'Do you still see me even here?' (The silver cord lies on
the ground.) 'And so I'm dead', the young man said --- over the hill (not a
wish away). My friends (as one) all stand aligned although their taxis
came too late. There was / a rush along the Fulham Road. There was / a
hush in the Passion Play. Such a sense of glowing in the aftermath / ripe with rich
attainments all imagined / sad misdeeds in disarray / the sore thumb screams
aloud,echoing out of the Passion Play. All the old familiar choruses come
crowding in a different key:
melodies decaying in sweet dissonance.
There
was a rush / along the Fulham Road / into the Ever-passion Play. And who comes
here to wish me well? A sweetly-scented angel fell.
She laid her head upon my disbelief and bathed me with her ever-smile. And with a howl across the sand
I go escorted by a band of gentlemen
in leather bound --- NO-ONE (but someone to be found).
All along the icy wastes there are faces smiling in the
gloom. Roll up roll down. Feeling unwound? --- step into the viewing
room. The cameras were all around. We've got you taped --- you're in the
play.
Here's your I.D.
(Ideal for identifying one and all.)
Invest your life in the memory bank --- ours the interest and we
thank you.
The ice-cream lady wet her drawers, to see you in the Passion Play:
take the prize for instant pleasure
captain of the cricket team
public speaking in all weathers
a knighthood from a queen.
All your best friends' telephones never cooled from the heat
of your hand.
There's / a line in a front-page story / 13 horses that also-ran.
Climb in your old umbrella.
Does it have a nasty tear in the dome?
But / the rain only gets in sometimes and / the sun never leaves you
alone.
Lover of the black and white --- it's your first night.
The Passion Play / goes all the way / spoils your insight.
Tell me / how the baby's made / how the lady's laid / why the old
dog howls in sadness.
And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony
shoulder of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously
into her geography revision.
(The examining body examined her body.)
Actor of the low-high Q, let's hear your view.
Peek at the lines upon your sleeve since your memory won't do.
Tell me / how the baby's graded / how the lady's faded / why the old
dogs howl with madness.
All of this and some of that's the only way to skin the cat.
And now you've lost a skin or two --- you're for us and we for
you.
The dressing room is right behind
We've got you taped --- you're in the play,
How does it feel to be in the play?
How does it feel to play the play?
How does it feel to be the play?
Man of passion rise again, we won't cross you out --- for we do love
you like a son --- of that there's no doubt.
Tell us / is it you who is here for our good cheer?
Or / are we here / for the glory / for the story / for the gory
satisfaction
of telling you how absolutely awful you really are.
There was a rush along the Fulham Road.
There was a hush in the Passion Play.
The Story Of The Hare Who Lost His Spectacles
This is the story of the hare who lost his spectacles.
Owl loved to rest quietly whilst no one was watching. Sitting
on a fence one day, he was surprised when suddenly a kangaroo ran
close by.
Now this may not seem strange, but when Owl overheard Kangaroo
whisper to no one in particular, 'The hare has lost his spectacles,'
well, he began to wonder.
Presently, the moon appeared from behind a cloud and there, lying
on the grass was Hare. In the stream that flowed b the grass ---
a newt. And sitting astride a twig of a bush --- a bee.
Ostensibly motionless, the hare was trembling with excitement,
for without his spectacles he appeared completely helpless. Where
were his spectacles? Could someone have stolen them? Had he mislaid
them? What was he to do?
Bee wanted to help, and thinking he had the answer began: 'You
probably ate them thinking they were a carrot.'
'No!' interrupted Owl, who was wise. 'I have good eye-sight, insight and foresight.
How could an intelligent hare make such a silly mistake?' But
all this time, Owl had been sitting on the fence, scowling!
Kangaroo were hopping mad at this sort of talk. She thought herself
far superior in intelligence to the others. She was their leader;
their guru. She had the answer: 'Hare, you must go in search of the
optician.'
But then she realized that Hare was completely helpless without his
spectacles. And so, Kangaroo proudly proclaimed, 'I can't send Hare in
search of anything!'
