The Original Tea Party

Dear Friends,

The year was 1997 and I was working as a secretary and translator for a Sports Association in Buenos Aires. At the same time I was studying Philosophy at the University of Buenos Aires. I didn´t own a computer with Internet access back then, so I would get to work an hour early just to log into the World Wide Web. Everyone takes it for granted today, but back then it was like a huge door opening in our imaginations and our minds.
I had recently read Tom Wolfe´s "The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test" and had become infatuated with Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters. So one morning I logged into the Internet and through Altavista web searcher I was able to find the official Pranksters website http://www.intrepidtrips.com I was ecstatic!
Soon I decided to write a poem for Kesey, which I did and send and... Alas! Much to my surprise, on the next day I received an answer from the man himself, saying he had liked it so much he posted it on his outhouse (with hammer and nails) so he could read it every morning.
Over the years I continued corresponding through e-mails with him, Babbs and his son Zane, until he passed... I haven´t written often in the past few years, but I will always remember Kesey´s gesture.

So, grab a pitcher of ice cool lemon tea and see if you like it yourselves! This poem was the first step in what would become to Lady Astor´s Tea Party (which has NOTHING to do with other tea parties across the World) and I wrote it when I was only 19 years old!

Love,
Lady Astor

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Bossanova beat

Is out on the street

Les gents s´en vont dans le ciel

Et tout le monde est três jolie.

A girl kitten is out in the alley

And the wide-eyed children stare at her

She is the light,

She is so bright!

The sun comes down

And the alley becomes grey

A high Lama emerges from the mist

And touches the kitten girl.

Everything turns into pink and golden rays

The Lama is old,

But his skin is not cold;

Blue animals transform the path

Of dusk into stone.

The icy face of the night

Gives place to a cheerful reunion,

The children set up a tea party,

And everyone is invited!

Blue tails of the animals laugh

At the smiley eyes of the Lama,

The kitten girl pours twenty teacups

Of boiling frenzy...

Her hair is golden and lights up the alley.

Young girlish boys paint kaftans

With the Lama’s face in them

A very young queen

Offers jewels to the children.

They get hungry at some point

And so the young boys cater

A feast of muffins and pudding

For all those who want them.

A graceful silver pony

Eats pudding from an emerald plate

While the wide eyed children

Comb his hair and caress his body,

The Queen sings hymns in ancient Persian...

And then everybody dances

And the alley is so lovely

That flowers start to rain

And perfume the dancers.

At the rosy hour

The Lama decides to part,

Not without kissing the kitten girl

And leaving a purple mandala on her cheek.

The dawn has arrived

And the feast vanishes into a shawl of stars.

The children arrange the place and leave,

The Queen rides the pony towards the north,

And the girlish boys set a velvet cart.

Meanwhile, a giant wild orchid blooms from the ground,

The kitten girl sits inside

And emerges as any girl

That walks the Earth

She gets up and puts on a little dress,

And as she strolls down the angry streets,

Little pink stars pour

Every time she waves her hair.

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A Journey

Dear Friends,

I recently received a gift, a marvelous gift, from a friend. He was able to extract many of my old poems, short stories and even the skeleton of a novel I started writing when I was 19, from an old derelict hard drive I had been keeping beside me since 2006.

The aim of this discovery is to finally publish a collection of my favourite works, in order to "publish or perish" as they say.

This is an example of the lost words I had been keeping in a digital box for such a long time, and it feels as relevant now as it was then. So I hope you enjoy it.

Love as always,
Lady Astor

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Win or lose,

Fight or perish...

As this we count the hours

Which die and take us with them.

Where we are heading

We know not,

But wander in the semi-consciousness

Of our reality.

What you believed in

Has now changed

And so you built bridges

In your aim to understand.

But divine certainty

Cannot be understood by man.

So you thought you’d educate yourself

By the means of a journey,

Only you did not know

Which way you’d travel to.

You were guided by the stars,

The sun and moon,

And to a fortunate place you arrived

But to stay...

Oh, no, you were not allowed.

It was an old scattered picture,

A memory from your childhood,

When you didn’t care for time,

When the mirror you feared not,

When the world surrounding to your self belonged.

With sorrow you were due to part,

We need to evolve,

Not to rest in pleasant times.

You knew the journey was hard,

Incoherent faded figures

Came across in thunderlike speed,

It didn’t matter,

We have to overcome our fears.

