Muse on the run

 why have thou forsaken me?

The only God I ever thought could fulfil and denounce all insipidity.

Creativity- my muse. usually, I type -words flow not perfect but in some sense of verse.

Can’t swallow – I’ve been cursed.

Another person knows the truth – think I want to go back up the birth canal first

over thinking rhyming words – music, hoovers, the energy is far from an ideal haven.

Look above, hear the wings flap – a freak migration of the black wings – inaugurate the raven.

All exercise comes from my smile –  I’ve packed on the pounds frowning lines overused, flex around my mouth.

flex around my mouth.

Drop dead. A blow to the head. I’ve lost it.    Muse? ditched me to become a stitched up cowboy down south.

Swallow guilt in packs of threes.

Music to my ears -guilt shake me, blood seeps out -donation date in arrears.

These fears.

This rage.

doubtful mind -caution mindfully what you attempt to incite.

Confederate  vocabulary union matched up on  a strike

No more smiling faces in sight.

Each word resigns – there is nothing left to type.

No tears pouring down his face. There is no moisture to wipe.

Studpity rots the brain

no more stories when a writer runs out of grain.

Shadows – I cower away . Shadows induce carbon monoxide attack

Clamp down on every thought – seize all my gear-leave me with not one solid fact in tack.

Sincerley ,

the writer who dunnit

Only one

Honesty is courage

pride myself on not hiding behind kabuki masks

yet, I’m still hiding in the dark seeking out my whereabouts.

A familiar name being called from a place I know I felt zen.

I can’t manage to summon the courage to get in with the rest of them.

Success should be kite high skittle eventful,

not something that drains your blood, depletes energy,

life? I’ve become resentful.

If Honesty is courage

then I should be a  maned lion.

Here I get to sit and watch the world roll on by

prefer to roll down the blinds. Shade the light from my remaining eye.

Shut out the sunshine.

how dare those bright beams try to tempt me.

Keeping up appearances,

easily done as long as you don’t have to face people in reality.

Has my reality become so virtual?

Is Second life all I’ve got?

Would I even register if I have ever logged on?

I haven’t felt the grass on my bare feet for so long.

I forget every hour that goes past I can’t go back and hold on.

Fooling who ? nobody only myself.

A pick me up just so I can wash my hair and maybe pretend to care.

Where did I lose my carefree air?

I eat more than 7 fresh fruit and veg a day.

It’s complicated.

uPPERS

Downers

I can’t control the outcome.

sit in the darkness listening to melodies that once soothed the soul I carved out of pure love

Hugging onto a unicorn-    hoping for a fantasy to employ a mimetism of  what I once sung.

clear skin , bright eyes and oh so much wit.

What is done is done.

We tell the world to learn from histories lessons

Yet

we struggle to learn from our own

A paradigm of obstinate sin.

No words can express how lost I am within

Death

embrace me on a whim.

 

the derelict

A picture tells a thousand words

 up close a real human face obscures,

Hides the truth of what is on the tip of its tongue.

Disapproval met by vibes  in thrumb .

Pledged to one other

stand with an umbrella ready- for when in need of cover.

Sometimes dripping in regret is

the only way to salvage how we love and why we forget.

Bruised flesh,

tempers threaded with dynamite.

Will of one -stubborn as a carnal idol fight.

Pleasure seeking

sweet words passed along fingertips

pattern swirls over your lover’s body – a pulse – blood rush, skin on skin

not a touch that is fleeting.

Prolong the ecstasy. Uncode the quest in me.

Moths flutter to the nearst light of anxiety.

Love me – hate me – accept I am my gracioust deed.

Trust , how much I am in need.

Drive love away with a belligerent fiaxtion of desire.

arousal and connection fused to spark up   the dopamine wire.

Explosions of division. Sweet kisses, bites to the neck -won’t go unhidden.

Pain is pleasure -without one the other can’t exsist,

it’s forbidden.

One lover looks to the West

the other lover to the East.

dichtomy driven by a modern day beast.

Will we grow?

Will I become the mother who knows how to sew?

Sounds elementary, I know.

Cook from scratch.

Laugh at my attempts to create another botched up cookie batch?

sentiment is arousing.

stimulants keep the thought from dousing.

I never want to hurt you yet I hurt me and have no idea how to grasp a different intellect.

Too many have raided and pillaged me. Today I stand, remembered by one otherwise a forgotten derelict.

 

Eyeing up one juggler’s plight.

You can judge. I know for a fact whoever reads this hasn’t got their shit together.

Just cos it’s legal don’t make something right.

Is this about me? does it really matter?

The things that shouldn’t matter are those that can be blown away.

something I heard in another context – and thought it was a good way to start -hear what’s I  have to say.

Walking into this district I sense I have become the new kid on the block.

Meant to have my shit figured out.

Fought my impulses – fight them every day.

hoovering powder snow to try and write eloquently isn’t as high as most of my goals and dreams.

Achieved.

I think I know best. My head is torn in distress.

you don’t think I know it’s a lose- lose sitation?

rationalising with the equivalent of a 5 year old hooked on candy.

It’s like that.

It’s just like that.

Jazz notes -lingo quotes- inspiration- I’ll meet you halfway  at the  bypass

dead

line

one, I’ll be just fine.

Cut with the equivalent of moonshine.

Goddaughter reaches out.

We need to stage an intervention.

Parents do no good they have got no sense of next hours conception.

Sleep for days

not perfect myself in many ways.

Fighting to be the winner.

Sunshine shining – never will I dimmer.

Should know better.

This writing is juttered and stuttered.

 drip.

drip.

tap.

tap.

 I fought and I thought I had won.

Yeah, that’s why my face reflects the masked one dubbed

Mr glum.

Nobody to bounce ideas off –  not even another chum.

Mommy and wife represent some kind of order in a world declining into chaos.

It’s not like I even want to be famous.

Ever want to just body jump ?

Leave your entire body- not focus on the increased weight or the mind fuckery?

The thoughts circling by a roundabout – clearly missed the nearest take off.

Others can do this and have the creative gods bestow them with gifts of words in charm.

