Mouth Open

Mouth open, saliva dripping
She nudged me by the side
Hand holding, dry eyes
Peeling oranges sweet
To turn my heart sour.

Mouth open, saliva dripping
He nudged me by the ear
“Mind holding this carton?”
Peeling oranges sweet
To turn my heart sour

Mouth open, saliva dripping
They nudged me by the back
Hand holding, wet eyes
Peeling back memories
To swirl an empty teacup.

Mouth open, saliva dripping
I nudged myself awake
Hand holding, hard erection
Letting the weight settle
Of dreams lived out in bed.

Written in a workshop after Rachel Long’s series of Open poems.

In the land of Permaculture and Poetry

“Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

A rotary application of oneself to a dedicated practice sheds lights and illuminates the heart in accordance with one’s values. Through centuries of oppression and exploitation of nature and ourselves, we have seen how the climate and ecological crisis has taken root; the mirroring of our iniquity presents a challenge to change the course of a destructive fate that leaves little to desire. When the country which claims brazenly to be ‘the land of the free’ sees an insurrection of its holier than thou democratic institution after a supposedly democratic election won by a Democrat, the irony is lost on many. Colonialism has festered in the muddy waters of privilege, asking for forgiveness to erode the guilt that has stained the affable and illustrious. Viewed in this political and historical context, our relationship with nature has run its course dry and the impact has taken its toll; mass migration and persistent natural disasters are on the horizon, let alone the wave of pandemics that has engulfed our planet since last year. A radical change has to be envisioned for us to not repeat the mistakes of old and learn from history to forfeit the eternal recurrence.

“You are not Atlas carrying the world on your shoulder. It is good to remember that the planet is carrying you.” Vandana Shiva

Learning to live with nature in a just and sustainable way is something that indigenous tribes and those historically marginalised in the global south have been doing for their lifetimes. Abetting the scientific and monetary advancements of the global north, these peoples have been able to survive through cultivation and preservation of their ecosystems and natural habitats. One particular system which speaks to this way of life is Permaculture, which was developed by two Australians in the 1970s after being in close contact with the Aborigines who lived in a simple and humble way with their environment. Permaculture encapsulated three primary ethics with twelve principles focusing on the regeneration of the Earth, a sense of community and reciprocal practice with the land and people. I am currently involved in a land project looking to set up in Wales which is attempting to manifest these practices into a space where we can live and thrive as one. Furthermore, I have just completed an online Permaculture course by the name of ‘Designing for Resilience’; this title is representative of the pressing need to carry out our daily activities from travelling to eating to working in a way that is future-proof in a world of few certainties.

“”Focus in permaculture on learning from indigenous tribal cultures is based on the evidence that these cultures have existed in relative balance with their environment and survived far longer than any of our more recent experiments in civilisation.” David Holmgrem

An integrated system of being to be realised is closer to a religion than a design framework for gardening, but Permaculture straddles beyond these mere defined boundaries and makes us question what is it that we need in order to live healthier and happier lives in accordance with the biosphere. When I was designing a garden plot for the course, many variables were taken into account such as the direction of the wind, where the Sun would be at midday, elements of shade and light, companion planting and where to place plants in a way that feeds the micro-bacteria in the soil. Engineering a precise interaction of natural systems, spotting patterns and being careful to enrich the biodiversity rather than reduce it are all key characteristics of Permaculture. In this careful methodical practice of applying reasoning to something abstract, it links generatively to poetry. Knowing where our edges and margins lie so that we utilise it through zones of mediated interaction is key to presenting something as a whole rather than a sum of its parts. Rooting ourselves in radical self-love makes the journey to understanding ourselves lighter in the context of a society built on exploitation and harm. Systems of oppression have determined our trajectory, however unpicking these and bringing them to the surface through practices like Permaculture and Poetry makes it relatable and provides a strong foundation to build from.

