In the wind

( improvised spoken word to Chopins Ballade No.4 in F Minor)

In his castle he sits, counting mice, different everyday, death and decay, and life, outside: Ramjet whistles to Darpy, and I, interrupting, bring out my bastons, music, and poetry; my personality, so full, of itself, yes and all else besides, my mind glides; Rameo and Duliet.

In my miserable cage, humanity, neighbours peer over the fence, but don’t want to be seen, scared of standing out of the crowd, yet their knives are out: I carve out a fort with my daga:

“Rameo, wherebes your Duliet?”

(The neighbours laugh, delirious)

“Rammy feathers

With your merry feathers,  speak, or did they colonise you too…aah no, my friend, you’re too wild, and you roam with your spirit…”

(The wind, the rumours, pick up, the neighbours spin hell)

“Rameo with your big heart of a jumbo jet, wish you were a jumbo jet, fly to Duliet, in your feather jet….”

(The humans reach from the pit, but I look at a rose, beauty, they see green, just green: no poesy, imagination, spirit…I pretend not to be one, and take on bird form)

“My friend Ramjet: they have nothing left: no mind of their own, heartless, where could their spirits be then? Let’s fly, I’ll give you the sun…look, Rammy, it’s yours all along…”

(Uproar, the wind, the music, my incantation rises)

“Under the wind, glance Ramjet, something coming from below, as our hearts rise, as my spoken word, improvised, climbs, I smell totalitarianism in their green eyes…”

(The music stops, I dance a bit, a poem dawns, has come)

The wind it blows, it blows for me and my incantation, it caresses my soul, spread poesy, and most of all, put love back in Rameos soul, hiho