(A poem to be recited by actors)*

I

[Salome]

Jokanaan, such is my desire for thee,
The moon and stars hath turned away their face
I thirst to kiss thy sullen lips, softly,
I love thy lips, thine eyes that darkly gaze.

Fain would I strip thy garments all away
Replacing each with kisses to thy skin
Just as the dark of night becalms the day
Mine open arms shall gather thee within.

I burn to taste the kisses of thy lips
Just as the hummingbird sips from a rose
Stealing thy nectar with such tender sips
As melt thy sternest aspect, till it goes.

O let me taste thy kisses, holy man,
And quench desire as only woman can.


II

[John The Baptist]

Depart from me, daughter of Babylon,
That look'st on me with such covetous gaze!
Siren of *****'s mire, harlot, begone!
Away with thee and all thy wanton ways!

How canst thou speak with such depravity
Addressed unto a holy man of God?
How canst thou dance in merry liberty
Where our forefathers, seers and sages trod?

Look not upon me with thine eyes of lust,
With salivating, ravenous desire!
Love's purity shall outlive mortal dust
When thy dark soul burneth in Hades' fire!

Harlot of Babylon, strumpet, begone!
I am not thine to crudely gaze upon.


III

[King Herod]

Salome dances, circling the hall,
Gold lamplight shimmers in her dove-like eyes;
Her flame-red chiffon swirls with each footfall,
She glides like a bright bird of paradise.

Behold, she throws a veil onto the floor,
Exposing but a fleeting glimpse of breast;
Allowing but a small promise of more,
Another veil she throws, at my behest.

She sinuously sways her slender hips
And not one moment do her eyes leave mine;
She dances closer, smiles play on her lips
Those lips that could be sweet as Muscat wine.

And still she dances, ravaging my sight,
This light-skinned girl with hair as black as night.


IV

[John The Baptist]

Behold! She dances now before the king,
Whose eyes are full of lust incestuous;
For *****'s daughter, wildly gyrating
Whose very presence here is blasphemous!

I hear the music from my dungeon cell
Her light footsteps, distracting me from prayer,
She dances like a dervish sprung from hell,
I reel with loathing, knowing she is there.

Beware thy sins, Herod, Herodias!
Thy fall from grace approacheth like a storm!
Beware daughter of *****! None shall pass
Beyond the pit, the flames, the locust swarm!

Thy kingdom shall be cast into the flames;
Thy souls struck from the book of living names!


V

[King Herod]

Ah! Now the last veil flutters to the floor,
Her body holds no secrets from mine eyes;
Like ripened fruit making me thirst for more,
But I have promised more than may be wise.

Now I make good my promise unto you,
Salome, fairer sister to the moon;
Come now, I am thy slave; what can I do,
Name thy reward, and thou shalt have it soon.

Come hither, precious girl, I wish to share,
Take from the riches offered up to thee;
Choose from the sweetest wines beyond compare,
The rarest rubies of my treasury.

From treasured gems to pleasures of the vine,
Pray name thy heart's desire; it shall be thine.


VI

[Salome]

My heart's desire cares nothing for my love
What jewel can ever love me in return?
My regal beauty's deemed as not enough
For Jokanaan. I see him, and I burn.

I spurn thy earthly treasures set in gold,
I yearn not for their dancing play of light
There was but one pleasure I could behold
And he regaileth me with words of spite.

Thy precious cellar brimming full of wine
All taste divine; yet never quite as sweet
As luscious lips of he who can't be mine
Whose savage beauty stings me like defeat!

Therefore I say, reward me if you can;
Bring me the severed head of Jokanaan!


VII

[Herod]

Salome, you have asked a dreadful thing,
Such monstrous words flame from thy pretty lips!
I offer thee my finest emerald ring
The choicest clipper from my fleet of ships;

Thou canst prevail upon me for my land
My fields and vineyards all lain at thy feet;
Stables of horses all at thy command,
All of these gifts might make thy joy complete.

But do not ask of me the baptist's head,
His eyes disturb me far enough in life;
I listened well to everything he said,
His death would be a curse; a flaying knife!

Salome, quell the anger in thy breast,
I beg thee, reconsider thy request.


IX

[Salome]

Thou shalt not swerve the purpose of my mind,
My mind is set, this action must be done.
There is no greater gift that thou might find
Than that Jokanaan's eyes forsake the sun.

I prithee, take that scurvy **** away,
His eyes stare so, his tongue derides my name;
Silence his prating tongue, he's had his say
Now he must suffer for his words of flame!

I shall not sleep with that voice in my ears,
Sever that head, that mask of insolence!
He rants of prophecies, preys on thy fears,
Now he must make his final recompense.

