I see you and the children now
and that I cannot put food on the table
give you the things you need
I can paint, Cora - oh for the life of me, I can -
but I do not know how to haggle,
how to beat the mind of those who undervalue my work
how do you make money
when but art is in the heart?
There is nothing else within me...
I walk in the world an innocent;
‘strange’ they call me, Cora
I try, I try - O I try
I paint plaques and decorations if necessary -
but the money, the money eludes me
it is only paint that sticks;
and I can paint
and that is all I know and that I can do
when the agony blows like cruel storms in my mind
You know, I try, O you know
my spirit nearly breaks
Cora, Cora, Cora
I have done my best, I do
to put bread and meat on the table
for the children and you
but money eludes me, it eludes me
I paint and that is what I do -
you know, you know, Cora
Do not look like that, Cora

%????-----
///,.,.,.;;;’’
!@#$$$$$$
$$$$$$$$$
***}((^
$$$$##^%%%
)()()(!~­+”””
/?>

Socrates asks too many questions
and so in Athens they give him hemlock
“Cheers! ” they say
and Socrates drinks to health
and he drops down dead

“Could I have one? ”
asks Citizen
“No, ” says the State
“cos if that’s the only kind of question
you can ask
we want you to stay alive
eat, drink and fornicate
and prop up the State”

Where Purity is the Covering of All Flesh
and no private part of the human body
may be shown
and thus where the lack of Purity is Dishonesty
and therefore are Dishonest Paintings
wherein are depicted female ******* and such
buttocks and navel
and where genitalia female or male
asleep or awake
and such are shown
and crotches and such flesh and curvatures
may arouse
such being Dishonest Paintings
the Eminent Guardians of Purity
announce multiple positions vacant
of Reviewer of Dishonest Paintings
and so to cover up with black paint any signs of *******
and so of any other part of images in such paintings
as buttocks cover up with black paint
and so on each Dishonest part of human anatomy
to be covered with black paint
and in this task one always to use a firm, long brush -
the longer and firmer the better for the Soul -
so that
one may not come too close to such obscenities
as coming close one may be aroused to ***** desires
in male
(Females need not apply for said position
for such lascivious creatures are always
in a state of wet desires)
and so in covering with black paint
the Sanctity and the Will of Heaven prevails
and human souls transported to Divine Ecstasy
at the sight of paintings with black holes
corrected by expert Reviewer of Dishonest Paintings
and such positions to be filled
by honest men firm in their resolve
and long in stamina and determination
they should arrange their own transport
for various locations in the Holy Empire
for indeed Various Positions are available
and while the renumeration is handsome
derived from confiscation of properties and means
of the Perpetrators
of those Works of Perfidy and Damnation
those Artists who produce and who engender
Dishonest Paintings and such Works
and far more too included in Renumeration
is the Seat of Purity in Heaven -
O the pay shall be Eternal Heaven
Apply directly and in person
at the South Wall of the Grand House of Divinity -
put your scrolls in the holes

See see Papa Trench Bottom
dig in the mines happily, laugh ha ha happily
and drink at night and hear him
snore before the day
happy happy Papa Trench Bottom
he he he he he ha ha happy happy
at home and at work
See see Mama Big Bottom
she she she he he ha ha happy
Dance happily Cook with joy
toss with levity
and puts dishes aplenty on the table
for all in the family to eat and be merry
See see Teenage Tough Dude
he he he happily walks in the streets
Cool at school
Very Pop with the babes
and eating lots at home, with gravity
very serious in look, sparse in his words
but loves his mom, dad and sis
deep deep within, ha ha happily happily
Happy Happy Teenage Cool Dude
And see Sister Barbie Doll Pretty
Curls and dimples and cute smiles all
Happy hours in the ha ha bathroom
many more hours texting and chatting
and lots and lots of FaceTime
Happy happy walking ****
all the way to work
and chirping all day like a Paradise Bird
at work at the Rainbow Fast Food Outlet
happy happy talking talking all workday
Ah See Happy happy he he he
she she she happy happy Family
Trench Bottom family he he he
and she she she all day and night
Happy happy Trench Bottoms
Happy happy he he ha ha Happy Family always

nobody likes me;
I've known that since long time back
and used to be that I was wounded and worried
could not sleep the nights
could not eat meals complete
cos I knew always
nobody likes me, poor me
and nobody clicks on 'like'
on my page;
and Oh - I got thin and gaunt
and then it was I decided:
OK - hell - I don't like anybody
and we're equal - there, we're done!
Go jump in the well all of you
cos I know you don't like me
and I don't like you
(you like you, I like me)
and I suppose you'd tell me jump too
All right - I'll do -
just don't jump into my well
so find yourself one for yourself
since I don't like you
and you don't like me
it'll be unbearable
sharing the same well

1
in January
I met Jane
in February
it was all love
flying Cupids
and St Valentine’s

in March
we marched down the aisle
I slipped the ring in her finger
and she let me slip into her that night
in April
I came home early and saw her kissing some guy
and when I coughed
they both laughed at me and said:
Happy April Fool’s Day!
A belated one, though;
still - I just laughed,
always love surprises
and a good sport I’d always been

I don’t remember what we did
In May -
but the predominant emotion is one of dismay
June saw us
make love
under the moon
and at noon
in July
she made full use of her vocal cords
and reached her peak of pitch:
Oh God! - you’re just like any guy!
You’ve turned the house into a sty!
August I decided to be a little dignified;
and in September we were like King and Queen
with diamond crown and scented scepter each


2
in October she crashed our new
shiny, costly SUV Rover
and I just found it difficult to stay sober
November
is a month to remember, to remember
well it’s something private between me and Jane
it’s something to do with a member, a member
November - Oh baby,
it’s something to remember, remember...
December came and - was it the heat
or the cold? -
by the end we were dismembered, dismembered:
I’m alone again
and this time maybe
in scented January
in fresh January I’ll find May

Prediction 1X^VVVKOOiii8889

In year 2012,
Honorable Sage of Peach Land says,
Man will prosper till end
but in last day 2012
Man will become Donkey
and Donkey will transform into Man
as happened in Ancient Hoary Past Year 201222334

Yeah! - we win!
We Aussies win
the CoreData 2011 award:
each household will spend
an average of more than $1000
on gifts, food and deco for Xmas
Yeah! - we win!
China? $400 only
The French? $600 only
The Kiwis? $631 only
America? $644 only
The British? $815 only
Britain beats France - but
Yeah! - we Aussies beat 'em all!
Yeah! - we win!


We Aussies also win
the IBISWorld 2011 award:
Australia will spend $1.2 billion
on ***** just in December
Yeah, we win! And throughout 2011!
the UK? they drink only 10.58 litres
average year round
the USA? a paltry 8.42 liters average
And Down Under? - 10.61 litres this year
Yeah! - we win! we win! we win!

it is end of day
the moon glows, the birds head home
the boats sway in their own random dance
and you see
life slows to its lame walk

travelers stop at Shinagawa
and they have needs;
our duties done
you pack your samisen
and you will go
and  I shall change into clothes
best for some rest and sleep
and we shall meet again
another day
as our days flow
like dispassionate rivers

1
zzzzz.....zzzzz...shhh.....zzzzz.
shhh....be quiet!.....zzzzz....
it’s the quiet of night
and everyone’s asleep...
so be quiet....zzzzzzzzzzz...

he-body is in bed
and see, beside is she-body
and both owners are fast asleep
but bodies speak even in sleep
shhh....be quiet!.....zzzzz....
zzzzz.....zzzzz...shhh.....zzzzz.


2
one turns in sleep
click! the neck says
ssssuuu!
a big toe scratches the mattress

silence

hmmm...mmmm...hmmmm...
that’s the in-breath, out-breath
as the bodies communicate


growl! it’s an empty tummy
and tchk! says the tongue
as it feels thirsty;
swwwwwirl!
says the blanket
as she-body pulls more of it



3

zzzzz.....zzzzz...shhh.....zzzzz.
shhh....be quiet!.....zzzzz....
it’s the quiet of night
and everyone’s asleep...
so be quiet....zzzzzzzzzzz...


rrrr....rrrrr.....rrrrrr...
that’s he-body snoring
rrrr...rrrr....rrrr...rrrrrrrr...
yes, he snores like a saw


ttttttttttt! yes, she-body kicks

bp!bp!bp!bp!
he-body ***** his thumb


zap!
a noise travels
from lung to gut
hmmmm....hmmmmmm....hmmmm...
there is heavy-breathing
the nose is blocked


4
zzzzz.....zzzzz...shhh.....zzzzz.
shhh....be quiet!.....zzzzz....
it’s the quiet of night
and everyone’s alseep...
and bodies talk....listen


prrrrtttt!
yes, that’s he-body
everybody knows this rude sound
Plattt!
yes, that’s she-body
with an instinctive kick
Baam!
that’s he-body
as it hits the floor


rrrrrr......rrrrrr....rrrrrr.....rrrrrr....
prrrrrrrrrrr­rrrrtttttt!
that’s he-body again, I’m afraid,
blissfully unaware
and asleep like a baby on the floor


Hmmmmm.....
that’s she-body dreaming of Prince Charming
who never showed up


zzzzz.....zzzzz...shhh.....zzzzz.
shhh....be quiet!.....zzzzz....
it’s the quiet of night
and everyone’s asleep...
so be quiet....zzzzzzzzzzz...

1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies

O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin

Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!


2
Now, he’s dead
and I’ve arranged for his funeral
and while everyone’s busy
with all these preparations
I dutifully take all his money
from the hiding place
which he whispered to me
with his last breath
and he bit my ear and he snarled:
Put all my money
in my coffin


Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!


3
So I take all his money
and bring it to the bank
and deposit it in my name
and make a cheque out for 10 million
and put the cheque below his head

Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you can take all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!

Kron joins the monastery;
he must stay in isolation
and is allowed to say 2 words
every three years


3 years pass
and Kron is brought before
the Elders
and he is allowed his 2 words
Cold room, he says


3 years later
again Kron is brought before
the Elders
and he is allowed his 2 words
Bad food, he says


3 years later
again Kron is brought before
the Elders
and he is allowed his 2 words
I quit, he says


Not surprising, say the Elders
*All you have done since you came here is to complain

I will tell you a story, Most Reverend One
how 300 fairies transported me
to the Mountains of Peach Lands
and how I denied them each my heart -
but ha, ha - I can see, you laugh;
you do not believe me...

but I have more reasonable stories -
for example
of how the Earth was created;
it’s true, O Most Reverend One
there’s such a Being up there
eating chicken dumplings
and poking His nose
in trivial and very grave human affairs...
O he, he, he...you see my tales are but fancy
and do not believe such a Creature can exist...

but am I done, most Reverend One?
Is my list of tales and myth and stories
so limited? - No, I have a list of stories
as long as the tail of the Divine Monkey
that first whipped all stars into position
and with its Monkey hands squeezed each planet into solid mass
O there you are, you laugh and make me happy
you encourage me, O Most Reverend One

I will study your mood
and I can tell you a tale
of how your ancestors
shaped this land
and how they brought that chair you sit on
from the Diamond Palaces of faraway India -
oh, **, **, ** - you didn’t know that?
and generations of your clan have sat there on that chair
and so do  you - and you never knew its story...
I have long lists of stories and tales
all true and collected from lands far and wide -
ah you laugh, Most Reverend One -
and you encourage me...