Me, I critique myself while I write these words

belittle my sense of self and um..

yeah, drugs never been my trip .

I took the long trek and.. well. I’m the Hyde to our friendly monster shrek.

The first  to instigate the last to try.

What set me down this path. I ask myself why?

prolific innit, what self-medicating  do.

Sarcasm in eloquence

makes for a terrible scene of ageing ninja’s battling out shapes resembling the art of Kung fu.

How I’m gonna win when I’m pissing against the wind?

How to metamorphose  from caterpillar to butterfly back to some babbling brook or a slug with a mean right hook.

Straight at ya.

Let’s get back to flying,

instead of skydiving.

Extreme.

Catastrophism.

I know better. I’m  blushing in embarrassment at how I never fail to submit to my own demise.

Loneliness get to me – it don’t mean I am alone.

I don’t know how to be with people

In the moment.

Maybe I’m a narcissist –

unconsciously claimed a stake to the faker’s throne

then;

why do I feel so much for people at times and my heart cries out in passion with wild emotions?

Give me hugs, not drugs.

Don’t wanna get fat and live a life looking at an endless collection of hats signed in mercury -underlined with

yours sincerely,

the cut that poisoned the rat.

I hate drinking

I hate smoking.

The only thing that ever made me feel I belonged was ecstasy in motion.

Pleasure came effortlessly, I rushed up to the skyline

driving on the highways

in time

when that song peaked

dropped its beat.

Look, I never said I was perfect- flawed in a every way.

Google says ask me anything?

How about a drug dealer that doesn’t cut his merchandise with a 1/8th of vim

The world in bleach.

tye dyed

not groovy with the hippy that makes the cat’s cover their ears when it screech.

I write better when my hand don’t shake, my mind don’t get the Paras .

 Thinking with a heart and mind free from sin.

probation talismans.

I’m  the one with the unwanted, sunshade wearing guardian angels entourage.

mother

bear knows me too welL.

How?

shouted her down – giving me grief for ringing to my own bell.

Nah, I confessed. No point in lying.

I’m not ashamed to admit I fuck up, got caught up in the wrong cycle,

don’t mean I’ve gotta hang myself  out, get the starch beaten out of me while I’m drying.

don’t mean I aint gonna give  in and stop trying

to walk the line.

May wear a tie,

suits me does success

maybe, next time.

These eyes look into the eyes of  an innocent child

I hold my head in shame – this mustard ain’t mild,

I know why I changed and that is why I am not going on an extra long spin

Even when I squint my eyes, I see my standing position is on the side of those who win

DAMN.

* inspired by a conversation with a random human

Panacea TMA 3 update.

I always used to think I was a bit loopy because I created characters in my head and-and acted them out. My family teased me and people must have thought I had multiple personality disorder (it was the 80s/90’s). My daughter does the exact same thing and I now realise that my mind creates stories and the best way to reveal those stories is by writing them down.

Here is the second draft for my TMA 3. I’ve finished the entire second draft this morning. YAY!

I’ve taken inspiration from the morality plays that were popular in medieval times. I hope that my tutor will see the relevance this play has in the message it sends out despite setting it nearly 90 years ago.

I think that all three characters have a bit of me inside them. I’m working on making the characters more well rounded. The next two scenes I’ve written shows a different side to the characters.

The play is set in the  mid-1920’s -after the World War one and the Russian revolutions.

I want to thank Clarissa @  POETURJA for helping me develop an intriguing plot with her grimoire and insight into her ancestry of being a descendant of the misunderstood Roma Gypsies.

There is still a lot to polish and make it submission and MA worthy

Let me know what you think.

CAST LIST: (so far)

EVE

VLADIMIR- always wears gloves 

PANACEA

THE CROWD- actors and the audience

AMERICAN MAN

AMERICAN WIFE

EUROPEAN WOMAN

LOCATION: Paris, 1925

SUGGESTED STAGE DIRECTIONS (my undeveloped vision) bare stage – (audience act as the crowd for further scenes) are seated in a circle. All action takes place in the centre of the audience. Characters sit amongst the audience or come from behind to enter the performing stage. All props are simulated by actor’s mannerisms and minimal props. A box can be at table, piano, bench.   To evoke sensory surroundings multimedia like audio-piano music/ screens/ lightening etc. used to set the scene example to create the illusion of shadows, or people, to set the mood of the scene.

EVE is already playing as the audience find a seat.

NOTE TO SELF: BE VISUAL include all people who will be in the each scene setting. Hot seat 20 question for characters

SCENE ONE

EVE sits playing the saddest most melancholic piece of music at an old piano, in the jardinière outside. She sits in the centre of the room.THE CROWD sit and stand around her forming a circle. EVE plays on as the audience find a place to sit. EVE is absorbed in playing her music. After some time EVE stops playing. Bangs on the keys of the piano and begins to cry. EVE cries and cries and cries. Nobody comes to her. EVE stops crying.

EVE: Who’s there?  I know someone there is there. Show yourself.

(EVE seems to gaze through the audience. A spotlight comes up and sweeps across the audience illuminating them. The room goes dark. EVE begins to play again –a wild angry, jazzy piece of music.EVE plays until she falls off her chair. From out of the audience PANACEA, plainly dressed in dark colours approaches EVE. PANACEA attempts to help her up)

EVE:      Who are you?

PANACEA:  Hush, I am but an old dear who admires your music.

EVE:      How did you get in here? This is private land. If you are Vladimir’s friend…

PANACEA:  Who? I was merely directed to your playing.

EVE:      I tell you what I told him. No. I won’t do it.

PANACEA;  Do what, dear?

EVE:      You don’t know?

PANACEA:  No. I found the gates open and was guided by your playing.

EVE:      Oh.

PANACEA:  You seem almost… disappointed.

EVE:      I made the right choice. It doesn’t matter.

PANACEA:  A problem halved and all that.

EVE:      Yet I feel so guilty

PANACEA:  You seem /quite

EVE:      I don’t even know who you are. I can’t even….

PANACEA:    As you can see I’m rather old, nothing special – just a mere human – an old lady –nondescript

EVE:      You blend in with the crowd.

PANACEA:  Almost like I don’t exist.

EVE:      But people can see you and you –you can see them?

PANACEA:  Yes. I do and I suppose seeing they do. It is not the same as looking

EVE:      All I want is to be see the people Vladimir says we help.

PANACEA:  You have such a gift. The world must hear this and your face is –

EVE:      He did send you! Times have changed. These new admirer’s talk so strange. So many people are poor. I wonder how we can maintain our standard of living just because I have a gift. How can they just ignore and approve?

PANACEA:  Approve?  I don’t see many who wouldn’t. We do have mirrors nowadays.

PANACEA:  They don’t do me any good.

EVE:      they aren’t much good to me either.

PANACEA:  Who is Vladimir?

EVE:      Someone. Someone who wants the best for me.

PANACEA:  You have had a disagreement?

EVE:      I can’t shift this feeling -Something doesn’t add up. How can one girl ease the suffering of a nation- a world trying to make sense of all the lives lost? All those men dead.

PANACEA:  Is he ONE of those sorts of men?

EVE:      What? A soldier, oh no.

PANACEA:  The Don Juan types.

EVE:      Don Juan? I can’t even visualise what that looks like

PANACEA:  You know- charming, good looking. A bit of a lothario. Gets the blood rushing to the ears.

EVE:      Oh no, nothing like that. (blushes) He’s more of a guardian- a brother of sorts.

PANACEA:  Well, has he hurt you, dear? Roughed you up?

EVE:      No, nothing like that. He cares for me. I owe him all this. I should be begging in the streets for my bread like the rest of them.

(Silence)

EVE:      Hello?   Are you still here?

PANACEA:  Yes dear. I will sit next to you then perhaps you can see better.

EVE:      That is part of the problem.

PANACEA:  Well, turn your face to me. I’m not exactly beautiful as yourself. I get that reaction all the time.

EVE:      I can’t see you.

PANACEA:  You are…

EVE:      Yes. I am –that is why I’m so flaming mad. How can he expect me to be on show? (takes on mock man’s voice) Entertainment is what the new World needs. The old world’s need. We are doing A service to our people, he says. I feel privileged -far too privileged.

PANACEA:  I wish I could feel the world the way you do. It’s unique.

EVE:      That’s the problem. Everyone always goes on about how unique I am. How lacking in sight makes me special. Everyone wants to take my picture with me or listen to my music, but then, soon, people seem to grow weary and they just disappear, and I’m left alone in the darkness again.

PANACEA:  Some people only come out when it’s dark, child.

EVE:      How would I know? My darkness is my light and I have nothing to compare it to.

PANACEA:  I blend in with the world. Just another face in the crowd

EVE:      You sound saddened by it?

PANACEA:  No, it’s just normal.

EVE:      That’s what I want. Normal. I feel everything.

PANACEA:  To see is not-to-not feel.

EVE:      Yes, but there are these things – filters. If I could see maybe, my other senses would be diluted. Not so overpowering. Not so smothering, I feel unbalanced.

PANACEA:  Yes, a woman at odds with her world. I’ve seen years of the world. Felt it too. I often wonder what it would be like if I lacked in sight and well……

EVE:      It’s frustrating. I feel the need to increase all my other senses to make up for what I lack. If I could only see with these eyes, what other people see-

PANACEA:  What will you do about Vladimir?

EVE:      I trust him but he doesn’t understand.  He believes if I could see this world that my beauty would be lost. That me not seeing what I look like and the world looks like is what makes me- this “unique” word. I hate it.

PANACEA:  So, he saved you….

EVE:      from a life living on the streets, from the orphanage. With his business acumen, we are still able to afford all after all the devastation.

PANACEA:  Doesn’t sound like such a bad fella.

EVE:      He’s not. He just doesn’t understand how much I long to see Miss, Mrs?

PANACEA:  Call me Panacea.

EVE:      …Like the word? How droll.

PANACEA:  Yes, I was born with a gift to help those at odds with themselves.

EVE:      You can give me the sight I crave?

PANACEA:  It’s not a simple process. It requires/

EVE:      I don’t care. Name it. I have money. Anything. What is your price?

PANACEA:  Money is useless. The elixir needed to seal this contract is what is known as trading your essence.

EVE:      Essence? my soul?

PANACEA:  Not quite. I’m not the devil. Think of essence as an ingredient. If you barter, your unique essence say- to me. What makes you taste different from the other cookies of the world is your flavour- your essence. You want vanilla. You inherit my essence, I yours

EVE:      I wouldn’t even know where to find my essence. What would I gain?

PANACEA:  you could gain your sight.

EVE:      And you would want to lose yours! why?

PANACEA:  I’m an old dear. I’ve seen enough of the world. You, however, have so much living to do. You have these unique gifts yet you are not happy with them because you can’t see them like the others.

EVE:      You make me sound ungrateful.

PANACEA:  Now that is what you said. Not I.

EVE:      Forgive me. DO you have all your senses?

PANACEA:  (laughs)I can hear you. Your music. I see your apparent beauty. I feel your soft skin, smooth – no wrinkles. Untouched by sunshine. (breaths in to smell EVE)

EVE:      Why are you smelling me?

PANACEA:  I long to use my other senses more…I’m not going to eat you, this is not a fairy-tale

EVE:      I’m sorry. I feel so stupid.

PANACEA:  Never mind, it shows you have a highly active imagination. Much sought after in the world where vision is so vital to be a part of this world.

EVE:      How could you possibly have had enough seeing?

PANACEA:  Maybe it is because I met you. You captivate me.

EVE:      I wish I could see what you mean.

PANACEA:  Maybe your male friend is right. It would ruin you to see the world. (begins to get up)

EVE:      Where are you going?

PANACEA:  Leaving you to work things out. All feelings pass (small pause) eventually.

EVE:      No, that is an untruth. Mine grow. Intensify. Mine never leave. They haunt me day and night. Please don’t leave me alone.

PANACEA:  (sits back down) Will you play again and let me consider your eyes.

EVE:      I can’t see you, though.

PANACEA:  (frustrated)I know a way to access your essence.

EVE:      Panacea you can give me sight?

