RACHEL:
Sometimes I pause,
And recall
How life once seemed so easy.
I reflect,
Genuflect
To the girl I once was.
I was strong,
Often wrong,
But never would admit it.
I had so many plans,
All the right words to say.
I knew where I was heading,
Perhaps I’ll get there someday!
CHORUS:
Life is uncertain,
The course uncharted.
The choices hidden behind an opaque curtain.
RACHEL:
There was an outline,
A life to be mine.
CHORUS:
Finger the curves,
Know every angle.
The drape hides the swerves.
Disguises the tangles.
RACHEL:
So I pause,
For no cause,
And think of life before you.
The healing force
by Abra Cadaver
CHORUS:
Demand for central London office space has significantly decreased since
the events of September 2001, and also as a result of the general lack
of confidence and the economic downturn here and abroad.
SOLOIST:
Demand in the Midtown area is subdued and supply is
increasing, with the vacancy rate now increased to
some eight percent (over ten percent for all Central London)
and whilst there are new enquiries in the market, rents are continuing to decline.
CHORUS:
At present, we cannot foresee a
significant recovery before spring
2003 at the earliest and this is
inevitably dependant upon wider
economic and political circumstances.
Old and New Again
by Kit Farnow
SARAH:
to audience, with exaggerated anxiety:
Where has he gone,
He once did no wrong,
This man that I married so long ago!
JOHN: to Sarah
I’m right over here!
But I’m cowering with fear,
This man that you married so long ago.
CHORUS:
Love, that mysterious ocean,
Overflowing people with emotion,
Things are always easier than first they seem.
SARAH: to John
Where have you been?
Ah, those impossible blue eyes
Are surely the nicest I have ever seen!
JOHN: to Sarah
They remain the same,
Ready to greet you again,
With yesterday’s gusto just slightly more tame.
CHORUS:
The sky’s still blue,
Sometimes grey and sometimes bolder,
Love stays the same but people grow older.
The Clone's Lament
by A.R. Yngve
MINA and MONA (Mina's clone) enter.
MINA:
Hello, my daughter
Blood of my blood, mind of my mind
Winsome, bright, kind
What's wrong, dear?
What's your fear?
MONA:
Hello, my mother
Blood of my blood, claiming my mind
Aging, snide, getting wide
Why was I born?
Why did you clone?
MINA:
To love you...
MONA:
...as yourself!
MINA:
Why'd I spawn this ingrate!
MONA:
It's yourself you're learning to hate!
CHORUS heckles MONA, lines up in background.
CHORUS:
No father
Carbon copy
No direction
Fake identity
A shadow
Trapped in a copying machine
MINA:
You're all I was!
MONA:
You're all I'll be! stabs MINA
MINA: dying
Blood of my blood...
MONA:
Mind of my mind..
CHORUS:
No mother
But identity
No future
Was it destiny?
The end...
Hiding the Fear
by Dawn M. Lehmkuhl
SOLOIST:
She waits...crouched like the lioness
Hunting and Hungering
Patient and steadfast
Methodical
Brilliant in her audacity
Jealous
That the feast is not hers
The kill already happening
Hidden
She pauses
Reflects
CHORUS:
To take the chance
To advance alone
Removes doubt
The feast become hers
SOLOIST:
Hidden she cries
and trembles
She waits...crouched like a coward
Hiding
Invisible to all, herself
Until
Jealousy rears
Consumes and
Devastates her soul
Shattered...
CHORUS:
To take the chance
To advance
Removes the doubt
Solidifies the fear.
SOLOIST:
If only to taste her feast
Without her monster
Instead of coveting
What came before?
Hiding her fear...
She slumbers.
The Leaders and The Pack
by Geraldine Monk
All characters attired as a traditional pack of cards. To balance male/female voices the Ace of Spades (Death) may be female. The King of Clubs should wear ‘shades’ and trendy clothes. Throughout the piece The Pack is represented by the chorus.
Queen of Hearts : Love is my burden. My heart bursts into flowers heavy with
pollen.
The Pack: We’re all in love with Love.
Ace of Spades: Death is my name. Be not afraid. I come after dying to swoop
away pain.
The Pack: But not too soon. We’re all in love with living.