“Systems do not maintain themselves; even our lack of intervention is an act of maintenance. Every structure in every society is upheld by the active and passive assistance of other human beings.” Sonya Renee Taylor

Capturing the ineffable and translating it into heartbeats of rhythm, metre and figurative language is something that poets have been doing ever since its inception. Working within the confines of structured verses, the mode of language being transmitted at the time, and a coherence that borrows from the integration found within Permaculture principles is something poets have to confide in and rebel against. After years of writing poetry and seeing how the form has changes over time to reflect the collective unconscious, I have noticed that nature-based poetry from the English Romantics of Blake and Shelley to Japanese Zen poets like Ryokan and Basho have fine-tuned my awareness of the landscapes within and around me. Building a fortitude of observations that are meditations on the state of being can enlist tremendous impacts on the sense of self; journeying with Shelley to Mont Blanc was a patriarchal conquest of nature on one hand as much as it was a humble reminder of the tumults that we are subject to on a daily basis. The perceptive resonances that poetry can feed and nurture in many souls is true to its art form: learning to love one another for who we are requires as much letting go as it does quiet attention to its purpose. Taking out the roots of belonging and planting new seeds that harbour dreams of a new vision are what we can be transported to when we harvest the fruits of being in the land of permaculture and poetry.

­­­

Take Out the Roots

Green weeds populating walkways

Let their hairs grow tangled and knotted

Eyebrows taciturn in dietary consumption

Floorboards walked on, clean and used

A recycled toothbrush put to greener use

Cleaning bristles that store dirt well

---

Planting wallflowers by a bedside

Taking out grass to rake in woodchip

An ancient restorative process heals

Mixing cartons with jelly and pie

Dark tunnels, for as far as you can see

The rabbit hole drowns out sound at large

Making us deaf to applause all around

---

The moon begs a question to be asked

Tilling the land, watching the birds grow

To Mercury’s relative orbit of its moon

Setting dead presidents alight by day

Candle wax dripping to spawn memory

A jugular creation patched up in seams

Bends a hand to accepting revolt involuntarily

---

Desiccate salt through porous fingers

Take out what’s unneeded,

And put in some of that good stuff!

Tuck into This

Visceral arm scratch bites image of vengeance,

Melting snow lets tongues waggle free at the prospect

Of six-inch heels stamping their way through a scene,

One night in Miami softens blow of a carrot on a stick,

Vicarious mooncup holds sanguine disposition,

Ruby thrush licks the nape of a new born babe,

Spinning decks, destiny manifests sweat patches,

Wet feet tell a story, non-binary reality in glory,

Tunnelling breath as a political saga trespasses reason,

Collective farmers’ strikes take heed of contraception,

Approach at an arm’s length in case of spreading virus,

Watching our health disappear like a girl chasing a rabbit,

Salad side dishes dressed up to carve olive pretence.

Dice it Up!

thai red curry, paste homemade, injects chilli

into tongues, wagging for approval, fanning flames

beneath the sun; apricot diets and walnut pieces

eclipse our receding expectations

wilting in the dark, waiting for a spark

to ignite feelings that sway gentle like a breeze.

---

alarm bell jitters, one foot standing, the other falters

rummaging old records for something electric

to move bodies in epileptic wonder

climbing stairways, descending false reasons

trigger sensations at every release.

---

when food enters my mouth, I doubt and consign

ruptures in the spleen to drink milk and appeal

to loud vicarious applauses that are seen.

Cascade

Crunch into the corner of toast, marmalade yellow,

Stretch sequins onto blueberry headsets, designed to fit

Stereotypes blasted out at Notting Hill, exotic free

Fishing metaphors by the bedside, unlocking desire;

---

An echo chamber we say hello to on a daily basis,

Turning comfort into dis-ease, a minstrel show peeled,

Aesthetic portraits hang memories drawn for size,

Amputating chickpea omelettes by breaking an egg,

Yoking briskly, tired moon sets sail white;

---

Crisp diction turns red hot reflection of fantasy,

That weds dates splurged at an alliance for workers,

Standing up for one’s rights as lovers rock,

Autumn flushes, waterfalls roll off the tongue.

An Auditorium

An elephant in a circle above,

Swaying fern and bullfinches swirl,

Remote destinies intertwine amongst species,

Beds strung high for witnesses to match,

Evidence requires sub-text, caterpillars jump at an opportunity

To migrate between sleep, dreams lift the top up,

Eels glide sideways down the stream

Curtailing books read by the bedside,

Welsh countryside, verdant with sloping valleys,

Girdles its loins, curtains laced by red and yellow

Silk netted, thrown stars with acid eyes,

Trembling fauna irradiates as we pierce our perspective,

Sitting marooned on a sandy rock,

Biting a sandwich enriched by squash designs.

Promo #1

Inability to regulate mood when set off by a trigger,

Alarm bells ring, a sign provoking jitters,

Oppressed by thoughts that stare self-reflection in the face,

Critical and hysterical, the sweat starts to evaporate,

Projecting insecurities onto others,

Defending self at all costs,

Whistle violence by the bedside,

Inject serum of cortisol to let fear loose,

Confined premise lends its palm towards heaven,

Having achieved everything there is, wincing at a tree;

---

Move back through dreams, let trauma erase itself,

A visceral memory made whole inside contexts,

Come around the Maangamizi blues in Brixton,

Where a revolution takes place 

to raise consciousness and shed light on all forms of oppression.

Four Love: Act Four

Act Four

Inside a small, antiquated public house in a village town. Many people standing around the bar, and some sitting on chairs around tables. Interior is mahogany decorated, a fireside burning wood in the corner.

Enter Identity

Identity The self is a bundle of associations kept in memory across time’s duration. It has many layers that reveal themselves during dream. My fortress holds the key to perception and consciousness; a matter of reality for the proprietor.

Enter Agape, Eros, Storge & Philia 

Agape Very bust tonight. Let’s walk over to that table by the fireside that has that one person sitting by themselves. Looks like they need some company.

Storge Seems like a sensible idea.

Eros, Philia We’ll follow your lead.

(They walk over and sit next to Identity)

Philia What is your good name? I am Philia, and this is Agape, Eros and Storge.

Identity I am Identity. You could imagine me as a complex algorithm that requires unlocking, or a simple puzzle that just needs putting together. Without me you are lost. With me, and you can realise the highest state of your being. I can be charitable or egregious, selfish or selfless. It all depends on the nature of your perception and how you live your consciousness.

Storge I came in here for a relaxing evening with some common folk, and here we are, meddling with Identity.

Eros It’s a matter of Identity, parading itself as obsequious arrogance. If we tap into the web of conceit, will there be any changes to your confidence?

Identity I’ve been known to crumble before. Eros, you are mighty sceptical. Have you suffered from the illness of impregnable fear and had past experiences that you’d rather get rid of?

Eros I take that as a rhetorical question. We’ve all faced the harrowing emptiness that sucks up thoughts and leaves you in a paralysed, dizzied position crawling for a safety net.

Storge A shadow play of nightmares, paranoia creating double indemnity and a chip on your back. Carrying dead weight around, slumping to your knees; these are the effects that internalised and bottled up feelings create when not communicated.

Philia It’s why friends exist as counterparts, removing emotional blockages and opening the valve, letting out hot steam every once in a while, to cleanse the palette of muddy waters.

Identity Sensitive, though I am, to others opinions about myself and how I function in accordance with society’s wishes, I grow ripe when left in favourable conditions, free of materials ties, and suffer under strenuous, pressurised situations where I am expected to behave in a certain fashion.

Agape You seem very fragile, like glass that has been tempered with and is easily broken when cared for by someone with no prior experience. A soft shell that can be opened, like a peach’s skin torn asunder by insatiable fingers.

Enter Doctor

Doctor This table looked lively from the entrance. May I be able to join this party?

Storge Of course you may.

Eros Let me guess your occupation. Would it be something connected to healthcare? Like bees making honey from nectar, the nurse and the doctor mend hearts and broken wounds in a collective hive called a hospital.

Doctor So sure you are, and yet so right. Clairvoyance being one of your traits, I take it? Some have the ability to see through another person, others completely forecast the future, like when it is going to rain or that an accident is going to take place that day. I am Doctor, caring for the sick and tirelessly stepping in for others. Always on duty, as it is a human right to help one another, don’t you feel?

Philia I feel, Doctor. Sometimes feelings can lead to broken hearts, when put in misunderstanding’s conjecture and not listening to your own body telling you how to maintain it and what to regulate. I hold the opinion that most maladies can be prevented, if healthy eating, regular exercise and plentiful water are imbibed on a frequent basis.

Doctor You could work in my hospital! That is of the same opinion as most in my profession.

Identity As someone who heals the sick and disaffected, would you be able to patch up multiple personality disorders?

Doctor I strictly deal with physiological illnesses and occasionally psychosomatic ones. The psychological ‘disorders’, as you phrase it, are a specialist branch that is handled by others. I find comfort in pursuing purposeful work that mediates between the layers of the conscious mind.

Agape It comes truly to the question of what is the meaning of life? Is it a question that cannot be answered in one word or sentence?

Identity The limits of my world are the limits of my language. Silence is golden. Between each breath that is exhaled and inhaled, is the spirit that transcends all reality. We strive for meaning within set confines and imagine the rest without a compass to guide us.

Philia Therefore people are led astray and get lost in a vast expanse, trying to retrace their footsteps, finding that their senses have been too refined to think outside the box.

Agape Like the parable of the blind men and an elephant, we all touch a certain part of the elephant whilst in complete darkness and form our hypothesis of what reality is. We take up many different personalities across our ages, from scrawny teenager to under-achieving 30-something. There is a common thread that can weave realisation, in that behind the physical changes of our bodies, our souls are kindred, genial and almost the same from the cradle to the grave. We colour perception with concepts, ideas and thoughts; once these are removed, it is the same uninhibited way of seeing as a child would look at a leaf for the first time. That newfound sense of wonder!

Doctor I have experienced this myself whilst operating on a patient.

Agape Expand please, if you will.

Doctor As an incision was being made onto the left shoulder, blood poured in reminiscence of nostalgia at when my brother had a cut from his shin when I was four. It was my earliest memory of when I saw blood leave a human body.

Storge Such flashbacks do take us on a journey to self-discovery. The sense of smell is particularly foreboding for trips into my childhood. First impressions do count.

Doctor Thank you ladies and gentleman for a fascinating conversation. I’ll be heading home now to give my mind a break. Good night!

All Good night Doctor!

Exit Doctor

Identity The doctors of ancient times used to be able to treat any sort of sickness. Nowadays, division of labour has made everyone an expert at one field and a complete amateur at anything else. An all-encompassing individual has a breadth of skills and knowledge at their disposal, being able to dynamically apply themselves in any situation, like a Swiss knife used by a handyman.

Eros A jack of all trades or a master of none.

Storge Inadequacy stops most from feeling out their natural characteristics, orienting themselves towards economic and social functions that strip away, what in fact, they are best at, reducing them to cogs in a wheel acting under the council of supervision, looking for the next promotion.

Eros If we recognise our flaws, talk about them openly, and have a positive form of interaction with our closest circles, passion flows and the attitude to achieve something greater than the immediate needs, all animals tend to, will be ignited.

Philia Dreary eyes, waking up at sunrise, a lack of motivation and an impending dread at the day ahead sets the scene for mendacity, complicity and unhappiness. Energy reduced to a commodity that can be bought at a cheap price is a symbol of being tethered by a slim and tender rope.

Agape Failure to act on behalf of yourself is tantamount to suicide. Taking responsibility for your own actions, being honest and accountable for them, and admitting to mistakes are all fertilisers of a peaceful conscience; a human right, let’s say.

Identity An identity crisis is a search for meaning, purpose and will. We engineer everything in our lives to conform to our desired wishes, yet these are fabricated and end up not being satisfactory at all. Release yourself from the control centre and plug into that which makes you whole.

Agape Certainly agree with you Identity. You make life possible to us all.

Eros The fusion of souls across unknown destinies is spell-binding poetry.

Philia The only certainty is uncertainty. Chaos and disorder rule.

Storge Love is what it all amounts to.

Exit Storge, Philia, Eros & Agape

Identity Hearts melted by the fireside, and I discovered myself.

Exit Identity

Curtain

What’s Going On?

Don’t punish me with brutality,

Just talk with me, listen to our bloody concerns,

For powers to be have turned the tables

And put us in the firing line for outing racial injustice;

We live in a world where smears are rational,

Concealed smiles make up for extracting resources,

Conservation companies making millions,

By repressing the indigenous and taping our mouths;

I wash my hands daily,

Cleaning the dirt that has infested my generation,

Black lives matter, until it’s not being reported,

Every trend shared, every lie forgiven.

---

A pink-red rose in an alms bowl for a beggar

Of justice for all; George, Martin and Malcolm,

Names scroll down a page,

No punctuation to frame the rage

Listen to the silence that pierces your heart,

Police violence, taking away our freedom

To be, express, voice dissidence and unite

Over common struggles, humanity shares love.

---

They’ll defend themselves to the hill,

And forge battle scars through legal contriteness

What power to we have when the mind is censored?

Hijack the premise to resolve any tensions,

Point the gun at innocent bystanders,

And pinch your nose for telling the truth

About all forms of social injustice

That lies at the root of this sick, predatory society.

#BlackLivesMatter

Three Sisters

Plant the corn first, watch it hatch its shell

Let the beans be planted next, winding its way up

Leaves spiral around reaching towards the light

Purple pops, the hops break through on the small side

Squash enlarges on the floor, widening its girth

Replace with herbs, tomatoes and courgettes for a twist

Mix it up, serve on a platter and eat well

For seeds sprout to nourish our souls

With every day, growth spurs on diversity

Cultivating intention through precise interaction

The floor is covered with nutrients, insects and bacteria

That cover the natural tapestry of bountiful abundance

An Invocation to Earth

Brakes need lubricating, dig into the underside of the carriage

Birch and maple set on fire by the distance

Where we can’t touch them, protect or nourish

Segregated by weeds, protective tape and money

Set down our planes, let oil prices slide negative

When solutions are provided by kids with ocean backgrounds

Their energy is transparent for all to see

Plate up the courage, lilacs and twisted ropes unfurl

Like an orchid opening up its seeds

To be carried away by wind, cross-fertilised by rain and shine

I say things not to please

A dust stained window, yellow on the edges, brown around the sides

Cups waterfalls and pledges, Earth rising above burial grounds.

Corona Poem

There’s a wild virus on the loose,

Making people loose some screws,

Diving deep into oblivion and isolation,

Segregated existences, mutually confined,

Breathing carcinogens without knowing,

Passing diseases on like confetti,

Sprinkling germs into our nostrils,

Wishing fear away of infection,

Setting mutual aid communities up

In response to inadequate measures from the top,

We seek solace in our interactions

Whilst keeping up social distance,

A new contagious world lives on,

Breaking the system, blaming the sun.

Show your true colours

Blue orchids impressed onto hands that yellow with disdain,

A private members-only poetry club invited to alone,

Raising standards in complicity with carnal satisfaction,

Waiting in the rain with a brolly for two who are standing,

Chilli and lemon chips with mango and passion fruit smoothie,

Washes down toxins that have intercepted understanding,

A pagoda stares upright into the azure sky above,

Linking arms, carrying expectations onto a pillar of knowledge,

Being wet enough to enter the temple that houses conceit,

Lily of the valley and crocus green straddle unkempt,

A rose wallflower ignites the poison pen within,

How batteries recharge when inexactitude is reciprocated,

Over plantain, red meat and French fries at a dinner table.