PANACEA:  If you want it as much as you claim, then perhaps it may work in your favour.

EVE:      Why?

PANACEA:  You question far too much and believe in far too little.

EVE:      Okay, I will play. What do you/ want?

PANACEA:  Play me a song that reveals everything about you to me

(EVE begins to play, looks at PANACEA. PANACEA touches EVES face, her lips and leans into EVE as if to kiss her. EVE stops playing.?

EVE:      What are you doing? You ‘re not one of those Lesbians are you/?

PANACEA:  Does it matter? (laughs) More a Thespian.

EVE:      what does kissing me must do with giving me my sight? I may be blind but don’t mistake that for being a fool.

PANACEA:  Me? Mistake you for a fool. (long pause)

EVE:      I apologise. I /just want….

PANACEA:  Have faith that what we do on this day will give you what you say you desire.

EVE:      I’m scared.

PANACEA:  Scared didn’t win the war.

EVE:      I never thought of it like that. Could we try again?

PANACEA: One more chance. In hindsight, I may change my mind and decide to keep my sight at this rate.

EVE:      No! I mean, it’s yours of course, but I really want to see.

PANACEA:  Let me taste your tears. (leans in to lick EVES tears) Such melancholy. Such innocence…. Play on, child. I must know your name.

EVE:      I can tell you. My name/is…

PANACEA:  (shouts) Don’t speak it. I will find your name. That is how I will find your essence. Now play.

(EVE begins to play, looks in the eyes of PANACEA. While EVE plays, PANACEA licks the tears from her face and begins to suck on the air of EVES parted lips. EVE falls to the floor. PANACEA looks down at her, PANACEA sits at the piano, begins to play a neurotic piece of music. PANACEA finishes the piece, gets up, nudges EVE with her foot.)

PANACEA:  I dedicate this piece to you. The essence of Eve – foolish. foolish Eve. (gets up leaves pushing past the crowd)

(Lights down)

SCENE TWO

(Outside in the garden, EVE sits at the piano playing – she keeps making mistakes. Stops and starts. VLADIMIR paces up and down wears gloves)

VLADIMIR: No. That is not it? Where is the haunting draw, the sweet enchanting forest where we forget all pain? Start again.

EVE:      (hesitates) Can you just listen, please.

VLADIMIR: I am. This is not good enough. (realizes) How many times, Cherie?  You are already behind and the show starts in less than a fortnight.

(EVE begins to play. EVE stops and puts her hands to her forehead. VLADIMIR stops pacing and rushes to EVE)

VLADIMIR:     I know I push you. You know I want the best for you. You have another headache?

EVE:           yes.

VLADIMIR:     (takes a bottle from his jacket) Here take one as precited. This is all nerves. The mind plays horrible tricks on someone who is utterly gifted.

EVE:           But don’t you find it most peculiar? What an unusual woman. It felt so real. Are you sure you didn’t see/her?

VLADIMER:      Mon Cherie, no more with this talk of absurdness’ have a duty to provide for our community. (motions to ENTOURAGE to make EVE presentable) ah, here come the publicity people. (to EVE) Not now, Cherie. Performance face – smile –a little more- higher. Manifique (ENTOURAGE fix makeup and hair, take pictures. Flashes of light and voices commanding EVE what to do. EVE poses then frowns)

PHTOPGRAPHER:  Turn left. No left. Chin up – Aliyah fix her make up. Liberty her hair is not staying static. Eve, place your hands just so. More delicately. Girl, move her into position.

EVE frowns, VLADIMIR with a wave of his hands clears away the entourage. Everything is quiet again.)

VLADIMER:      Cherie, what do you want me to tell you? An untruth. I saw you were fatigued, I found you at the foot of your piano. I picked you up and called on Doctor soigneur immediately.

EVE:           Please, Vlad. I haven’t stopped having nightmares. I don’t feel myself. The boy…He is Everywhere.

VLADIMIR:      And that is precisely why you were to take the prescribed pills for your disorder. We’ve all been through a lot (more patient) I can’t collude with these fantasies.

EVE:          I feel lost. No – I misplaced. Since Panacea, all I see is this boy. I feel more sickness in my heart/than ever.

VLADIMER:      Ha! What a perfect name for someone to help you regain your sight. (laughs) I love your imagination. You cannot grasp how important this next performance is. People ae coming seeking for jubilee, peace, coming from afar, the Americas, England. Important writers, artistes. Don’t you see?

EVE:           No, Vlad, I don’t.

VLADIMIR:      Come repose with me on our favourite bench in the jardinière. We can play our favourite game. (helps EVE up and walks to the bench in the garden both sit down)

EVE:          I don’t want to guess what the colours look like. Everything has become so triste. I know you want the best for me.for our community I – can we stop for today/ I..

VLADIMER:      (Sits EVE down on the bench/VLADIMIRE sits down and admires the Garden) Feel the wind. Smell the fleurs. This always lifts your spirits.

(EVE puts her hands to her cover her face and screams out)

EVE:           Don’t touch me!  (lights flicker in multi colours- EVE stands up and stumbles backwards. VLADIMIR rushes to catch her) Eve, what is it? Control your senses.

(Sounds of houses exploding. Windows shatter, Gun shots. Screams of men, children and women.EVE points to a war zone. EVE starts to run towards the noise of screams)

EVE:           The war. It’s started again. Run. Vlad.

VLADIMIR:      looks around to where EVE is running. Looks confused)

VLADIMIR:      Cherie, calm yourself. There is nothing there. Let’s get you back to your room.

EVE:         It’s happening. I have sight. Can’t you see? Hear?  What is wrong with you? They are shooting innocent people (A woman’s voices cries out as she is being raped. EVE runs to towards the attack, VLADIMIR stops her. There is a struggle, the cry of people burning alive and dying. Silence and then a BOY starts to howl in pain. EVE cries) That boy, he’s in pain. He’s oh – Mon Dieu -is ablaze

VLADIMIR:      Enough! (picks up EVE and attempts to take EVE back inside)

EVE:           There is a boy. He’s on fire. You can’t leave a child. (to DISFIGURED BOY) What is your name child?

