The legend of Ronnie rickets

Rickets under the armpits
Ribs like saws and daggers
Boulders on my lungs
I’m walking like a beggar

Dark clouds cross the river
The crows are going crackers
My name is Ronnie rickets
I’m the leader of the zebras

a. The harvesters
Have been passing by
Even their children
Are carrying scythes

An army of harvesters
That stretch from moon to sun
Are walking by
Some are stained by blood

The enemy shadows had to fall now
And their faces become un-seeable
But till the army stretches
From the mountain to the ocean

Home is the sailor from the ocean
Home is the sailor rom the sea
Took up his guitar and went to a bar

Ronnie rickets was a rock and roller
He lived above the seagull inn
Everyone loved Ronnie rickets
His music made everyone sing

b. Listen, you monsters of blood
To the singing voice
Of the mothering woman
The pleasant voice
Of the laughing children
That you have put behind bars

Listen, you monsters of blood
To the silence of the trees
As they turn their faces away from you
Listen to the clashing of clouds
High up in the sky like distant steel

Listen, you monsters of blood
To the earth that quakes
It is caused by the dead of war
Rising from their graves to get you

Listen, you monsters of blood
At the sun cries out
Giving birth to fire and light
In which you will perish

c. The gloom of the nations is here
Sliding down the mountains

The gloom of the nations
Is touching the cities
In lightning flashes out of mud
They crumble

When the gloom of nations need water
The sea level rises like the back wash
Of a giant monster
And down they go
Like anvils into mud

Ronnie rickets
Came to town
Riding on a donkey
And in his pockets
A bunch of keys
To open up the zonkie

A day in the life of Ronnie rickets
Rock and roll hero
Heartthrob king
Get to the vendor
And buy your tickets
Come and see the rock rebel sing

The prison bars fell from the sky and trapped me
Those people they all seem to laugh at me

It is said that he kept a diary
The secrets of the world to tell
In the last entry of his diary
Was his decent into hell

This idea began when I had a bout of shingles and tried to describe it, but I forgot the name of it and called it rickets instead. Then I heard a voice outside my flat, an east-end voice. I tried to imagine who the person might be and I came up with Ronnie rickets. Then I somehow began writing apocalyptic poems and I couldn’t connect them to things. Later on, I imagined Ronnie as being a sailor that when he returns home likes to play his music in local bars. The thing that mysteriously fits it all together is that he keeps a diary and rites down in it his experiences

further notes: the time is late 1950- 61. Ronnie is a merchant seaman. the zebras are his band. one is Chinese, one is west African and one is American. the gull inn is in narrow street with the river Thames as a backdrop. his girlfriend is half Chinese. he has his three strange visions while in a Chinese opium den.

There is a block of flats

There is a block of flats
Where everyone has died
All the doors have been nailed up shut

He is the only one alive

He goes to his front door
Outside he can see the storm raging
The continuous thunder in the night
The continuous lightning that lights up the horizon

He calls out but no one hears him
From the day he first moved in, he has called out
Every night before he goes to sleep

He falls into a deep sleep

And from that sleep a man emerges
He picks up the hammer and nails

Inside the room

Inside the room there is a step ladder
But why, what for; is this a joke?

The room has no trapdoor in the ceiling
There are no doors or windows in the wall
She has been sealed in

She is pregnant and the baby is due in a few months

Now she falls asleep and in her dream
She sees a man descending the ladder
He leans toward her and whispers
Can I help you?

The voice wakes her up
The room is dark, she can barely see
But no one is there

Now she is starving to death
Her body is thin
Her child has little chance of being born alive

The room roars with laughter
The room has no eyes, ears, or mouth
Yet it seems alive

Why are you doing this she asks?
But there is no answer

Except for that dream again
Of a man who descends the step ladder and whispers
How can I help you?

She has gone through all the emotions
Terror, self-pity, anger

Now as hunger takes completely over
She is too tired to feel too much

And now it is time to give birth

The prince and princess

the prince and princess have lost themselves
they jumped into their chariot and drove off
they left their fortified village far behind

they drove off into the wooded hills which are endless
they forgot the way they had come
and now there is no way back

the wolves with their sharp eyes follow them
deeper into the thicket and the overgrowth
where there are no streams to guide them out

and now their fine cloths are in tatters
there is dirt in their hands and faces
and their chariot is tarnished

and now their fortified village is in mourning
and the lineage of its kings is broken

The Little Princess

The little princess was the only one left of the family
Found in a wood, covered in blood, by the peasantry
Who did this? Who did this, to the little princess?
– He lives in a castle on top of the hill – the evil one.

The peasantry arose, in their ragged clothes to destroy him
They circled the keep like a herd of sheep with withered skin.
You have no chance to dethrone me, said the Evil One from his high tower
Why don’t you go home, you’re all alone, you foolish shower.

It’s true what you say, we should be on our way –
But for the little princess we must make our stand
We must free our land from the evil hand
And put the little princess on the throne

Just then, a light blinded their sight and the tower fell down
The castle fell and down a deep well fell the evil one
The peasants all cried it’s the end of his lies
Now let’s put the little princess on the throne

And now it is done, Cheers everyone
Now we can go home

%d bloggers like this: