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[Many scenes of consciousness with eight characters; One narrator, a Table of six Judges, (three Cyclops, three Angels) and one defendant.]

01 Apr

I Will Have The Last Word

(a scene)

Narrator:

In equal seats at the round table, each with a voice on the scale of justice,

Sat three Cyclops in disguise; wearing sunglass monocle and

Red tinted bald head rubber caps.

On the opposite side, three Angels sat with pleated wings of sea-gull feathers,

Waiting to argue for him but feeling queasy and unable.

Table:

All speaking in unison, “You have only a few words before the ultimate gavel

Echoes you, to a sentence of silence.”

“Do you understand? You only have a few words”,

 Repeated one of them, Under their breath

With a voice of compassion.

Defendant:

Everything that was bad or good,

Smiles and cries, and all those moments in-between,

Became reams of litigation suspended in litter.

 

Bound for this uncomfortable meeting,

 I showed up wearing only a t-shirt,

 Unshaven and a few items in a half empty paper bag.

 

I took my seat on a steel-gray folding chair

Without the cushion of a good history;

Braced with the events that allowed this chance, to convene.

  

Then, they began to strip-mine my life, looking and digging

Into the ground of my relatives, mentioning buried outlaws;

 Ancestors still connected to my bones.

 

All my errors descended into a million pieces of recycled confetti.

They dismissed every excuse to free me.

They found nothing of value, stating, they were unable to release me.

 

They discounted everything I had borrowed,

Insisting on their uselessness when I returned them.

I shouted above my ignorance:

 

“Dance, dance, dance you Cyclops, around my mistakes.

Fuel your caldron with distasteful acknowledgement,

Envy the situation that is not present.

And you! Preen your Angel feathers without dissent

With the oil of penance.”

 

(another scene)

Narrator:

Peering across the table, with silver cups in front of everyone

Except in front of him, he noticed in the center of the table,

A scarred brown plastic tray, sat one tin cup.

He grabbed it, banging the empty cup for their same drink

Insisting for a better portion and perhaps

forget this nightmare and let him go.

Let him go home.

Table:

 “What is it now, that everything is drunk?” Spoke one Angel.

“What is it now that you can savor?” Said one Cyclops,

Sipping his cup, on the opposite side of the table.

They all replied, in a confident anthem:

“We are all of the same dust. We are unbound, released from gravity

Without offense. Unlike you, sitting, fidgeting, now bound guilty

Before judgment.”

 

Defendant:

From this agenda, this torture

 I squealed, I rat-ed out and rolled on my ego.

               Confessing to be, in mind, an accomplice without heart.

 

 I pleaded “mercy” to the table exclaiming, “guilty!”

 

I swooned, I almost fainted. I felt the floor roll beneath me

Like silt in a receding tide.

Standing, grasping what became actually visible.

 

I kicked my chair from the table, sent it flying behind me.

I swept my space clean.

 

 Narrator:

               An empty cup pinged to the floor spilling fear where it belonged.

The echo, stretched, crawling unsuccessfully to find the exit door.

Defendant:

Who am I now, as I try to rise above this table,

Trying to escape the infinite loop that leaves the measure of me to others?

Where swearing and praying becomes a side bar for approval or complaint.

They sit across from each other, saying the same things in redundancy;

Syllable after syllable, arriving at the same conclusion, using different words.

 

(another scene)

Narrator:

He quietly sat down across wingless angels and puffy black-eyed Cyclops.

Humbly took his assigned seat at a long aluminum rectangular table,

In the State, prison dining hall.

He placed his scarred brown plastic tray carrying a milk carton

And his scooped up meal.

Today is his first day; his first spoon towards a year and a day.

(One thousand and ninety-seven left).

Saturday night: he eats folded white bread dipped in beans

Savoring the franks. He will probably eat smelt on Fridays.

 

Defendant:

I see the end recoiling back, hiding in this cosmic dust

Of breath and conscience death, .Each moment for me is mine

Within a circle without chairs of decision or indecision,

Where forgiveness, atonement and contentment has to begin.

“I am not afraid.”

 

Narrator:

Those were his last words

 Before the gavel burst into unconsciousness.

 

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21 responses to “[Many scenes of consciousness with eight characters; One narrator, a Table of six Judges, (three Cyclops, three Angels) and one defendant.]

  1. Paul F. Lenzi

    April 2, 2017 at 8:24 am

    utterly brilliant

    Liked by 1 person

     
  2. Mary

    April 2, 2017 at 11:40 am

    That indeed is quite a tale. The ending is really inspired.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  3. Sumana Roy

    April 2, 2017 at 11:56 am

    ‘Each moment for me is mine’ and ‘I am not afraid’…all we need is this…enjoyed the lines…

    Liked by 1 person

     
  4. Björn Rudberg (brudberg)

    April 2, 2017 at 12:40 pm

    I think that this is what a trial would feel like… to me this rings of Kafka and a process for nothing really,

    Liked by 1 person

     
  5. Sherry Marr

    April 2, 2017 at 1:22 pm

    This is a gripping read. It makes me think of one’s life review at the day of judgment. I hope for kind angels, and no cyclops (scary!). You painted the setting so well I could picture it all. Wowzers, kiddo! What a tale well-told!

    Liked by 2 people

     
  6. Magaly Guerrero

    April 2, 2017 at 2:50 pm

    I like the contradictory image you offer us in the last line. The thought of something bursting into unconsciousness sounds violent… and quiet.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  7. Rommy Driks

    April 2, 2017 at 3:46 pm

    At least he saw his end coming without fear. That is a small victory.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  8. annell4

    April 2, 2017 at 4:03 pm

    An interesting scene, perhaps it is judgement day, or Through the Looking Glass, a section not written, but it seems to me the same feeling. Oh, those one-eyed cyclops.

    Liked by 2 people

     
  9. magicofwordsblog

    April 2, 2017 at 4:23 pm

    A poem of epic proportions. Ending on a positive note of hope.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  10. gillena

    April 2, 2017 at 4:44 pm

    Luv the surprise end
    AND
    “in disguise; wearing sunglass mono-cycle and

    Wearing red tinted bald head rubber caps.”

    LOL

    Thanks for dropping by my Sunday Standard today ZQ

    Much love

    Liked by 1 person

     
  11. divalounger

    April 2, 2017 at 5:51 pm

    I am not sure that I get all the nuance in this piece. I have a feeling that the more you read this, the deeper it goes. But what a great scene! For me, this has a “waiting for Godot” feel to it.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  12. 1sojournal

    April 2, 2017 at 6:38 pm

    Wonderfully imaginative portrayal of the rack we tie ourselves to when we’ve done something we aren’t sure is right or wrong. Sleepless nights,

    Elizabeth

    https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2017/04/02/april-pad-challenge-day-2/

    Liked by 1 person

     
  13. Sanaa Rizvi (@rizvi_sanaa)

    April 2, 2017 at 6:52 pm

    This is brilliantly penned! Kudos 😀

    Liked by 1 person

     
  14. ZQ

    April 2, 2017 at 7:43 pm

    Great victory!

    Like

     
  15. ZQ

    April 2, 2017 at 7:45 pm

    Did I say GREAT victory

    Like

     
  16. Truedessa

    April 2, 2017 at 8:53 pm

    This was absolutely fabulous to read, your muse was indeed busy. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  17. thotpurge

    April 2, 2017 at 8:58 pm

    Smiles and cries, and all those moments in-between,
    Became reams of litigation suspended in litter… love this..the idea and the craft.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  18. Kerry O'Connor

    April 3, 2017 at 6:14 am

    all those moments in-between,
    Became reams of litigation suspended in litter.

    This is such a profound thought. I commend the amount of work that went into producing so fine a piece of literature.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  19. Myrna Rosa

    April 3, 2017 at 10:24 am

    This is quite a write. Makes one think of one’s own judgement. That burst of the gavel was a hopeful and dramatic ending.

    Liked by 1 person

     
  20. C.C.

    April 5, 2017 at 10:04 pm

    The scenes you’ve set here are stunning…really brilliant. And the idea of leaving ‘the measure of me to others’ in an infinite loop is so very less satisfying than living by the philosophy that “each moment for me is mine” 😉

    Liked by 1 person

     
  21. M

    April 9, 2017 at 2:25 am

    fantastic write ~

    Liked by 1 person

     

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