They Were Gentle
Posted by Mark R. Prime people on Aug 30, 2006
They tiptoed into my sleep wearing dusty clothes and no shoes.
They tried to not let me hear them but the little girl put forth a giggle and the boy laughed, too.
Soon the whole room teetered in merriment.
A while passed and a hush fell around us; a silent prayer,
save for the short breaths of the children; petite puffs in search of a throat.
There were nearly twenty in the group. They had been searching for years
but were always met with sideways glances, and oftentimes violence.
They smelled like sand.
They were gentle.
I sensed they’d come for my help, but knew not what I could do.
The looks on their faces; the pain. The anguish... The truth...
The little boy now began to cry, followed soon after by the little girl.
Then, like rain, we all began to weep.
Our crying grew into an unexpected howl; a sorrowful choir of wingless angels...
and a great wall of water crashed down upon us dropping from the shattered roof of heaven...
COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE (A short play) 4
Posted by Mark R. Prime anti-war plays, peace plays on Aug 21, 2006
A game of hide and seek with terror.
The stage is completely in shadow. We are in The War Zone. There is a slight sound of something very large smacking its lips. It is subtle, yet disturbing. A spot rises on THE GRANDMOTHER (the oldest living thing) standing center. Though ancient, she is elegant and graceful. Her skin resembles tree bark and vine. She addresses the audience as lights rise on the stage.
Open the play [+/-]
THE EMPIRE HAS NO HEART (A one-act play) 3
Posted by Mark R. Prime anti-war plays, peace plays on Aug 9, 2006
Two men running away from empire into truth...
(Lights rise on a bare stage. Lightening flashes are seen slashing across the sky. Soon a distant rumble like that of an advancing line of military tanks can be heard far off in the distance behind the audience. Two men enter running from the back of the house to the stage. They stop center. As the action takes place the rumbling grows ever so louder.)
Open the play [+/-]
MAN 1: It hasn’t a heart!
MAN 2: It’s too monstrous!
MAN 1: It hasn’t a heart!
MAN 2: Its fire raining down upon us!
MAN 1: Upon the Maroun al-Ras and-
MAN 2: -Bint Jubayl-
MAN 1/MAN 2: -And Ayta al-Sha’b!
MAN 1: It hasn’t a heart!
MAN 2: The great steel birds far, far away, soaring high above-
MAN 1: -far from the fires of resistance fighters in resolute Lebanon!
MAN 2: The great vengeance pours forth over the bodies of our tender, sleeping children.
MAN 1: The blameless children.
MAN 2: They were merely seeking safety in the House of the Disabled.
MAN 1: In Qana. Yes.
MAN 2: They were fugitives from the hall of guns.
MAN 1: Only to be lifted skyward by the hell of the steel bird.
MAN 2: Globalization. Damn globalization’s strife…
MAN 1: It strives to make us all alike.
MAN 2: Alike through consumption.
MAN 1: It has no heart. The world watches as they murder and murder and murder.
(Man 2 suddenly is motionless.)
MAN 2: We are all heartless. All of us are heartless as we watch them pulverize children. Snatch every vein that pulses in Lebanon. Bloodbath after bloodbath and we- we- I- I- I watch as the whole world watches!
MAN 1: My friend, we are not responsible for this.
MAN 2: Not in horror, in monstrous apathy! Massacre after massacre-
MAN 1: Those responsible are tucked neatly away wrapped in new money.
MAN 2: We- I- I am the monstrous beast responsible for watching the horror!
MAN 1: War is their paycheck, not ours. You’re not making any sense.
MAN 2: The Terror just grows and grows!
MAN 1: The money tree just grows and grows!
MAN 2: We all feed, one way or another upon the blood and meat of tender children.
MAN 1: No, we do not! What is wrong with you?
MAN 2: Why must the world- why must I just watch?
MAN 1: They haven’t a heart! You lost everybody you knew! You are innocent! They've no heart!
MAN 2: You always say that, but they must! We must! I must!
MAN 1: They will ignore our pleas in order to flatter the legend of iron and fire! Qana 1996 and now Qana 2006! What is wrong with you?
MAN 2: Much water has flowed between our bridges.
MAN 1: Apparently not enough to wash them of hatred.
MAN 2: All that water and we've not drank of its hope.
MAN 1: No! Ten years is a long time to you and I! It is but a moment to the beast with its steel planes, tanks and bombs!
MAN 2: We are all guilty for the beast’s growth. I am guilty too!
MAN 1: No! Shut up! Shut up! You’re not making any sense! You and I are not responsible for this! They! They are responsible! They demolish houses right on top of the living! They burn the small bodies of children in Lebanon and Palestine! Tens of thousands of tons of bombs brought from the remote, murderous lands of Columbus, snatching the souls of millions from this land! The beast shows no mercy! Do you hear me? You are innocent! You and I are innocent!
(The rumbling now seems to be upon them as the ground shakes and the sound pierces the air.)
MAN 1: (Running away.) No! Oh, God! Run! Come on! They are upon us! Run! Run! Run! Run! It hasn't a heart! (Man 1 is gone.)
(The noise is almost unbearable and the quaking is intense. Man 2 turns to face the audience. He tears off his shirt and holds his arms out to his side as he drops to his knees.)
