#10: Episode 2

POEMS

– By Bobby Walker
A Little Bit of Drama

“When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes” – excerpt from Sonnet 29 by William Shakespeare.

DAWN

Dead shadows dance in the night

yearning for the dawn.

Cold and forgotten walking scars,

drained by decay,

wasted by time,

stretch out,

hungered and blurred,

to a spark ignited,

climbing,

rising from the ground.

From the dark depths,

rays of hope entwine in the sky,

kissing the hills;

breathing new life

and wonders layered in light.

Naked with joy, a new day, a new world is born.

THE OUTER VIEW

Beneath a mountain of tedium,

In a dull ugly system,

In an empty ocean of shadows,

Is a silhouette of pure fire heat

Drifting in the dark.

All I wanted was the wind;

The wind murmured with anticipation,

The grass turned to icy grey,

A fine mist fell,

And with the mist came my sorrow

Cooling my body

With her thousand kisses,

Leaving me there.

I am surrounded by ice crystals

floating down through silence

into soft glowing snow.

The only sound is the pulse of my breathing.

As the sun sleeps,

how many hearts are dreaming,

when the world stands still.

Podcast #9

the outer view

– By Bobby Walker
A Little Bit of Drama

Beneath a mountain of tedium,

In a dull ugly system,

In an empty ocean of shadows,

Is a silhouette of pure fire heat

Drifting in the dark.

All I wanted was the wind;

The wind murmured with anticipation,

The grass turned to icy grey,

A fine mist fell,

And with the mist came my sorrow

Cooling my body

With her thousand kisses,

Leaving me there.

I am surrounded by ice crystals

floating down through silence

into soft glowing snow.

The only sound is the pulse of my breathing.

As the sun sleeps,

how many hearts are dreaming,

when the world stands still.

Podcast #8

“to be, or not to be”

– hamlet in hamlet By william shakespeare (act 3, scene 1)
A Little Bit of Drama

To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th’oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th’unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovere’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.

Podcast #7

jabberwocky

– By lewis carroll
A Little Bit of Drama

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Podcast #6

Dawn

– By Bobby Walker
A Little Bit of Drama

Dead shadows dance in the night

yearning for the dawn. 

Cold and forgotten walking scars,

drained by decay,

wasted by time,

stretch out,

hungered and blurred,

to a spark ignited,

climbing,

rising from the ground. 

From the dark depths,

rays of hope entwine in the sky,

kissing the hills;

breathing new life

and wonders layered in light. 

Naked with joy, a new day, a new world is born.

New Year

I intend to make some interesting videos and films next year with my own green screen studio. With filmmaking I can write and perform the music and songs; write the screenplays; perform as an actor; and design the visual art and cinematography. Technology is continuously providing new amazing tools to play with, so the future seems very exciting creatively!