VLADIMIR:     (firmly)There is nothing there.

EVE:           Look! That poor boy. (to BOY) It’s okay, we’re getting help.

VLADIMIR:      (looks back and puts EVE down on the piano chair.) Take these. Now.  You need to stop this. You want people to talk. Say how you are a crazy fool.

EVE:           Talk? About what? People dying. Innocent people. We are at war, again. Why did you not summon the staff to help? We were the closest to -that boy.

VLADIMIR:     There is no one there. (shouts). Nothing. No boy on fire. No war, you are hallucinating. Shut up!

EVE:           That boy. (looks up and past VLADIMIR’S shoulder. Frightened she points) There he is, right behind you. His face. (walks towards the DISFIGURED BOY) How can you be alive, child?

VLADIMIR:     Enough! I’m trying to look after you.

EVE|:        (EVE touches VLADIMIR’S face) You know I wouldn’t ever lie to you. The boy is a mess. Disfigured for life. Who will look after him if we don’t? (to the DISFIGURED BOY,in  darkness) Don’t be afraid- We can help you.

VLADIMIR:    (slaps EVE across the face) How dare you! You vexed wrench

EVE:           I’m not crazy. I’ telling you the truth.

VLADIMIR:     Who have you been talking to? Tell me now.

EVE:           Nobody, Panacea. She gave me. I can see…

VLADIMIR:      She must be some spy. I get it now. Oh Merde, alors!

EVE:           A spy? Why would you have spies? That is irrational.

VLADIMIR:      What witchcraft is this? (Grabs EVE’s arms) close your eyes, wretched girl. You ungrateful wretched girl. Everything I’ve done. For you.

EVE:           Why can’t you see him. He’s right behind you.

VLADIMIR:      I forbid you to speak. Spies trying to plot my demise. You see nothing – only what you have ever felt. You see the real me. (places EVES hands on his face)

SCENE THREE Pain

(It is the day of the concerto. EVE is led by VLADIMIR to her piano in the centre of the courtyard. It is a bright day. EVE sits down to play. EVE starts and stops. Composes herself. A collective intake of breath from a crowd. Silence. EVE looks around and then begins to play a song so painful tears stream down her face. There is the wail of cries from THE CROWD. They are being drawn into EVE’S song. The song takes on a hauntingly melancholic tone. MAN cries out from the darkness of the crowd)

MAN:      I thought you were here to light our sorrows not waddle in them

(THE CROWD murmurs in agreement. EVE continues to play. The melody grows more and more melancholic. Then furious and choppy)

MAN:      (to VLADIMIR) What’s wrong with the ole girl, Scar?  I want my heart to forgot about all my woes, little dove. Play something else. Play something else.

CROWD:    (whispers and chants over and over) play something else.

(EVE carries on Tears streaming down her face. VLADIMIR comes into the arena and whispers in EVES ear. EVE changes the tune to a more upbeat piece –one with more cheer and spirit. The crowd cheers- shadows draw closer to her like a moth to a flame. EVE bangs hard on the piano. EVE stands up. She looks to the crowd – the audience and points out at the AMERICAN MAN)

EVE:      How can you delude yourself – when last night your honest and loyal wife questioned you about your whereabouts/ You beat her. That is why she has pain around her eye. (All lights focus on AMERICAN MAN and his WIFE.   WIFE takes a hand to her battered eye to hide it.)

MAN:      What would you know about my whereabouts when you can’t even see?

EVE:      Your wife knows the truth, you should leave her to get on without you.

MAN:      You leave my business to me and you concentrate on yourself on entertaining us. Don’t need some woman thinking.

EVE:      (to WIFE) You know he’s with another. Day and night. He beats you because he knows she will never leave her husband. You don’t have to live like this. You don’t have to live with this abuse.

MAN:      (shoves  WIFE behind him) how dare you speak such lies.  You are a witch.  A temptress. An evil mark shows itself on you. You may be fair but those exotic features.

EVE:      No. the evil mark likes on you.

MAN:           You are supposed to be blind. What a charade – looks at this trickster (to THE CROWD) How would she know I am in the crowd if she has no sight?

EVE:          I’ve been cursed with sight.

THE CROWD:     (CHANTS) Gypsy! Gyspy! Gypsy

EVE:           I’m not a Gypsy! France is my home. You flock to me to forget about your vices, your impulses, your humdrum existence. I am not your remedy. I play from my heart. My heart sees what it sees.

VLADIMIR:      Eve! Enough, Sit down and play for your welcoming audience. (softer) Now.

EVE:           In my heart, I see your old man and you (she points to EUROPEAN LADY in the crowd)

You! that sparkly watch that doesn’t fit your wrist is from a day haggling at the market. Ripping off fancy men. After this show, you will sell all you have – including your flesh to escape from the world you despise.

LADY:          Trollope- we’ve heard the rumours Gypsy girl .

VLADIMIR:      My esteemed friends. – this is but part o the show. An experimental piece, if you like. Our eve here is tired. the gifted do sometimes have a bit of those head malaises, non?

EVE:           You all pour your sorrows into me-I can only play what I see and feel and this is what you will hear tonight.

VLADIMIR:      sit down (THE CROWD jeer at EVE. VLADIMIR forces EVE down into her seat.) Play. Do your job.

(EVE sits still, the light is dim, so dim and when she begins to play again she pounds at the keys with anger, cholere. EVE cackles sneers – kicks at the piano in rage)

EVE:           Damn you  – all of you!   I’m not your plaster. I’m not your cure. I am a young woman who absorbs all your pain. I want to be free. free. Go all of you.

(Silence)

VLADIMIR:      apologies friends.  You heard of her fall. The accident? she has been unwell. (EVE doesn’t look at him or the crowd – she walks out of the circle of the crowd and into the dark. A moan comes out that doesn’t sound human.  An animal sound of a cow being slaughtered. EVE stands and looks past VLADIMIR’S shoulder)

EVE:           Panacea!   You. What did you do to me?

VLADIMIR:      (carries on trying to calm the crowd) Please, apologies. She is ill. She – I will make sure you all are reimbursed for this terrible, I mean uneventful experimental performance.