MAN 2: HERE I AM! IT IS I! I AM THE ONE YOU SEEK! MY HANDS WERE NOT PARALYZED, MY MOUTH NOT MUTE AS I WATCHED THE BLOOD FILL THE STREETS! I AM NOT INNOCENT! I WATCHED ALL THOSE TINY BODIES WITH THEIR BEAUTIFUL FACES- BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN AND I WATCHED! I WATCHED THEM FLY APART! I WATCHED THEM FLY APART! I HAVEN'T A HEART! I AM THE ONE YOU SEEK! I WATCHED THEM! I HAVEN'T A HEART!
(Man 2 continues to yell and cry the last line over and over as the shaking and noise seems to overtake him and lights fade to black as he screams “I have no heart!” one last time.)
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman
WAR HAT
This is my war hat, said the smirking man to the searing concrete.
I’m a war president! A war president! War’s all I know! All I know!
There is something in the stale braying of the man who hangs
words about in dread, who barks and yelps, War War War War, eternal…
This is the inane bray of an oafish bully a pseudo-tyrant’s howl, a full on liar’s groan,
I’m a war president! A war president! War’s all I know!
For all those countermand to peace they’ve a king in him.
Thousands of Iraqis Chant Death to Israel- Death to America!
gOD
Posted by Mark R. Prime creation on Aug 1, 2006
First bloom
Bomb
IED
Sacrament
Deity
Folded pain
Given thee
…A plea
…A grasp
…A hope
…A bomb
…An IED
…An unfurrowed pain
…An offering to thee
Bloom
Bomb
IED
Children
Ache
Forfeit
Thee
…Take this tree, gOD
…Take this flower
…Crush this stone
…This father
…This mother
…Arid land
…Emptiness
We are
In your image
Beautiful
Furious
Loving
Failing
THE GRANDMOTHER: Fear! Terror! Horror! (Her voice echoes.) Fear tosses its colossal head on the rooftops of Iraq, on the rooftops of the world! Look upon your terror! (We now see the bodies of Iraqi men, women and children and US and coalition troops lying all over the stage motionless.) It has not the countenance of man! It is monstrous! A grotesque formation of man’s greed! Is this what you want for your children, this- an ogre of your own making? It tosses its colossal head upon the rooftops of the world! You are not free of it!
(Four weary Iraqi citizens enter from the back of the house, two children, a boy age nine and a girl age twelve, a middle aged man and a woman. They make their way to the stage. The adults are
weary-worn from their futile searching for terror as they call out and turn bodies over.)
BOY: Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you are!
MAN: Is it you?
WOMAN: Are you the one we seek?
GIRL: Is this he?
BOY: Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you are!
GIRL: Stop saying that!
MAN: I can smell it… It is near.
WOMAN: All I smell is flesh…
GIRL: I don’t smell anything… I think my nose is deceased!
BOY: Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you are!
GIRL: I said to stop saying that you big baby!
BOY: Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you are!
GIRL: Somebody make him stop saying that! It's so annoying!
THE GRANDMOTHER: Children and mothers and fathers are red-eyed of seeking they wish to converse of loss, of a gut wrenching pain. They wish to be free of it. To rend it impotent.
WOMAN: Are you terror? (Turning over a body.)
MAN: No! That is not him! He is an Iraqi!
BOY: Terror!
WOMAN: How do you know he is not the one we seek?
MAN: His skin is too brown.
BOY: Terror!
WOMAN: He has no skin!
BOY: Terror!
MAN: It is not him!
WOMAN: How can you know if he has no skin?
BOY: Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you-
MAN: Hush, boy! Stop your yelling! Stop acting like this is some silly game. It is not a game.
GIRL: I told you to stop. Serves you right, little baby boy!
BOY: Shut up little girly baby!
GIRL: Make me you big baby!
(The boy and girl begin an innocent game of chase and seem oddly gleeful running in and around the dead bodies.)
THE GRANDMOTHER: Near the center of life, militant troops beat down doors calling out its name-
THE GRANDMOTHER/CHILDREN: Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you are!
(Suddenly a large man, holding an even larger gun, enters from behind the pile of skeletons.)
GUNMAN: Where the hell are you? I can smell your rotting flesh! Show yourself! Show yourself so we can leave this red hell of your making! We need pack it up and march ever onward! Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you are! Show yourself you coward!
THE GRANDMOTHER: The mammoth lips spit down upon them and wags a bloody tongue toward death. It is hungry for more; ravenous for unholy kingdom, dried lips smacking an unquenchable thirst. Kidnapped by its own gluttony it tosses back, and still, red-eyed children and mothers and fathers seek it out. They've not had their words yet. They need them. They wish to be free of it. To rend it lifeless.
GIRL/BOY: Terror! Terror! Come out, come out, wherever you are!
MAN/WOMAN: Hush!
GUNMAN: There you are!
(The GUNMAN unleashes the fury of his weapon, spraying death everywhere. The group falls dead.)
GUNMAN: Gotcha! I gotcha, terror! You're dead!
(The smacking sound can be heard and blood drips down upon the GUNMAN’s shoulders and helmet making loud splattering sounds.)
GUNMAN: What the-? Where the-? Where’s all this blood coming from? (Looking straight up.) Oh crap…
(Sudden blackout. The ogre’s great shriek now fills the theatre, the GUNMAN fires at will and then silence and we again hear the smacking lips.)
THE GRANDMOTHER: The grotesque formation of man’s greed, war, tosses its colossal head on the rooftops of the world, its arms and legs and torso lay dead upon the ground.
(The lights slowly fade and from the darkness all we hear is the disturbing smacking of the ogre’s bloody lips.)
Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman