[Fade in, Opera hall; Orchestra is tuning. There is a murmur of people whispering.]

Once upon a time
There was the House of God
And the stage of life

Its key players were man and woman
Supported by Sin and Death

The masterstroke of creation was not of the flesh

But of the souls

[Audience laughs]

I hold in my hand
The diary of a madman

Lined with notes and scribbles
Rotten thoughts to nibble

Food for thought
Or all for naught

Such eloquence and strife
From a torturous life
For these we must share
Alas, who would care?

Would you?

Let’s find out

For in this show tonight, in the heaps of winter fables
And changing seasons
The spectacles and visions shall not be enough


On a magic carpet set for Baghdad
In the Mirror sea of Venus
The performers are all here
For your entertainment

The illustrious Obsidian Theater beckons you all
The Masquerade of the Dream Catcher Ball


With masks, we put on our true faces
Our bare faces are mere disguises
That we wear in public places
But here we’re full of surprises

Mrs. Jujubee isn’t a housewife here
But a sultry dancer, moving to the tune of
Cat house romances

Mr. Wukanlyck isn’t an account anymore
But an eccentric ******* who plays at
Both ends of the field

If you know what I mean.

All these people are able to be their true selves in the light of the stage
How come they cannot be this way in life?
Why can’t they laugh with the bohemians?
Why must it all be a secret life?
Why can they not tell their spouses?
Their parents?
Their bosses?

Why can’t they be what they want to be?

Because…

Their spouses mock the idea of such silly notions and aspirations.
Their parents disregarded their dreams in the hopes they will one day:

“Wake up, get their life in order, so they can get a real job, earn a living, buy a house, get married and contribute to society like a normal person; have a decent life.”

If you can call that a decent life.

Why become another cog in the gears of the economic machine that fuels the fire of excess industry?

Why owe more money to lawyers, bankers and debt collectors in the hopes of owning a piece of property that is just like everyone else’s?

Why push out more unwanted kids into the world where there are already millions without homes, food or even families?

Those “free nations” are ok with owning guns than knowing what’s really happening in the world.  

If another opposing religion or country threatens your comfortable lifestyle then you’re ok with having your government go to war.  

You are slaves to your TVs

Your smart devices

Your phones

Your social networking

Your computers

Your shopping rituals

Your misunderstood purpose

Your narcissism

Your arrogance

Your defensive self-righteousness

Your thin empathy
An obtuse apathy

Indecisive, nail-biting listeners of classroom objectivity
Ridiculing social solicitors of mall shop dogma
The young millennial generations stamped with no discerning identity
Than the loss of critical thinkers which are replaced with
Cultural zombies and robotic masturbators dripping over
Dim screens of cyber people in the millions, filling minds with
Misconceptions, misguided eroticism, racial diabolism that will be
Passed on to friends, family and teachers who will disregard sources and substance
But use the same destructive and dividing strands of unrest
That will define their day to day lives
From the words
The minds
Of frustrated, opinionated
Suburb bloggers
Middle class pioneers that one day
will rule the country
Preaching of the day that all are troubles will be
“Resolved”
And all our past misdeeds and sins shall be
“Absolved”
The crusted, rustic chains of our forefathers’ bane shall be
“Dissolved”

And then maybe we’ll be able to embrace each other
Like in the storybook pages of our dreams
Where men can love men
And women can love women
And the faces, the masks
Will not be needed anymore
Because what we present to the world in the face of that
Higher being
Or simple sun
Will be what we truly are
We will have one life and one face and it will be all we need
Not like before, where our closets have that hidden space
Where we hide our real faces
With that suit of dusty skin
That everyone once in a while we have to sneak away and wear

Little Colette De Salle
Petite college student with features like
Audrey Hepburn
Singing in the underground garage
With Stevie and his troupe
Her songs haunting, elegant and pure
About people she once knew
Her parents
Beaten to death on the streets
By simply reporting the truth to the world
Which their bosses and media supervisors
Will determine what the “truth” is
And what is newsworthy at 7pm

She is Ms. Colette de Saille
And will be dead before she graduates
Because someone didn’t like what she said that one night
Calling out the Pigs and suits making sure no one paid
For her losses


This is Ken Sosnowski
But tonight on this stage he is Aveda Cicada
And she is who she is from birth

Like you all that sits before me

With shadowy smiles
And grins holding flowers, doves
Secrets

And

[Applause]

Santiago set out to catch some fish,
He sailed out further, then had his want
And waited patiently with the prayer and wish
With the remorseless lament.

For awhile the boy, Malolin
Joined this ole man, to learn fishing
But the old man was, so dreary and weak
Weak enough, to let go months resting.

Manolin  was a a fair young kid,
A kid of twelve or more
Santiago was an old man,
A man of eighty four!

The boy got annoyed,
And decided to leave
Thinking the old man,
Was disgruntled to perceive.

But one fine day, when the sun smiled at this case
The old man tried to set off his dismay
He thought to go fishing & get his bait
Like he did so happily, in his boyhood days!

He set out, set again and caught some fish
He sailed out further, and had his want.
He saw a birdie, leading him to sea
He caught more tuna,  and one bigger fish that fullfilled his want.

He relished the tunas, the sea offered as  gift
He loved how yummy, yummy it looked.
But hardly noticed the deep line,
the bigger fish had something big on it, that may further get him hooked.

He used a small line,
To snug a dolphin.
That had in it two small fish
They hid it it, Shining and smiling.

He fought his need for sleep and fatigue,
Of constantly keeping hold of line
Before he saw the bigger  fish,
Suddenly circling his boat's outline.

He assumed the fish's weight to be twice of his boat
He stabbed the fish with a masterstroke.
He used his hope to the utmost
Tied the fish to a side of his boat,somewhere thinking to take it to shore.

He let the current have him whole,
Fearing the sharks might sniff
Sniff the blood off the big fish,
In some hours or just a jiff.

The first shark took the hefty bite,
Before he got stabbed by Santiago's harpoon,
The  second one took just a quarter bite,
But before these two got dead soon, they took with em the half harpoon.

The old man fashioned a yet new harpoon,
Fixing the knife to an oak stick,
He used it then for the sharks to come,
But , oh! It split on a new shark's skull click.

He fought, and fought, but oh, at last,
The old man won, with the major loss
He returned to the shore in moonlit night,
& Found the fish just had a residual skeletal mass.

He reached the shore, with tears of remorse
Oh, how bravely did the old man fought!
Though it was a ' Victorious loss'
He thought while dragging the mast to shore while  Monolin  came running, discussing how he fought.

The boy smiled at the bravery, the old man showed,
He smiled at the old man like he saw a hero,
He hugged him tight, &  smiled in delight
And called Santiago,  'His  brave hero'!


And so you see , this sad story
Ends
Santiago tried to help himself,
But he needed the help of his
Friend,
To provide him with some worldly wealth.