BASQUIAT BIRTHDAY
Dec. 22
We both had part of the street
when an originally aligned
poet and artist
meet in the soul's dark night
of the late Eightees
on Thomkins Square park
Basquiat not yet renowned
in a weighted art history
nor was adopted by any school
or by any theorists or critics
nor yet promoted by the elite
of Manhattan
here he was all alone
half dressed in a nude shadow
drawing in people of all kinds
intellectuals and dorks
nor were we comprehending
what your great gifts were
scribbling patterns of expression,
yet Basquiat still creatively rules
lending you my fur hat
shining in the gaslight
uncombed by recognition
with your cool spark impression
of your drawing boxing gloves
to take on the world's art print
with your fork in gritty graffiti
will make your secret mark
on all of us in this vicinity
awaking in a Blakean
marginal world of infinity
not forgetting to be a younger star
with those enlarged almond eyes
in a human shaped memory
of our own hunger stint
at an art's own circus side show
with a hi five handshake
over a surprised lost miracle
from a Basquiat business
bas-relief narrative break
of his drawings of a cat
and then he was found out
to be really an original mint
making our life delicious
as we choose to honor you
for us to take your part
beyond all staging belief
in a reference frame
of an authentic genius
vetting about fame
that the popular art news
will only hint at your name.
Friday, January 1, 2016
ONE MINUTE IN VICHY
Joseph
Sangrine
Pierre
Scene- Occupied France 1944
J. We are just two figures on this map but look at how much we have done.
S. But we will resist the fascists, anyway.
J. We expect not to be taken away and that Pierre will help.
P. I'm writing a poem in my diary far away from cafe Lamartine.
The earth
cannot scatter our ashes
another generation
cannot imagine what fascism
is like
seizing us
book burning
and burning people
our mouth will be filled
with joy out of suffering
and so much daily sorrow
when peace and liberation
arrive in a consuming sun
yet I hear a million voices
we are learning
to be united as one,
today will already be tomorrow.
The door is broken down. With their last ammunition they shoot the fascists.
The end.
Joseph
Sangrine
Pierre
Scene- Occupied France 1944
J. We are just two figures on this map but look at how much we have done.
S. But we will resist the fascists, anyway.
J. We expect not to be taken away and that Pierre will help.
P. I'm writing a poem in my diary far away from cafe Lamartine.
The earth
cannot scatter our ashes
another generation
cannot imagine what fascism
is like
seizing us
book burning
and burning people
our mouth will be filled
with joy out of suffering
and so much daily sorrow
when peace and liberation
arrive in a consuming sun
yet I hear a million voices
we are learning
to be united as one,
today will already be tomorrow.
The door is broken down. With their last ammunition they shoot the fascists.
The end.
AT A FUTURE ROBOT DRIVE IN
At a future robot drive-in
you can catch a movie
in five romance languages
munch upon a French luncheon
with a spinach baguette
of brie cheese and roast veal
in five romance languages
munch upon a French luncheon
with a spinach baguette
of brie cheese and roast veal
or crunch on a fast food desert
fresh from the kitchen chef
the robot in a sweat shirt
sets these fruits before us
in a vast seasonal meal
with pushcarts pulled by hand
by the boy band
"Rational kids of Descartes"
holding up an international menu
we flirt and toast the new year
with a white wine drink,
or read a first edition of Flaubert,
as you feed on a croissant
hearing loud Gregorian chants
at a personal singing audition
or swing dance on the floor,
while listening to a Mozart sonata
or a Bach cantata or two
the electric eccentric robot
is always ready to party
at the hallway recital door
waiting for customers
just like me and you,
so adjust the robot
vetting on a robo call
to showcase a filmed story
of ghosts by Edgar Allen Poe
or play automatic chess
checkers or dominoes
or take a perfect guess
at betting on daily lotto
you can win in backgammon
and summon a slight shadow
near the cafe's lottery
when luck follows us
as any game host knows,
now meet this mechanical robot
now mounting up n the stage
boasting he does not age
in the spin bottle corner
who walks the corridor
as if searching like a hound
sounding out the coroner's
love woes all over
the neighborhood,
our robot writes and teaches
about a politician's speeches
and preaches then acts up
in a kingly or queenly
stylishly wanton fashion
as a knowing Shakespeare
with the poet's standard bearer
here he is in the round theater
proudly offering to dress, snap
or slap you up or down
in a uniform to crown you
or offering to please
dressed a teasing circus clown,
or if you have the passion
to make a journey
in far outer space
you may dial Jupiter 101
or five five nine Aspinwall
on a wired Skype phone
to make a robo call to request
taking your ticket up to Pluto
or you may chase the robot
who thinks he is
now running the human race,
see this picture of him
in a starry fire storm
as he takes a capsule
or module to pass
over planets and stars
the robot has an adventure
in perfect form,
as he can supply heat
to make you warm
an oil change or gas
and fix your ignition,
fresh from the kitchen chef
the robot in a sweat shirt
sets these fruits before us
in a vast seasonal meal
with pushcarts pulled by hand
by the boy band
"Rational kids of Descartes"
holding up an international menu
we flirt and toast the new year
with a white wine drink,
or read a first edition of Flaubert,
as you feed on a croissant
hearing loud Gregorian chants
at a personal singing audition
or swing dance on the floor,
while listening to a Mozart sonata
or a Bach cantata or two
the electric eccentric robot
is always ready to party
at the hallway recital door
waiting for customers
just like me and you,
so adjust the robot
vetting on a robo call
to showcase a filmed story
of ghosts by Edgar Allen Poe
or play automatic chess
checkers or dominoes
or take a perfect guess
at betting on daily lotto
you can win in backgammon
and summon a slight shadow
near the cafe's lottery
when luck follows us
as any game host knows,
now meet this mechanical robot
now mounting up n the stage
boasting he does not age
in the spin bottle corner
who walks the corridor
as if searching like a hound
sounding out the coroner's
love woes all over
the neighborhood,
our robot writes and teaches
about a politician's speeches
and preaches then acts up
in a kingly or queenly
stylishly wanton fashion
as a knowing Shakespeare
with the poet's standard bearer
here he is in the round theater
proudly offering to dress, snap
or slap you up or down
in a uniform to crown you
or offering to please
dressed a teasing circus clown,
or if you have the passion
to make a journey
in far outer space
you may dial Jupiter 101
or five five nine Aspinwall
on a wired Skype phone
to make a robo call to request
taking your ticket up to Pluto
or you may chase the robot
who thinks he is
now running the human race,
see this picture of him
in a starry fire storm
as he takes a capsule
or module to pass
over planets and stars
the robot has an adventure
in perfect form,
as he can supply heat
to make you warm
an oil change or gas
and fix your ignition,
listen to your heart beat
from its own condition
from its own condition
as you listen to live jazz,
or trace a weather report
at the range of coming snows
wading in black ice
to map and trace
his own space of perdition,
or trace a weather report
at the range of coming snows
wading in black ice
to map and trace
his own space of perdition,
adjust to hire
this desired robot we named
go-go boy
is to adjust for a multi-task
all you need do is ask,
he will work at your home
thrilled to cut the grass
with an off season pass,
this desired robot we named
go-go boy
is to adjust for a multi-task
all you need do is ask,
he will work at your home
thrilled to cut the grass
with an off season pass,
or you may pick up
this bowed robot's head
who moves his telling face
bunking out at bed time
even smiles at saying grace,
for a plug nickel or dime
