The Landing ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
The pitted sponge of jungle
Gives way to scrub and sand
The sun is red in the east
I am here to be with Ines
I am here for her
Though I do not know what my welcome will be
No one who knows me
Would say I am a sentimental man
But I have this letter in my hand
A man my age should know better
Than to read such a thing
Again and again and again
I want you to know me
I want you to understand
How I am to be found
I want you to be
Part of my world
Forever, your girl
The lines in which I had thought to trace
A way back to her
Have already faded and worst
I am embarrassed by my own melodrama
But profoundly I know, you see
This is the last chance to make love work for me
I fold the words from another time
And put the letter away
I am frightened to fail
The plane comes in over
The brown slur of the river
The wheels skim the runway - we have landed
WELCOME ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
There she is, waving hello,
I carefully smile back as though,
there was nothing at stake – for me.
I’m happy, she says, and kisses my cheek.
She searches my eyes, aren’t you happy?
I’m getting happier, you’ll see.
I must be patient, if I wanna take her home again.
I must not press my case,
must not ruin my chance.
Well, I do not know what I should,
but the welcome - has been good.
I don’t look happy, because I’m
the lover on the losing side.
I am surrounded by my own distance.
Can’t look happy, tough I know,
melancholy is a tiresome role.
I am awaiting her verdict tonight.
Refrain
I sit on the bed, feet on the floor,
she is behind me, playfully, naked, oh Lord!
Her excitement still boils – where does this lead?
There are thing to discuss, but the way she has been
makes me think we can start again
and with every of her kisses – the hairs of my neck bristle
Refrain
One of the main recurrent disputes between Gillespie and Inés is the almost opposite way they look at the world and reflect their views to their readers. He hates her monologues but loves the spirit behind them...
Her Words ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
Her words divide me.
Her language refuses
the disciplines of the eye,
of the world as it is.
I want to shake her.
I wanna tell her to hurry up,
to grow up and get disillusioned
like the rest of us.
And I want her
not to change,
ever, for I need her
to be like this.
It’s in every of her words.
The rage of her writing
makes her the exclusive witness,
disqualifying the rest of us.
She lives in the rush
of all-embracing sympathies
and when she writes it is to touch
not to inform her audience
Refrain
Sometimes listening to her song,
my lulled emotions slip their noose
and follow in the blind career of her allegiance.
But then a word, a single word,
a note so obviously wrong,
interrupts… and I am filled - with resentment.
I want to shake her .
I wanna tell her to hurry up,
to grow up and get disillusioned
like the rest of us.
Refrain...
Gillespie is a man of words. He’s attempting to talk his way back to Ines. However, she is not so receptive for she has become engrossed in the revolution and he is not sure if his words will do. He becomes increasingly uncertain of his endeavours and fears to fail, just like his father...
MY FATHERS FLOWERS ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
My father was a man of impulsive gestures,
that he used to perform for others,
in compensation for his fundamental dereliction’s.
After a bolt of his temper,
when he did hurt my mother, he would present her
with flowers he could not afford and she did not want.
My father’s flowers, and my words.
My father’s flowers, and my words.
My father’s flowers, and my words - what are they worth?
He always dreamed of making good
and as his failures mounted he would
intensify his attempts to buy his way out.
I can see him standing before my mother,
the little boy waiting to be kissed and ruffled
but most of all waiting for forgiveness.
Refrain
What is real to me, is what can be seen
I understand above all else
the evidence of the eyes.
And still, from my youth I have lived
by disguises – and with each one of this
I invented a new set of words to please the ear my new audience.
Refrain
I have forgotten what my real words are.
I have lived disguised from my heart
in permanent doubt of my own emotional authenticity;
And since I am never alone with myself, you see.
Since I am always watching the character playing my part in the scene,
I have lost every possibility of spontaneity.
Refrain
One of the rare moments nothing matters. Non of their disputes, not the revolution, just him and her...
HOLD UP THE MOON ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
Hold up the moon.
Who needs daylight?
Wrists fast in my grip.
Hold me,
don’t let me breathe
and hold up the moon.
She is almost doubled,
her eyes are screwed shut.