Four Love: Act Three

Act Three

By an open field, filled with trees, plants, flowers, insects, birds and many other species. Sun is shining, weather is sweet.

Enter Agape & Storge

Storge Mellifluous is the bird’s tweeting from up high. The celestial notes open a chamber that breathes love inside of my throat. A beautiful sound, awakening my senses to the possibilities in this field.

Agape Each petal holds appreciation of its owner’s recognition. An infinitely complex and beautiful flower looks incredibly simple from the outside, however it is a multi-cellular storehouse that gives more than it takes.

Enter Philia & Eros

Eros We got caught up with a silver winged butterfly that had golden round spots and was swooning ethereally from plant to tree to flower. The sight was one of magnificence; an orchestra that birthed aesthetic wonder at the redolence created.

Philia The nature of all this in front of us reminds me to let everything take its natural course. Metamorphoses happen in a lifetime, a caterpillar, slender and small, turns into a free-flying butterfly and dances for fun, seeking delightful play in an enchanting trance-like state.

Agape All singing from the same hymn sheet here. Let nature decide our lives for ourselves, its course exposed to the five elements of wind, air, fire, water and earth. Humans have a tendency to analytically overcomplicate their decision making, only being secure within pre-determined frameworks of reference and not willing to give in for the sake of others. Stubbornness like a bull that doesn’t want to move anywhere.

Storge It’s such an insignificant trifle to hold on for dear life in situations that can never be resolved. Boosting your own ego, protecting yourself from insecurity and playing the power game leads to corruption of the sprit, broken family ties and maniacal two-sidedness to personality.

Eros Like water off a duck’s back, the penny drops when in extreme peril, fleeing danger and reassessing the consequences of your actions.

We are surrounded by beauty here in its original form, don’t you think? Art is an imitation of nature, capturing the essence of it through a medium.

Phila Art is the expression of the imagination, a direct transference of the mind and a communication guide that brings people together: friendships are made listening to music under blooming trees; lovers go to the theatre to serenade; family all go to the gallery, each taking something different from the experience; and communities are heartily joined by poetry, its eternal teachings catching fire within the souls that transcend boundaries. A wholly communion; shared connections that outlive our existence.

Storge Art for art’s sake. The artist struggles, the image of solitary seclusion in a damp and unlit room, malnourished and aching from head to toe is not an uncommon one. They are walking paradoxes, starving themselves to become full of creative energy.

Agape And troubled minds too, they have, spitting out society’s phlegm, reversing the mistakes of yesterday’s sorrow, representing something another hasn’t seen and trying to earn a living from a personal, emotional piece of work. Selling ideas and thoughts takes a piece of the heart away. Doing it for the sake of freedom and love, abstracted and purely ideal reasons, is the real artist’s claim to fame.

Enter Maid

Eros She wears a golden crown on her forehead, has pigtail hair and a face to match any princess. Thus, nature brings her forth to us, oh heavenly beauty!

Maid I am pleased to meet the acquaintances of all four of you here. May I have your names?

Eros She is Storge. (pointing to Storge)

Agape He is Philia. (pointing to Philia)

Philia She is Eros. (pointing to Eros)

Storge He is Agape. (pointing to Agape)

Maid What a pleasant day it is to take a stroll by the countryside and meet four strangers who have regal names to match their inviting expressions. Forgive me for talking out loud, I have a penchant for an overactive imagination that lets slip on the occasion.

Eros That happens to me too! Affable, you are, and you go by the name of?

Maid My name is Maid. I look after my owner’s household and am supporting myself independently as a housewife, a gardener and occasional actress.

Storge A woman of many talents! What roles do you play?

Maid Oh, just the ones that I can relate to, like a house servant, or working-class characters who have dignity and try to stick up for themselves. It’s niche, but I am particular about these things.