he will put logs on your furnace
with a sudden conflagration,
to heat up your wooden stove
or get you a latte or tea cup
from his roving service station,
this robot moving machine
will also give out a ration cards
or food stamps for life
or choose your husband
or buy a life guard for a wife,
he even offers you beer or ale
in his pleasured craft
to cruise uncharted territory
with ardent first glances
offers a chance to tell tales
or an even a horror story
even as the full headlines fails
to give the robot any glory
it's a hell of an offering
to pull some strings
off his musical deadlines
with full time romances,
this bowed robot's head
who moves his telling face
bunking out at bed time
even smiles at saying grace,
for a plug nickel or dime
he will put logs on your furnace
with a sudden conflagration,
to heat up your wooden stove
or get you a latte or tea cup
from his roving service station,
this robot moving machine
will also give out a ration cards
or food stamps for life
or choose your husband
or buy a life guard for a wife,
he even offers you beer or ale
in his pleasured craft
to cruise uncharted territory
with ardent first glances
offers a chance to tell tales
or an even a horror story
even as the full headlines fails
to give the robot any glory
it's a hell of an offering
to pull some strings
off his musical deadlines
with full time romances,
he may even use
your five starred identity card
to offer permission of a shower
live massage, Botox or bath
as a loving health gift
in giving you a face lift
to enhance your marred lips
as you leisurely wait to forgive,
as this robot has been taught
the right metamorphosis message
for an hourly apocalypse
of how to lock in a robot's hips
at time and a half,
he has a special lyrical way
that will accommodate you
at night, trust me,
to disclose all secrets
of Peter Pan
as a sprite to Tinkerbell
with his bright plan
for introducing
laughing fairy dust
and proudly recite
and disclose to the crowd
from his poetry span
in wealth of his own prose
left on the library shelf
for any woman or a man,
or you can find this robot
hiding at the rose bushes
in a metaphysical way
by an arbitrary maypole
doing his physical exercise
as he pushes and strolls
at Christmas in the North Pole
with Santa Claus
or be ar Macy's to choose a hat
or winter coat
there you might gain
your five starred identity card
to offer permission of a shower
live massage, Botox or bath
as a loving health gift
in giving you a face lift
to enhance your marred lips
as you leisurely wait to forgive,
as this robot has been taught
the right metamorphosis message
for an hourly apocalypse
of how to lock in a robot's hips
at time and a half,
he has a special lyrical way
that will accommodate you
at night, trust me,
to disclose all secrets
of Peter Pan
as a sprite to Tinkerbell
with his bright plan
for introducing
laughing fairy dust
and proudly recite
and disclose to the crowd
from his poetry span
in wealth of his own prose
left on the library shelf
for any woman or a man,
or you can find this robot
hiding at the rose bushes
in a metaphysical way
by an arbitrary maypole
doing his physical exercise
as he pushes and strolls
at Christmas in the North Pole
with Santa Claus
or be ar Macy's to choose a hat
or winter coat
there you might gain
a better life long friend
or send out a love note
or send out a love note
written as a letter
by a better bard
from a Muse a century ago,
this robot even can be a troll
to change his wires or tires
by a better bard
from a Muse a century ago,
this robot even can be a troll
to change his wires or tires
or your novel's ending
so why are you pretending
not to notice when he retires,
he will also put on the light
to wake an all night lover
as you expire
under your sleepy cover,
yet he cannot feel or desire
what is human or normal
at his Empire room dorm
he is only acting informal
for being true to form,
he may compose a new play
so why are you pretending
not to notice when he retires,
he will also put on the light
to wake an all night lover
as you expire
under your sleepy cover,
yet he cannot feel or desire
what is human or normal
at his Empire room dorm
he is only acting informal
for being true to form,
he may compose a new play
have an audition
for two pianos or tuba
in his own robotic way,
have a drink of wine
or dine out
under a wellspring fountain
or enjoy the summer
at the mountains
or at Aruba's beach resort
and play any summer sport
tennis, ping pong, or soccer
or reserve a Cuban cruise,
for two pianos or tuba
in his own robotic way,
have a drink of wine
or dine out
under a wellspring fountain
or enjoy the summer
at the mountains
or at Aruba's beach resort
and play any summer sport
tennis, ping pong, or soccer
or reserve a Cuban cruise,
or cut a voice obituary short
for a family of the departed
or at any nemesis you choose,
watch a tall Texas twink
who seems off his rocker
in a weird cowboy outfit
or at any nemesis you choose,
watch a tall Texas twink
who seems off his rocker
in a weird cowboy outfit
get carded,
once the same robot
gets started at his game
he thinks of telling your future
with a tarot card
or a Chinese fortune cookie
the robot has your back
to help your kid play
hockey or hookey
he offers us a popcorn snack
from a concession stand
once the same robot
gets started at his game
he thinks of telling your future
with a tarot card
or a Chinese fortune cookie
the robot has your back
to help your kid play
hockey or hookey
he offers us a popcorn snack
from a concession stand
as he beeps his horn
to get Good'n Plenty
with a Mars bar
or take a box of crackerjacks
or feed us from the racks
to eat a ricotta cheese pizza
with lox or salmon
with a hot luncheon bagel
and repeat a quote in German
from Marx or Hegel
together with a boxed lunch
in the rush
of a crunch snack time
or write this poem
with a will to survive
as this future robot reads to us
you may still be alive.
to get Good'n Plenty
with a Mars bar
or take a box of crackerjacks
or feed us from the racks
to eat a ricotta cheese pizza
with lox or salmon
with a hot luncheon bagel
and repeat a quote in German
from Marx or Hegel
together with a boxed lunch
in the rush
of a crunch snack time
or write this poem
with a will to survive
as this future robot reads to us
you may still be alive.
THE LAST DAY (A PLAY)
Scene London, England
Moderator
Mr. De Press - London Daily Encounter press chief
Mr. Crony- T.V. mogul and perennial candidate for parliament
Ms. Crony, Miss Labour, Miss Liberale, wife and two daughters of Mr.Crony
Alex-nicknamed in Russian Sasha adopted son of Mr. Crony Jr.
Head Hunter- husband of Mr. Crony Jr.
Former Pastor Churchmouse Beast
Watchman, a watchman who stands at the door, often the silent man who records everything
Assassin- Mr. Beard
Moderator- I have invited you from your 2 billion homes to be with us today as we are in crisis
here in London, Paris and in the Americas.
Mr. De Press- I am a newspaper and web guy, chief editor of the London Daily Encounter.
Mr. Crony- I'm Mr. Crony. Just Call me Big; all I want is your approval, votes and taxes as I'm
running as an independent candidate for Parliament for the last twenty years and please allow me
to introduce my sixth wife to you the Countess Vixen Minsk the former Miss World and now
Mrs. Big and I introduce to you our lovely model daughters Labour and Liberale and my only
adopted son Alex- Sasha Crony Jr whom I found closeted in the New World on the reeds of
Brighton Beach and knew right away he belonged with me . Here now in his new riding boots
from Harrods and is now my studio partner and chief actor at my film studio and newspaper the
Daily Encounter; you can just call him as we do" spittle little" if you want to though he is as big
as me. You all know him from the blockbuster hit movie, "Life with Sasha " based on his own
story.Now my Alex is the sit down stand up Reality host of 90 90 filmed with Head Hunter his
new husband the last Borscht belt comedian from the Catskills and Poconos and featured on
our educational television stations, 24 7 from every coast harbor and lock down unit all the way
from Hong Kong to Sing Sing.
