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Godot has arrived Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Alive and well thanks! ...said the haiku poster Crudely pasted to the fence Who was too busy selling stolen goods To notice he was a notice Announcing a brand new play A fusion of two classics Waiting for Godot A play about a man who never arrives Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead A play within a Shakespeare play Both "theatre of the absurd" Both inverted And slammed together It showed a lot of promise Or at least it promised a lot Like two sweat stained t-shirts Turned inside out Wearable for a few more months Eye watering Nostril clenching Before finally accepting the inevitability of the launderette Shoved into the metal drum Spin, churn, reverse, spin, repeat With eager expectation of fresh attire! But ending in a grey streaked mush (Never mix darks and lights in the same wash) This analogy was lost On the burgeoning crowd Gathering around the theatre Drawn in by the ephemeral promise A crescendo of clamour and chatter Eager to experience this new wonder Yet they should have known better They had seen "theatre of the absurd" before They had shown their appreciation With a head scratching ovation And murmurs of huh? And what? Even a few ums? And uhhs? Some had purchased programmes The thickness of encyclopedias To explain the illogical plots More words written Than spoken by the actors (Who looked equally baffled) They weren't even that aerodynamic Obese paper bats thrown in rage Flapping and crashing on the stage Was this the absurd bit? Was this the part that had no meaning? Where were the heros? Where were the baddies? The love interest? The twist in the tale? They weren't proper plays Not really Not in reality Existential or not But this play was something new Surely it would be better? Like a glass hammer Striking rubber nails Maybe two absurdities would work? After all, Godot had eventually turned up And two minor characters had survived What aspirations! What ambition! What could go wrong? The absurd doors Of the absurd entrance Swung open (absurdly) As the absurd crowd poured Into the absurd stalls And absurd balconies And absurd boxes And became an absurd audience And watched the absurd theatre... ... the disappointed patrons Became a disgruntled crowd And then an angry mob... Some years ago An absurd psychologist Wrote an absurd paper On the psychology of crowds Especially angry ones Some of the pages were mixed up With another absurd paper On absurd architecture On the Pompidou centre The inside out building Two absurd papers Amalgamised Made one brilliant paper A fusion of ideas Worthy of a Nobel prize Or at least it would be If they gave prizes for psychology Or even architecture The horde Now incandescent With pitchforks And burning torches And grim determination Applied the architecture of the angry mob (Behaving as science predicted) They deconstructed the theatre And reconstructed it Inside out The boxes, the balconies, now face outward The stalls surround and stretch into the distance In all directions (Were there really that many seats?) And the rest of the world - an absurd stage And all the men and women merely absurd players In (or out) the inside out Theatre of the absurd Entry to the "theatre of the absurd" contest Written 9th February 2017 Notes: "Theatre of the absurd" refers to a genre of plays described at https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theatre_of_the_Absurd. Two examples are "waiting for Godot" and "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead" "Waiting for Godot" wasn't always well received by critics and audiences: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waiting_for_Godot#Production_history A "fence" is someone who knowingly buys stolen goods for resale https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fence_(criminal) The Pompidou centre (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centre_Georges_Pompidou) is a building famous for exposing it's infrastructure elements externally (air conditioning, plumbing etc.) giving the illusion of being inside out There are no Nobel prizes for either psychology or architecture "All the world's a stage..." is a quotation from Shakespeare's "as you like it"

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Theatre of the Absurd - Fusion

Godot has arrived Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Alive and well thanks! ...said the haiku poster Crudely pasted to the fence Who was too busy selling stolen goods To notice he was a notice Announcing a brand new play A fusion of two classics Waiting for Godot A play about a man who never arrives Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead A play within a Shakespeare play Both "theatre of the absurd" Both inverted And slammed together It showed a lot of promise Or at least it promised a lot Like two sweat stained t-shirts Turned inside out Wearable for a few more months Eye watering Nostril clenching Before finally accepting the inevitability of the launderette Shoved into the metal drum Spin, churn, reverse, spin, repeat With eager expectation of fresh attire! But ending in a grey streaked mush (Never mix darks and lights in the same wash) This analogy was lost On the burgeoning crowd Gathering around the theatre Drawn in by the ephemeral promise A crescendo of clamour and chatter Eager to experience this new wonder Yet they should have known better They had seen "theatre of the absurd" before They had shown their appreciation With a head scratching ovation And murmurs of huh? And what? Even a few ums? And uhhs? Some had purchased programmes The thickness of encyclopedias To explain the illogical plots More words written Than spoken by the actors (Who looked equally baffled) They weren't even that aerodynamic Obese paper bats thrown in rage Flapping and crashing on the stage Was this the absurd bit? Was this the part that had no meaning? Where were the heros? Where were the baddies? The love interest? The twist in the tale? They weren't proper plays Not really Not in reality Existential or not But this play was something new Surely it would be better? Like a glass hammer Striking rubber nails Maybe two absurdities would work? After all, Godot had eventually turned up And two minor characters had survived What aspirations! What ambition! What could go wrong? The absurd doors Of the absurd entrance Swung open (absurdly) As the absurd crowd poured Into the absurd stalls And absurd balconies And absurd boxes And became an absurd audience And watched the absurd theatre... ... the disappointed patrons Became a disgruntled crowd And then an angry mob... Some years ago An absurd psychologist Wrote an absurd paper On the psychology of crowds Especially angry ones Some of the pages were mixed up With another absurd paper On absurd architecture On the Pompidou centre The inside out building Two absurd papers Amalgamised Made one brilliant paper A fusion of ideas Worthy of a Nobel prize Or at least it would be If they gave prizes for psychology Or even architecture The horde Now incandescent With pitchforks And burning torches And grim determination Applied the architecture of the angry mob (Behaving as science predicted) They deconstructed the theatre And reconstructed it Inside out The boxes, the balconies, now face outward The stalls surround and stretch into the distance In all directions (Were there really that many seats?) And the rest of the world - an absurd stage And all the men and women merely absurd players In (or out) the inside out Theatre of the absurd Entry to the "theatre of the absurd" contest Written 9th February 2017 Notes: "Theatre of the absurd" refers to a genre of plays described at https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theatre_of_the_Absurd. Two examples are "waiting for Godot" and "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead" "Waiting for Godot" wasn't always well received by critics and audiences: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waiting_for_Godot#Production_history A "fence" is someone who knowingly buys stolen goods for resale https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fence_(criminal) The Pompidou centre (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centre_Georges_Pompidou) is a building famous for exposing it's infrastructure elements externally (air conditioning, plumbing etc.) giving the illusion of being inside out There are no Nobel prizes for either psychology or architecture "All the world's a stage..." is a quotation from Shakespeare's "as you like it"

Book: Reflection on the Important Things