My story itself will interest you
for I was born of noble family with great wealth
and pomp and estate and attendants
but when my mum died,
she said to me:
Go you forth
and collect the world’s stories
and so I gave away all my possessions
and I travelled all abroad
and have come to my current itinerant state...
See, my life itself is a story -
worthy of our operas and and street theaters
with much comedy and adventures...
ha, ha, ha - O **, **, **
you laugh and you are pleased
which pleases me...

Call then your clan together, O Most Reverend One;
set up a platform
and I will shine like a sun on this platform
and I will tell these tales
in the gentle light of the moon and torches
and I shall spin tales of the moment
for each man and woman
and each child of your most revered clan, O Most Reverend One...
you laugh, and you nod
you are pleased - oh, oh, ha....ha...ha...
that’s good Most Reverend One...

But now, Most Reverend One,
I never start without terms...
*shall we first talk about my accommodation, food, facilities
and payment?

O gentle ones
dear butterflies that have come in my garden
did you see?
I waited today in my lonely confine
prescribed to me by time and life
though I too tried, like you, to fly
but the years given me are too long
and not seven just like yours
and time has chained me to a single place
and no one comes
and in unquiet silence I sat in the shadows

and you flitted in

you flew in like a happy crowd of children
a cheerful procession of revelers
and you flew straight to the flowers -
the flowers! ah, dear butterflies
I had not even noticed them
and now I do...
all of it -
your gentleness
and your grace
and the charm of the flowers
and the beauty of the day;
and now that you are come
I too am cheerful
I am happy too
since you flew in

I don’t like school, Sir
most venerable teacher;
and though you are kind, Sir
and all my classmates too
and you all help me study and learn
like you make me know
the first five characters in the alphabet
but the moment I am out of school
all I  can remember
are the rice-cakes and sweets and the dumplings my mother makes

...and true, Sir
most venerable teacher
you teach me the numbers
and I can count from 1 to 5
when I am in class
but when I’m out
I love the toys my father brings
and  I play with the wooden toy soldiers
and I love the ducks and the clay horses;
and I really can’t remember the first five letters
or the first five characters
when I lie in bed

...and when I am back in class, Sir
dragged in by Old Madam Toothless ****
who always knows where I am wherever I try to run
I can’t remember anything anyone taught me, Sir
O most venerable teacher...

I know, Sir
all of you have spoken to me
and my dad and my mom
and Old Madam Toothless ****
and all my friends in class
I must study so I can go to the city and find work
but school only makes me cry -
and all I want to do, Sir
most venerable teacher
is to play and eat and sleep when it is time
...and one day, Sir
most venerable teacher
(I know you worry about me)
when I’m grown and big
I’ll make toys and I’ll sell them
and make money for me and my family;
and I’ll make all those sweets and dumplings
and feed my family...
so please, Sir
most venerable teacher
because I don’t like school
and I can’t remember anything
do not worry about me and let me go to the fields now
and I shall grow to be tall as the trees
and as rich as the rice fields...

I am e and I don’t like p
p really disgusts me
and makes me go eeeeee!
p is a stalker and purposely tries to get close to me -
see what I mean?
I try to keep p at a distance
but I don’t always succeed
look
I want to get a fruit
and I reach for a pear
and see? - P comes to share!
He wants to make a pair with me!
Oh! I just hate p!
Try and get some peace
but that p instantaneously
casts a shadow over my peace,
as you can see...
I can’t even have fun -
I just want a peek - and p insists on being there;
and if I just take a peep - oh p
infuriates me
like barriers in front and at the back
I try an orange
hoping to get rid of p
but as soon as I start to peel -
oh! I hate it! p’s there, do you see?
I don’t mind s, or c or dear old d
but Oh this stalker p
I hate p
with all my life and energy

and even a hates p
for p thinks it’s good company in papa
when a just wants to be alone;
and worse, p is really crude and smells
and s and i think so too
cos p forces them altogether
and makes them ****...
Oh I am e and I hate p
and the ABC Police tell me it’s not within their purview
could I speak with the Numbers Department?
and the Numbers Department says he’s too important
since he’s in pi
O what can me, we do with p?
I just hate p - he just makes me want to puke!
one of these days, I’m just going to double *** on p!

The Daily Mail, UK and Herald Sun (Australia) report on how Father Gabriele Amroth of the Vatican teaches that yoga and Harry Potter and the ‘oriental religions’ are the works of the Devil...the following poem  expresses my outrage at such stupidity and parochialism that still exists amongst some groups of Europeans even today in their relations with the East.


song of Father Gabriele Amorth


O yoga yoga
baby baby
sings Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni
O yoga yoga
no go no go
to yoga yoga
baby baby
all you innocents
and pure
all blessed
and destined for Heaven
no go to yoga yoga
yoga yoga
yogurt is fine
sugar in your yogurt is fine
strawberry and apple
in your yogurt is fine
so eat eat your
yogurt yogurt yogurt
but yoga yoga
O yoga yoga
no go no go no go baby
baby baby
sings Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni
and also no go to Harry Potter
baby baby baby
no go no go
no go to yoga no to yoga
and no go no go
to Harry Potter
baby baby baby
now say after me:
yoga yoga yoga
baa baa baa
bad bad bad
and say after me:
Harry Potter Harry Potter
moo moo moo
bad bad bad
O baby baby baby
at our next conference
I’ll teach you
how the Dragon is bad
and how the Chinese got it all wrong
all these centuries
with their Chinese Dragon, Dragon, Dragon
but that’s for next time
next time next time
baby baby baby
for now just repeat after me
your most reverend
Father Gabriele Amorth
in the Italian town of Terni:
O yoga yoga
no go no go
to yoga yoga
baby baby
And say after me
all ye faithful
all ye blessed:
*Harry Potter Harry Potter
moo moo moo
bad bad bad