Head Hunter- I'm Head Hunter and Alex's husband and a famous film flamer and star of
"Dr. K.Y." about a mad Moldovan scientist who prescribes a body ream and cream that lasts
for twenty four hours. We had Don Deacon do the promo along with Alex.
Mr. de Press- Mr. Crony, you did not formally adopt Alex. Let's be real. You took him from the
Brighton Beach reeds to make him your Moses and young spokesman.We first ran the story in
the London Daily Encounter how you stole young Alex from his parents and paid them off
in thousands of pounds so they could open up a Russian bazaar with a unique brand of kefir
yogurt that would give one at least hundred years of long life strength thatwe found in the
Caucasus. Then you bought Alex(the Russian nickname Sasha)his parents an Oriental rug
business West London, only after that did you promote Alex as your partner on red guard
cinemas and make him a first class actor and director.
Mr. Crony- What did I need you here for! To become my conscience of God.
Mr. de Press- The truth is for your need to have a son for Christmas.
Mr. Crony Jr. Alex - Oh dad you should't have adopted me if only for your own ego. Could I have
some bagel Brussels sprouts, daddy you promised me if I went on mommy's Turkish Delight diet
Zum Zum show to tell of your full dietetic diet of Lady Fingers and Sugar Daddies I could have
a bag of bagel Brussels sprouts.
Ms. Crony- Give the boy what we wants, you will anyway.
Mr. Crony- You may have your sprouts but please don't use them for anything nefarious.
Ms. Crony- I'm Ms. Crony and we do love you, Alex as my step son.I'm the author of the Iberian-
Indian kosher holy cow cook karma book co- authored with Ms. Kay Brisket formerly of Toledo
with recipes dug up from her great great great great great great great grandmother lost in the 1492
Inquisition. It is a now best seller as was the Zum Zum diet book and here are my twin lovely
daughters Lotte Labour Crony a part time swim suit model and a full time working girl outside
of the new age journalism school in the Shetlands and Gertie Liberales her adorable sister who is
the ambassador of St. James and food mistress to the court of Monaco and Macau.
Gertie- We need a bag of bagel chips.
Lotte- We are starving arn't we Gertie?
Gertie- I could eat a kosher cow.
Mr. Crony- Speaking of foodies, send out for Brussels sprouts for our audience, it's on the house.
Ex Pastor- I am Pastor Church Mouse Beast who wants to bring all of us together whatever
corner of the earth, whatever your beliefs as long as you follow my lead.
Watchman- I am Watchman. I watch all and record everything.
Crony- Isn't this thrilling, everyone watching me; I grew up in poverty and no one knew me and
now everyone loves me, and my wife Vixen from the harem of the now defunct Turkish-Monaco-
once the Macau- Moldovan opera dance company , a mezzo soprano who cannot for the life of
me take her drugged Oriental eyes off me less she have her head cut off, has taken all desires
toward other women away so I can concentrate on the people's pleasure and not exclusively on
my own.
Churchmouse- With all your rodomontade bragging rights ,Crony ,you seem to be lost and most
miserable of men. What eyes are now on us uniting for eternity. What do you say Watchman?
Watchman- I won't praise anyone's image or put down any mark upon the earth.
Churchmouse- You will for the price of your soul.
Head Hunter(removes his shirt) Now what do you think of this body ?
Churchmouse- It's your soul...
Head Hunter-All you care about Churchmouse Beast is power, you pretend you are pious but
you are a modern Devil. You hang out with Mr. Crony as cover.
Mr. De Press- We cover him as a religious in the Daily Encounter but his power eludes us.
A shot is fired from the audience
Mr. De Press- It's an assassin! I recognize him, it's that cruel Mr. Diego Beard.
All duck on the floor.
Churchmouse-They got me, a wound on my head, but you see its gone before your lying eyes.
Mr. De Press- You will be our headline if I make my deadline. You are a magician whom I saw
you once personally replace a broken toe to put on the nose of a Mau Mau man who unfortunately
was injured trying to kill the British and told you he was dying for sex but could not get easily it
up except for the Scottish cavalry officer dressed in his kilts and it was reported in the Army
Regiment Register that the Mau Mau heavily breathed and almost gave up the ghost after seeing
the object of the Scotsman whom we named Thick Slick Thackery which cost the Mau Mau his
life yet made the Scotsman a famous model in certain London and American men's work out
magazines of a certain genre I can't share in mixed company. Oh here is that brazen assassin
again.
Mr. Beard suddenly jumps up on the stage with a sword and stabs Churchmouse this time again
on the head.)
Mr. Beard- I am the assassin Mr. Beard. I make no bones about it.I lead the force for justice with
the Closet Cased Deacon Don gangs where we make tattoos for big armed bandits from our own
bars of Soho and then out our prisoners behind bars. And I'm here to tell you Churchmouse here
subsidizes us.
Churchmouse- You son of a bitch , you hid me in the Turkish bath and now you are trying to kill
me. You almost got your comeuppance tonight but no wound in the head will harm me."
Mr. Beard - You were once a unclothed defrocked go go boy in your younger days whom you got
Big Crony to take you from an eager altar boy to a superstar on Hollywood boulevard, you mangy
dog. I will personally put you in a straight jacket if it will fit since you have been arrested in your
early development since you were a Birmingham teenager when you bought Saharan Saracen
Pictures with slaves from your fish and chip shillings to finally settle on the Upper West Side of
Manhattan as a poster guy for the androgynous psychiatrist Dr. Vienna for your group bondage
rock star opera guild always dressed as go go boys in green suede shamrock Irish leather where
you took your high trips on L.S.D. while studying Kierkegaard and the Marquis de Sade at
Oxford then at Harvard. Did you know it was Mr. Crony who paid for your American education
but you yourself Churchmouse never got yourself out of the water closet.
Churchmouse- If I could ever wash out your mouth again with the same black Irish bar of soap as
I did in the Turkish bathhouse I would do it.
Mr. Beard. All you do is want to flagellate yourself and then exaggerate your photos on the
religious page of Mr. Depress's rag the Daily Encounter.
Mr. Depress- How dare you put down my paper with its millions in circulation.
Churchmouse- I have given you Mr. Beard a black mark on your soul but I have one from you
when you gave me a lasting mark on my ass when I made a cameo appearance in Head Hunter's
film, "White Belt Karate Emporer" filmed in Malibu.
Ms. Crony- It was fabulous.
Gertie- Fabulous! I played a Harlaam harem daughter of my Dutch uncle.
Lottie- I played the white karate's emporer's girl friend "Ina Transition" and spoke as the secret
agent Balloon Waloon in Flemish.
Churchmouse- You were fabulous too. None would have recognized you under the veil.
Head Hunter - You were always late for rehearsal Churchmouse just like when we found you in
the tea room in Malibu. You spent most of your days reading Firbank in another tea room near St.
Mary Magdalen at Oxford as an understudy and undergraduate years before.
