Act One
Banner flapping in the wind: Desist! says the word.
Poem: Peel the skin of meaning
from the flesh, let us see
the true meaning of anguish.
Narrator: The sun has fallen and new kings rise. A storm cloud gathers in the forefront of that war party. It seems even earth has come to reap blood & bone from this drained place.
Oxymoron: "Come into my tent, let’s stretch the hide of our thoughts across this table. We will speculate on meaning."
Narrator: The scouts report a legion a mile away, drenched in sweat & gods know what else. They are running through the wind like hot knife. A balloon sails the skies & wings of birds have been falling from the skirts of dancing girls.
Poem: Is this heaven?
There, hell with all its glory.
There my father, my mother
& every pain they had to hide.
Who comes if not hunger & thirst?...
Banner flapping in the wind: Desist! says the word.
Poem cont: ...There, a broken squirrel
waiting for harmattan to end
so it can stop chewing its tail.
Narrator: Do you know of fire & the green things that feed on its hate? Bring the wine & the meat. The army marches on its stomach like a worm. It needs to feed the carcass of its greed. It needs. The oasis comes & goes in this mirage. We have seen the water ten times, yet some more men have fallen dead. This desert will never end. We will have our tombs of sand & air.
Poem: Come, if you may, to pray
at the feet of my bones
immaculate as white, dust golden
as sunrise bronze. It will burnish
some museum. It will perch
the hallowed nuances of a table
labelled in ink & knowledge
like a torn throat.
Act Two
Hyperbole: "What year was the war fought? Who survived? Is this what is left of the human race? Is this what power becomes when it is inbred? The dogs are barking at the moon again. You can see the broken parts that hang to the sky in desperate need. Do you ever wonder how it was when it was whole, before the cataclysm? It would have been beautiful to be out at night then, don’t you think?"
Poem: The river is shallow.
No water rushes from its thirsty mouth.
All the moths are weakened at the knees.
Their months are over.
Oxymoron: "The spies from the older tribes are settling in. They came with laundered suits & wristwatches. Have you ever had such luxury? Have you? Have you? You should taste what is offered on this buffet of words."
Narrator: The second or third or fourth war makes no difference. All the wars put together has not been able to wipe the mosquitoes. What do they eat when all the humans are gone? Will they make do with pig blood? Will they come to enjoy the taste of goat blood? To be a mosquito in these times is dangerous as a dog without a moon to bark to. Where are the sons of the kings that brought us here? Are they princes or paupers? Did the wealth built by lies reach into their pockets in their time of need? What happened to the power they grasped in their teeth for centuries? There are lands that no one can lay claim to now; countries that have no citizens and citizens that have nowhere. Will this ash ever stop falling?
Historical account: The sun is blotted from memory in the following ways:
- The fire that did not burn
- The rain that did not sink into the sand
- The ash that did not rise
- The broken moon
- There is no one to see the sun
Act Three
Narrator: Who fought these wars? Did they not know when to stop? Did they not know when it seemed like they had gone too far? Was nothing sacred? Where were their gods, their lovers, their children? Did none of them matter? Bring that camcorder over here. Let us look into the past for succour. Maybe we will find a world we never missed.
Hyperbole: "The children in the surf, did you see how laughter carried them about? & the dog paddling with its paws? What a relief. It was a holiday, yes? This is how the beaches used to look like."
Poem: See the sand pale as memory,
the sea blue as late morning.
Banner still: Desist! Says the word.
Oxymoron: "Is this why the art is more in that time than now? They had more access to beauty than we do. Look at that tree, that towel on the sand, look at that woman rubbing suntan lotion on her skin. What is her name? Does anyone know if she survived? Did she know that she was at her deathbed in the movie? Did she understand that the curtain had fallen on her part in the script of living?"
Narrator: These tomorrows, we should be tired by now. Not one tells us why we are here and why we fought those wars.
Hyperbole: "I want a strong drink."
Oxymoron cont: "It must be love, the music said. Was it love that made them hate? Was it greed? Did you understand what she meant when she said it is all over now & that it must have been good? What sort of music did they make? It is always sad."
Hyperbole: "Maybe the smiles in the camcorder were fake, pasted on to deceive us. Maybe they did know that the end was near and like any other thing, they chose to enjoy their last moments with their families in the place they loved the most. I am sure someone would remember. Can we bring the specimen from sleep now? I would like to question it. Or should i say he? I doubt if its cognitive functions are still in good order."
Act Four
Specimen X: It is strange to be the first man to breathe the air of earth after two thousand years of sleep.
Narrator: What will he say when he wakes? Will he want food or sex or drink first? May be a stick of cigarette or addictive drugs. Will there be violence? I read that they were very into such things. I have read too much about the human race, i almost feel like i am one of them.
Torn Bloody Banner: Desist...