'You can guru, you can!' shouted Newt. 'You can send him with Owl.'
But Owl had gone to sleep. Newt knew too much to be stopped by so
small a problem --- 'You can take him in your pouch.' But alas, Hare
was much too big to fit into Kangaroo's pouch.
All this time, it had been quite plain to Hare that the others knew
nothing about spectacles. And as for all their tempting ideas, well
Hare didn't care.
The lost spectacles were his own affair.
And after all, Hare did have a spare pair.
A-pair.
THE END
We / sleep by the ever-bright hole in the door / eat in the corner / talk
to the floor --- cheating the spiders who come to say 'Please,'
(politely).
They bend at the knees.
Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Old gentlemen talk / of when they were young / of ladies lost and erring
sons.
Lace-covered dandies revel (with friends) pure as the truth ---
tied at both ends.
Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Scented cathedral --- spire pointed down.
We pray for souls in Kentish Town.
A delicate hush --- the gods / floating by / wishing us well -
pie in the sky.
God of ages / Lord of Time --- mine is the right to be wrong.
Well I'll go to the foot of our stairs.
Jack rabbit mister --- spawn a new breed of love hungry pilgrims
(no bodies to feed).
Show me a good man.
I'll show you the door.
The last hymn is sung and the devil cries 'More'
Well, I'm all for leaving and that being done, I've put in a request
to take up my turn in that forsaken paradise that calls itself 'Hell'
--- where no-one has nothing and nothing is
well meaning fool, pick up thy bed and rise up from your gloom smiling.
Give me your hate and do as the loving heathen do.
Colors I've none --- dark or light, red, white or blue.
Cold is my touch (freezing).
Summoned by name --- I am the overseer over you.
Given this command to watch o'er our miserable sphere.
Fallen from grace / called on to bring sun or rain.
Occasional corn from my oversight grew.
Fell with mine angels from a far better place, offering services for
the saving of face.
Now you're here, you may as well admire all whom living has
retired from the benign reconciliation. Legends were born surrounding
mysterious lights seen in the sky (flashing). I just / lit a fag then / took my
leave in the blink of an eye.
Passionate play --- join round the maypole in dance
(primitive rite) (wrongly).
Summoned by name / I am the overseer / over
you.
Flee the icy Lucifer. Oh he's an awful fellow!
What a mistake!
I didn't take a feather from his pillow.
Here's the everlasting rub: neither am I good or bad.
I'd give up my halo for a horn and the horn for the hat I once had.
I'm only breathing.
There's life on my ceiling.
The flies there are sleeping quietly.
Twist my right arm in the dark.
I would give two or three for one of those days that never made
impressions on the old score.
I would gladly be a dog barking up the wrong tree.
Everyone's saved --- we're in the grave.
See you there for afternoon tea.
Time for awaking --- the tea-lady's / making a brew-up and / baking
new bread.
Pick me up at half past none --- there's / not a moment to lose. There
is / the train on which I came.
On the platform are my old shoes.
Station master rings his bell.
Whistles blow and flags wave.
A little of what you fancy does you good. (Or so it should)
I thank everybody for making me welcome.
I'd stay but my wings have just dropped off.
Hail!
Son of Kings / make the ever-dying sign / cross your fingers in the
sky for those about to BE.
There am I waiting along the sand.
Cast your sweet spell upon the land and sea.
Magus Perde, take your hand from off the chain.
Loose a wish to still / the rain / the storm about to BE.
Here am I (voyager into life).
Tough are the soles that tread the knife's edge.
Break the circle / stretch the line / call upon the devil. Bring / the gods /
the gods' own fire. In the conflict revel.
The passengers / on the ferry crossing / waiting to be born / renew the pledge of life's long song / rise to the
reveille horn. Animals / queueing at the gate that stands upon the shore / breathe
the ever-burning fire that guards the ever-door.
Man / son of man / buy the
flame of ever-life (yours to breathe and breath the pain of living): living
BE! Here am I! Roll the stone away from the dark into ever-day. There
was a rush / along the Fulham Road / into the Ever-passion Play.