There are flinches in her when I push.
I pause to pray,
to count,
to remember.
Hold up the moon.
Who needs daylight?
Ankles on my shoulder.
Hold me,
don’t let me breathe
and hold up the moon.
She knows me.
I cannot move her with tales.
There is nothing new I have for her.
No secrets
and nothing about me,
well or wounded.
Hold up the moon.
Who needs daylight?
Wrists fast in my grip.
Hold me,
don’t let me breathe
and hold up the moon.
Tonight nothing matters.
Tonight I am enough.
But hold up the moon.
THE FAST & THE SLOW ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
You were fast
and I was slow.
You used to say
and so showed.
When can I see you,
when can we meet?
How much I love you,
you wont believe.
I was confused, struggling;
the words had come too soon,
but I can’t deny,
I liked that tune.
We started out from the same place,
the fast and the slow.
We passed along the same stages:
excitement, dispute, anger and love.
We were unevenly paced, until at last,
we arrive at a place marked:
I just don’t care anymore.
Oh, how I hate this,
you got there before.
When we first
became lovers,
I had no intention
of falling in love.
I liked you,
I was charmed,
I wanted you,
but not to fall in your arms.
Too complicated, too unsettling.
It takes time with me.
But you caught me unaware,
drew a circle around my square.
Refrain
HOW THAT STABS ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
We stand together in silence.
I put my hand out to her,
not knowing if she will allow it
or withdraw.
Once I could touch her at any time,
put my fingers to her breast,
her arse, between her legs
and she would have been yearning for that.
How that stabs, how it stabs, how it stabs, how that stabs.
I am shaking, she smiles sadly,
as though looking at the victim
of an accident who lies on the roadside
and wont survive.
We take off our clothes,
we kiss and caress,
but we cannot make love,
there is no passion left.
How that stabs, how it stabs, how it stabs, how that stabs.
I wish I could say, it was the buzz,
but it is worse than that.
Her dryness withers me.
I feel so sad.
The physical me,
the last thing I had
is gone.
This thing is dying,
I soon will have to accept.
How that stabs, how it stabs, how it stabs, how that stabs.
Madeleine is a farmers wife. She’s a handsome, large-boned woman of around Gillespie´s age. She comes as often as possible to Léopoldville to get herself a little pampering. From the first time she meets Gillespie, she is flirting with him. After Inés left, they become lovers...
MADELAINE [ spoken ] ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
“In the boldness of my reverie
I summon up the image of Madeleine
as she stood before me at the Regina’s poolside,
dressed in her black swimsuit.
I remember her heavy breasts
and the little ridge of weight on her belly.
I remember her nervousness
when she tried to pick me up.
Why didn’t I go along with it?
Gone up to her room then and there.
I could have pushed her against the wall,
pulled down her top and licked her nipples.
I could have pushed her knees apart
and pressed my dick against her.
I could have turned her around, pulled her back
and tugged the swimsuit over her arse.
Why didn’t I do it? What did I deny myself for?
For Ines? For the little she gives me, for the pain she inflicts?
Fuck you, Ines. I’m going to fuck Madeleine.
I am going to fuck her as soon as I get a chance.”
After the first free elected government became bankrupt – the Belgians had made sure of that – Mobutu, the chief-of-staff, made his coup – most likely with a hand of the CIA. He placed the President, Patrice Lumumba, under house arrest. Lumumba´s followers are on the run. Though suffering from malaria Ines is en-route to see Gillespie to seek his help in aiding her and her new lover Auguste to escape from Léopoldville...
HE ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
I am cursing Ines.
What right had she,
to ask me to help the man
who has replaced me?
He’s in mortal danger,
but that has nothing to do with me.
She put him in this position.
It is her responsibility.
She is the one who convinced him
that no boundaries exist,
except those placed in his head
by some racist.
But there are boundaries Ines.
Lines on maps,
lines between peoples,
between colour and class.
Boundaries between individuals
men and women.
Boundaries of profession and belief.
You can negotiate them…
one by one,
and you may cross them on occasion,
but you cannot behave
as if they don’t exist,
believe me.