eat, drink...enjoy it all...
it has been a hot day
and we have worked much
and we sang songs to see us
through the demands of it all

oh fields,
we have come to work
and to give you our time and effort;
give us your love in return
and in coming months give
us good produce and fruit

and now it is time for each one of us
all as in one family to sit in the open
and eat and drink how you like
with slurps and loud noises
and big reverberant burps;
there’s fish before you -
with your chopsticks
dig, tear and eat;
a fan for you respectable Old One
fan yourself while you eat
and the young too, let us not forget
and the baby
O let us all drink noisily if need be
eat heartily for we are the deserving
and let us not forget too the creatures
that are also part of the family

*eat and drink
slurp and gobble and belch
empty each bowl whole
dig into every bit of fish
eat and drink
for we are the deserving
after all our work

we are here
rowing in gently near to the shore
and even now you can see
the peaks, mountains and the valleys
and the giant pines and willow
and the embracing peace, the pervasive quiet...
you see a lone figure there, enjoying a walk;
there is a little village there of huts
whose humble folk will serve you in all ways
though you will never meet them...
the guardians in the longhouse
there past the peaks
will see to all your needs
and you shall not want anything in creature comforts...
you shall be on land shortly and you will be escorted to the longhouse
and the guardians there will see to your walks
and to ensure the villagers do not meet you...
the guardians will speak of these things
and arrange these things...
yes, I know of that matter...and I can speak of it...
they will provide you with paper and ink and brushes...
but all you produce will be stored in the library there in the longhouse...
you may peruse, but you may not bring the works away...
even your works...all you create is no longer yours...
I hear you are not to leave the longhouse compounds unattended...
the guardians will speak to you of these matters...
there will be solitude
there will be respect
they will look to your every need
but as you know
none of your kind brought here
ever returns...
so then I wish you days of gentleness
and peace and quiet to your last days here...
we are come very near
and between the rocks there we shall stop and you shall disembark...

this is the life...oh, reading
daylong and in candlelight
and perusing scrolls and poems and the Classics
and the Analects,
it tires one...but this, sitting in the veranda
and with fresh air
and the gentle breeze and one’s mind light and easy...
and contemplating a rose
or seeing the green of a leaf...
the mind cleared of ideas and vague abstractions
and the weight of words and persuasion,
O this is the life...
the mind sits still now
in itself
the being in
the quiet of an evening
the satisfaction of solitude
in an emptiness, a presence
beyond books, thoughts and patterns
this is the life, this is the moment...

Ah, you ask
what the origin is of the word pharaoh
Let me assure you first
such questions need to be asked
and you have come to the right person
for I am an antimologist
one specialized in the study of the origin of words

1
Let us consider....pharaoh...pharaoh...pharaoh...
Ah, I have it...the answer retrieved
from the safe confines and treasuries
in the deepest recesses of my mind....

The pharaoh
was so called
for these rulers were,
in spite of the scorching heat and unforgiving sun,
these rulers were always fair
and never became dark
and so that clears the mystery of the first half of pharaoh

2
And moreover, it is revealed in the papyri
and graffiti in the tombs
these Pharaohs could row -
even as Rulers these Pharaohs could row -
you know
row, row, row your boat
and they could row
the full length and breadth of the Nile

And thus from the 2 Divine attributes
of FAIR and ROW  
came the title: PHARAOH


3
But....but...but! you say
Ah, I know, I know - you are about to ask
why then is the word spelt as PHARAOH
and not as FAIRROW?
Ah, such questions you have this morning -
what are you on?
Too much sugar and candy floss last night?


Well, you are lucky as I’m not only an antimologist
but also an IsDorian
and so I shall dispel your doubts at once:
It’s simple - remember they were Ancient Egyptians
and these Ancient Egyptians did not know their English well
and so instead of the proper English FAIRROW
they gave us the mangled PHARAOH -
and let us not be too ******* them
as you also recall this was all in the infancy of human civilization
and we shall be graceful enough in our maturity to accept these errors,
for after all, these Ancient Egyptians were but as children
in the History of Human Motion

And I hope I have now dispelled your morning perturbations
as  I rowed you over
the rivers of knowledge of antimology, IsDory
and  the secret knowledge of FAIRROW and the PHARAOH

sa sa sa sa
sa sa sa la la sa
la la ma ma da da la la sa sa
O one foot up
one foot down
left hand here
right hand there
where goes the body
and where the mind?
sa sa sa sa
sa sa sa la la sa
la la ma ma da da la sa sa
dancing in the world
to drums and flute
and strings and cymbals
and wood and metal
where is one
where is the other
which is my shape
where dance my clothes?
which is first, which is end?
sa sa sa sa
sa sa sa la la sa
la la ma ma da da la sa sa
happy face and light heart
they connect
in moving limbs and fluid music
where is the dancer, the music
where is solid, where is fluid?
where is earth, where the sky?
where I put my feet is the ocean
where my sleeves fly is space
where I put my fingertips is life
where I look is delight
O one foot up
one foot down
left hand here
right hand there
where goes the body
and where the mind?
sa sa sa sa
sa sa sa la la sa
la la ma ma da da la sa sa

Right...
catfish slippery
gourd slippery
and I am to catch this catfish

mountains stand behind
covered by mist
mountains have grown
as have my whiskers
and my clothes tear and wear out with time
and I am to catch
slippery catfish
with slippery gourd -
O god
of streams and mountains!
how do you catch, dear god of bamboo,
a catfish in a gourd?

and the waters flow
of many monsoons and storms
and the river has changed its course
many times
while I stand here with my gourd
and myself twisted and turned and all my virility lost
not a jot closer to my task
even with the god of riverbanks;
but all the while this catfish jumps around in the stream
mocking
clapping its fins like a pair of hands
and beating the water with its tail
and the message it sends is: “Come on! come on!
Catch me if you can!”

