i guess it's "post a poem in your journal" day or something to that effect. so here's one. you can basically disregard this.
The Abandonment [written as four separate speakers, and they
(the four separate speakers, four separate identities) are lamenting
intently on their lives, on their deaths, on their wives, on their breaths]
Setting: It doesnt matter. It changes constantly but thats none
of our business; all that matters are the following soliloquies so
put some feeling into it; watch stage left and stage right now watch this:
speaker 1: This is the Devils land, you see, this is where
the weary travelers, myself included, wounded,
went to rest our feet and dress our knivings. I say,
Pioneers, Patriots! Clean your blades now, for you have nothing
but the days ahead and you can do nothing
but walk, and walk you will; walk to the end of the fences
and past the empty boxes, past the fortress of forever
where the skins of the children are hung on the lost posts to dry.
You must abandon me here. The Redcoats and the kings
will be arriving soon, so leave me for them to find.
When I am discovered and buried in the dice,
I will be amongst the guns, amongst the unbuilt.
But as you leave me, my friends, for the Great City
that cant be found, remember that the King has many marchers and
they will go after your heads just as they will go after mine
when youre gone. Be strong, my comrades, my compatriots.
Have faith in God, and more importantly, have faith in the mouse
with the broken front tooth and before you head off,
if you will accept them, I will give my weapons to you.
speaker 2: These commoners have gone too far. Send the marchers
to the new land, and You infantrymen, you shall not come back empty handed.
Gut who you must, but bring back these things to prove that the rebels are dead:
a whisper split into two buckets, a violin for my own personal collection
and the heart of the blacksmith at the heart of this insurrection.
Behead the rest. Fail not, for the gallows are awaiting a failures return.
speaker 3: Imagine this: we find a blacksmith but he
isnt who were looking for - just some poor bastard dying
in the swamp, some blade in his side. We offered to help
him but he would have none of it; just kept mentioning his
old lady back home and the cause oh, the cause - and he said that
his horse was dead. It broke its bones long ago, all of them,
outrunning some Ojibwa, trying to scale a fence. I was thrown,
the blacksmith said, the horse whinnied and flipped and her legs bent
in half like God made them that way so I put one between her eyes;
put her legs back how they should be because God made a mistake,
a terrible terrible mistake, you see. And some time later that day,
when it was safe, I returned to her body and paid respects to the old girl,
writing next to her neck in the dirt: this is the execution of the world.
Speaker 4: You fools, fighting over what some oats? A ship or two?
A measly statue by the trailside? Some twine in a barrel? Do you think
those are really real reasons? Go home to your horses and your wife
with her brooches. Raise your children to harvest the crops well.
Pluck the sage growing on the windowsill and your stew will burst
with flavor. Brand your cattle with this moniker: Tomorrows Dinner.
Honor thy mother and father, love thy neighbor. You are my ultimate failure.
The Abandonment [written as four separate speakers, and they
(the four separate speakers, four separate identities) are lamenting
intently on their lives, on their deaths, on their wives, on their breaths]
Setting: It doesnt matter. It changes constantly but thats none
of our business; all that matters are the following soliloquies so
put some feeling into it; watch stage left and stage right now watch this:
speaker 1: This is the Devils land, you see, this is where
the weary travelers, myself included, wounded,
went to rest our feet and dress our knivings. I say,
Pioneers, Patriots! Clean your blades now, for you have nothing
but the days ahead and you can do nothing
but walk, and walk you will; walk to the end of the fences
and past the empty boxes, past the fortress of forever
where the skins of the children are hung on the lost posts to dry.
You must abandon me here. The Redcoats and the kings
will be arriving soon, so leave me for them to find.
When I am discovered and buried in the dice,
I will be amongst the guns, amongst the unbuilt.
But as you leave me, my friends, for the Great City
that cant be found, remember that the King has many marchers and
they will go after your heads just as they will go after mine
when youre gone. Be strong, my comrades, my compatriots.
Have faith in God, and more importantly, have faith in the mouse
with the broken front tooth and before you head off,
if you will accept them, I will give my weapons to you.
speaker 2: These commoners have gone too far. Send the marchers
to the new land, and You infantrymen, you shall not come back empty handed.
Gut who you must, but bring back these things to prove that the rebels are dead:
a whisper split into two buckets, a violin for my own personal collection
and the heart of the blacksmith at the heart of this insurrection.
Behead the rest. Fail not, for the gallows are awaiting a failures return.
speaker 3: Imagine this: we find a blacksmith but he
isnt who were looking for - just some poor bastard dying
in the swamp, some blade in his side. We offered to help
him but he would have none of it; just kept mentioning his
old lady back home and the cause oh, the cause - and he said that
his horse was dead. It broke its bones long ago, all of them,
outrunning some Ojibwa, trying to scale a fence. I was thrown,
the blacksmith said, the horse whinnied and flipped and her legs bent
in half like God made them that way so I put one between her eyes;
put her legs back how they should be because God made a mistake,
a terrible terrible mistake, you see. And some time later that day,
when it was safe, I returned to her body and paid respects to the old girl,
writing next to her neck in the dirt: this is the execution of the world.
Speaker 4: You fools, fighting over what some oats? A ship or two?
A measly statue by the trailside? Some twine in a barrel? Do you think
those are really real reasons? Go home to your horses and your wife
with her brooches. Raise your children to harvest the crops well.
Pluck the sage growing on the windowsill and your stew will burst
with flavor. Brand your cattle with this moniker: Tomorrows Dinner.
Honor thy mother and father, love thy neighbor. You are my ultimate failure.
You should definately go to the detroit show...you'll have fun and get to meet me