Wednesday, 7 November 2012

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 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!

Lady Astor


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.


Tuesday, 6 November 2012

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


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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