Right...
catfish in the waters slippery
gourd in my hand slippery
and I am to catch this catfish
O god of mist and rocks
how do you catch a catfish in a gourd?

Rice cakes!
****!
Rice cakes for dinner, rice cakes for lunch!
Rice cakes for breakfast!
****!
Don’t they have anything else in this house?
house after house we’ve lived in Nihon*
and all we get to steal from our honorable
but ignorant human hosts
is rice cake and more rice cake...
I hate living in Nihon!
You know, I hear the Dutch and the British
and the Americans give cheese to their mice
even on their ships -
but rats! - what do we mice get
in our honorable land of the rising sun?
Rice cakes!
****!
Rice cakes for dinner, rice cakes for lunch!
Rice cakes for breakfast!
****!
Look - I don’t know about you - but I’ve had it!
I’m leaving Nihon forever
and I’ll jump onto one of these ships
that now more commonly visit Nihon’s shores
and end up in Britain or Holland eating cheese
and live on a Mouse Cheese Pension maybe for the rest of my life,
O cheese! cheese! - rather that, you know
than rice cakes for dinner, rice cakes for lunch!
Rice cakes for breakfast!
And what are you so composed about?
Lying there on the floor, looking so pleased with yourself -
are you coming or no?
OK...you stay here and join some Zen temple
and eat vegetarian rice cakes all your complacent and placid life -
but I’m going this very night
to the West
to feast and dine on cheese,
like an English gentleman perhaps, all my life...

Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro
hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu
maverick, defender, O lover of justice

Shintaro walks with grace
Shintaro’s life is concentration
and quiet, peace and silence
Shintaro is skill and perfection

Shintaro is protector of child
woman and the poor and the orphans
the weak, the helpless
and of any who has been wronged

Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro
hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu
maverick, defender, O lover of justice

the ninjas come
like speeding stars
one after another
secret killers
with weapons of death
but none can beat Shintaro -
Akikusa Shintaro, master of peace and stillness
Samurai who sees with his being

Shintaro, Shintaro, O Shintaro
hero, samurai, loner, onmitsu
maverick, defender, O lover of justice -
you live in time
you live in mind

Scene One



...some time in time... bare stage except for a square neon sign on left that reads: “Aged Care Home”...on right is a rectangular neon message display with full title of the play...Urgo and Burgo bring Raj Arumugam out on wheelchair...
*



Urgo: I am attendant 1. Often known as Urgo.



Burgo: I am attendant 2. Always known as Burgo.



Urgo:  You see this creature seated here
            in the wheelchair? 
Can you believe it?

            This creature once wrote poems
            
and its poems still inhabit cyberspace.


Burgo: Oh, this creature did that?


Urgo: Yes, this.


Burgo: I think I’ve read some.

             Not that I can remember any.
             
Not a word, not a title.
 But must have been pretty good, ha?
             
To write all those words, in verse...


Urgo: I don’t know about that.
           
It’s the girls who write. And sissies.
           
And for all that, you know
           
there’s just one word this creature can say.


Burgo: Really? Just one word?


Urgo: Yes.
All right, watch this.
           Come on, Raj-i.

           Hey baby...Burgo here wants to hear you.
           
Just one poem in your one word.
           
Come on, baby - or no soup for you tonight.



Raj: Baa, baa, baa

        Baa, baa, baa

        Baa, baa, baa

       Baa, baa, baa



(Burgo and Urgo clap)



Urgo: Baan-derful, Raj...
Now Burgo,
           let’s wheel the creature back in

           and dump him in
           his corner.



(Urgo and Burgo go out, Urgo pushing wheelchair with Raj in it)





Scene Two



...some time in time... bare stage except for a square neon sign on left that reads: “Aged Care Home”...on right is a rectangular neon message display with full title of the play...Urgo and Burgo bring Raj Arumugam out on wheelchair...






Urgo: Today, Burgo, is Exercise Your Vocal Chords Day.



Burgo: No problem - Ahhhhhhhhrrrrgggggooooaaaaa.....



Urgo: Not your vocal cords, Burgo.
           
It is Exercise Your vocal Cords Day
            
for our distinguished guest currently
            
on this wheelchair.



Burgo: Ahhh...I see...



Urgo: All right, Raj-i baby...
Exercise your vocal chords 

            and entertain us with your delightful voice...



Raj: Baa, baa, baa
        
Baa, baa, baa

        Baa, baa, baa
        
Baa, baa, baa



(Burgo claps)*



Urgo: OK - that’s enough exercise for the day!
           Let’s go






(Urgo and Burgo go out, Urgo pushing wheelchair with Raj in it)






Scene Three

...some time in time... bare stage except for a square neon sign on left that reads: “Aged Care Home”...on right is a rectangular neon message display with full title of the play...Urgo and Burgo bring Raj Arumugam out on wheelchair...


Urgo: Burgo!

Burgo: Sire!

Urgo: Sire? Where in the world
           did you get such a word?

Burgo: Sorry - I thought I was in a *****
             Shakespeare play.