It is your fault that he is in danger.
And because of your fault,
all my faults turn into failures.
All my pettiness and jealousies.
This isn’t fair, Ines,
this isn’t fair, Ines,
this isn’t fair, Ines, can’t you see.
Gillespie having agreed to help is now watching Auguste packing his and Ines belongings. He lifts a dress of heavy dusty-pink silk from a chair, Inés´s favourite (nostalgia pervades), the one she kept for special occasions, the one Gillespie bought for her a long time ago...
THE DRESS ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
I remember it very well,
I passed a second-hand shop in Camden.
There in the window was a Tailor’s dummy
on which this dress was hanging.
She said, she could never get away with a dress like this,
but when she saw the colour, the cut
the perfect fit...
She became quiet, and I did too.
Something changed in the room.
Something made everything there was
between the two of us,
yet more intimate,
filled with love.
When she turned to me
there were tears in her eyes.
It’s a dress, just a dress, I said,
as she sobbed against my chest.
I remember it very well,
I passed a second-hand shop in Camden.
There in the window was a Tailor’s dummy
on which this dress was hanging.
A dress, a simple dress.
It had made her so happy.
Why didn’t I buy her a hundred?
Now it’s too late, I’m to pity.
Refrain
Gillespie is on the way to hide Auguste and Ines till they can escape with an Egyptian plane to Stanleyville the next night...
A POSSIBILITY [ spoken ] ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
“Have you any idea how I feel about you?
Have you thought - even for one second - what seeing you does to me?
I look down at him.
We both know, he is entirely in my power.
I could deliver him to the soldiers at the roadblock.
I could make up a story for Ines.
I could get rid of my rival for ever.
I slam the boot shut.
We both know I could do this.
We both know I won’t. “
The expected plane didn’t arrived. After a long and further chaotic trek towards the border, Lumumba had already safely crossed the river but the soldiers captured his wife and son... so he decides to return. Inés and the others can’t believe he is re-crossing the river. He is coming back, of his own free will. They watch in stupefied silence. They all realise what this now means...
STORY OF FAILURE ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
What should I
be looking at?
Now that I know
lives are at stake.
A child’s face’s been broken.
I have seen so much.
I have seen bodies and blood.
I watched as though through a screen,
listened as though to a recording.
Threats and whimpers,
wailing and terror.
This is a story - a story of failure.
This didn’t have to happen,
the whole episode
has been shambolic
and ludicrous.
An escape without a plan,
but with time-wasting meetings
and incompetence.
I am thinking of the leprosy of politics,
of the low comedy of it’s protagonist.
The threats and whimpers,
the wailing and terror,
are the incidental music – to this story of failure.
And all of this makes me angry with Ines,
for we should not be here.
Neither of us belong to this
moment of farce and tears...
Gillespie´s and Ines spend there last days together in Brazzaville. Waiting and remembering...
END OF SUMMER ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
We are both waiting. She for word from Auguste,
I for ... what? For the end of our days.
We talk a great deal, about the Congo and independence
and we even talk about Madeleine.
It’s a review of a shared past,
sympathetic and sad.
Two people who are discovering
what they have in common again.
And if they didn’t die
they lived on ever after
says Cinderella to her lover.
Send home the band
and kiss the drummer
this is the end - The end of summer
She does not move, does not go to her room.
She sits at the end of my bed in the pale light of the moon.
We talk and as the night wears on,
she pulls the sheets around her bare legs.
She leans her head against my chest.
I touch her ear, her throat, her neck.
I pull the dress over her head, while she climbs on top
and I say to myself I will not allow this to stop.
And if they didn’t die
they lived on ever after
says Cinderella to her lover.
Send home the band
and kiss the drummer
this is the end - The end of summer
I fell in love with Ines in bed and in the streets,
watching her talked and argued, simply in her company,
but most of all, I believe, I fell in love
because she was promising me a way out of myself.
THE LETTER - REPRISE ® Williams & Marquardt © ISM™ 2001
I want you to know me.
I want you to understand
how I am to be found.
I want you to be
part of my world.
Forever,
…your girl.