Then to a sordid,

Deserted landscape you arrived,

Cool as the Arctic it was,

But wisdom and knowledge you were promised

And you got tempted by that.

Oh, it was very much lonesome,

Existence in such icy grounds,

Deprived of any companions

Was obsolete the understanding you’d found.

Your days were, we could say,

Cemetery like,

And you decided in that place

Your journey would not end.

Again you were not aware

Which way would be best to take.

This time the road wasn’t wide

And walking through it was hard,

And so were your heart and soul

The guides for your steps to come.

And finally, when you were beaten by tiredness

And your legs refused to hold you,

Yet you looked above and beheld eternity

With colours that blinded your senses.

Your soul jumped to the sky

And you landed on the ground,

Where you held the hand of love

Which felt like fire.

And though the journey wasn’t over yet,

Floating you found a new way.

You will walk from the first step,

A way that is every way,

A way that by souls is paved.

Barcelona, March 15th, 2006.

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Everyone feels emptiness inside

A poem for a rainy day...

xx
Lady Astor

..............................................................

Everyone feels emptiness inside.

From the Mother to the Bride,

From the Father to the Child,

Everyone feels emptiness inside.

Through a week of pouring rain

Drumming ceaselessly in my head,

I walk restless through the house.

Watch some TV, lie in the couch,

Sip some tea while rain hits the grass.

Looking at each others face

Little to dream and nothing to say

Fed up with this Suburbia

We thought good enough to stay.

Everyone feels emptiness inside.

From the beggar to the rich man,

From the beauty to the old hag,

Everyone feels emptiness inside.

Ghostly smoke invades the room,

We exchange glances as we share a spliff.

The inane voices emanating from the television

Drone on and on and on.

You express dissatisfaction with the status quo.

What do you get the man who has everything?

A glimpse of the past,

A long lost forgotten dream, perhaps?

Or a spark to ignite a new start

Do not fret, because you’re not alone.

I’ve been here before and I’m certain

I’ll be here many times more.

Everyone feels emptiness inside.

..............................................................

Waiting for Summer

Hello Dear Ones,

Have you missed me?

Much has happened which has led me astray, but as you will see from the following ramblings, your Lady is due a well-deserved holiday.

Love and Earl Grey,

Lady Astor

.........................................

Swimming in my isle of Mars,

Floating in an ocean all my own.

Aimlessly drifting through days

Until at last I reach the shores of freedom days:

My holidays.

They always come on exact opposite dates

Than those enjoyed by the rest of my countrymen.

So to bask in the summer´s idleness

I must always head up North of the Equator.

A dream trip this time around.

The California highway,

Soaring near the surf for weeks

In a high speed American made machine,

Hoping to recapture the spirit of my adolescent desires.

Constructions from a misguided mind,

Who´s read far too many books

And inhabits the Land of Nevermore

From which she refuses to return.

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I loved you well

Dearest Friends,

In view of the gap forced on me by a quite hectic 2011 I plan to take on a more active stance in the current year of 2012. Will it mark the end of the World as we know it? I do not know. I wish for change however...

Still warm as Summer´s almost gone, I sip a glass of lemon ice tea, with a twist of ginger. And breathe.

With Love,
Lady Astor

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You know I loved you well
And hid my face amid your thighs
When I was but a child
And there was only you.

And there were mysterious books
And Playboy magazines
Sitting on the upper shelves
Of your library.

I would climb like Mowgli
To retrieve a copy
And would hide it
Underneath my mattress.

I would worship your records
Believing they were very important
And would play them
When you were away.

Did you know I used to dance naked
While listening to
“Within You, Without You”?
Well I Did.

I liked to collect blades
Because you liked them.
And so we would throw knives
In the dirt covered roads of Mercedes.

Like the time you picked up
A hitchhiking gaucho
Who smelled of piss,
Yet gave him a ride.

I miss our outings
Trying to hunt deer at 5am
But ended up shooting a road sign
In the mist.

All this and more you were,
I am not sitting beside you
And I am not tending you as a nurse,
But you know I loved you well.

....................................................................

Nothing Lasts

.................................

It is dark outside
And you want to dream.
You want to dream
And feel you are the same
As yesterday.

But as lightning breaks
Into a second long day
You suddenly realize
That you were a different person
Just a minute ago.

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