Churchmouse- Lies, degenerate lies against a respectable Sunday lay religious minister.
Head Hunter - I saw you as a pimp looking for extras between scenes of my shootings or cuttings
from my close ups between our shrinking dialogue and me saying "that's a wrap" when you
always wanted to get on with one more brushing or stroke to the guy you captured and water
boarded on the award film "Pussy and Booties" featured at the Berlin S. and M. film festival.
We had gathered all the tools, even political intrigue and intelligence in there to screw with the
Hammer and Sickles hockey team in the soft water boarding musical bubbly scenes searching
for Russian agents for my film which covered up the real the occupied Wall Street story of
how the transgender crowd infiltrated the pup tents using foreign monopoly money which gave
a new wave to my film "Shrinking Violetta of the Urals and Urinals" with A.K. , the former
Moscow clown who finds a lover under the Birobidzhan red tent circus embedded while spying
for the C.I.A. and N.K.V.D. who dies of a mysteriously unknown V.D. infection.
Alex- That was me. I played myself. Sorry Daddy.
Mr. Crony - You did nothing wrong son. We knew Churchmouse was looking out for you.
Churchmouse- I hired A.K. myself.
Alex - Churchmouse was after me for years. I once overheard him through a glory hole saying
he had recently made a scooby doo plate of frog leg and and mixed greens and sent it to a French
military academy so he could meet some cadets training for the Foreign Legion. Churchmouse
was always a mover,especially trying on a Sunday dress after he tried to encourage miscarriages,
forced suicides and abortions in the unlikely BZ farce "God is Getting Tired."
De Press- I guess none of you will bring charges on Mr.Beard this cowardly assassin.
Mr Crony- It's up to Churchmouse Beast.
Churchmouse- Nothing can harm me. I rest my case.
Watchman - If you think so then keep it realite verite. Remember to chill out and be still and
tender to get to know your God before it is too late.
Scene London, England
Moderator
Mr. De Press - London Daily Encounter press chief
Mr. Crony- T.V. mogul and perennial candidate for parliament
Ms. Crony, Miss Labour, Miss Liberale, wife and two daughters of Mr.Crony
Alex-nicknamed in Russian Sasha adopted son of Mr. Crony Jr.
Head Hunter- husband of Mr. Crony Jr.
Former Pastor Churchmouse Beast
Watchman, a watchman who stands at the door, often the silent man who records everything
Assassin- Mr. Beard
Moderator- I have invited you from your 2 billion homes to be with us today as we are in crisis
here in London, Paris and in the Americas.
Mr. De Press- I am a newspaper and web guy, chief editor of the London Daily Encounter.
Mr. Crony- I'm Mr. Crony. Just Call me Big; all I want is your approval, votes and taxes as I'm
running as an independent candidate for Parliament for the last twenty years and please allow me
to introduce my sixth wife to you the Countess Vixen Minsk the former Miss World and now
Mrs. Big and I introduce to you our lovely model daughters Labour and Liberale and my only
adopted son Alex- Sasha Crony Jr whom I found closeted in the New World on the reeds of
Brighton Beach and knew right away he belonged with me . Here now in his new riding boots
from Harrods and is now my studio partner and chief actor at my film studio and newspaper the
Daily Encounter; you can just call him as we do" spittle little" if you want to though he is as big
as me. You all know him from the blockbuster hit movie, "Life with Sasha " based on his own
story.Now my Alex is the sit down stand up Reality host of 90 90 filmed with Head Hunter his
new husband the last Borscht belt comedian from the Catskills and Poconos and featured on
our educational television stations, 24 7 from every coast harbor and lock down unit all the way
from Hong Kong to Sing Sing.
Head Hunter- I'm Head Hunter and Alex's husband and a famous film flamer and star of
"Dr. K.Y." about a mad Moldovan scientist who prescribes a body ream and cream that lasts
for twenty four hours. We had Don Deacon do the promo along with Alex.
Mr. de Press- Mr. Crony, you did not formally adopt Alex. Let's be real. You took him from the
Brighton Beach reeds to make him your Moses and young spokesman.We first ran the story in
the London Daily Encounter how you stole young Alex from his parents and paid them off
in thousands of pounds so they could open up a Russian bazaar with a unique brand of kefir
yogurt that would give one at least hundred years of long life strength thatwe found in the
Caucasus. Then you bought Alex(the Russian nickname Sasha)his parents an Oriental rug
business West London, only after that did you promote Alex as your partner on red guard
cinemas and make him a first class actor and director.
Mr. Crony- What did I need you here for! To become my conscience of God.
Mr. de Press- The truth is for your need to have a son for Christmas.
Mr. Crony Jr. Alex - Oh dad you should't have adopted me if only for your own ego. Could I have
some bagel Brussels sprouts, daddy you promised me if I went on mommy's Turkish Delight diet
Zum Zum show to tell of your full dietetic diet of Lady Fingers and Sugar Daddies I could have
a bag of bagel Brussels sprouts.
Ms. Crony- Give the boy what we wants, you will anyway.
Mr. Crony- You may have your sprouts but please don't use them for anything nefarious.
Ms. Crony- I'm Ms. Crony and we do love you, Alex as my step son.I'm the author of the Iberian-
Indian kosher holy cow cook karma book co- authored with Ms. Kay Brisket formerly of Toledo
with recipes dug up from her great great great great great great great grandmother lost in the 1492
Inquisition. It is a now best seller as was the Zum Zum diet book and here are my twin lovely
daughters Lotte Labour Crony a part time swim suit model and a full time working girl outside
of the new age journalism school in the Shetlands and Gertie Liberales her adorable sister who is
the ambassador of St. James and food mistress to the court of Monaco and Macau.
Gertie- We need a bag of bagel chips.
Lotte- We are starving arn't we Gertie?
Gertie- I could eat a kosher cow.
Mr. Crony- Speaking of foodies, send out for Brussels sprouts for our audience, it's on the house.
Ex Pastor- I am Pastor Church Mouse Beast who wants to bring all of us together whatever
corner of the earth, whatever your beliefs as long as you follow my lead.
Watchman- I am Watchman. I watch all and record everything.
Crony- Isn't this thrilling, everyone watching me; I grew up in poverty and no one knew me and
now everyone loves me, and my wife Vixen from the harem of the now defunct Turkish-Monaco-
once the Macau- Moldovan opera dance company , a mezzo soprano who cannot for the life of
me take her drugged Oriental eyes off me less she have her head cut off, has taken all desires
toward other women away so I can concentrate on the people's pleasure and not exclusively on
my own.
Churchmouse- With all your rodomontade bragging rights ,Crony ,you seem to be lost and most
miserable of men. What eyes are now on us uniting for eternity. What do you say Watchman?
Watchman- I won't praise anyone's image or put down any mark upon the earth.
Churchmouse- You will for the price of your soul.
Head Hunter(removes his shirt) Now what do you think of this body ?
Churchmouse- It's your soul...
Head Hunter-All you care about Churchmouse Beast is power, you pretend you are pious but
you are a modern Devil. You hang out with Mr. Crony as cover.
Mr. De Press- We cover him as a religious in the Daily Encounter but his power eludes us.
A shot is fired from the audience
Mr. De Press- It's an assassin! I recognize him, it's that cruel Mr. Diego Beard.