Urgo: Have your head examined, Burgo.
            We’ll never make it there.
            All we have is this 3rd-rate one-act play.

Burgo: I understand. I’m just a little ambitious.

Urgo: Be realistic. Don’t be ambitious.

Burgo: That’s wise, Sire - I mean, Urgo.

Urgo: Well, this creature in the wheelchair,
            for example...It was ambitious...
            and it had a great fall...
            it never knew how to be realistic...
            But more of that, later - first, what Day is it today?

Burgo: It is We Tickle Your Foot Day, today.

Urgo: You learn fast, Burgo.

Burgo: Thank you, Urgo.

(Silence)

Urgo: Well?

Burgo: I’m very well, thank you.

Urgo: You idiot! I mean if you know it is
           We Tickle Your Foot Day, today -
           then what should you do next, you knave!?

Burgo: Oh. Ok.

(Burgo kneels before Raj, takes off Raj’s shoes and with a feather tickles Raj’s feet.)

Raj (laughing): Baa, baa, baa
                              Baa, baa, baa
                              Baa, baa, baa
                             Baa, baa, baa


(Burgo puts Raj’s shoes on again, and his feather back in his pocket and stands up.)



Burgo: You mentioned ambition
              and this creature that sits on the wheelchair.

Urgo: Yes, it is time to exercise my vocal chords.
           This creature forgot, like all creatures,
           we come alone, and we go alone.

Burgo: Ah, at last! - hints of a Shakespearean play
             albeit we’ll never make it into one.
            With ambition, loneliness and all the Lear madness.
            Will we have the lewd parts too
            and rich imagery of body parts?

Urgo: Perhaps...perhaps...but let us stick to the ordinary ...
           This creature was born in 1derLand
           but was washed ashore to foreign shores.


Burgo: Good, good...like Paris, son of Priam and Hecuba?
             O Paris, washed ashore to Sparta
             O so well-loved and nursed by Helen.

Urgo: Yes, except this creature is more akin to the Wanderer
            like Oedipus, or just the indistinct Mendicant,
            the Samurai with no master, a ronin,
             all cursed to wander the face of the earth...

Burgo: Oh - are we in Shakespeare yet?

Urgo: We are in deep ****! That’s where we are!
           We all are.
           Burgo - let us stick to the banal like hamburgers.
          This creature forgot that
          and dreamt of things like poetry, ideals -
          and therein is the moral of the story for you:
          we come alone
          and alone we go
          one at a time we come
          and each we own, and each faculty
          one at a time they go.

Burgo: So let us stick with the banal
             eat our burgers
             and pick our teeth after.
             Do they supply toothpicks at takeaways
             in your country, Urgo?

Urgo: No, we recycle them, Burgo.
           We just pick up discarded ones from the ground.
           Like some nations pick up cigarette butts
           from the bins.
           Waste not; want not.


Burgo: Oh, if this scene goes on any longer
             it might become Shakespearean, Urgo.

Urgo: Ergo - we must go.
          But let us allow Raj to have the last word,
           since this play is entitled
          “ Raj Arumugam, (a one-act tragicomedy)”.
          Idiot of a son! What kind of fool-writer will have a play
          with his own name as the title of his play?!

Burgo: So, Raj-i, you egocentric ******:
             You have the last word in this scene...
             You really put words into my mouth, you ****!

Raj: Baa, baa, ba
        Baa, baa, baa
       Baa, baa, baa
       Baa, baa, baa


Urgo: All right, Let’s go, Burgo.
           Bring him in -
           Let’s drop him in bed
           and may he drop dead!



(Urgo and Burgo go out, Urgo pushing wheelchair with Raj in it)




Scene Four



...some time in time... bare stage except for a square neon sign on left that reads: “Aged Care Home”...on right is a rectangular neon message display with full title of the play...Urgo and Burgo bring Raj Arumugam out on wheelchair...



*


Urgo: Burgo!


Burgo: Urgo!


Urgo: How long has it been since
           you started work here?


Burgo: 3 months, Urgo. Why?


Urgo: Well, show me a game...I’m bored...a new game...


Burgo: Well, have you played wheelie bin?


Urgo: No.
But Oh I love to delve into world culture.

           Show me.


Burgo: Well, let me show you.

             A wheelie bin is a bin with wheels
             and you put ******* in it
             
and you leave it outside on the kerb
             
and the garbage guy in his truck collects your *******.
             
So this is the game.



(Burgo pushes wheelchair round the stage and sings.)



          This is the way we 
wheel out our wheelie bins
           
this is the way we 
wheel out our bins
           
early every Thursday morning


           This is the way we 
leave our bins,
            our wheelie bins

            this is the way we leave our bins
            
out on the sunny kerb

            every Thursday morning



(leaves wheelchair on kerb)



           This is the way we empty our bins

           this is the way we empty our bins
           this is the way empty our bins
           every Thursday morning



(empties the wheelchair; Raj Arumugam  drops onstage)




Urgo(joining in):
 This is the way we 
pick up our *******

                                  pick up our *******
                                  
this is the way we do it

                                  this is the way 
always we do it

                                  early Thursday morning!



(Urgo picks up Raj Arumugam and drops him in the wheelchair)



(Urgo and Burgo clap, applauding each other.)



Burgo:
And now, Urgo - for the ritual
             of 
Raj Arumugam’s final words in the scene...
Is that right?



(Urgo nods...)



Burgo:
  Sing, you Sir in the Wheelchair.



Raj: Baa, baa, baa
       
Baa, baa, baa

       Baa, baa, baa

       Baa, baa, baa




Burgo: Oh, you spoil the fun! Let’s go.