EVE:           Don’t just stand there. You lied to me. You lied. What is this curse you give me? Why?

(PANACEA comes out from the shadows and walks through the crowd and past VLADIMIR and EVE and sits down at the piano and begins to play that frenetic piece of music – ‘Eve’s Essence’. VLADIMIR freezes and goespale. The CROWD quieten.)

VLADIMIR:      How?

EVE:           My song. (runs towards PANACEA) Give me back my essence-evil woman.

VLADIMIR:      (catches hold of EVE by the arm) How can you know this song?

EVE:           Now? Now you can hear what I hear. Why not what I see, your stupid fool of a man. Look! I implore thee.

VLADIMIR:      (To EVE) Enough with these games. What is it you want from? Tell me. Who corrupted you?

EVE:           That is my song. My essence. She is playing my song.

VLADIMIR:      Your song. Ha!  Who told you? Don’t make me strike out at you again.

EVE:           You know this song?  I’ve tried to remember since Panacea stole it from me. Sight she promised. A gift. A trade off. I’ve been bamboozled.

VLADIMIR:      Don’t make me turn around and march over to that damn piano and chop it up then burn it. I gave you everything. After everything I did for you – for us. This. (THE CROWD is silent. Shadows of THE CROWD draw to PANACEA playing ‘Eve’s essence’.

EVE:           I’m not doing anything. Please, Vlad. I would never hurt you.

VLADIMIR:      Who found you at the orphanage? Took you in? promised to nurture you? Who promised to take care of my blued eyed Fair haired gypsy girl?  you betray me- like this.

EVE:           Gypsy girl?

VLADIMER:      I can never forgive you. This is not the girl I knew. You are ruined.

EVE:           Vlad, (looks over at PANACEA, eyes widen) Why is that boy there?  ( to DISFIGURED BOY) come here. Stay away from her.  (to VLADIMIR) Why is that boy close to her. He is beckoning you….

VLADIMIR:      (begins to cry) You can’t do this to me.

EVE:           Do what? See with your own eyes. Don’t do this to me! Make me out to be a mad vexed woman.

(PANACEA stops playing, abruptly.)

PANACEA:       Don’t be afraid boy. (VLADIMIR jumps in fright) You can’t escape who you are. Don’t worry I can assure you I can’t see. Not even your bloodied parents anymore.

EVE            What are you? What is she talking about?

PANACEA:        You were all I had… you deserted me. And I’m evil? I didn’t choose this gifted curse. I was born with it – Just like Eve except she saw nothing

VLADIMIR:      No, you are not real. I don’t believe it. (to EVE) Stop torturing me. You are playing with me.

PANACEA:       Boy. I don’t blame you for leaving the revolution but to leave a lady to those priggish animals and steal my money.

VLADIMIR:      Shut up You evil wrench. I left you for dead. It’s impossible. That was my family’s inheritance.

EVE:           Impossible? what’s impossible? How do you know this creature? Answer me. Who is she?

VLADIMIR:      No woman in your condition could have survived – in those conditions. I refuse to /believe this.

EVE:           You know her. (PANACEA laughs)

VLADIMIR:      These are… Eve, these are extraordinary circumstances I find myself in. Stop laughing your old cow. Stop it. (PANACEA begins to play ‘Eve’s essence’)

EVE:           These are certainly not circumstances I foresaw.  If you know something about this then spit it out or damn you both to hell.

VLADIMIR:      (quietly)We never spoke of –well, I demanded that when I took you as my own we would never talk about how I found myself in that orphanage.

EVE:          You are an honourable man. Are you not?

VLADIMIR:      You were born in Romaine. The orphanage-  was both of our home’s. Few places like that are kind and they were, especially during those times. Our country was in flames. Blood everywhere. Corpses. Vile acts. There you were- abandoned.

EVE:           No.

VLADIMIR:      We survived. You were a baby. I didn’t know you were impaired. I knew what our people would do to a fair-haired Roma like yourself. We escapNo-one-one would suspect us, they said. They promised freedom, n new life. All I must do was help smuggle in weapons.  You were the only one who wasn’t frightened of me. You only saw the good in me. Your lack of sight was my rebirth- our rebirth

EVE:           Lies. Obsession with fame and my looks and glory and… I thought I was helping people.

VLADIMIR:      You are. You were… The world with eyes is a hell of its own, I tell you. Your greatest gift was to give your heart to those who so desperately needed to forget – what they see- have seen.

PANACEA:       Boy. How long are you going to drag this out? Get on with it. We shall make a man out of you yet.

EVE:           (to PANACEA) Who are you?

VLADIMIR:      (softly)My grand mere – she was – is (turns around see’s PANACEA is horrified) is… but how?

Silence

PANACEA:       No, boy. I’m not a ghost, not a witch just cursed with unusual gift of seeing the past of every filthy boar piggish human. Yes, what are the odds? I should never have been discovered but life has its twists… and magic of sorts.

VLADIMIR:      I didn’t mean to leave you.

PANACEA:       I have been waiting for the right moment. Biding my time.  Waiting to sense what kind of man you become- and Eve was truly a find.

EVE:      you can’t see, Grandmere. Only the.

PANCEA:   Past- I struck a deal with mad Bolshevik. I got more than I bargained for. The senile old man missed his wife –wanted to live in the past and I would settle for the future – we merely wanted it so much –we got what we wished for.

EVE:      What have you inflicted me with?

PANACEA:  How he adores you, loves you. You see Eve. Vladimir for all his grandiose gestures is superficial. Not the benevolent man he pretends to be.

VLADIMIR: Grand’Mere stop. I’m sorry. I was a child…

PANACEA:  (ignores VLADIMIR) The only reason people accept him is because of you. Or what you had. Beauty, innocence, the gift to soothe all pain from others with your playing.

EVE:      No, he has been there for me.

PANCEA:   If you had eyes like I now do or indeed like the rest of this crowd you would see he is a monster. A disfigurement. You were his key to this fickle world accepting him.

EVE:      What is she talking about?

VLADIMIR: Grand’Mere I was haunted by your recantations of my dead family. You terrified me. I still don’t understand this curse.