I danced for thee. Reward me like a man,
Bring me the severed head of Jokanaan!


X

[John The Baptist]

A famine on thy fields, monarch of shame!
Locusts shall take thy vineyards and thy corn!
Rivers of blood have stained thy royal name
Thou art forever doomed, thy kingdom torn!

Thy family are coiled like nesting snakes
Thy daughter whispers with thy feckless queen,
They die along with thee, when the earth quakes
And fall into the bottomless ravine!

I hear thy soldiers storming through the halls
Approaching now, to my decrepit cell;
I shiver at the sound of their footfalls,
Though I'll not be the one condemned to hell.

May God send Raphael down from the sky;
Take me to somewhere better when I die!


XI

[Salome]

Ah now, thine eyes that once held so much fire,
Forever hide their light of righteousness;
I almost miss that shiver of desire
I once felt in their presence, I confess.

Thy tongue is silent now, that once cried out
In shards of venom, wounding blades of words;
And I'm at liberty to pluck it out,
If I desire; and throw it to the birds.

Thy rosy lips, as sullen as thy brow,
Soft petals, rendered harmless in repose;
They spurned me once, but I shall kiss them now,
As easily as one might steal a rose.

Thou once dared to refuse me, holy man,
Now I will kiss thy dead lips, Jokanaan!



The End.

Wonder
True wonder
I see myself over yonder
The future is a promise that cannot be broken
My soul is a machine that cannot be broken
My love of life is an entity that cannot be broken
True wonder rarely approacheth
But it doth give me a sense of accomplishment
I'm finally happy
And I finally
Slowly sink
Into pink

And I say unto thee, wearily
I know not when it will end
The realm of darkness, a growing sphere
Where times lies down to spend
     Exalted standers, enter near
In the same mystical space as I
But Lo! The horizon does approacheth
Over-all they do or ever did try
     Loudly I say, how do I perceive it?
The True Greatness that occupies...
A blessed vision, they do not think of
Though it looms before their eyes
     I yell unto thee, fearful
Warning you and beings to surrender
I cannot look down and ignore the darkness
So be it, I shall, forever

The company had told the
Little soldier where to go,
Jut down the street,
Not far at all...
Turned out to be an adventure,
All its own,
It took on its own breath,
its own face,
its own figure,
its own voice,
its own life!
You know those days when,
After it all transpires,
You look back,
And it's its own thing...

This entailed,
Most likely chronologically,
But with the arrival,
back to where I started,
Twas the same thought as,
The chariot approacheth,
O'er the Horizon,
In the deadlands,
On the line,
Lulling her to sleep,
Then along it came,
Not the vessel,
But the urn,
Of Being!
All dressed in hats; except one,
they wandered into,
the frequently adjacent pub,
They were striving,
Starving,
Well worth a sonder,
As I commented,
One responded curtly,
They all did in their own way,
But the Black-Fedora-ed,
Burgundy-Suited man,
Cigaro in hand,
Said he liked my backpack,
(It isn't even mine!)
The last bus approaches, The bus driver calls me back,
Wrong transfer,
I have a feeling,
That he was the most,
Diligent guy they had,
And that I was me,
And I mistook one thing,
That me being able to be there,
would be a first for him,
The john Wayne of Pain,
What's more painful than being,
The maniac bus driver,
Honked at almost every stop,
Some kids got on the wrong way,
Told 'em it was the other way,
Cantankerous old bebop behind the wheel,
Notches another disappointment,
In his leather sides.
As the bus made the,
bewildering turn to everyone else,
I was used to it,
Better for me,
Confusion rose like hot air,
But I thanked the mad,    mad
                                   mad,  mad,
                                       mad,
                                              MAD!
Driver of,
The crazed,
City Night,
I walked,
With my music playing,
crossed paths with the only,
homeless guy I ever see.
Thinking back I should've
Given him the pass,
To get somewhere,
actually I tried one time,
He told me he didn't like,
the bus,
On that nightly traveler,
He went Cold.

THE LOUDEST SILENCE.

Time itself
is worn away

a palimpsest  of
memory.

The dead walk back
& forth

not knowing
they are the dead.

A photograph to behold
trapped between forefinger and thumb

the musings of
real life flesh & blood.

It is 12.05pm
on Valentine's Day.

The Past a peasouper
wherein 1913 can be

barely seen.

A glimpse of laughter
caught in the camera's click.

Even the Charring Cross houses
are dead.

The New Mall
approacheth.

The dead gaze out
from their b&w; lives

amazed to see me
staring back at them.

Sparks spit
from the dying fire.

I laugh at the vanity
of the living.

The cat laughs
in its sleep.

I, a ghost:
in the making.