All duck on the floor.
Churchmouse-They got me, a wound on my head, but you see its gone before your lying eyes.
Mr. De Press- You will be our headline if I make my deadline. You are a magician whom I saw
you once personally replace a broken toe to put on the nose of a Mau Mau man who unfortunately
was injured trying to kill the British and told you he was dying for sex but could not get easily it
up except for the Scottish cavalry officer dressed in his kilts and it was reported in the Army
Regiment Register that the Mau Mau heavily breathed and almost gave up the ghost after seeing
the object of the Scotsman whom we named Thick Slick Thackery which cost the Mau Mau his
life yet made the Scotsman a famous model in certain London and American men's work out
magazines of a certain genre I can't share in mixed company. Oh here is that brazen assassin
again.
Mr. Beard suddenly jumps up on the stage with a sword and stabs Churchmouse this time again
on the head.)
Mr. Beard- I am the assassin Mr. Beard. I make no bones about it.I lead the force for justice with
the Closet Cased Deacon Don gangs where we make tattoos for big armed bandits from our own
bars of Soho and then out our prisoners behind bars. And I'm here to tell you Churchmouse here
subsidizes us.
Churchmouse- You son of a bitch , you hid me in the Turkish bath and now you are trying to kill
me. You almost got your comeuppance tonight but no wound in the head will harm me."
Mr. Beard - You were once a unclothed defrocked go go boy in your younger days whom you got
Big Crony to take you from an eager altar boy to a superstar on Hollywood boulevard, you mangy
dog. I will personally put you in a straight jacket if it will fit since you have been arrested in your
early development since you were a Birmingham teenager when you bought Saharan Saracen
Pictures with slaves from your fish and chip shillings to finally settle on the Upper West Side of
Manhattan as a poster guy for the androgynous psychiatrist Dr. Vienna for your group bondage
rock star opera guild always dressed as go go boys in green suede shamrock Irish leather where
you took your high trips on L.S.D. while studying Kierkegaard and the Marquis de Sade at
Oxford then at Harvard. Did you know it was Mr. Crony who paid for your American education
but you yourself Churchmouse never got yourself out of the water closet.
Churchmouse- If I could ever wash out your mouth again with the same black Irish bar of soap as
I did in the Turkish bathhouse I would do it.
Mr. Beard. All you do is want to flagellate yourself and then exaggerate your photos on the
religious page of Mr. Depress's rag the Daily Encounter.
Mr. Depress- How dare you put down my paper with its millions in circulation.
Churchmouse- I have given you Mr. Beard a black mark on your soul but I have one from you
when you gave me a lasting mark on my ass when I made a cameo appearance in Head Hunter's
film, "White Belt Karate Emporer" filmed in Malibu.
Ms. Crony- It was fabulous.
Gertie- Fabulous! I played a Harlaam harem daughter of my Dutch uncle.
Lottie- I played the white karate's emporer's girl friend "Ina Transition" and spoke as the secret
agent Balloon Waloon in Flemish.
Churchmouse- You were fabulous too. None would have recognized you under the veil.
Head Hunter - You were always late for rehearsal Churchmouse just like when we found you in
the tea room in Malibu. You spent most of your days reading Firbank in another tea room near St.
Mary Magdalen at Oxford as an understudy and undergraduate years before.
Churchmouse- Lies, degenerate lies against a respectable Sunday lay religious minister.
Head Hunter - I saw you as a pimp looking for extras between scenes of my shootings or cuttings
from my close ups between our shrinking dialogue and me saying "that's a wrap" when you
always wanted to get on with one more brushing or stroke to the guy you captured and water
boarded on the award film "Pussy and Booties" featured at the Berlin S. and M. film festival.
We had gathered all the tools, even political intrigue and intelligence in there to screw with the
Hammer and Sickles hockey team in the soft water boarding musical bubbly scenes searching
for Russian agents for my film which covered up the real the occupied Wall Street story of
how the transgender crowd infiltrated the pup tents using foreign monopoly money which gave
a new wave to my film "Shrinking Violetta of the Urals and Urinals" with A.K. , the former
Moscow clown who finds a lover under the Birobidzhan red tent circus embedded while spying
for the C.I.A. and N.K.V.D. who dies of a mysteriously unknown V.D. infection.
Alex- That was me. I played myself. Sorry Daddy.
Mr. Crony - You did nothing wrong son. We knew Churchmouse was looking out for you.
Churchmouse- I hired A.K. myself.
Alex - Churchmouse was after me for years. I once overheard him through a glory hole saying
he had recently made a scooby doo plate of frog leg and and mixed greens and sent it to a French
military academy so he could meet some cadets training for the Foreign Legion. Churchmouse
was always a mover,especially trying on a Sunday dress after he tried to encourage miscarriages,
forced suicides and abortions in the unlikely BZ farce "God is Getting Tired."
De Press- I guess none of you will bring charges on Mr.Beard this cowardly assassin.
Mr Crony- It's up to Churchmouse Beast.
Churchmouse- Nothing can harm me. I rest my case.
Watchman - If you think so then keep it realite verite. Remember to chill out and be still and
tender to get to know your God before it is too late.
OXFORD SPIES (Play)
1990
Alistair
Cardiff
Reid
Sanford
BBZ correspondent
They are drinking heavily.
A. Yes, we gave our lives as spies for socialism.
C. You are our Welsh poet in residence.
R. And I know I'm not called Red just because of my hair.
S. I fought fascism in Spain early in my life.
A. We know now Stalin was not on our revolutionary calendar.
C. No one could write a memorial poem on him and certainly not a hymn, even as spies our life
was lived on a whim.
R. Stalingrad is still in my memory.
S. Never to expect the pact with Hitler to be forgotten.
C. Stalin stole socialism from out of our hands as Orwell knew it he blew; it was ill gotten.
R. Hell, we were recruited for a high purpose we thought at our idealistic age.
A. I hear the door, it's the BBZ correspondent . Don' t worry the cold war is over; peaceful
coexistence works. They can't hold us captive for the past and we know the BBZ is our friend.
BZ. I'm BZ;poet, reconteur, art director of interviewer for the BBZ.
C. You're not here to out us.
A. He's our confidante.
C. BZ is simpatico.
BZ. I know you were on missions to the Soviets.
C Not planting violets.
S. Did you think we were atomic spies.
C. I'm all eyes, for we wanted to witness a better history than at the despised Un Americans
versus Brecht,not politically correct. We who were so wise wanted a classless society, a hell
instead of a lost paradise. But you got another unwise variety on the forgotten classless society.
A. We were for the underdog.
C. And Stalin was our wonder god who really thought the workers would spend time in the
library cages more than gambling away their wages.
A. I saw very few workers at the promenades.
C. And very few with Party cards.
A. Long live the vanguard.
B. And the avant-garde.
S. So we bitch all day but we do not not resolve our inner conflicts of self destructive acts.
C. A collective amnesia has taken over the political world and we can only record our memoirs
as we live out our leisure.
BZ. It's hard to be single minded for intellectuals to be transparent even spies apparently.
R. In politics there is a only critic's game plan always from the revolutionary or reactionary
sidelines.
BZ. Was it Khrushchev's revelations, Hungary, Poland or Prague's revolts that was the last straw.
