deepundergroundpoetry.com

WELCOME TO THE PANOPTICON

 
 
A few years ago the Merchant City Festival sponsored conFAB to commission some performance poets to write pieces about important Historical Buildings. I was chosen to write about (and perform in) The Panopticon. The Panoptican is an old Theatre that needs re-building. Stan Laurel had his first show there. It is said to be haunted. I wrote about the Freak Circus that used to be held there. All performances were sound checked. For some “unknown” reason my performance in the haunted Theatre has a strange noise in the background. Thanks to conFAB for permission to re-use this poem. For some strange reason the film isn't going to my part but please just move on to 7min 52 sec.




Welcome to the Panopticon, where, many years ago, I used to stay,
Your kind would examine me - this freak that you see - each night and each day
Checking under my shirt to see if I really was covered in tattoos and scars
They laughed at me, had something funny to talk about as they drank in the Bars
When I was not working - or feeding - I was kept in a tiny iron-barred Cell,
And when I was greedy, the staff would come and beat me, it really was like Hell
I do not need the sympathy of your kind! I am cursed and deserve my fate
Sometimes, my urges would overpower my mind, and I would wait,
For the visitors leaving through the narrow rat-lined lane that is outside,
I had my revenge on many folks, the tall, the short, the narrow, and the wide.
The Management made money from those coming to see, “The Beast from Below”
So I obliged them by letting them put me up here - on stage, and on show
In return, they used to ignore my occasional indiscretions, they were easy to conceal
For me, a protruding artery has always been a joy to watch, and to smell, and to feel, And…
Excuse me if I have to shade my eyes, the brightness comes with a thousand pains,
But I can hear the rushing of your blood, deafening as it flows through your veins
I can smell each of you, for human blood has its own delicious perfume,
Yet, it is a torment to me. It is my doom.
Memories. Oh Yes…They are so sweet. You tempt me too much!
Come closer. Please, I must have just one soft touch
You see, that for me, the Show begins when the Show ends
Written by ashbymcgowan (Ashby McGowan)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2 reading list entries 0
comments 3 reads 1010
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:20pm by Mstrmnd1923
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:45pm by Ahavati
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:39pm by nightbirdblue
COMPETITIONS
Today 1:05pm by Grace