DEVON OR BUST

yrts

lets all go to devon and live in a yrt.
live in a yrt
live in a yrt
we'll make our own yogurt from the cultures in our dreadlocks.
the sun will rise on our travelling van,
and we'll throw back the blankets
and muss the kittens' hair.

we'll cook up giant pots of soya porridge
to bring to the beach
and eat with sticky spoons
while the wife practices her poi.

and now, more about the yrt.
our yrt will have a breezy porch,
and cupboards for storing incense.
there will be potluck dinners on our mud floor.
gathered on hay bales, we'll sup on vegan stew
and compare notes on woodchopping.

winter is coming to our yrt.
we must decorate it with tinsel
to celebrate the dawning of the pagan prince's birthday.
on that night we will rock the yrt,
lighting it as a cruise ship, in the Forest of deepest Protest.

the yrt will travel on his back to protests.
lie quietly against a tree while we rally against the G8 nations.
the yrt will be fairtrade and animal friendly.
it will not be doused in whale blubber to ward off the chills.

we will sport dozens of cardigans to keep us cozy.
cardigans mat has crotcheted furiously, bleeding fingers
twiddling at lightning speed, hurrying, hurrying, to churn
out the hundreds of sweaters we will need for the winter nights.

with scarves up to our chins, we will give birth in the yrt.

drum and bass kittens

been to wales

been to wales.

i dont have puppies

i've been working with retards all day. i've been wiping jellos from their chins and fastening their helmets. i've been explaining to them why one cannot successfully lick polka dots from t-shirts, nor spots from zebras. i've sworn to them that YES, TUESDAY, we will go to the zoo and feed the penguins. And wednesday we will feed the ducks on the canal while small ned children throw stones at their heads. EY, YA MUNTER BITCH, WHY DON'T YOU SNIFF A ROCK YOU HERD OF REETARDS.

i've been distracting the retards so they don't listen. i've been combing their hair so that the scraggly bits don't escape and obscure their view of bibs and cradles. i've been turning down their socks and brushing off the feathers from their trousers when they return from the beach.

i've been explaining why sand is not nutritious and how cat food cans arrive on said beach.

i've not been sleeping well. i've been stealing the covers from retards in the night. i've been quietly pinching them as they slumber to hear them cry GURGLE! from deep in a dreaming rage. i've been tipping their ice cream cones so the sorbet tips on to the sidewalk and leaves the retard bereft and crying.

i've been seeing a man about my anger. i've told him about my fist clenching every time i walk past the clarinet shop. i've been sobbing into his grey flannel shirt while he takes notes and wipes my snotty eyes.

i've been thinking a bit too much lately. i've been telling the retards about my sad childhood. i've been listening to their advice and trying to make sense of it. i've been enjoying the swagger of young girls on the pavement.

i've been taking the retards to the park and teaching them to play drums. i've heard puppies help you pick up girls and i don't have puppies, i have retards, so i take them.

i've not been on a date in a long time. i've not got much time away from the retards and if i took a girl to the movies with them they would SQUEAL and rustle popcorn in the darkness, secretly filling her purse with coca cola and skittles.

i've been wondering about the time the retards and i won the bowling trophy. i've been asking them if they want to play in the league again, or maybe take dance lessons.

i've been wanting to take some dance lessons.


to meet girls.

The Six Commandments

1. Play a gig in the stream with your keyboard afloat on a lie-low. Wear galoshes. Let the fans swim past, gurgling cherished lyrics off-key. Learn to play the melodica underwater. Learn to bubble the nose harmonica. Skip the bass and ask Zeb to rev his motorcycle on the bank.

2. Fill your home with broken keys to fictitious tractors. Let the neighbours wander through and dream of filling their pockets. Returning in the night to try to open doors of sleeping lamborghinis. Wild hopes of free sports cars. Free sports cars are the ultimate american dream.

3. Buy monkeys. You can afford them. If not, Grandma will buy one for you. Perhaps it will be a Confirmation present, perhaps it will be a graduation gift. You will house them in your big brother's room while he is at college. You will ask Mother to buy them diapers and laugh when they bear their gums and hee-haww at the breakfast table. Shaking hairy armpits and braying at Father when he tries to steal a banana for his lunch.

4. Crochet hats. With bunny ears. Have no one particular in mind, but delight when your brunette girl friend gush at the growing head cosy. One day, it will warm her ears as she strolls past the envious nuns. Nuns imagining young girls as mysterious creatures, creatures of boundless energy and warm ears.

5. Get married. Widows. Dead husband--that's dark. Don't be afraid of him becoming a pot-bellied lout who visits strip clubs and leers over his cigar at the dancing strippers. He will not come home late and hunch his shoulders at the Chinese restaurant. You will find love. It will make your stomach twitter and give you reason to read Marie Claire. Love and its preoccupations will bring you shiny toasters and property.

6. Don't make nachos when the kitchen is clean. Don't eat the black spots on potatoes. Don't let burnt pants stop you from opening the oven door. Otherwise the pie will burn. Don't let the pie burn, and don't forget to stir the soup.