C. It was all four. But we knew more revelations were in store, though we didn't want to hear the
Stalin revelations on the BBZ any more.
BZ. Did you all four get along.
C. Wine, men, women, bong and song. What and when could we go wrong.
BZ. You don't seem to have much shame.
C. What was meant in our name is bent as a tree and we thought ourselves free of all law
entirely. We have our own jury.
BZ. As of now the whole world is watching our broadcast.
C. And arn't we a beautiful cast for the BBZ.
BZ. All the injuries you caused are more than historical footnotes.
C. Socialism's flaws are saved by news year's quotes for our cause or in a ballot of Labor votes.
BZ. It's a false god that failed together with the firing squad.
C. We had ambition, and no admonition.
BZ. You will force us to think.
C. Now watch us wink at this time.
BZ. For the greatest of historical crimes. Millions who witnessed the truth of the revolutionary
justice,the purges and the Gulag will discover and uncover the truth. And perhaps we will
all answer what is truth.
C. Are you judging me?
BZ. I will leave that to history and the God that exceeded in exposing us all.Thanks for the
interview.
THE END.
1990
Alistair
Cardiff
Reid
Sanford
BBZ correspondent
They are drinking heavily.
A. Yes, we gave our lives as spies for socialism.
C. You are our Welsh poet in residence.
R. And I know I'm not called Red just because of my hair.
S. I fought fascism in Spain early in my life.
A. We know now Stalin was not on our revolutionary calendar.
C. No one could write a memorial poem on him and certainly not a hymn, even as spies our life
was lived on a whim.
R. Stalingrad is still in my memory.
S. Never to expect the pact with Hitler to be forgotten.
C. Stalin stole socialism from out of our hands as Orwell knew it he blew; it was ill gotten.
R. Hell, we were recruited for a high purpose we thought at our idealistic age.
A. I hear the door, it's the BBZ correspondent . Don' t worry the cold war is over; peaceful
coexistence works. They can't hold us captive for the past and we know the BBZ is our friend.
BZ. I'm BZ;poet, reconteur, art director of interviewer for the BBZ.
C. You're not here to out us.
A. He's our confidante.
C. BZ is simpatico.
BZ. I know you were on missions to the Soviets.
C Not planting violets.
S. Did you think we were atomic spies.
C. I'm all eyes, for we wanted to witness a better history than at the despised Un Americans
versus Brecht,not politically correct. We who were so wise wanted a classless society, a hell
instead of a lost paradise. But you got another unwise variety on the forgotten classless society.
A. We were for the underdog.
C. And Stalin was our wonder god who really thought the workers would spend time in the
library cages more than gambling away their wages.
A. I saw very few workers at the promenades.
C. And very few with Party cards.
A. Long live the vanguard.
B. And the avant-garde.
S. So we bitch all day but we do not not resolve our inner conflicts of self destructive acts.
C. A collective amnesia has taken over the political world and we can only record our memoirs
as we live out our leisure.
BZ. It's hard to be single minded for intellectuals to be transparent even spies apparently.
R. In politics there is a only critic's game plan always from the revolutionary or reactionary
sidelines.
BZ. Was it Khrushchev's revelations, Hungary, Poland or Prague's revolts that was the last straw.
C. It was all four. But we knew more revelations were in store, though we didn't want to hear the
Stalin revelations on the BBZ any more.
BZ. Did you all four get along.
C. Wine, men, women, bong and song. What and when could we go wrong.
BZ. You don't seem to have much shame.
C. What was meant in our name is bent as a tree and we thought ourselves free of all law
entirely. We have our own jury.
BZ. As of now the whole world is watching our broadcast.
C. And arn't we a beautiful cast for the BBZ.
BZ. All the injuries you caused are more than historical footnotes.
C. Socialism's flaws are saved by news year's quotes for our cause or in a ballot of Labor votes.
BZ. It's a false god that failed together with the firing squad.
C. We had ambition, and no admonition.
BZ. You will force us to think.
C. Now watch us wink at this time.
BZ. For the greatest of historical crimes. Millions who witnessed the truth of the revolutionary
justice,the purges and the Gulag will discover and uncover the truth. And perhaps we will
all answer what is truth.
C. Are you judging me?
BZ. I will leave that to history and the God that exceeded in exposing us all.Thanks for the
interview.
THE END.
CONTINUUM
We take a slideshow of our past
trying to remember the good
picturing in our continuum
the films that last in our memory
those clips which cast us
to make us understood
by our encountering lines
which suddenly birth forth
raking in our own neighborhood
in those greensward seasonal scenes
when the birds took off
from the North woods of our country
now we look for signs in Vermont
when looking down the hills
for a spring of fountains
as earthly flower miracles appear
at the foot of the White Mountains
with good news at the divine hours
wanting to to hear,chant or sing
country lyrical melodies
from a quivering peal
of church bells
in musical keys shivering
from a bird search
on the plateau below
in the good news hearing
as garden saplings are renewing
with early spring flowers everywhere
yet we preside at our keyboards
at bordered doors
with the silence of writ
by our screened concentrations
keeping up in a poet's ceremony
at our stations with everlasting credit
near our computer Muse and mouse
as we sum up parts of our own origin
emerging from our sleep house
with print outs of punctuation
on our thumbs of reinventions
from our own realization
wishing to know how to suit
and address every golden vacuum
of human speech's simplification
hearing from every podium's
chapter and verse
within reach of our recreation
in a personal acting form
what in life mocks and mimics
listening in at our readings
from quorums or forums
at library reading rooms
discussing various literary critics,
as we view St.John's
approaching Apocalypse
through the Bible, Virgil or Dante
reacting to a fainting stratum of stars
in those poets who paint a prophesy
others opt for famous rhetoric
with an adopted political cause
on some confident lips
reacting their own adopted style
of diction's or musicians laws
like Keats, Yeats or Henry Lawes,
while others write fiction,
every audience has a chance to view
the floral spring rose stem
in a garden of verses for them
as people from every diaspora
of the universe rejoice
at words of public reaction
handed out at our performance
of Eliot, Beckett or Joyce's
coming attraction
who enjoy the acting out voices
hiding out from many tensions
at a balm of oral reading choices
away from all worldly distractions
to partly reside in revelations
from art's own satisfaction's grip
of poetry almost moving inside us,
hoping our postings will be cast
in Elysium's flora
and not exiled or planted
to any asylum with ghosts
of Sylvia Plath and John Clare
by their lone mirror and pictures
we try to unravel and compare
all cultures in the disparity
and irony of our adversary's tone
by our own motioning sagacity
without the pretext of being alone,
like marlins and dolphins
at sunlight by the sailed ocean,
for not all poets are like Cinna
trying like get Cassius
to spy on Caesar or to tell Brutus
about the Ides of March conspiracy
as a spell in life presides
under the Roman arch of history
he is in a reflection of Narcissus
over the body's mirrored bone
to embarrass us in his mendacity
with a mean and hungry look
it is in the stars that we atone
when we cannot make any sense
hidden here on rocks and limestone,
nor has Ulysses has ever failed us
from all the pretentious years
far from home
on his adventurous path to share
his tales of a future jagged journey
knotted inside with cabin fever
yet floating on rain, fog and air
nor will he be overcast
from our own past censorship
in any monologue of emotion
to be unmasked as any voyager
as he miraculously returns to
his bride wife and lover Penelope
when Homer often asks Ulysses
when writing his detailed book
about his Odyssey
as if he were a younger voyeur,
that even our modern poets
question his insight
as is Auden moved by it
as are other poets from Greece
on ports of exile,
with their years of contemplation
in long suffering and strife,
like Yannis Ritsos lost to his nation
living far from ships off the Aegean
not softened by his terror of exile
or by the succeeding fear
of impatience in spite of knots
as in a mighty continental flow
of being in the know,
like Jason capturing his fleece
from the Argonauts bow at Lemnos
despite mind racing Freudian slips
writing with trial and error
with sentences by sequences,
we too are still pacing
on aisles of unemployed exposure
where we give our actors
all the truth and consequences
in responding to our poetic plays
giving pleasure to our audience
left over our own contemporary stage
at a drama's reacting ruminations
or at shattering glass readings
in focus of our post silver age,
with all measured symbols
of a leisured conversation
which cannot escape the last chapter
weighing in our many years of trial
on verse's writ over a higher scale
because love or politics interferes
we still go on in silent living
where we might in loneliness fail
to be forgiving every betrayal
in rhyme or diction's composure
to locate our own holy grail
and to engage with disclosure
which we sought
in cogitation's lowly denial
from our unlimited energy
of creation that lives on
pondering over our exile
that we may still universally smile
as the Muse wandering in
to discover us by tracery
from our scenes of disclosure
on reinvented files of memory
expecting our own brooding
over metal fretwork filigree
we reinvent phrases on the page
sitting along the ocean isles
in meditation by hummingbirds
who like us are undoubtedly feeding
on hungry necessities
or in a repast of delicacies
by fallen trees to to stay alive,
we invent our fervent primal words
by leading others to finally survive
on these token yet matured end days
in a scenery's pretended disarray
on these extremities times
conceding to us in rhyme
with our spoken chorus of amen
to follow are small miracles
and simple priestly benedictions
from our nature's poetic creations
by swallowing the critical
call of continental nomenclatures
even temporal achievements,
until tomorrow we stand up
with bread and a cup of red wine
and rise up by hearing
the final business of bereavements
a prayer is said for the dead
covering over
another's delayed achievements.
We take a slideshow of our past
trying to remember the good
picturing in our continuum
the films that last in our memory
those clips which cast us
to make us understood
by our encountering lines
which suddenly birth forth
raking in our own neighborhood
in those greensward seasonal scenes
when the birds took off
from the North woods of our country
now we look for signs in Vermont
when looking down the hills
for a spring of fountains
as earthly flower miracles appear
at the foot of the White Mountains
with good news at the divine hours
wanting to to hear,chant or sing
country lyrical melodies
from a quivering peal
of church bells
in musical keys shivering
from a bird search
on the plateau below
in the good news hearing
as garden saplings are renewing
with early spring flowers everywhere
yet we preside at our keyboards
at bordered doors
with the silence of writ
by our screened concentrations
keeping up in a poet's ceremony
at our stations with everlasting credit
near our computer Muse and mouse
as we sum up parts of our own origin
emerging from our sleep house
with print outs of punctuation
on our thumbs of reinventions
from our own realization
wishing to know how to suit
and address every golden vacuum
of human speech's simplification
hearing from every podium's
chapter and verse
within reach of our recreation
in a personal acting form
what in life mocks and mimics
listening in at our readings
from quorums or forums
at library reading rooms
discussing various literary critics,
as we view St.John's
approaching Apocalypse
through the Bible, Virgil or Dante
reacting to a fainting stratum of stars
in those poets who paint a prophesy
others opt for famous rhetoric
with an adopted political cause
on some confident lips
reacting their own adopted style
of diction's or musicians laws
like Keats, Yeats or Henry Lawes,
while others write fiction,
every audience has a chance to view
the floral spring rose stem
in a garden of verses for them
as people from every diaspora
of the universe rejoice
at words of public reaction
handed out at our performance
of Eliot, Beckett or Joyce's
coming attraction
who enjoy the acting out voices
hiding out from many tensions
at a balm of oral reading choices
away from all worldly distractions
to partly reside in revelations
from art's own satisfaction's grip
of poetry almost moving inside us,
hoping our postings will be cast
in Elysium's flora
and not exiled or planted
to any asylum with ghosts
of Sylvia Plath and John Clare
by their lone mirror and pictures
we try to unravel and compare
all cultures in the disparity
and irony of our adversary's tone
by our own motioning sagacity
without the pretext of being alone,
like marlins and dolphins
at sunlight by the sailed ocean,
for not all poets are like Cinna
trying like get Cassius
to spy on Caesar or to tell Brutus
about the Ides of March conspiracy
as a spell in life presides
under the Roman arch of history
he is in a reflection of Narcissus
over the body's mirrored bone
to embarrass us in his mendacity
with a mean and hungry look
it is in the stars that we atone
when we cannot make any sense
hidden here on rocks and limestone,
nor has Ulysses has ever failed us
from all the pretentious years
far from home
on his adventurous path to share
his tales of a future jagged journey
knotted inside with cabin fever
yet floating on rain, fog and air
nor will he be overcast
from our own past censorship
in any monologue of emotion
to be unmasked as any voyager
as he miraculously returns to
his bride wife and lover Penelope
when Homer often asks Ulysses
when writing his detailed book
about his Odyssey
as if he were a younger voyeur,
that even our modern poets
question his insight
as is Auden moved by it
as are other poets from Greece
on ports of exile,
with their years of contemplation
in long suffering and strife,
like Yannis Ritsos lost to his nation
living far from ships off the Aegean
not softened by his terror of exile
or by the succeeding fear
of impatience in spite of knots
as in a mighty continental flow
of being in the know,
like Jason capturing his fleece
from the Argonauts bow at Lemnos
despite mind racing Freudian slips
writing with trial and error
with sentences by sequences,
we too are still pacing
on aisles of unemployed exposure
where we give our actors
all the truth and consequences
in responding to our poetic plays
giving pleasure to our audience
left over our own contemporary stage
at a drama's reacting ruminations
or at shattering glass readings
in focus of our post silver age,
with all measured symbols
of a leisured conversation
which cannot escape the last chapter
weighing in our many years of trial
on verse's writ over a higher scale
because love or politics interferes
we still go on in silent living
where we might in loneliness fail
to be forgiving every betrayal
in rhyme or diction's composure
to locate our own holy grail
and to engage with disclosure
which we sought
in cogitation's lowly denial
from our unlimited energy
of creation that lives on
pondering over our exile
that we may still universally smile
as the Muse wandering in
to discover us by tracery
from our scenes of disclosure
on reinvented files of memory
expecting our own brooding
over metal fretwork filigree
we reinvent phrases on the page
sitting along the ocean isles
in meditation by hummingbirds
who like us are undoubtedly feeding
on hungry necessities
or in a repast of delicacies
by fallen trees to to stay alive,
we invent our fervent primal words
by leading others to finally survive
on these token yet matured end days
in a scenery's pretended disarray
on these extremities times
conceding to us in rhyme
with our spoken chorus of amen
to follow are small miracles
and simple priestly benedictions
from our nature's poetic creations
by swallowing the critical
call of continental nomenclatures
even temporal achievements,
until tomorrow we stand up
with bread and a cup of red wine
and rise up by hearing
the final business of bereavements
a prayer is said for the dead
covering over
another's delayed achievements.
