the black lullaby

Heyyo all…

How’s it going? So I’ve had this extremely long week, or at least it’s seemed that way because someone keeps walking into my room at work almost every three seconds asking about work. But between all the work, if there’s something that’s really keeping me going these days, it’s rehearsals… for what you ask… I shall tell you.

The reason I’m not at GLF is because my next play goes on stage on the 20th of next month at the Lionel Wendt. Sure you’ve heard some of the communication or been invited on facebook for the event. The play is called ‘Hamel at Elsie’s Bar’ and it’s a comic take on how William Shakespeare was inspired to write Hamlet… at Elsie’s Bar.

For those of you who don’t know… I got back into theatre about three years ago after almost seven years of being out of it. My first big production, staged in 2007, was Chatroom… I’m sure all of you who came to watch it will still remember the six disturbed teenagers who talked about suicide online.

Jim, the character I played in it, was very close to my heart and I will always remember that role. It gave me so much of emotional release and helped me approach the stage itself in a completely different way, if you know what I mean. All credit to my fabulous director Tracy! God I love her!!!

Then last year, Samurai came along. My character – Utamaro – was very different to the suicidal teenager I had played a year before him. Utamaro was a cunning and manipulative Japanese citizen who lead his people into a war against the Empress (played by both Subha Wijesiriwardena and Mahina Bongso) in order to retrieve a magical sword.

Well 2009 is here and the stage has summoned me once again. This time to play the part of William Shakespeare himself. This particular role is again, very different from the others and mostly because this play is my first musical. Yes I will be singing as well… sigh… But it’s a fabulous challenge and I’m looking forward to seeing the final product.

The weekend promises to be fun… but you all know how promises are so easily broken, don’t you?

Have a good one.

a soft pebbled path lead me towards a field of blossoming roses
each petal i touched was another reminder that the innocence in this world did exist

untouched beauty in its purest form still lay in the eye of the beholder,
all that was required was the correct perspective

then, the wind blew in the opposite direction
its call was so strong, so urgent, so furious

two heartbeats later, the pebbled path was gone
it had been replaced by a thick forest, but it was still beautiful

at the edge of the forest, amidst a rocky fortress, i heard the sighing
so soft, so humble, so dangerous, so inviting…

in the name of curiosity, my body was already moving toward the wordless whispers
they echoed a longing that needed some comfort, i wanted to help

on a bed of water there lay a still figure, i could feel it call out to me
there was no movement, just jaded screams secreted between the passing breeze

floating above the unconscious being i toyed with what must be done
’should i? shouldn’t i?’ a playful moment that lingered within my thoughts for an eternity

one touch, one kiss, one move, our eyes were dancing with one another
the aura of innocence that surrounded me was cut open and ripped apart

a little fire, a little flesh, a little pain, a little vanity, a little passion
the more i wanted to run, the more i feared the loss of this feeling

a little corruption with a pinch of hate, a little deception blamed on fate
then i emerged from the depths of hell and breathed again

the beast was gone, had i disturbed him? i didn’t know, he just wasn’t there anymore
out of the fortress and back on my pebbled path, but something was different

as i lay down my head in the crimson field i tasted blood upon my lips
i smelled the fire in my eyes, i felt an awakening inside

there had been no figure, no being, no beast, only my reflection
the part of me that i had sent away to sleep, asking once again to be set free

- brandon ingram

She stands at the door of her daughter’s house and wishes she was somewhere else. She doesn’t know why though. There is nothing she lacks. Nothing she is in want of. She has money. She has friends. She has food and clothes. She has a loving family. She is healthy. She prays and she maintains a good relationship with her God.

She sits down as the weight of her thoughts become almost unbearable. She has a party to go for tonight. She’s even got the perfect outfit and at her age, that’s quite an accomplishment.

She turns around and in the living room she sees a photograph of herself, standing next to her late husband. She wonders if she would have been a different person, had he been alive. She thinks back to the time she lost him. She thinks of the perilous journey she has had since then and how it has all paid off well. She wants to be content. She longs to be content. Then she thinks of why she isn’t. She wonders if she has ever been wrong in what she has said and done. She decides the answer is no. She’s always been right. Other people have just had different points of view that they sometimes, haven’t apologized for. That’s alright. God will forgive them.

She never wanted them to feel as though she wanted to control them. She just wanted them to do things her way. That’s all. Sure, they could have done it their way. But that wasn’t good enough. Was it? Of course not!

No one had questioned her all her life? She had made the rules and they had been followed. But what was this? They had started to think for themselves! Sacrilege! They don’t know what they’re doing. She will end up getting hurt. He will end up alone again. She will never have control over her child. He will never learn to control his temper. She will never grow up.

They needed her to help them through all of it. How dare they not want her advice? How dare they try and sort out their problems on their own? That’s not the way they used to do it back then. That’s not the way.

If they started taking care of themselves then they wouldn’t need her anymore. She wouldn’t be in control anymore.

How do you let go when you know you will be left with nothing if you do?

I kept staring at her, straight in the eyes, not wanting to shift my gaze even for a moment because if I did, I would lose this battle long before it had begun. ‘How have you been?’ She asked, but she already knew, so she threw her head back as the disgustingly beautiful laughter escaped her. ‘Why am I here?’ I asked, my gaze still fixed on her. She leaned back in the chair and in the dim red light, her hair was a velvetty black. In a flash I felt her standing behind me, leaning down, smiling.

‘You ask questions to which you already know the answer, my friend.’

Her tongue was unfolding towards my ear but it didn’t have enough time to complete what it had started. In one swift move, I stood up and clutched her neck tightly in my hand. When I banged her head against the wall I noticed that her hair was now a golden brown. ‘I want an answer… why am I here?’ She was almost chocking, but she was enjoying the sensation. She replied in a low tone, for that was all she could manage at the moment, ‘because this is where you belong, this is your home.’

The quick movement was only meant to unhand her neck at first but it ended up throwing her half way across the room. There wasn’t so much as a whimper when she crashed into an old table. I turned around because I knew that she was now standing behind me. My cheek met untimely with her hand and it burned as five finger prints clawed their way into my skin. Then she was holding my face in her hands, the look in her eyes portrayed sympathy.

‘I knew you would come home sooner or later. I waited for you for so long. I thought I had lost to you to some angel at one point but then, then I remembered that you are a part of me.’

Her cruel whispers were more than I could bear. But I stood there listening because there was nothing else I could do.

‘Come back to me again. Give in to me completely. Take your place beside me my friend and we will enjoy every moment that is to come, together. Pick up that which you have thrown aside and remember who you used to be. You belong here, you belong to me, you belong with me.’

She kept on whispering, over and over and over again and I stood there motionless, allowing my ears to bleed.

Last night when the moon was at its peak, I traveled down a path to that strange place I had almost forgotten existed. My bare feet touching the grainy sand as my legs felt the bitter wrath of the thorns on either side of the narrow path, I soon arrived at my destination. When the cave door opened I saw them, all of them. Women and men, draped in shades of black, expressing themselves vividly as they floated around sipping milk and blood.

I walked through them with no incident, why would there be? I used to be a regular here, they loved me.

I climbed a few rocky steps and began walking down a long passageway. The eerie music played on a violin echoed through and through. I stopped, there was a rose lying in front of me. Fresh, crimson in color, mesmerizing and possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I crushed it under my heel as I continued walking. It was only a distraction.

The rocky walls on either side of me were the support of those who were engaged in various fantasies of the flesh. Lips, tongues, hands, fingers, hips, necks, breasts, thighs… more distractions.

I soon arrived at a large door that was guarded by two seductive women. A normal traveller would have been warned first to leave, and had they persisted, they would have paid the price. But I wasn’t a normal traveller, so the women smiled as they opened the door for me. I walked inside, nothing had changed.

It was still cold, still musky, still decorated in red and white. The table in the middle of the room was untouched. I walked over to one of the chairs and sat down. And suddenly there she was. Her smile still had the ability to slit my heart open. But she knew she killed me every time she did that, so she let her eyes do the smiling. That was much safer, for both of us.

When she opened her mouth to talk to me, I wished she wouldn’t, not because her voice wasn’t beautiful, but because her words would remind me of who I was. Resting my head back in the chair that now exuded its familiar scent of comfort I let my ears fall victim to her words.

She said: ‘Hello darkness, my old friend…’