7. Wear potholders. We don't want you to burn your hands.

Sometimes: A Play by Ras and Tim and Cam

Storyteller: The whole world is a big circle full of people. Some of us with our mouths open facing the weeping sky. We are the children, she is our mother. We build an imaginary fortress within the big circle. It is this fortress that we convert to our temple, our Forest. She is to be our Queen.

Life carried on. It rained a lot.
Normally clear, light drops fell from the sky. The drops wet the circle and left it steaming and purified. It offered a short peace.
The ones inside the big circle say they are fine, they say they are secure BUT... the rain that came last nite was dark, sticky rain. It covered the hairs and the faces…

Our mother, our queen is in a white marble temple. A cold, clean temple. There are pillars in the foreground. Two of her twelve children saunter in and sit in beach chairs at her feet. They are wearing sunglasses and headphones. Our Queen lurks behind a pillar playing with her robes, listening carefully to The Silence.

There is a scratching noise coming from behind the curtains, it is the spider who represents The Silence. The children never appear to hear what the spider is saying to them.

The spider, peeking from behind the curtains: Is it mango? Is is sugar cane? No, it is a non-alcoholic malt drink with B vitamins. I will let you have a taste if you wish.

I am sure the taste can change.

The Queen of Beauty looks worried!
She is talking...
but don't listen to her.

Queen (humming to herself, talking to The Silence): WHy are you so quiet? In the street there is chaos, the people are yelling. I want to protect my innocent children from the world. I see my children are beautiful. When they play, I watch them. I wonder what they are thinking. Approaching the dark drink. Tasting from afar with sensitive young whiskers.

Crouch down. Observing from behind the curtains, you hear me when I call you. Sometimes you choose to ignore me.
Sometimes.

(to the children) There is a library of music to teach you. Listen to the music till you learn the beats into your fingertips. There are lots of different instruments around. There is lots of potential.
We should be recording this.
It’s time to confuse the circle.

The spider: LIKE I SAID, I’VE NEVER RECORDED IN MY LIFE, THAT’S my problem….I think too much about what I say. I never recorded what I said, and then I’ve already moved on.
It's all so confusing. Where are we going? Where do we want to go?

Child one, to himself, listening to his headphones, grooving to the beat: VIBE… there is always so much talk about it. There is good energy surrounding us, people like it.
Even when it’s a short peace.

Child two, to his brother, listening to his headphones: Where is this taking us?

Spider, from behind the curtains: I'll tell you where this is taking us.
For now let's ask the Queen, our beauty, if the taste can change?

Child 1, speaking over the Spider: Mommy! Why do we need a Republic if you are the Queen?

Child 2: Dear Mommy, what do you prefer, us calling you Majesty or Comrade?

Queen: I love to taste strange things. I love good stuff.

Spider: Queen, I’ve seen you at the market. You know, those young cucumbers you balance on your fingertips. ..

Child 2, talking over the spider: I wonder why I am never brave enough to taste unknown things?

Child 1: I do not taste unknown things. I would not, could not, cannot.

Queen: You are both waiting for me to teach you, but they have tied me up.

Spider, sounding really suspicious: Who has tied you up?

Queen: The world around us has done it. It has tied all of our hands behind our backs. We are being so overrun by the clamor that we don’t even know it.
But there is a way to break through.

Child 1 and Child 2, together: How do we do it?

Queen: Only you can find the way.

The Queen leaves, the two children talk to each other.

Child 2: Did you hear what Mommy just said?

Child 1: I think she is right, only we can find the way….

Child 2: I don’t think we need a new religion, the people will get more confused. We need something like our Republic. The Forest Republic. And all of us are Kings and Queens..

Child 1: Are you serious? All of us are Kings and Queens in the Forest?

Child 2: Yes, lets tell mommy.

The Queen walks in, they both look at her…

Queen: What? Are you waiting for me to teach you? With ropes hidden behind your back?
Drop your robes.
Shave your beards.
I want to see your faces.

Child 1 (to Child 2, ignoring the Queen): With a new religion, we might have a choice. We could go to the green instead… We could enjoy our young lives. They are all out there doing it!

Child 2: Let's do it.

Spider, from behind the curtains: Beware of what they seem to be doing.

Queen: Sometimes you choose to ignore me.
Sometimes.

Child 1: Can you ignore in silence?

Child 2: Is silence ignorance?

The spider's scratching noise begins again, from behind the curtains, he says: Sometimes you choose to ignore me.
Sometimes.

Everyone turns toward the curtains.
The lights on stage go out.

Just in case

Just in case you might have an idea. Just in case something I’ve said has made you think.

The choice is yours.

Now that you have taken off your glasses, I am watching your eyes. I am waiting for the storm clouds to light up your face.

Just in case you might have been listening, I have told you every thing. Just now. Just there. While you were bent over lighting your cigarette in the wind. So concerned were you about protecting your flaming paper…
that you missed it... my fart of genius. My grey-tinged cloud scattered the birds and darkened the windows. Hellfire and damnation was what it carried. Damnation in lighting up the dark corners of the mind. Where before lived tepid grey sponge, now lives an eternal pudding of understanding.

You might have thought.