King of Clubs: Yo! I’m funky man,
I live to dance and
Rhyme every line with
Life!
The Pack: Sounds co-ol. Let’s check it out.
Knave of Diamonds: Don’t be fooled! I drip with glitter but envy Love above all
jewels.
The Pack: We see your sad eyes sparkle ice. Hollow. Echo. Hollow.
The Joker: Knock Knock!
The Pack: Who’s there?
The Joker: Hugh…
The Pack: Hugh who! The jokes on you.
The Pack rules!
(‘Hugh who’ is a pun on ‘yoo-hoo’ so needs to be sung as an
interjection not as a question in order to mock the joker.)
Castle Market, Sheffield, November 1966
by C D Master
Chorus:
Snackbar full of shoppers guzzling tea and toast. Radio scores audible over hiss from the silver percolator.
Announcer:
Two nil.
Chorus:
Sudden steamdragon, forcing water from the grid of pipes into mugs, banged down on formica.
Voice:
Oh, two Eccles cakes as well please.
American voice:
In America, they call these "malls" - they’re much bigger. Imagine being a prosperous shopper, hopping through bright arcades!
Chorus:
See the older kids checking the top twenty on the stall across the way, flipping through the big colourful discs in the racks?
Voice:
Chartbusters. Do the Reggae.
Chorus:
I’m not sure we could tighten up like that, but we could try.
Boudicca
by Gareth Calway
Bard
of Boudicca:
I sing of you,
Boadicea,
though your glory died
under grey skies,
not a celtic blue summer
and had more to do
with this Norfolk flint
and stubborn soil
than an air of heaven
Suetonius
Paulinus:
and even though
my roman eagle
seized the sunrise
of your three easy wins
as if seizing the flames
of your famous red hair
and even though
my roman fist
crushed your lands,
sowed harvests of hunger,
rubbed decades of salt
in your people's wounds
Chorus:
the old word
buddugoliaeth
still sings in the wind
off this great North sea,
still blasts the trees
buddug - victory.
Semi Detached Suburban Mr James and King Arthur
by Gareth Calway
Chorus:
We should be singing
Our bardic song
In seas of corn,
Our voices strong.
Semi Detached
Suburban Mr James:
"The Celts were invented
In 1700"
King Arthur:
(It seems)
Semi Detached
Suburban Mr James:
when Scotland
By England was plundered.
Esyltte prayed
For a night-black sail,
Boudicca rode,
Queen Gwenhwyfar failed.
And now Mr James's
Semi Detached
Suburban Mr James:
"The Atlantic Celts"
King Arthur:
Has finally westered
The westering Welsh.
It deeply comforts
The butchered British
Of old to learn
That they never existed.
Myths are carved out
By the hunted killer
But history (it seems)
Is penned by the vicar
Chorus:
Blood on the corn
Like poppies, like sails,
Blood on the dawn
In The Cornfield of Wales.
This Year It's Organs
by Organ Welles
A restaurant. Waiters carry trays with oversize
tongue, liver, brains, heart. He and She are seated at
a table, making eyes at each other over the menus. The
background suggests a large aquarium. Large slow
shadows play across the stage suggesting something
swimming overhead.
He: Aside The gently breathing lung she wears is
eye-catching.
She: This place is so dear! Piped in whale-song and
all.
Chorus: Outside the river burns, burns on.
She: Are you alright?
He: A shark tears my heart! Waiter appears We’d
like the ennui and fresh trout – le poisson, monsieur,
s’il vous plait. Waiter leaves
Come back to my place
– I’ll show you my prosthesis.
She: A fig for your thesis. She pulls out a cigar. Got
a match? Pause Got protection?
He: Nervously looking for a match No need for
protection with an avenue of escape.
She: Scornfully, chomping on the cigar aggressively
No true avenue unless it has trees.
At last he finds
a matchbook, tears one off and strikes it several
times before giving up and trying another and another.
A waiter comes over with a lighter. He suavely flips
it open and flicks it once, twice, three times. He
smacks it and tries again. Another waiter with a
lighter, then a diner, until she is surrounded by men
trying to light the cigar in her mouth.
Chorus: Outside fresh trout rains down while the river
smokes and smolders, outside the river’s burning,
burning on and on.