Agape You sound scrupulous and mutiny is on your lips. The poor have for centuries been tacitly oppressed by the rich through hierarchies of power and control. Why do you, as a Maid, put up with this and continue the servile relationship that has tied the hands of those wanting to escape the system?

Maid Because life presents an illusion of choice, and you have to play your part, maintaining the function of society. I believe rebelling with angst doesn’t get you anywhere, as people are stuck in their views and hardwired to formulate certain perceptions of themselves and others.

Philia Everyone, have a look up at that giant oak tree. There’s a solitary bird, namely a Skylark, who is singing a tune. What does it know of the poverty trap, or the refusal to stick up for your own principals? Animals have a conscience to survive, mate and feed themselves, living by basic commandments and not concerning themselves with existential dilemmas that lead to self-doubt and crippling anxiety. The dread of action lacks resolve. Nature is king and queen if you let your unconscious unfurl like a palatial garden, bearing fruit with age and tending to it with experience; then your livelihood will be in concordance with a serenity of mind, heart and will.

Maid Oh so majestic are your words Philia! Just like I hear at the theatre, reminding me of times gone by where I’ve been swept away by the depth of meaning and been taken onto another island, full of ripened flowers and insects that are kind to them.

Enter Memory

Memory Do not forget, for my name is Memory. Without me, you would feign to have an identity. Past, present and future, all are connected in symmetry. The hippocampus stores me and imagination lets me roam free.

Agape I like the sound of Memory.

Philia Wait! Let me count: one, two, three, four, five, and six including myself. This is a new record to remember!

Memory Each living being has the container of everything that has gone before it. We have the ability for total recollection through photographic memory; tapping into creation’s centre by retracing the evolution of our species. That white plant with a yellow head that you see ahead of that tree, has its memory in the roots, germinating from seeds that have dispersed. Every perception that we perceive comes from causation, contiguity and resemblance. Therefore, all experience pre-dates any meaning we attach to our reality.

Storge Time keeps on slipping away. I rewind the moments like a cassette tape, hissing and weaving through Memory, although far too often, I either displace the thought with something fabricated, or fill in the missing blanks by dreaming it up. Is that a common phenomenon?

Eros Yes, to my mind it is. I agree on principle that it is possible to remember everything, however we’ve grown to forget certain dislikes, guilts and embarrassing parts of ourselves to adjust with daily living. If every break-up was etched in Memory, who would want to start a new relationship?

Philia Point being we have the capacity in theory but protect ourselves in practice from exposing our wounds to the wind. Painful times are easily removed from a conscience, although they leave a lasting impression.

Maid I associate all forgetfulness with ironing. The bedsheets, torn linen, that need impressing.

Memory Repetition can be a medicine; the best way to capture the image would be through association, building a nexus of connections that are regularly visited creating a wealth of ready information to draw from.

Maid There are many drawers in the home I inhabit. They open and close like my eyes. The difference is that one gets full and unmanageable, whereas the other just needs clearing every so often.

Agape The hedgehog over there (pointing with real tenacity) is prickly, grey and likes the summer. Will any of us remember what I just said beyond that moment? Sometimes we would rather capture the moment and imagine nothing went before or after it, thereby making it eternal. Isn’t that what art tries to convey? A semblance of the eternal.

Memory Though I disparage from concomitant fraternising, I bring my two hands together to salute you on that remark.

Agape I love it when Memory is on my side!

Memory Short and sweet was my part,

For I will creep into your heart,

Forget, and you shall pay your dues,

Remember, and you shall be my muse.

Exit Memory

Storge A very cellular song. Heart to heart connection, an invisible tapestry to your next of kin.

Maid My hair is knotted like the branches of a tree. Forget me not, though farewell it is from me. Bye!

Exit Maid

Philia She doused her flames in imagination’s fire.

Eros And tended to her weeds, killing all desire.

Exeunt