Tag: dying

that one curmudgeonly leaf

A poem.

i’ll have the news on to catch the top stories
but after a few minutes it’s purposeless –
they’re all the same bullet points from yesterday
through a perspection of passing time:

some people died
and one famous about to;
displaced persons from a camp removal;
one’s a terrorist about to be tried;
another one biding to be penalized;
global warming at an all-time high;
random attacks on the rise;
car pile-up on the ninety-nine…

by then all i feel is empty inside:
it sounds like a Saturday night of gaming
than a generation’s place in humankind.
i put a CD i’ve heard a thousand times in the drive
that doesn’t come standard with new models of that type,
because i’d rather hear Morrissey whine
than to face my own materiality of being alive.

when my world ends,
i don’t want it to be from a shot to the head
or an environment that kills me in earnestness
or even just peacefully laying in bed:

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no more moves

A one-act play.

“A person on their deathbed spends their final living moments arguing with their inner-child.”

THE SCENE
A private room in Westernized hospice care. Present Day.

THE CAST
A corpse, at-least 70-years-old, in the last minutes of their life.
The Child in Their Mind’s Eye, 15-or-under, the Corpse’s adolescent-aged mirror-image.
Some loved ones, 2-3 in quantity, middle-aged, grieving bedside.

WRITER’S NOTE: The role of “Corpse” (and by extension the “Child”) has been transcribed below in the masculine pronoun, but can be cast as non-binary with reflected changes in the dialogue.

*

LIGHTS UP. A CORPSE – or at least, someone minutes away from “being” one – lays in a near-comatose state on a hospital bed in the center of the stage. On stage-right, sitting in chairs facing them are LOVED ONES, with their backs to the audience. They are inconsolable and spend the duration of the play grieving – silently, unless noted. We can hear their cries as the play starts. After some time, a CHILD enters stage-right, and the grieving quietens. The child walks casually up to the bed and starts lightly-shaking the corpse awake.

CHILD
Hey! Hey, wake up!

CORPSE
Hmm?

CHILD
Wake up! It’s time for school!

CORPSE
What is it? What’s going on? (puts their hand up to their mouth)
…Oh my God, I can speak! (puts their other hand up to their face)
I can move! Holy shit, it’s a miracle!

CHILD
(facetiously)
Yay!

CORPSE
(to their Loved Ones)
Look, everyone! Look!

CHILD
Oh, they’re looking!

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poor fish

A one-act play.

“A walk in the park becomes an earnest spiral of naive morality when a mother and her young daughter happen on a fisherman.”

THE SCENE
A suburban park surrounding a lake, during a mild day in early-Spring. Present Day.

THE CAST
A Man, 60s, spending his day fishing.
A Girl, under 10, who happens upon him.
Her Mom, late-20s/early-30s, her guardian.

*

LIGHTS UP. A MAN stands alone off to stage-left, facing away from the audience, casting off with an imaginary fishing rod. There are sounds of a public park: birds; wind; and the resting of water. There is a bench beside the man and on top rests his backpack, a cooler, and some other miscellaneous items: he is set up to be standing there for the day.

ENTER a little GIRL, clad in a one-piece rainsuit, jumping on-stage from stage-right into imaginary puddles with her yellow boots. Her MOM follows her. The girl is singing a little song.

MOM
Honey, don’t go off too far!

GIRL
I won’t!

The girl circles back to Mom. Near her, the girl falls on her bum. Mom helps her up.

MOM
Good thing we bought you this rainsuit!

GIRL
Mom, I’m going to be all wet!

MOM
You won’t. It’ll be like magic.
Stand here a second. Watch that man.

They watch the fisherman.

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