THE BIG PINK
Erwan Atcheson
Copyright 2012 Erwan Atcheson
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your
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purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form.
To my parents: Kristiane and David
***
PREFACE
This book is FREE!
No its not. Its partly free.
If you like it, you must give what you like to charity.
Not any charity. You must give to particular charities; wonderful, cost-effective, maximum-good-doing charities.
Please see your way to the Giving What We Can website for details.
It recommends really amazing charities and explains why they are amazing.
I’d like you to give 10% of your income to those charities.
Enjoy!
E. A. 2012
www.givingwhatwecan.org
***
Table of Contents
OVERTURE IN VERSE
Canto One
Canto Two
Canto Three
Canto Four
Canto Five
FIRST TEXT
SECOND TEXT
THE THIRD TEXT
TEXT FOUR
TEXT FIVE
TEXT THE SIXTH
BOOK SEVEN
OVERTURE IN VERSE
Canto One
O Goddess sing of how the Pink House went
From being fairly clean to state unkempt.
The house was pink outside and clean within
The dishes scrubbed, all rubbish in the bin
The kitchen bright and countertops kept free
All plates and cups were where they ought to be
The livingroom was ordered nice and neat
With walls as straight as right angles do meet.
Both toilets freshly smelt like rose or vine
The showers had not yet seen a spot of grime.
Each room was as a God-writ harmony
With spotless carpets perfect to a T.
The Pink House first was occupied by eight
Young men, one woman, paying average rate.
The first was science-loving Neil who lived
A year in there before the rest arrived.
Then beer-delighting Barry moved in next
When Neil informed him of the house by text.
Young Mitchell brought along with him his mate
A chap called Emmett seeking strong debate
This problem-seeking Emmett brought with him
A lazy-bones known by the name of Jim
James Hendry of the Music School his name
Debussy was the muse he did acclaim.
Quick-tempered Levin, surname of MacHill
Knew Neil and so he too entered the mill.
Now long-haired Levin, different from the last
Desired a home. 'But where?' he Emmett asked.
Said Emmett: 'Move you two in here with us.
Just jump aboard the next Dungiven bus.'
He also meant his cousin Hamish, who
To Gortenaghy village bade adieu.
Such were the friends. Two empty rooms remained
Which by two strangers were forthwith obtained.
The ground floor room bean-eating Fallah took
The latter pulse being what he liked to cook.
And finally came Catherine, Belfast-bred
Whose happiness at times seemed overspread.
Before beginning properly this tale
There are two other persons to unveil.
An architect in training, Meabh comes in
As Levin's lover. She had an exact twin.
Philosophizing Erwan found the Pink
By dint of going there one time to drink.
Now with this soccer side O Muse begin
To tell which side will lose and whose will win.
Well firstly, who's the enemy they fight,
Since in those terms you call me to recite?
O Muse I wish I knew but you see I've
Been wandering without knowing whence I drive.
But don't you know that poetry's an art?
You've got to know the end before you start.
I'm sorry, Muse, I've not done this before.
I'd always thought of poetry a bore.
A bore? My goodness friend that's it we're through
You called me here before your time was due.
What meaning that? I thought your help was free
To those who called upon you with their plea.
Hello? O dear my reader now it looks
Like you and I alone must cook these books
Or rather I alone, since you must read.
This will be poor. Well never mind. Proceed…
We'll start with nine-eleven. That's the date
When four planes hit America in hate.
Three thousand died from burning tower's fall
And all the world stood back and was appalled.
The brave US was rocked, but swore to fight,
'Defenders of democracy and right.'
But was their fight correct? That is not cert-
ain. They've caused more than their fair share of hurt.
Who wants to say that their deaths matter more
Than those they caused by coup-d’états and war?
I speak of 'they.' I should say 'we;' the West
Is we who've gained from others dispossessed.
We loath dictators greedy with their oil
But love those tyrants gen'rous with their spoils.
But guilty though my conscience it may be
The US makes its own foreign policy
And that the West opposed, except our lead-
ers, who to the 'lectorate paid no heed.
The States invaded first Afghanistan
To see if they could top the Taliban
They claimed sweet victory after seven weeks
Though ten years since the claim now seems quite weak.
But ne'er mind that. To get out of a jam
It did suffice to go and fight Saddam.
The Iraq War began two thousand three
Because we'd found his Double-U M D.
Weapons of Mass Destruction. Evil swine,
He could have launched in forty minutes time.
Or forty-five. No matter which. You see,
The number was complete imaginary.
There were no weapons so he could not launch
Within the hour or even in twelve-month.
Some dodgy fellow by the name of Blair
Had made the number up in a dossier
To frighten Parliament into a War
That may have been their stupidest since Boer.
I still say 'they.' My words must be reweighed
Since twas with taxes ours the war was paid
I must review. 'Come on, Saddam was bad
He terrorised the people of Baghdad
And don't you know that he his enemies
Did torture? Folk like that you don't appease.
You BOMB 'em! To the Stone Age if you can
And as for reconstruction, well, why plan?
As long as we've demolished every hide
Our need for vengeance will be satisfied.'
In truth, our Western needs are never met …
A little blood will but the appetite whet.
About three thousand died in the twin towers
Who knows the number dead by Western powers.
But did you mention torture? There's a thought
Although the Swiss convention says 'Do Not.'
We'll call
Set of Procedures.' How innovative
Half-drown the bastards sixty times a day
Until they say what we tell them to say
And if they don't, we'll stop em sleeping nights
Til they don't know what's black from what is white
And if they still don't fess up; well, then we
Must render them, to another country
Where beatings and electrocutions start
The soul from body, each link wrenched apart.