(Urgo and Burgo go out, Urgo pushing wheelchair with Raj in it)




Scene Five

...some time in time... bare stage except for a square neon sign on left that reads: “Aged Care Home”...on right is a rectangular neon message display with full title of the play...Urgo and Burgo bring Raj Arumugam out on wheelchair...


Urgo:
          Let's leave him here tonight;
         some fresh air might do him good

(Urgo and Burgo leave, leaving Raj on his wheelchair.)

(Long silence.)


Raj: Baa, baa, baa
       Baa, baa, baa
       Baa, baa, baa
      Baa, baa, baa



(Raj has a thought. His thought is broadcast as a message on the rectangular neon light display: “Hey guys, come back...Another word is coming back to me.”)

(Long silence)


Raj:
**** **** ****
**** **** ****
**** **** ****

(Raj has another thought. His thought is broadcast as a message on the rectangular neon light display: “Another one’s coming back...maybe my mind is coming back.”)


Raj:
**** **** ****
**** **** ****
**** **** ****

(Long silence. Lights fade. Darkness. Curtain...)

Bare stage. A square neon sign on extreme right which reads: “This way to Heaven”.
Prolonged silence. Enter Snail, moving very slowly throughout the play.


Snail:
I’m a dead snail.
I’m going to Heaven.

I’ve lived for 15 years.
That’s a ripe old age.
I’ve been blessed.
Had a marvellous *** life, you know.
Well, if you know snails
we attract a mate with our slime.
Oh, slime turns me on, baby.

(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)


Well, maybe I should focus on holy thoughts.
Purity...refined thoughts...you know...
Snail God does not like ***.
Copulation is not exactly what
Snail God meant when Snail God declared:
"Go forth and slime the world;
be ye together..."
Snail God demands purity
so let me be so...
after all, I’m going to Heaven...
a dead snail and moving on to Heaven...

(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)

Had a precarious life,
you know,
all these 15 years...
A farmer saw me in the grass.
I heard him curse
and he raised his foot to crush me.
Well, unfortunately for him
he stepped on a snake
and the last I heard of the man
was an expletive
and the last I heard of the snake was a hiss.
Yes, I’ve had a long life
a risky life - but it’s all worth it
for an eternal life in Heaven
is my reward

(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)



(Enter Frog, jumping. Snail looks at Frog in amazement. And Frog stops and looks at Snail in amazement.)

Frog: What are you doing?

Snail: That’s what I was about to ask of you.

Frog: I’m a dead Frog and I’m jumping on my way to Heaven.

Snail: I’m a dead Snail and I’m moving on to Heaven.

Frog: This is ridiculous.

Snail: Indeed. It is ridiculous.
           A Frog going to Heaven?
           No, for it is truly declared by Snail God:
            "None but Snails shall enter Heaven."

Frog: And in the words of the Frog God:
           *"I shall confound all other creatures.
              Only Frogs shall enter Heaven."
             And so it has come to pass
            Snails think they can go to Heaven.
           Unless the Frog God
           in Its Infinite Wisdom
          has arranged for a Dish of Snails
         when all Pure Frogs are at Its side in Paradise.
         Well, Snail...you’re toast when I see you in Heaven.

(Frog jumps on to near stage right, screaming: “Heaven - here I come!” and then disappears.)

(Long silence.)

Snail (facing audience): Well, what next? - The snake to Heaven?
                                          The Farmer to Heaven? His dog to Paradise?
                                           Donkeys to Heaven?


*(Snail moves on , in its slow way, to nothing but Heaven...)

Bare stage. A square neon sign on extreme right which reads: “This way to Heaven”.
Prolonged silence. Enter Snail, moving very slowly throughout the play.


Snail:
I’m a dead snail.
I’m going to Heaven.

I’ve lived for 15 years.
That’s a ripe old age.
I’ve been blessed.
Had a marvellous *** life, you know.
Well, if you know snails
we attract a mate with our slime.
Oh, slime turns me on, baby.

(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)


Well, maybe I should focus on holy thoughts.
Purity...refined thoughts...you know...
Snail God does not like ***.
Copulation is not exactly what
Snail God meant when Snail God declared:
"Go forth and slime the world;
be ye together..."
Snail God demands purity
so let me be so...
after all, I’m going to Heaven...
a dead snail and moving on to Heaven...

(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)

Had a precarious life,
you know,
all these 15 years...
A farmer saw me in the grass.
I heard him curse
and he raised his foot to crush me.
Well, unfortunately for him
he stepped on a snake
and the last I heard of the man
was an expletive
and the last I heard of the snake was a hiss.
Yes, I’ve had a long life
a risky life - but it’s all worth it
for an eternal life in Heaven
is my reward

(Snail moves slowly, and then stops.)



(Enter Frog, jumping. Snail looks at Frog in amazement. And Frog stops and looks at Snail in amazement.)

Frog: What are you doing?

Snail: That’s what I was about to ask of you.

Frog: I’m a dead Frog and I’m jumping on my way to Heaven.

Snail: I’m a dead Snail and I’m moving on to Heaven.

Frog: This is ridiculous.

Snail: Indeed. It is ridiculous.
           A Frog going to Heaven?
           No, for it is truly declared by Snail God:
            "None but Snails shall enter Heaven."

Frog: And in the words of the Frog God:
           *"I shall confound all other creatures.
              Only Frogs shall enter Heaven."
             And so it has come to pass
            Snails think they can go to Heaven.
           Unless the Frog God
           in Its Infinite Wisdom
          has arranged for a Dish of Snails
         when all Pure Frogs are at Its side in Paradise.
         Well, Snail...you’re toast when I see you in Heaven.

