Seamless Dressing (and Undressing) ~ Every Actor’s Dream
for Cushla
Watching you
Spending so much time watching you
Slipping
With such ease
Into whatever coat is expected
Seamless
Dressing
And
Seemingly
As easily undressing
Disrobing the one
To assume the other
You
Are
The
Actor
Hamlet
Was written for
Hard to say that Rosalind was a dry run
With all that sweat
But she is a nun
Compared to the devious Dane
A cosseted Carmelite
Behind her closed wall
Her order resolute
Her vengeful vows
Contrite
By comparison
Contrite
As
You
Were
Oh, yes
Yes
We were speaking of him
Were we not?
He of the suicidal tendencies who asked the question
He
Who would quaff down eisell
Drink hot blood
(was he Shakespeare’s Lector?)
Yawing
Hell
Breathing it’s violent fires
Painted Blakean russet
But
(in truth)
Charring bone
Aching, grinding bone
On
Bone
In that churchyard of the soul
Where
For a time
We met
And fought the less than good fight
Over who lied
Who did not
About love
And who loved who and who did not
And went mad
Quietly mad
Together
For that quite long time
Seems, Madam?
Nay, tis.
I know not
We
Know not
Seems!
No, not any more
Those years
Where we wore our nighted colour
Daily
Hourly
Tinged with sanguine red
A cabernet of crimson
That went
To the heart of the matter
(came from there too)
That saw some strange eruption to my state
And
Yours
And I was sick at heart
(were you?)
Where my sweaty haste
Did make the night
Joint-labourer with the day
(I hear those chimes)
Named
The dead of night
(true ~ so very, very true)
So
We know if no-one does
What squeaking and gibbering
The voice of madness
Squawks
Screaming
A little more of kin
And less than kind
Your kind
Knowing
Knowing
Knowing
(that’s it, them’s the words, words, words)
All who live must die
(and that means you and I)
Passing through nature
To
Eternity
To
That
Heavenly latrine
In the sky
The
Bog
Of
Our
God
So why be different?
Why delay the matter?
When
Sound
Thinking
And a pointed stick
Can bring about such holy peace
Can make it so
Can make it be
So
Married with this
This
Our unholy alliance
But
Then …
(who digresses this time)
That
Melancholic one
The one you said you knew
Because you lived with one
And
The
Same
Lived with he
He
(aye, there’s one of the rubs)
He
Who spoke those lines
Who spoke
Those
Words
That
Hamlet
Of
The
Green
Connemara
Rosary
That
That
That
Psychotic beast you tamed
That
Swine
In the sty of the world
I think
Yours is a compliment
I think
A Tribute
An accolade
Sans trumpets
(I am wont to think)
For she of all men
She
Would be a bitch to live with
Let alone
Die
Beside
Blood or no blood
Words or no words
She
Of reason most absurd
She who is wont to set the table on a roar
She
Who would eat a crocodile
Whose very non-existence
(frailty, thy name is actress)
She who has
This
Set of words
Words for the wonder-wounded hearers of the world
(her words)
These
Are meditation
Enough
Enough
Enough
Talk
Of
Life’s
Fragility
In a mind’s eye
In the dead vast and middle of the night
(3.27am in fact)
When she of the family flick
Would speak to me in my reality
Before
All this
All this
All this
Dissembling
Began
I cannot think of her
Of her
I cannot think of her
I cannot think of her in the same breath
(just breathe)
I can think only of those lips that I have kissed
(yours, young Dane, yours)
Yours alone
How oft?
How oft?
How oft?
I know not
Tender
Gentility
This touch
A
Conjoint
Planed
Ophelia
Of a touch
(sweet touch)
Pray you love, remember ~
Before dead waters sucked you down and threw you up
Tangled
Before that branch
Alone
Dangled
Dandled
You
Askant that brook
Falling
(pushed by a mind out of time and harsh)
Laid you in unwidowing weeds for your eternity
(a clever dick, that man of the millennium)
And showed you
That steep and thorny way to heaven
(thank God for that emotional parallel
that
near death
copycat
crime)
But
That was not to be for you
Not to be
No
Not to be
Not for you to be
She
For you
A nobler heart must crack
For you
Have earned
The flights of angels
Sing you to that rest
Song sung rest
Wings folded
It is for
You
You
It is for you
You
Whose excellent fancy
Will one day
(as all our fancies will)
Mock your own grinning
Chap-fallen?
He said so
Fallen
Falling …
To this favour you must come
To this favour
We must all come
But will you laugh at that
(I will)
Will I?
Sparrow?
Fallen sparrow?
You
Who of all people
Do not set your life at a pin’s fee
I need to know
Once
And for all
Are
Your
Intents
Wicked
(or charitable)
This time around
This
Time
Around
For
This is not my ~
This is not your ~
Prophetic soul
But
His
It is he
Hamlet the Dane
Who is truepenny
On this standing place of our own making
It is he
Who will speak out
For us
For him
For
Everyman
It is he
While we must brew for him
The Very Ecstasy of Love
To
Drink
Him
Down
The
Gullet
Of
The
Many
With
The
Riches
Of
The
Few
This is for you
The gift of life in death
This
Is
For
You
The rest a silence
That will echo for eternity
This world
Wide
And you will have made that journey
Every
Actor’s
Dream
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
dykiegirl 