PANACEA:  Maybe you understand it a little better now – it is your curse too. Life is all about lessons and there is as lesson to be learned here. Something about appearances etcetera etcetera… but what do I know? (starts to play – THE CROWD are lured by PANACEA’S playing, under a spell)

VLADIMIR: You must restore her. Grand’Mere –she is innocent. Please.

PANACEA:   We all are at some point.

EVE:      I wanted it so much. I wanted to see. How wrong was I?

VLADIMIR: give it back. Give Eve what is rightly hers. It’s me you seek to punish

PANACEA:  (stops playing) Stop trying to fight it. You know what you really want to do.

VLADIMIR: She is an innocent

PANACEA:   Used by the likes of you, boy.

VLADIMIR: I can take care of you. I have money, estate everything. Let me make it up to you.

PANACEA:  Doesn’t work like that. I’m not some conjurer. I was merely born into this world with my fate and somehow that fate changed. I haven’t the answers.

EVE:      But I don’t want this sight. I don’t want it.

PANACEA:  Those touched can’t ever be untouched again.

VLADIMIR: But you. You see.

PANACEA:   Keep up. I saw the future. Now I see nothing. Just like Eve. I feel and I play and I have what I want.

EVE:      But if you can see the future, how is it I can see the past?

PANACEA:  Obviously, I should have taken you for a fool. I think you are missing the point. I don’t decide how the universe decides. I saw an opportunity and I took it. I’m merely human after all. (starts playing again)

(EVE and VLADIMIR look at each other)

VLADIMIR: I’m sorry Eve. I was…

EVE:      I can’t bear to live like this.

VLADIMIR: Yes. Life is…. You didn’t have to see that.

EVE:      We can’t undo this? (unwillingly moves towards PANACEA.)

VLADIMIR: I’m sorry, mon Cherie but I can’t stop myself much longer. I must forget. I must forget if only for a while.

(VLADIMIR walks up to PANACEA and strokes her hair, kisses her, then listens to her play.

EVE:      You can’t leave me. I can’t do this. Panacea please! (starts walking closer and closer to soft music) I will never forgive you but alas, I can’t fight this pain any longer. Make it go it away. (slumps at the feet of PANACEA who plays on. lights down.)

IF YOU MADE IT TO THE END. I SALUTE YOU 🙂

 

(copyright Daisy Willows/ Natasha Bodley)

 

Star crossed other

Never knew there was a word to describe their combined fate.

Never knew Shakespeare studied the stars and knew much about lovers who mate.

Never knew they were lined up as opposites-never to align on the same side.

Thoughts of opposites attract are magic tinted Methos applied,

so people can trust to confide

in each other.

Always end up leaving one for another.

A summer’s day, sitting, drag remnants on a Marlboro tab.

Forlorn, unhopeful.

Destiny reeled her in like an unlicensed cab.

Doomed. Life growing inside – feelings of  Rigor Mortis was all she could summon to transpire.

The truth was the loss of her will

her desire.

She had lost that inner fire.

Under a freckled thumb- tangled in a webbed lie

through it the sun still shone.

A shadow emerged from the light, and a heart realized its given art.

Fairytale savior- a hero always ready with a smile.

Swallowing down screams.

Shamed

into a false smile.

Their eyes connect – should she tell him what she has done?

It was never to be.

Swallowed a lethal poison in an effort to be free.

Yes, she intended to take the life with her she had growing inside.

It was a desperate plea.

Shades of nausea, don’t you see?

Coins fall to the floor along with all the great works of Wordsmith Shakespeare.

It was easier to think unlovable thoughts

imagined hatred in speech bubble form.

To hear him say you are not for me

 distilled in clouds of fear.

Dramatic scene.

Bus stop revellers turn heads

eager for a spectacle.

hot tempered

He walked away.

Not trusting him still burns her cheeks

 to the same Fahrenheit, she felt that day.

Rain lands on penetrable skin,

wanting much more and expecting the very least,

set the fickle tone for the rest of this cycle of the ‘beck and call’.

Inevitably Seasons passed.

A winters day,

he called out her name.

His smile cleared up the fog of habitual trudging through the every day

society

blurs into arts of abstract- more imposing than some great display admired from afar.

Swept up with day to day folk uncluttered by star-crossed philosophy.

Nothing mattered

Only now,

another chance to show him- somehow he would think.

that girl -WOW! 

Fight for her

somehow.

over imbibed, arguments stippled in blackouts.

New starts

fresh

with sand she dug up for her own grave.

Dirty bitten down nails,

silent punishment for things that could never be undone.

Who’s to say who was truly in the wrong?

She can’t remember much

past walking into the house promising the most fun.

Seasons changed

again.

Dressed and forgiven – ready to wed the worthiest white knight to ever traverse her path.

Dichotomy sanctifies such a union.

Tear’s splotch faces, toasts, fuzzy memories.

Birds out

no need for a tuppence

Freely sung the newlyweds a blessing.

Something along the lines of tinkles chimes and her laugh.

Afterthoughts cushioned  by rose petals

a lavender fusion

flagellation on self

imposed by guilt

deepening the confusion.

How do we wake, make our move if caught in the spin cycle of punishing our souls?

A dare,

 her thoughts told her.

If indeed they were merely star-crossed

She would willfully find a way.

Barefooted, she soberly walked into a live fire burning on coals.

 Figure out what she felt she owed or indeed was it all a division in her head.

Passions stunned into a state of arousal

 Who’s to say if it fulfilled her?

Tears wanton to overflow

nearly lost sense of all ground.

 37 days she had not bled.

There are only four seasons.

 All continues

 winter clearly signaling death and rebirth to come.

His posturing lingered long in her mind.

She fathomed

reasoned

 the duresse of her thoughts;

permanently fixtured her by the spun out  Catherine wheels.

Clarity comes in an obscure fashion.

Manner and presentation are not facts.

Facts -harsh and cold.

 unveiled decision in an exposed mind, scuttling in the dark

not even aware he let loose his redundant rats.

Infiltrate every corner of her mind.

Passively they sit by,

osmosis eyes watch a happy family in a tourniquet.

