work rest and play

...start of show 3 years ago?
four?

...

good evening ladies and gentlemen

my name is jem rolls and I would like to thank you for coming

before I get to the gloriously dumb comedy I would like to do a piece about the freedoms and pleasures of language

so this was originally called

work, rest and play

though its probably not called

thesaurus wrecks

nor

joining the escape committee in the prisonhouse of language

...

so here we go

...

its work rest and play

to lounge around

any time of the day

and let words light in your head

in their own sweet way

…

those carefree moments of pleasure,

I’d love to last forever,

as if a row of violinists in heaven’s wings

could roll never-ending bows

across never-ending strings

…

so why not,

say it here and now,

as if somehow

the words might work

as we would want them to

yet these words, caught

picked and decanted from a rack of waiting shelves,

their meanings twisted back on themselves,

they cripple

these words,

compromised with contradiction,

gnarled and stunted with malediction,

they belittle

so why not,

say it here and now,

as if somehow

the words might work

as we would want them to

might word that idea once half- thought,

that clarity sought but never seen,

a light where shade has always been,

the darkness now gone,

and the day laid bare and clear to view,

the way now there

to steer on through

…

and yet, too many words

and too little to say

and yet, too few words

and too much to say

so the mind remains

lumpen and limited

the legitimated numbheaded child

of each day's incestuousness,

of spermatose thoughts staying

within their own cell-sac walls,

swimming their own waters

and fertilising themselves,

when they could swarm out into the world

could throng and teem,

there far and here,

could spread out and bring back

the pollen of word and

idea

so why not, say it now,

as if somehow

the words might work

as we would want them to,

maybe a stark line

said it all anew

maybe the story pulled

you in and through

maybe a metaphor

shaped the key of your thinking

to unlock the opening idea

maybe a paradox pushed a notion apart

or pulled two ideas together

maybe it’s the wordplay

which pearled the way

to gleaning a meaning

yet these bilious lines

of digestive tract

gone acid with chill

and bitter-mouthed rant,

they are dour.

these fleshless words,

born of drear and cant,

of bloated lips

and leering tongue,

of clipped tips

all aged young,

they are sour

...

so pave me a path and strut me

in forced-march time

to regimental meter

in regimental rhyme,

pray do

so dance me a dance of a dance

of clattering angular bones,

of programmed reproductions

of elegant bon mots,

pray do

...

so why not, try now to say,

as if in some new and unfound way

the words might work as we would want them to,

edgily edging you

nearer the muddle or fear,

as if an exact phrasing

might make it clear,

as if a verbal nailing

might crack the gnarls

a pointy line might clean the clots,

a coarse paper might sand the snarls

or deftly picked words unravel the knots

yet the words airily thought,

but failing to land anywhere,

to mean anything,

to say anything

…

as still, always,

the thinking, the ideas, elude

as the words and phrasing, ill-construed,

meet acute and all oblique,

a breaking, in their making.

the words and lines ill-matched,

as the thoughts, ill-hatched,

stand unformed and weak,

a breaking, in their making.

yet why not, try now to say,

as if in some new and unfound way

the words might work

as we would want them to,

might word that thing once half- thought,

a clarity sought but never seen,

a light where shade has always been,

the darkess now gone

and all laid bare and clear to view,

the way now there to steer on through

those carefree moments of pleasure,

I’d love to last forever,

as if a row of violinists in heaven’s wings

could roll never-ending bows

across never-ending strings

…

because yes its work rest and play

to lounge around any time of the day

and let words lighten your head

in their own sweet way

...

...