That easy-going Texan Dubya Bush
Made gold from oil and falsehood from the truth.
But back to home. The heroes I described
Did witness all the stuff above transcribed
And more besides. They spent their form'tive years
Surrounded by a surplus feed of fears.
But did this get them down? Of course not son
Our heroes were heroic types, bar none.
Their mightiness was greater than the sea
E'en stronger than my weak hyperbole
And when they lay upon the sofas stoned
They still were strong – their minds were all enthroned
And though they might have seemed at times asleep
Twas not so. They were down in caverns deep.
Ok, we'll talk of cannabinoids then
Since that's the thrust of this our present yen.
Thrill-seeking Emmett brought the lordly vice
Unto the Pink like flowers of paradise.
They first were pleased, like sailors out to sea
But then they were transported into glee
When tea they brewed. The ocean sucked them out
They ate what fish they could, and mostly trout
For months on end. Twas all that one could do
To stay afloat. They stuck to the canoe
Though sea turned sky and blue became orange
And all their thoughts began to rearrange
In styles untested. Thus the drug did wear
A hole in the unconscious inner layer
Where strange things lurk. Not least our unknown selves
Where Freudians venture; there a stoner delves
Like dwarves a-mining in the crystal caves
That Tolkien wrote about. It comes in waves
– The tea I mean. When tea is first imbibed
Th'effects initially are circumscribed
Or rather, nothing happens for an hour
You wait for it to push its latent power
Into your mind. The first clue that you get
Is a tingling; a sense of seen-it-yet
Or déjà-vu. You think you've heard these words
And then it fades. Its fleeting like those birds
That hide in bushes. So you wait. And wait.
Another wave begins to detonate
In distant seas. You feel it push you like
The far-away collapse of a klondike.
Then in a thought you think you've heard these words
They wander past like circulating herds
And then it fades. But not entirely, for
The tea has opened up some secret door
That lets in sounds unlike the ones you know.
You wonder if the drug begins to show
And ask your friends. But speech seems rather strange
The words are all caught up, the meaning's changed.
Your tongue is tied. You wish to state yourself
But that partic'lar book's not on the shelf.
You giggle. Seems like that's all you can do
To get you through this altered point of view
And others do the same. The light turns dark
And Steedzo starts the Hunting of the Snark
And flippant James begins to make fake sounds
To twist your head around til it rebounds.
Presuming that you leap the deep confus-
ion Mister Hendry's baby babble brews
Then things get better. Though you must take care
Some pathways of the mind lead none know where.
But not today. Today you fly your kite
By choice, that is. For if you keep your wits
The journey will be pleasant. Else the pits
Will take you. The choice is up or else
You'll know how solid ice feels when it melts
Which might sound nice. But all your structure goes
And ne'er returns. Your foot becomes your nose.
To 'void this risk you could try chocolate
A pleasant thing 'pon which to concentrate
And other beastly pleasures. For in sooth
Your mind reveals itself in lossless truth
When tea is had. Each person that you are
Fills up your mind like an eastern bazaar.
The reptile's there with slidded eyes and scales
And so are frogs and slowly-moving snails
And even rocks. Your entire ancestry
Comes out to join you in your cup of tea.
You're them. They're you. And now you start to trace
How thoughts arrive from that once hidden place
Your mind. Thoughts branch and grow, they split and seed,
They form the basis for each other. Heed
How thoughts you thought an hour ago come back
As if your mind's a circulating track
But now they've grown. The thoughts you've handled since
Are added to the first. It makes much sense.
You wish to talk about your discovery,
But all these thoughts – they simply o'erwhelm ye.
Ye bumble like a fool: 'Our thoughts are spheres.'
– Such are the problems facing pioneers.
But you're surprised; it seems you're understood:
James Hendry claims the notion's rather rude;
Neil Steed believes that thoughts full circle come
And Emmett says 'I've seen where thoughts are from.'
And having scaled the tower of Babylon
Puts 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' on.
The film is routinely played when tea
Is taken. For it shores up the esprit
To see a hero in a similar state
As you are in to polychlorinate
His liver. Thus, 'the bats' and 'Barstow' form
Abiding memories. How they did swarm.
And carpets turning weird we do recall
And also how the ether made them drawl.
The first half of the film one can grasp;
The second part's more like a slinking asp
That slips your grip. To date we are unsure
What happens in that final half an 'oor.
Such is how dope goes. First you grow quite high
Then wisdom makes you match of the gadfly
Of Athens. Finally your mind becomes
Like scattered leaves or the remaining crumbs
Of feasting's royal banquet. So to bed
You drag yourself; face white and eyes quite red.
Of dope I think enough has now been writ
To give the right sense. Though I won't omit
The tale of Erwan's troubles with the tea
Which is to say, an inside enemy
That spoke to him when he partook of smoke
And gloated at him, saying 'I'm awoke!'
And other ungrammatic things. Suffice
To say that Erwan did not find this nice
And spent six months trying to give it up
Before succeeding. So that's the backdrop.
We've covered nine-eleven and the War
As well as drugs. You ask, 'Can there be more?'
In fact there can. This epic holds a lot
Besides two unjust wars and smoking pot.
For instance, false imprisonment. And beer;
And TV sets; and overcoming fear.
That's all to come. Like pandas from bamboo
This poem now crashes out to canto two.
Canto Two