Forced to apply more pressure.

Open up the wound.

Calculated a reactive to get one man’s truth.

Perhaps Star-crossed lovers are indeed something to be forgot .

Her silence is her answer.

Silence sees her own worth, she sees clarity it doesn’t bother her if the passion died,

Along with the whereabouts of his existence

Shadows move all the time,

even in Beirut.

She walks along her path with a smile on her face.

Her silence doesn’t require her to look up for another clue.

 He was never a star-crossed lover but merely another.

* remember: just because one person/people reveals their opinion or truth about what they think of you to you. This is not the whole truth or even half of it. You are not other people’s opinions. Never let people wear you down into believing you are merely what say or what they think you are. No one has their shit together all the time or even most of the time 😀

Devising- bleeding the genres

3 down -5  more to go.

This has been the best week yet on zee Acting program.

We did a fantastic improvisation inspired by Laban’s 8 efforts and movement.

This technique was originally used in dance performance.

From my ahem “intellectual” reading on post-modern performance. Most contemporary artists prefer to think of the theory part of writing and performance as not prescriptive but fluid and as something to provoke the imagination.

The theories exist to be used to merge into something that is relevant to today.

This program is far away from what I’m learning on my MA and this is my struggle with what I’m doing in my MA because, we as an ensemble – group of amateur actors are working towards devising a performance not based on text.

Back to Laban – the whole purpose of the exercise was to move forward and start thinking more about character development. How many ways can an actor develop their character?

For me, it helped me focus more on my physical body and what I could do with it, to create a character with emotional depth.

charliechaplin.jpg

This is  the exercise we did:

THE TECHNIQUE

Laban categorized human movement into four component parts:

  • Direction

  • Weight

  • Speed

  • Flow

Each of those parts has two elements:

  • Direction is either direct or indirect.

  • Weight is either heavy or light.

  • Speed is either quick or sustained.

  • Flow is either bound or free.

Laban then combined these parts together to create The Eight Efforts:

  • Wring

  • Press

  • Flick

  • Dab

  • Glide

  • Float

  • Punch

  • Slash

For WRING

  •  The Direction is Indirect

  • The Weight is Heavy

  • The Speed is Sustained

  • The Flow is Bound

https://www.theatrefolk.com/blog/the-eight-efforts-laban-movement/

I loved how I explored character development using my voice, my body and employing Laban’s technique to create a character.

I chose the movement to ‘wring’  and what stemmed from that incongruent action was a character called -Prushka who ended up in an improvisation scene with another character (his chosen action  Punch) who became my workaholic husband with a temper.

We did a short improv scene in pairs of threes.

Us the couple were arguing about our relationship and where it was headed when the third character (developed from the movement of ‘flick ) interrupted us.

Her drugged up character was stumbling across the streets asking where she was. We ended the scene by my character telling my character’s husband we had grown apart and it was over.

I went to help the drugged up girl get on a bus and get home. Instead of dealing with the confrontation – a stake was thrust into the scene and as a Wring character, I made the decision guided by my body movements to leave the relationship and avoid the angry, punchy husband.

Sounds complicated.

I’m sure there is a much more simplified way to describe all this but I have never been one to simplify anything!

This acting program has got me thinking about finishing my MA somewhere else. Sad but true.

As a group,  we seem to be gelling more and getting to know each other.

It looks like we will be devising a piece to perform to a public at the end of March.

rbzim3l0iffsp06f4yoo.jpg

Sat on the train, typing this post and I  can’t wait to get home.

Weird guy with bouffant hair sitting opposite me and staring at me like I’ve got an abscess growing on my nose. 😂😂.

I’m currently redrafting  TMA 3.  I’ve strayed into morality play /Faustian territory purely by accident.

forward.jpg

 

The piece is set after the 1918 Russian revolution ,in Paris.

RANDOM FACT-  my great grandparents fled the 1918 Russian revolution changed their surname and went to live in the slums of Paris. That is where my Grandad was born. 

 I have three characters who have some of my character traits and a mish mash of other lovely people’s traits I have come across in my life.

Panacea wants to be accepted by family and society: Vladimir by society.  The other character, Eve -has the love and adoration of the society she lives in because of her talent to play captivating pieces of music on the piano.

She has it all except she lacks conventional sight.

With a wee bit of determination and vengeance, Panacea takes Eves essence (talent) and Vladimir’s only access to power and being accepted by his peers is now in the hands of Panacea.

Eve is left with a second sight not normal sight.

I don’t know how magic works!

She can only see the past.

 Things start getting tense when she starts seeing things:

Horrific things.

She starts seeing people’s past actions. Not the good but all the skeletons that people hide away or try to forget by drugging themselves- insert vice of choice here.

Vladimir- her guardian is clearly hiding something.

How are Eve’s past visions connected to him?

Why won’t he tell Eve?

The climax and resolution of the final scene, see the loose ends of the plot coming together and finally, we see how all three characters fit together.

I’m not saying any more than that.

Both Eve and Vladimir ( who seem like the victims of a salacious act by Panacea)  lose everything they wanted and indeed had.

The music threaded throughout the piece (which initially draws the crowd to adore  Eve and propels her to ‘stardom’ )seems to serve as a metaphor for the vices which society still use today to forget and self-medicate.

The somewhat pantomime-like, sarcastic Panacea, in scene one, is a character, I hope my tutor can sympathize with at the end of the piece- with her revelation.

Her motives are utterly selfish and human.

But finally, she is accepted and her nephew is forced to love and adore her because she has the essence and power to help not only society. but also Vladimir forget who he actually is.

Ha ha!  What a raucous.

 Well, it’s all a been a bit of fun trying out new writing styles. Writing should be fun and not some Herculean labor (which it does seem to be at times)

 As long as I pass I will be happy.

 Daisy- ‘the entrepreneur in progress’ is moving forwards in my business.

 That’s a bit of an update from me. My stop has arrived. I’m tired cold and I want to see my family.

I have blogging awards to accept and nominations to do and look forward to catching up on blogs over the week.

I may barricade myself in my bedroom over the weekend and devour every post/blog  I come across.

Have a great week!