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The Whole StoryFx. Intro music Lapis Philosophorum [piano solo]
Fx. Fades into the sound of rain against a window
Why did it have to rain today!?
I was going to go play footy in the park, but no. I got the joy of waking up at 11:30 to the feckin' rain hammering on my window and mum going on at me about how "since you're not going outside and I'm not having you spending YET another Sunday lounging around the house getting in my way, you might as well do me a favor and go check in with granddad!"
So here I am. Spending yet another gloomy Sunday afternoon sitting on a musty old arm chair in granddad's sitting room, nursing a flowery tea cup and trying not to inhale too much of the old person smell and cat hair.
Fx. The chink of a tea cup and the sound of him moving in the chair.
I knew he was going to tell me one of his stories again. I just knew it. It's what he always does. [Pause] I wouldn't mind if they were actually interesting or had some meaning to me as his grand
To Write You Into LinesI promised I would never write you into one of these
whatever you would call them
I told you long ago that I couldn't
A self-proclaimed poet;
too full up with idealistic notions
and self-satisfying dreams
Entrapment - Dream catcherOnce upon a time dreams were thought of as merely a succession of images, ideas and emotions that occur involuntarily in the mind during the stage of sleep called the REM cycle.
And once upon an entirely different time dreams where seen as a way of obtaining sacred wisdom and guidance for life.
But every night in the bedroom of Valentine Rêverie dreams are a thing to be feared ever since her* aunt had brought her the dream catcher for her 10th birthday, saying it was made especially for her by a genuine Lanape Healer. All lies, Valentine knew, it had actually come from the back of a travelling salesmen's cart, but she couldn't be bothered to complain.
Unfortunately since she had hung it over her bed, Valentine's nights hadn't got any easier, in fact quite the contrary.
It was bedtime for Valentine and her younger brother Erin. This was absolutely unfair in Valentine's eyes, her sister was only just 13 but she got to stay up a whole hour later, where was the logic in that? It wasn'
A reason to stayI have just moved in to my new apartment, there aren't many other residents and I had only met one or two other people as I was moving boxes in from the van. My room is now just a mess of boxes each one labelled with their destination room and contents; I can't be bothered to unpack. The rain has started to come down pretty hard so I had to rushed the last few boxes, only bothering to unpack 'kitchen- kettle, tea, cups, cutlery, etc.'
And I'm now sitting in the window nursing a cup of fresh tea and watching the rain splatter the glass an inch from my nose.
It's pitch black outside apart from where the street lamps spill liquid yellow in to the street, pooling in ovals that ripple in the puddles of rain drops.
Nothing moves apart from the constant rain that glitters in the pale light coming from the room behind me.
And then the stillness below me is broken by sudden movement that slips past the corner of my eye only lasting for a second but long enough to catch my attention, I
Chameleon eyesLike molten lava
spilling from the abyss of his mind
sparks fling as he looks around
Taking in everything around him
consuming life itself
digesting it in that inferno
he operates as a mind
and then erupting with all the new
information he has gained
forming words like fireworks
and hummingbirds wings.
Then they are liquid silver
mercury and rivers of fresh melt water
tears like beads of moonlight
encompassing every emotion
in their fall to earth
blessing the air they fall through
calming the inferno, cooling its fires
letting mere mortals such as I
approach - but still only look
for now it is frozen, deadly
and now he looks into mine
my dull earthy green and browns
and stops crying, for in mine he can see
the life that he could never create in his own
and he learns from mine, taking on the green
and filling the cold with vines and leaves and
soft brown earth that warms the air and feeds
the new life that blooms in this new found
even ground. His flame and ice [his extremes]
Paper DreamsShe wishes to be that picture
ripped neatly from the pages
of that magazine.
The one she just taped up
on top of all those others
each one, perfect.
But that's not it
she doesn't seek their perfection
their beautiful skin or glossy hair.
She has spent years collecting them
lining her bedroom walls with their
Photo-shop smiles and glistening eyes.
She hides herself away with them
half believing that if she spends her life
surrounded by them and only them
not going out, not eating anything
never leaving her sanctum of paper
then one day she can finally
achieve what it is she sought
not their perfection
paper thin, curves and skinny bones
not bracing against heavy flesh
but the subtle under-wiring of tanned silk
Her paper dreams
torn from beauty magazines
Stunning, loved like each of the models
Skinny, thin like each page taped to her walls
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
My School Says I'm Worthless (sort of a rant)I'm a criminal because my values aren't their values
And I'm scum to say the least
Because I'm not on their list
Ones who have their lives set out
And drink from molten glory raining down from
School top balconies...
And I have myself left to blame for all the non-attempts
And truancies; the bleak distractions
That help me escape the inviolable test-score stares
Of disapproval that I attract from their
And they're forced to ask me 'Why?
Why are you still here?'
And I can barely say
That I'm afraid to leave.
That I know that no-one knows
Or what they want to be
But unlike those
I gave up
A while ago
And they can't tell me to my face that I'm a failure so they heavily imply
That my lacking presence
And even less impressive
Tendency for slacking off is evidence
That I am stupid and a fool and nothing more than such a waste of resources
And it's a disappointment
That I don't hold their ideals
VesselYour heart is a compass.
Broken, perhaps, but I know
It’s always searching for the North Star.
Which way will your beard point tonight?
DanielYou are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium
that does not make you the lesser -
You’ve got the weight of the world
on one shoulder
sometimes you trip because of it -
you’re still walking
and if things fused wrong
post or anterior
and if things fused out in the interior
your circuits live on
and if your thoughts get circular
or so do your moods
and your mind blanks and you forget -
you’re nervous but strong -
then I’ll remind you.
Because you give me
the backbone required
you’re my Atlas, so I lift my head,
you’re my axis, so I can face the future
because you are vertebrae
reinforced with titanium.
You’re my inner strength.
FallingFailure after failure
A life not worth living
Lost in my misery
Long gone are the good moments
I keep falling
Nothing can save me now
Gone my hopes are
Because He'sHe’s listening
Millions of them.
A flash of red
And a navy hat
No warning – now motionless
With skin turned to shadows.
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
Harmonious DiscordShe dreams
of making music
but it's not music at all.
There is no melody,
no rhythm to her song.
Just the repetition
of the same-
As if the orchestra is
tuning their instruments.
Waiting for the tap of the baton
to bring the mess to order.
hopes that the maestro never arrives.
She loves to loose herself in the fuzzy-buzzing
twanging confusion of it all
The busy white noise
that fills her ears like cotton wool
She knows she could mend it
with the snap of fingers
[bring the rhythm back]
the tap of a foot
[give it a bass line]
the rhythmic clapping
[Make a beat for it to follow]
Start something bigger
than anything previously experienced
In this small static word of
TV snow storms and dial tones
Of broken space filled with
empty frames and fogged up lenses
But she won't.
For this is her harmonious discord
filling the darkness in her head
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