THE KEPT ONE
(A one-act play)
A. Anna
B. Barney
the Saint Bernard-Bogart
Romain, a detective
Robot named Robot
A. You have kept me in the dark since our marriage here in the Village.
B. Do you think you can escape from me. I own you and your bitch Bogart. I have this killing machine Robot named Robot next to you with the button on already for your dreaded destruction.
A. I am living in fear and terror;here I was in high school when you picked me up and you are torturing me every moment.I can't seem to escape being the kept one.
B. I was kept in an orphanage at your age. I planned escapes every moment of my life.
A. So this is your life long theme of revenge.
B. Call it what you want, hell, no relief, terrorism, a blockage of exists, you exist only because of me.
A. You are a control freak of nature.
B. And you are my mother, sister or loser,whatever eats you alive.
A. Set the record straight, if I could ever record you.
B. Would you reward me if I let you go.
A. It's your ego which won't leave you.
B. Why don't you stop smearing or daring me.
A. You watch me at home, visit me when I use to work; I'm not allowed any friends, even Bogart is on watch from you. If you are on as a TV. news anchor, everyone in the country know you but not about you. If they only knew you as I do.
B. No one will ever know; I've seen to it.
A.You are legendary only to those who live in a mythology of your history.
B. I'm unable to live with or without you. So you are locked in with no invention.
A. You have put me under your feet but you too conventionally will be obsolete.
B. You are high wired but with one switch if you snitch are will be fired.
A. So is that your final sentence before you go off to your job screwing other people by giving out the big lie on the news.
B. I report the headlines and deadlines for you. You eloped with me a rich bastard with a belly at your high school graduation where you gave your valedictory address, then I took you out to give me an heir in nine months and then I chained you here. As you know Romaine belongs to me.
A. He is only lettuce to you but you've made me a into your cabbage patch doll but soon Romaine and I will be free. I named Romaine after the detective who is helping me.
B. I saw him making eyes at you.
A. No one knows the horror of living with control freak.
B. You're tied up now for the day. You are my keepsake, the kept one.
A. We're all chained to the past, like the baby carriage which passed us by when you left our our baby in a church basement.
B. You were not ready to be a mother, then or now. You're only eighteen.
A. I will find him.
B. Can you see a future apart from me, Anna.
A. It doesn't look it, Barney.
Barney ties Anna up.
B. Now we're as tight since that night we married.
A. I wish I could escape. Here I am with books of knowledge but with your third degree and I am your slave.
B. I instructed you how to behave.
A. Go to hell.
B. Do you want a massage.
A. Don't rub it in. I get the message.
B. You always have Bogart with you.
A. You are my pet peeve not Bogart.
B. So don't try to hit and run like you always do.
A. How can I escape as events pass me by and a man I thought was a gent wants me not to live or die.
B. Welcome to the human race. Have a great day.
The door closes.
Anna instructs Bogart to untie the ropes as she done for over three years.,yet Anna escapes to another city with Bogart only to be kidnapped and taken away.
B. Now with my new invention you cannot get away. It's robotic and obeys me. Don't you. Robo you are ordered at my beck and call.
A. I have alerted the police; you won't get away with it. Lincoln freed the slaves.
B. Who needs our friendship,a loveless marriage. I keep you in check along with a few others for fun ,who know I'm no cakewalk.
A. You're a creep.
B. Now open up to me.
A. No I've closed you out.
B. I will be back but you won't be anything but a kept woman.
Barney touches a button on Robot, who proceeds to put his arm on Anna and then kills Anna.
Romain, the detective gets a secret call and brings her baby, disarms Robot and arrests Barney for the murder of Anna.
(A one-act play)
A. Anna
B. Barney
the Saint Bernard-Bogart
Romain, a detective
Robot named Robot
A. You have kept me in the dark since our marriage here in the Village.
B. Do you think you can escape from me. I own you and your bitch Bogart. I have this killing machine Robot named Robot next to you with the button on already for your dreaded destruction.
A. I am living in fear and terror;here I was in high school when you picked me up and you are torturing me every moment.I can't seem to escape being the kept one.
B. I was kept in an orphanage at your age. I planned escapes every moment of my life.
A. So this is your life long theme of revenge.
B. Call it what you want, hell, no relief, terrorism, a blockage of exists, you exist only because of me.
A. You are a control freak of nature.
B. And you are my mother, sister or loser,whatever eats you alive.
A. Set the record straight, if I could ever record you.
B. Would you reward me if I let you go.
A. It's your ego which won't leave you.
B. Why don't you stop smearing or daring me.
A. You watch me at home, visit me when I use to work; I'm not allowed any friends, even Bogart is on watch from you. If you are on as a TV. news anchor, everyone in the country know you but not about you. If they only knew you as I do.
B. No one will ever know; I've seen to it.
A.You are legendary only to those who live in a mythology of your history.
B. I'm unable to live with or without you. So you are locked in with no invention.
A. You have put me under your feet but you too conventionally will be obsolete.
B. You are high wired but with one switch if you snitch are will be fired.
A. So is that your final sentence before you go off to your job screwing other people by giving out the big lie on the news.
B. I report the headlines and deadlines for you. You eloped with me a rich bastard with a belly at your high school graduation where you gave your valedictory address, then I took you out to give me an heir in nine months and then I chained you here. As you know Romaine belongs to me.
A. He is only lettuce to you but you've made me a into your cabbage patch doll but soon Romaine and I will be free. I named Romaine after the detective who is helping me.
B. I saw him making eyes at you.
A. No one knows the horror of living with control freak.
B. You're tied up now for the day. You are my keepsake, the kept one.
A. We're all chained to the past, like the baby carriage which passed us by when you left our our baby in a church basement.
B. You were not ready to be a mother, then or now. You're only eighteen.
A. I will find him.
B. Can you see a future apart from me, Anna.
A. It doesn't look it, Barney.
Barney ties Anna up.
B. Now we're as tight since that night we married.
A. I wish I could escape. Here I am with books of knowledge but with your third degree and I am your slave.
B. I instructed you how to behave.
A. Go to hell.
B. Do you want a massage.
A. Don't rub it in. I get the message.
B. You always have Bogart with you.
A. You are my pet peeve not Bogart.
B. So don't try to hit and run like you always do.
A. How can I escape as events pass me by and a man I thought was a gent wants me not to live or die.
B. Welcome to the human race. Have a great day.
The door closes.
Anna instructs Bogart to untie the ropes as she done for over three years.,yet Anna escapes to another city with Bogart only to be kidnapped and taken away.
B. Now with my new invention you cannot get away. It's robotic and obeys me. Don't you. Robo you are ordered at my beck and call.
A. I have alerted the police; you won't get away with it. Lincoln freed the slaves.
B. Who needs our friendship,a loveless marriage. I keep you in check along with a few others for fun ,who know I'm no cakewalk.
A. You're a creep.
B. Now open up to me.
A. No I've closed you out.
B. I will be back but you won't be anything but a kept woman.
Barney touches a button on Robot, who proceeds to put his arm on Anna and then kills Anna.
Romain, the detective gets a secret call and brings her baby, disarms Robot and arrests Barney for the murder of Anna.
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