(Frog jumps on to near stage right, screaming: “Heaven - here I come!” and then disappears.)

(Long silence.)

Snail (facing audience): Well, what next? - The snake to Heaven?
                                          The Farmer to Heaven? His dog to Paradise?
                                           Donkeys to Heaven?


*(Snail moves on , in its slow way, to nothing but Heaven...)

Enter IT, enthusiastic. Faces audience and looks at audience happily, and then speaks directly to audience.

IT: OK. You want to play?
     OK - I’m IT.
     I’ll be blind a while
     and I'll count
     and you go hide. OK?
     Yippee!

IT closes eyes and places hands over eyes and counts.

IT: One..two...
      Go hide!
     Three...four...five...
      I’m IT!
     Six...seven..eight...nine...
     Oh, this is fun...
     Aaandddd - Ten!
     I’m IT and I’m coming!

IT takes hands off eyes, opens eyes and looks about. IT looks with enthusiasm.

IT: Oh...where are you?
      I’m IT and I search
      and I find you nowhere...

      OK...I’ll search again...

      I search over hills and in parks
      I look behind bush and below benches
      but you are nowhere to be found.

      OK...I’ll search again...

IT looks about on stage, pretending to climb over a hill, or a tree, and so forth...looking...searching...

Enter THAT.
THAT observes IT searching, for some time - and then speaks.


THAT: What are you doing?

       IT: Who, me?

THAT: Yes, you.
              There’s no one else here.
              So what are you doing?




IT *(coming close to THAT): I’m searching. I’m IT
                                                    and I’m at play, you see.
                                                   You know - hide and seek.
                                                    I’m looking.

THAT: I see. And your name?

        IT: They call me Life.

(Silence)

IT: And your name?

THAT: They call me Death.

(Silence.)

Life: I suppose we should embrace.

Death: Yes, we should. Come closer.

(Life moves forward, closer to Death, and they embrace.)


Death: That is nice and warm.

Life: That is ****** cold!

Death: Hug me hard
            Till we are one.

Life: Like dissolving into each other?

Death: Yes - like two become one.
             That sort of imagery, that manner of speech.
             Those delightful cliches.

Life: Should we turn off the lights then?

Death: Yes, we should.
             It’s no longer child’s play, is it?

Life: No. It’s no longer child’s play;
         There’s another 4-letter word for play
         One could use - but play will do.

Death: Yes. So let’s turn off the lights.

(Lights fade.)

Life: Maybe we should draw the curtains as well?

Death: Yes, we should. (Shouts) CURTAINS!


*(End. Stage is in complete darkness. Curtain.)

Nasrudin is in his early twenties
and he works at the warehouse

See, each worker
lifts 3 sacks a time  
and puts them on a pile
and walks back for more

but see Nasrudin
how he works -
he carries just 1 bag
and puts it on a pile
and walks back for 1 more

Now, says the foreman
Why is it you only carry 1 sack
When others carry 3 at a time?

Sir, says Nasrudin
*I carry 1 bag a time
and make 3 trips in all
But the others
unlike me
are just
too lazy to make 3 trips

I write mostly
to please myself
but the Academy
of Dr Poets
said:
That’s a gross form
of showy *******

so once in a while
I write to
give you
O most gentle reader
some form of pleasure
so that it brings us
together
into a sort of
respectable ***-elebration
and the esteemed Academy
some form of ******

I write mostly
to please myself
but the Academy
of Dr Poets
said:
That’s a gross form
of showy *******

so once in a while
I write to
give you
O most gentle reader
some form of pleasure
so that it brings us
together
into a sort of
respectable ***-elebration
and the esteemed Academy
some form of ******

you know, people like
to write about their lives
in terms of likes and dislikes
about their their loves and hates
another poem about
how they feel today
which is the same as they did yesterday
and no prizes for guessing
how they’d feel the next day -  
and as you know
how people like to write
about truth, justice, and love
and about the dark corners in the mind
about their religion, their nations and eternity?
their culture, their identity, their sanctity? -
but me, I like to write
about nothing
cos I’m just the same
as them other poets
(we’re all human)
for all that is nothing too
so in natural conclusion
Socratic fashion
or Aristotelian school
so when I write about nothing
I write about what them other poets write about
and when they write,
like me,
they too write about nothing

*We all do, vainly speaking

this is an educated
refined, cultured, poem
fit to clothe a queen’s body
radiant enough to sit on a king’s head
no doubt,
the king’d head on a silver plate

this is elegant, truthful,
and most dignified as robes
and gold threads on a priest’s mitre
and ermine round the waists

this is immaculate,
probing, penetrative and sedate
so well-constructed, traditional
so cast into meter and scanned
so organised and adept
as a gynaecologists’s fingers

and last but not least
it is reverend, respectful and silent
as full of respect as are holy poems and sonnets
and poems all fit into good form and shape
and thus it refrains from 4-letter words
though - ****! - sometimes it slips and falls
like a drunkard, into the gutters

*but it is the fault of the terrain

you know it’s possible
in some reality-branch of Super Science
when you’ve just got out of bed
and then you are in the kitchen
there is still a you
lying in bed
as is another before
you went to bed
and so there is another
in the kitchen
while you are in the car
a you in every
second split into countless fractions
as in picture frames
of the journey you take

you get the drift -
but which you gets the drift?
every you drifting in space

but what of it? you ask
of this possibility
of multiple realities?

Well, it’s when I knew I was *******
that’s when it got scary
cos I knew then
I was caught infinitely
with a boring you
in every nano second:
cos if you’re there, I’m caught too...
every second caught in indivisible slices
all round the teeniest-weeniest section of an infinite string
of a boring you
and poor me - *bored and *******