From: mfactor@taronga.com (Marco Landin)
Subject: CHILDREN'S THEATRE
Reply-To: mfactor@taronga.com (Marco Landin)
Organization: Taronga Park BBS
Date: Mon, 13 Apr 1992 19:53:15 GMT

	I can't remember: This may or may not be a repost.
	Copyright 1992, Marco Landin

CHILDREN'S THEATRE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  What brave misfortune has to fall,
What dismal plight will pay a call
And manifest its sad and wan portent?
What curious deeds have been laid down?
The icy breath of disrespect
Has spread around to fill
My days with its acridic scent.
    Amidst the chilling February rains,
  Amidst a cold, impersonal confection;
  Frozen shower, wind, and solitude,
  A not too effervescent brew
  Stirred uncalm by that
  Precocious sting of night,
  I stand.
    Open raincoat fights and flutters
  'Round my rain-soaked legs and chest
  Like black and hungry captive ravens
  Bent on taking flight.
    I raise my arms toward
  The dark and whisper
  To the frozen torrent
  Of the night;
    "Let it go.
     Let it go.
     Let it go."
  Betwixt a frozen path of grass
  And icy midnight rains
  I dare to call out the
  True name of God.
  Only in Her prescence
  Dare I cry,
  What one man cultivates
  Another often robs.
        -
If you strip yourself down
To the barest essentials;
Unbutton your coat,
Unwrap the veils,
Peel away the husk
Of your existence,
Tell me,
What will you find?
        -
    I brandish my sword in the night,
  My soul and mind are vexed
  By constant niggling respite.
  I cannot shake free
  The painful bonds
  Of mutinied friends.
  I cannot shake free
  Of children's theatre.
    With my hands, I raise the steel
  Toward the lightning-pitted skies,
  My quivering lips incant
  Archaic words of ancient rites,
  And thunder, as if in response,
  Roars its deafening cacophony,
  And drops of stinging rain
  Painfully caress my
  Tear-stained cheek and echo:
    "Let it go.
     Let it go.
     Let it go.
     You only thought you loved them..."
    My mind submits to trance and vision
  And a cool and calm attrition
  Triturates the remnants
  Of my sallow, thorny angst.
  And as the sky swirls into blackness
  And the psilocybin fungus
  Grasps the reins of my subconscious
  I strip down
    To the barest essentials,
      Unbutton my coat,
        Unwrap the veils,
          And find the brittle, bitter
            Shell of hatred - gone.
    Instead of melancholy tragic
  I find, as if by magic placed,
  A warm and radiant protection,
  A benevolent selection;
  Understanding,
  Tolerance,
  And Learning.
  The lesson thusly taught:
  What one man reaps,
  Another often sows,
  So what?
    It is not in my best interest to care.
  To wallow in my own
  Self-flagellating torture,
  To rest uneasy once again
  In years of wracking pain, despair.
  It is not in that state
  That I'll fulfill my aspirations.
  I am done with children's theatre;
  Life is too LONG for that kind of shit.
    As my dialogue with the void
  Subsides and once again I
  Slide toward a conscious,
  Waking state I hear a muffled cry;
    "This lesson will not last forever,
     You must relearn with every trauma.
     Begin anew, each drama has
     A different end."
  That is fine, I think as I ascend,
  I've been changed forever, once again.
         -
    I emerge from sacred nightmares,
  Feel the tease of breezes after rain,
  And inquire upon myself,
  My present state:
"How do you feel?"
"I feel fine."
"What will you do?"
"Whatever I want."
"What do you want?"
      I want the world,
      Nothing but the world.
    Strip yourself down
  To the barest essentials,
  Unbutton your coat,
  Unwrap the veils,
  Peel away the husk
  Of your existence
  And discover yourself
  Staring back at you
  Through the sacred
  Emptyness
  Of God.

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