My name is Chris Port. I'm a Central graduate (DE99) coming up for air after ten years submerged in our education 'system'. I'm currently writing a first draft for a musical. It's called 'Marty Gull' (Marty[r] Gull[ible]). It's a surreal, satirical, tragicomic piece of musical political theatre.

Marty Gull is an idealistic teacher at odds with the system. He tries to help a talented student who seems to be timid and drifting, but she seems troubled by something she won't talk about. She and her friend may be having an affair with their music teacher, Bob Ratner, who is constantly luring her away from her exam studies. Marty tries to help her get into Drama school, but his good intentions are maliciously twisted by the gossips. Cost-cutting management take advantage of this and he is isolated, exhausted and bullied into a near breakdown

While recovering, an apparent chance meeting leads him deeper into a dark underworld of paranoia. Once normal people seem to behave strangely, as if concealing a sinister secret. No-one will talk about what has been going on behind his back. Has he stumbled into a conspiracy? Abandoned by his friends, betrayed by his colleagues, lied about by his students and spied upon by the management, slowly but surely he is bullied into suicide by the starry-eyed bitchiness of musical theatre.

A cautionary tale of school politics, backstabbing egos and the state of the nation...

I'm writing the first draft lyrics using a medley of melodies in my head from well-known musicals. Where possible, I have left clues as to the original source material :-) As I get started on the (hopefully) witty and lacerating dialogue, I would like to extend an open invitation to all budding musicians and composers to submit their own musical interpretations. I would also welcome interest from actors (age 20-25) who can sing and dance (no starlets need apply, thank you!).

The plan is to develop a new collaborative form of musical theatre. Once we get a good working team of lyricists, composers, musicians, actors and designers together we can decide on the final evolution of the piece and arrange copyright accordingly. I would like to submit or even take the piece to Central as a work-in-progress and, from this, publish a 'guerrilla handbook' on 'How To Write A Revenge Musical' containing drafts, notes, problems and suggestions for other teachers and students who may wish to try something similar. Ultimately, I would be interested in using all of this as a springboard for a thesis on new art forms and musical theatre. But, most of all, I would love to have the opportunity of working with kind, creative and talented people.

If you like the sound of any of this, please get in touch with me through Facebook (see links below) or by email at martygull@hotmail.com

I welcome all feedback and criticism, constructive or argumentative, friendly or hostile. There are many issues raised by this project. Please take the discussion wherever it interests you. Thank you.

Chris Port
3 November 2010

Chris Port
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/MartyGull?v=info

Marty Gull - How To Write A Revenge Musical
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/pages/Marty-Gull-How-To-Write-A-Revenge-Musical/141412095889497

01. Marty Gull - Open Invitation for Collaboration on a New Musical Art Form - Link to Central School of Speech and Drama
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/notes/marty-gull-how-to-write-a-revenge-musical/01-marty-gull-open-invitation-for-collaboration-on-a-new-musical-art-form-link-t/149150111762630

02. Marty Gull - Status Update and Complete Lyrics - Link to Central School of Speech and Drama
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/notes/marty-gull-how-to-write-a-revenge-musical/02-marty-gull-status-update-and-complete-lyrics-link-to-central-school-of-speech/160411817303126

Marty Gull Concept Pics
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/album.php?aid=29860&id=141412095889497

03. Marty Gull - Example of interdisciplinary postmodernism and intertextuality
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/notes/marty-gull-how-to-write-a-revenge-musical/03-marty-gull-example-of-interdisciplinary-postmodernism-and-intertextuality-lin/160441840633457

Marty Gull - Dramatis Personae
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/notes/marty-gull-how-to-write-a-revenge-musical/marty-gull-dramatis-personae-link-to-central-school-of-speech-and-drama/162482147096093

Updated notes and links as at Thursday 28th October 2010
http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=100001403528442¬es_tab=app_2347471856#!/note.php?note_id=164626950234168

Some Notes on Suicide as a Theme

For me, this is the most problematic aspect. Whatever the individual elements of a story, if it has anything to say to a wider audience then it must move from the particular to the universal. What is the moral or message? What has been learned, both by the characters and by the audience?

Suicide is usually the ultimate expression of being powerless. Self-destruction is the one way left to regain some control over the situation. What is the lesson learned by those who survive? How may life go on? Or is the message that it is all futile?

From my own viewpoint, I find all of these possible messages deeply unsatisfying. I suppose that is because, like so many other things in life, I see this story as part of the wider debate of Free Will versus Determinism.

Do suicides have any choices? If so, what are they? Or are all choices somehow made for them? If so, by whom or what? Could they, or others, have acted differently? If so, how? Could this have been avoided? If so, how? If not, what is the fatalistic message?

From a quantum mechanical perspective, is the state of a suicide’s mind determined by its composition or by the attempts of others to in some way ‘know’ it, thereby affecting it in ways that they could not predict. We cannot know something without affecting it. Suicides are often determined as the natural solution to an otherwise unsolvable set of problems. The idea of suicide as being programmed into someone’s DNA has some rather alarming implications, namely that we live in a deterministic universe. I just think this is plain wrong.

I would suggest questioning these themes from the following perspectives:

1. What is the quest? What are these characters looking for?
2. Is it more of a mystery or suspense?
3. What are the sources of antagonism?
4. Are any major questions answered?
5. What important changes occur in these characters’ lives?
6. What are the triggers?
7. What are the characters’ motivations?
8. How do these translate into a quest?
9. Is this about Fate or Free Will?

Premonition
© Chris Port, 2010

I saw him once
at a distance.
I saw nothing
in his clothing
or face to sense
his sad offence.
He disturbed me
intangibly.
The flickering
of a crow’s wing
across the sun
is quickly done.
But a sudden
fear is summoned.
There’s an aura
around horror
and our futures
must obscure us.
When I saw him
I saw nothing.
A man planning
his own hanging?
What can you say?
Are you OK?
Time must move on.
I trust I’m wrong.
But with the damned
I never am.

Marty Gull - Status Update and Complete Lyrics

Here's the complete set of first draft lyrics in one place.

A couple of people have politely asked about money. Although the musical itself is not designed to make money (it's an educational 'pathfinder' project), the 'guerrilla handbook' hopefully will. Obviously I will come to a copyright arrangement with people whose material I use (including music, lyric redrafts, notes, observations and suggestions). Spin-off work is welcome too. If anything fires you to write a song or poem or abstract piece of music or draw or paint something, that's all in the spirit of the project. Now that I've learned how to write musical lyrics ('all art begins in imitation and ends in innovation' - part of the thesis) I would like to get a team together to work on some completely original pieces. These WILL be designed to make money! It's all 'toe-in-the-door' stuff at the moment.

One final point. I need to cut the number of songs down (it's called 'murdering your darlings...'). If nothing else, it would be helpful if people could just flick through the songs and give each one a personal score out of 10 - no justification required, but comments always welcome. If you want to keep your involvement low key, you can always email me directly at martygull@hotmail.com

Thank you for your help.

Marty Gull – Complete Lyrics
© Chris Port, 2010
All rights reserved

Songs

1. The Ballad of Tippi Marsh
2. Never Mind
3. Foolish Teacher!
4. The Unteachable Star
5. Thank Music For Silly Girls!
6. I Don't Know How To Teach Her
7. Judy Garland
8. Katie The Devil
9. The Teacher's Song
10. Well Start A Rumour
11. You've Got To Kick A Teacher Or Two
12. Send In The Spies
13. How To Stifle A Writer
14. The Old Southside
15. There's No Business Like Big Business
16. Over A Chip Shop
17. Showtime For Nazis
18. Education's Pointless
19. The House of the Architects
20. Hate Destroys Everything
21. Madness
22. Don't Lie To Me Cavatina
23. See You Next Tuesday
24. Chick Argot Tango
25. Marty Gull

1. The Ballad of Tippi Marsh
© Chris Port, 2010

Every actress
gets that black dress
but the mattress
finds a stain.
Could she care less?
Let the stars bless.
All good starlets
hide a shame.

Tippi Marsh spent
all that talent
on a spotlight
on herself.
How it haunts her
in the twilight.
Twenty-five and
on the shelf.

Little Tippi
loved the circus
and she juggled
school and night.
Here a pole dance.
There a small chance.
Then she's smuggled
out of sight.

Someone's crying
in a bedsit.
We hear footsteps
up the stair.
Now she's lying
in a torn dress
on a mattress,
urine-bare.

You remember
summer's star role?
In Chicago
you had sass.
Now December
and the cars blow,
past the window,
yellow gas.

Take that black dress,
take that mattress,
block the cracks less
gas escape.
Turn the white taps
on your white face.
Let the stars bless
your escape.

When they found her
in that bedsit
she was naked
with no note.
Let me find her
in her childhood.
Let me find her
while there's hope.

Let me find her
in her childhood.
Let me find her
while there's hope.

2. Never Mind
(The National Drinking Song: Worst Vessel)
© Chris Port, 2010

Never mind
Never mind
Whoever said life was kind?
A beer down the pub
Will soon cheer you up
A pint with a mate and a plate full of grub

Never mind
Never mind
The deaf, the dumb and the blind
Who litter the street
With bitter defeat
Will soon disappear when there's nothing to eat

Never mind
Never mind
To look for love is to find
That girl from next door
Fourteen and cock-sure
For twenty quid now is an old knackered whore

Never mind
Never mind
The government rob you blind
Though men hate their job
A foreign sweatshop
Will soon undercut if you don't shut your gob

Never mind
Never mind
What cancer's ever benign?
That eats at the soul
And leaves a black hole
We had a fat chance now we're down to the bone

Never mind
Never mind
The rope that hangs you is kind
When all hope is gone
A good cockney song
A knot at me throat and the choke won't take long

Never mind
Never mind
Our corpses you'll never find
Each man tops himself
For sake of his health
Of course some insurance ensures future wealth

Never mind
Never mind
In far-off climes you will find
There's no happiness
But this is the next
Best thing that there is. Never mind!

3. Foolish Teacher!
© Chris Port, 2010

The moment you walked in the school
I could tell you were a
fool with a weakness
a mental illness
So trusting, oh so kind
The bullies were lining up
to thrust the knife from behind

So let me get right to the crutch
I don't drop a dork
in shit like other sluts
Foolish teacher!
Teach this little girl 'bout stuff

Wouldn't you like to do mus-ic-als?
How's about a new muse, muse?
I could sing you a good tune
Let me sing you a good tune

The moment you walked in the class
I could see you were a man on a mission
with something missing
So wounded, so depressed
Say wouldn't it be a laugh to see
that mind in a mess

So let me get right to the heart
I just love your art and all that other stuff
Foolish teacher!
Foolish teacher!
Foolish teacher!
Teach this little girl 'bout love...

4. The Unteachable Star
© Chris Port, 2010

To teach the impregnable mind
To fight the tyrannical Head
To bear an unbearable airhead
To run like a slave 'til you're dead
To mark this unreadable crap
To smoke a quick fag in your car
To try when your eyes are too bleary
To teach the unteachable class

This is my test, to swallow my pride
To put up with bitches, to put up with spite
To get them to write, when they can't even spell
To be willing to sit through an evening of parents and hell!

And I know if I'll only get through this depression of mine
That my life will have meant something more
Than just killing the time

And the girl will be better for this
That one man bored with bullies and tarts
Still burned with delusion and passion
To teach the unteachable... staaaar!

5. Thank Music For Silly Girls!
© Chris Port, 2010

Each time I teach a Lolita, oh Nabokov, oh Kubrick
I can't resist artistic lust, you licence me, thank music
For silly girls
For silly flirts wet dreaming that they're stars
Thank music for silly girls
It gets their scheming skirts in backs of cars
Those little buds so pushed up in black lace bras
Today I'll cup and kiss and promise we're true lovers
Thank music for silly girls
Thank costumed musicals, Chicago oh, her ego blooms
Without style how would paedophiles groom?
Thank music
Thank music
Thank music for silly girls!

6. I Don't Know How To Teach Her
© Chris Port, 2010

I don't know how to teach her
What to find, how to reach her
She's a fool, yes she's a fool
But she's young and bright, like the sun at night
Her mind is pure moonlight

I don't know how to capture
The moonbeam of her rapture
She's a girl, she's just a girl
And I've taught so many girls before
Oh it's a wicked world
She's just one more

Should I tutor her?
In the star's future?
Should I father her?
Let me care for her?
I never thought I'd fall for her
Oh Cordelia

Don't you think it's comi-tragic?
She is blind to all life's magic
She's the dream who could have been
So wise, so kind, those eyes would find
Tears of beauty oh
She fears me so

I never saw that Judas kiss
On those sulking lips
Yet if she found her promise
I could die, I'd be smiling
I could have hope, just give her hope
But suspicion, and ambition
She doesn't want to know
She fears me so

Her moonlight glow
Is ice and snow

7. Judy Garland
© Chris Port, 2010

Southside
See the shit on the pavement
And a girl who is dancing
Down a yellow brick road
Judy Garland
I dare to wear your slippers today
Let the wizard understand

Schooldays
Here's a poem from Marty
Has the man lost his marbles?
He can't get my new style
Criticizing
The wizard grieves, can't get me at all
And the Head begins to smile

Music
Musicals are romantic
No more poor ugly duckling
I am beautiful now
You remember
my clothes were bought from charity shops
Let the music drown that out

Every teacher
seems to reach a
point of mental breakdown
Scorn and rumour
Exhausted humour
And soon he'll wear that thorn crown

Stardom
Let me be Judy Garland
Let me be a great dancer
Let me learn how to sing
When the chance calls
A girl will throw a man to the wolves
And my new life will begin

Burnt out men in smoky cars
Who failed to smell the coffee
You talk of art I couldn't give a toss for
I couldn't give a toffee

Teach me
But you can't ever reach me
You are lost in a memory
Of a world that is gone
If you teach me
You'll understand what tragedy is
Look my life is just a song

8. Katie The Devil
© Chris Port, 2010

She's queen of the hill
A demon of hell, she
Kills with political
Animal skill
All summoned by her
Fall suddenly ill
Katie the, Katie the Devil

Her tight summer dress
Is quite some disguise
The sum of her legs is
The bum and the thighs
Yes men's estimate
The size of Brazil
Does not thrill Katie the Devil

I once thought her sweet
Perhaps saccharine
But her coffee is neat
Nitroglycerine
When men are dead beat
She's still on the scene
For daddy's love this daughter's keen

This bold succubus
In inhuman form
So cold and righteous the
Reptilian norm
For women who lust
For power, men chill
Katie the, Katie the Devil

9. The Teacher's Song
© Chris Port, 2010

Marty's a dreamer and Tippi's a dream
But Hevel is hard as pavement
When the frost stars gleam it's a wintry scene
Reality demands engagement

The teacher's prudent
To treat each student
Identically it seems
Never a human being
Or every moon he's seeing
Children ground to sausage
Soap fat out of bodies
Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

Marty often dreamed by the moon's soft light
But Tippi dreamed more of stardom
And the gossips schemed of a future bright
Playing one off against the other one

The teacher's prudent
To treat each student
Identically it seems
Never a human being
Or every moon he's seeing
Children ground to sausage
Soap fat out of bodies
Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

A quick kind heart is a poor man's gold
But Tippi was tricked by silver
Lascivious tongues licking ears foretold
Futures only devils deliver

The teacher's prudent
To treat each student
Identically it seems
Never a human being
Or every moon he's seeing
Children ground to sausage
Soap fat out of bodies
Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

Marty died for love but Tippi's still here
Someone saw her in the high street
With an MP3 tinny in her ear
And the music was sickly sweet

The teacher's prudent
To treat each student
Identically it seems
Never a human being
Or every moon he's seeing
Children ground to sausage
Soap fat out of bodies
Sane men going mad for sleep but fearful of dreams

10. Well Start A Rumour
© Chris Port, 2010

Have you heard?
It's round the bars
Marty Gull has had Tippi Marsh
Well start a rumour
What a hell Marty this is!

Have you heard?
That Marty Gull
Says he doesn't like musicals
Well start a rumour
What a hell Marty this is!

What price is art?
What lies we start?
What nice upset?
What apple cart?
Well start a rumour
What a hell Marty this is!

Have you heard?
That Marty fool
Thought a card wouldn't break a rule
Well start a rumour
What a hell Marty this is!

Trip him up
Artistic clown
Life's a bitch when a man is down
Well start a rumour
What a hell Marty this is!

What a hypocrite, bitter-sweet, viper-pit
This tragic-rich, comic life is!

11. You've Got To Kick A Teacher Or Two
© Chris Port, 2010

You see, Marty...

In this school, one thing counts
My will rules, paramount
Men who get on don't ask questions
You've got to kick a teacher or two
You've got to kick a teacher or two, Head
You've got to kick a teacher or two

Tantamount to testing you
You've got to kick a teacher or two

Why must I break your will?
Butterfly on a wheel
Better he go than my ego
Better break a teacher or two
You've got to break a teacher or two, Head
You've got to break a teacher or two

Why should I break butterflies?
Better break a teacher or two

Has this man lost all fear?
Do you want your career?
Moral quarrelling with your king?
I have to rule a teacher or two
You've got to rule a teacher or two, Head
You've got to rule a teacher or two

Marty Gull's a moral fool
Quarrelling with his king

When he's hurt, tired of life
Twist his words like a knife
No-one is good misunderstood
You've got to hurt a teacher or two
You've got to hurt a teacher or two, Head
You've got to hurt a teacher or two

Kill two birds with stony words
You've got to hurt a teacher or two

When a girl goes off track
Threaten her with the rack
The crack is clear, attack with fear
Get in and trap a teacher or two
You've got to trap a teacher or two, Head
You've got to trap a teacher or two

Break his mind upon the rack
Get in and trap a teacher or two

When you get a warning
A budget is dawning
Staffing costs less with death by stress
You've got to kill a teacher or two
You've got to kill a teacher or two, Head
You've got to kill a teacher or two

Every teacher should be warned
You've got to kill a teacher or two

12. Send In The Spies
© Chris Port, 2010

Isn't he odd?
Doesn't he stare?
Bug him with small hateful eyes
Subtle software
Send in the spies

Isn't he strange?
It's been approved
Whether it's truth or it's lies
I need some proof
Send in the spies

Just when it's stopped, start it again
Sleeping and waking 'til shaking will make him insane
Taking down statements again of his pain and despair
Find me a stain
Something is there

Recourse to laws
Of course diktat
Revenge is sweet sauce on remorse
Sorry 'bout that
But where are my spies?
Quick send in the spies
Let's set him some traps

Isn't he odd?
Has he no fear?
Losing his friends and his mind
And his career?
And where are my spies?
There have to be spies
- Headmaster we're here

13. How To Stifle A Writer
© Chris Port, 2010

"How to stifle a writer?"
"Just one way" said the frightened fools
"The way used by ev'ry shyster
Since the crooks took over the schools."
"Do I sermon him?" I teased the preacher
"Do I listen or argue or think?
Do I dare to learn from a teacher?"
Said they, smirking: "No, just blink.
How to stifle a writer?
Mark his card, for his life is sin:
The way to stifle a writer
Is to crush him...simply crush him...
Merely crush him...crush him...crush him."

14. The Old Southside
© Chris Port, 2010

Southside High Street
Oh concrete ruin
Flowing with puddles of urine
Always the council tax owing
Always the Polish accents growing
And the weather blowing
And the mothers swearing
And the muggers staring
I like a pint in the daytime
Smoking a joint in school playtime!

I like to be in the old Southside
Taking a pee in the old Southside
Plenty to see in the old Southside
If you're like me in the old Southside!

I ride around like I'm Don Jun
I know an ass you can ride on
School girls are white in the surburb
Make sure you crawl by the right kerb!

Music is loud in the old Southside
Few strippers proud in the old Southside
Trippers and cloud in the old Southside
Immigrants crowd in the old Southside!

Lots of dark faces are seen now
Less of the white race about town
How can you tell the right goodie?
He's the one wearing a hoodie!

Life's a bit shit in the old Southside
On benefit in the old Southside
No working fit in the old Southside
On walking sticks in the old Southside!

Here is religion without creed
Rolling a rizla with strong weed
Looking at the plasma TV
Like you're hooked up to an IV!

We all belong in the old Southside
Singing a song in the old Southside
Something is wrong in the old Southside
BNP strong in the old Southside!

I think I'll go back to Poland
Nothing for me, this is no land
Fit for a hero who fought for
The RAF in the last war!

15.There's No Business Like Big Business
© Chris Port, 2010

The bankrupts, the breakups, the cockups, the courts
The bailiffmen who bash your door at dawn
The children, the women, the lawyers, the torts
Your cardboard life in boxes on the lawn
The hostel and the alkies with no hope
The light bulb bare and cord flex for a rope

There's no business like big business
Like no justice I know
Everything about it is just stealing
Everything a contract will allow
Nowhere could you see that crappy ceiling
When you aren't feeling that tortured brow

There's no dastards like bank bastards
They bet 'til we were broke
Yesterday your assets all were Triple A
That night they sank in the U S A
Now it seems that China's going to have its say
Democracy's a joke!

The countries, the corpses, the famines, the floods,
The little wars that drag on in the sun
The headlines, the heartaches, the backstabs, the blood
The liquid capital that just won't run
The hoping when the postman is your chum
The coping when the job offers won't come

There's no business like big business
If banks tell you it's so
Sweatshops in the Third World make a killing
Saving on their labour costs with kids
Cholera won't stop their coffers filling
With a quite thrilling amount of quid

There's no wankers like rich bankers
They smile when you are low
Even with a country that is torn by war
They'll charge them interest and keep them poor
Genocide it seems is now within the law
Let's go on with the show!
Let's go on with the show!

16. Over A Chip Shop
© Chris Port, 2010

Somewhere in a red lit room
Up dark stairs
There's a girl that I once knew
Selling her thin white wares.

Somewhere in a red lit room
Ceilings stare
And the wet nicotine walls won't
Look away or care.

Someday she'll steal a dealer's car
And drive out where the streetlights are
Behind her.
Where pills are dropped the rainbow stops
The ambulance and traffic cops
That's where you'll find her.

Somewhere over a chip shop
Young girls sleep
Men walk out of a chip shop
Why then, oh why can't she?

If happy little children be
Outside the chip shop
Why, oh why, can't she?

17. Showtime For Nazis
© Chris Port, 2010

Oh my god we're up a river
Lost without a paddle
Have you seen Deliver-ance?
We need a bow and arrow
Men are in a rage
On minimum wage
The mystery of history
Is we turn back the page
Until it's...

Showtime for nazis and musicals
No time for darkies and gays
English before were mixing race
Wishing now for more living space

Showtime for nazis and musicals
No time for theatre and art
Showtime for nazis and musicals
Come on, Britain
Forget them and laugh!

I was raped in Notting Hill
but got a date with the Old Bill!
Theatre's boring. Art? We're snoring.
Sing a song and set us roaring!

Showtime for nazis and musicals
Budgets are cutting our throats
Pain is the same for rich and poor
If you believe vain troubadours

Showtime for nazis and musicals
Borders are closing their doors
Showtime for nazis and musicals
Soon we'll be going...
You know we'll be going....
You know we'll be going to war!

18. Education's Pointless
© Chris Port, 2010

It's five a.m. A dog that barks
At a glow of metal sparks
A train that rattles slowly past
And open eyes that see the dark-

[Simultaneous] -ness/-Yes education's pointless
It's waiting for the jobless
And we have nothing left to teach them now

The management have games to play
Mortgages and holidays
Their pay rise with our lives we pay
And every day is endless grey-

[Simultaneous] -ness/-Yes education's pointless
It's waiting for the jobless
And we have nothing left to teach them now

The budget and the balance sheet
The broken men who know they're beat
The management that lie and cheat
Deceiving us with oh such sweet-

[Simultaneous] -ness/-Yes education's pointless
It's waiting for the jobless
And we have nothing left to teach them now

The man who stands up for what's right
Is on his own and serve him right
He might as well lay down and die
At five a.m. what sign of bright-

[Simultaneous] –ness?/-Yes education's pointless
It's waiting for the jobless
And we have nothing left to teach them now...

And Marty's nothing left to live for now...

19. The House of the Architects
© Chris Port, 2010

There is a house in Old Southside
I'm told they're Architects
And it's planned the ruin of many a man's life
And God alone protects

My sponsor was a banker
He screwed and sued and climbed
My mentor thanks his clients' wives
Down in Old Southside

Now the temple of the Architect
Is a brothel built of gold
And the richer that a man can get
Is a gilt upon its soul

Oh Adam tell the serpent
I am in his bow tie nest
Bit by my conscience I must repent
In the House of the Architects

Oh the dullness of the dinner dance
My drunken head hits the bed
My aching skull, my sinner's chance
When Marty Gull is dead

There is a house in Old Southside
I'm told they're Architects
And it's planned the ruin of many a man's life
And God alone protects

20. Hate Destroys Everything
© Chris Port, 2010

Hate
Hate destroys everything
Men and starlets
Hearts and lives

Hate
Hate destroys everything
Nothing lives but
Still we try

Hate
Can make the winter burn
Or a day
Dream of a nocturne

Yes hate
Hate destroys everything
Now I despise
All I loved

This boy's eyes are
Dark as deep ice
Joys disgust

Hate
Hate destroys everything
Songs are hollow
Stupid lies

Hate
Hate destroys everything
Wrongs that follow
Cupid's sighs

Hate
Will burn your houses down
Your whorehouse
Was built on poor ground

Yes, Hate
Hate destroys everything
Lust that glories
In mistrust

This boy's eyes are
Black as murder
Whores disgust

Out
Into the night we go
Tasting bitter
Wasted years

Hate
Pain and insanity
All our passions
Lash our tears

Hate
Fills up an empty soul
All those fools
Whose hearts are broken

Yes, Hate,
Hate destroys everyone
When you listen
It's pure sound

Hate will never
Never fade or
Let you down

22. Don't Lie To Me Cavatina
© Chris Port, 2010

Death won't be easy
I'll feel some pain
When I try to explain what you've done
That men still need to love
Every man is a son
Oh please believe me
All I can be
Is a boy I once knew
Although life's a Catch Twenty-Two
Perhaps that will add up for you

I had to let in that pain
I couldn't change
Couldn't waste all my life lost in days
Gazing in at your sorrow
Staying out in the rain
So I've gone insane
Walking around dying slowly of cold
But the world was so beautiful
It hurt me and gave me my soul

Don't lie to me cavatina
Though truth is I think beyond you
All through life's madness
Her sad inconstance
You broke your promise
I spoke my conscience

And as for women and as for men
I always embraced them arm's length
Though I dreamed of a world
Where passion is kind
Those are delusions
They are the confusions
That crash into bone
The question is crushed in the rain
Why love dies in pain and alone?

Don't lie to me cavatina
Though truth is I think beyond you
All through life's madness
Her sad inconstance
You broke your promise
I spoke my conscience

Have I loved enough?
There's so much more I should have tried to give this world
But please do not follow
My hollow example
It's enough that you know

23. See You Next Tuesday
© Chris Port, 2010

The mercury tilt of life can switch
To guilt with just one sob
And no teacher ever showed her up before
She's going to make that pig lose his job

And Marty never understood her
He always said she was good and kind
And he can see no evil
'Cause there is no evil
What evil lurks within a girl's mind?

When they say
See you next Tuesday
When they say
See you next Tuesday

When they say
See you next Tuesday
Well who can say
What those words mean?

The fair sex has the complex disease
It's a species we victimize
And men are bad and cruel
And the art adds fuel
And her heart burns the harder Marty tries

Sweet Tippi
She will always be
But a peach you bruise
Leaches bitter juice
And we can see no evil
'Cause there is no evil
Each evil's just confused.

When they say
See you next Tuesday
When they say
See you next Tuesday
When they say
See you next Tuesday
Well who can say
What those words mean?

Conversation's gone from the classroom now
She wants to burst into song and pout
Her ears are burning and soon he'll be learning
And the lesson for men is never shout

Because the bullshit's bitter
And the bitches titter
With the gossip and the lips and eyes
And he can see no evil
'Cause there is no evil
What evil do you need to die?

And the mercury tilt of life can switch
To guilt with just one sob
And no teacher ever showed her up before
She's going to make him lose his job

And Marty never understood her
He always said she was good and kind
And he can see no evil
'Cause there is no evil
What evil lurks within a girl's mind?

When they say
See you next Tuesday
When they say
See you next Tuesday
When they say
See you next, see you next
When they say
See you next Tuesday
When they say See you next
See you next
When they say See you next Tuesday
When they say
See you next Tuesday
Well who can say
What those words mean?

24. Chick Argot Tango
© Chris Port, 2010

Art
Sex
Act
Ratboy
Musical
Bitches

You know how teachers have these little talents that get you down. Like Gully. Gully liked to write poetry. No, not write. Spew. Well, I came in late one day and I am really moody, and looking for a little tragedy, and there's Gully exhausted, depressed, off his head on pills and writin'. No, not writin'. Spewin'. So, I said to him, I said, "Gully, help me with my writin'..." And he did! So I took the poem he wrote me to the Head. He got a written warning ... into his heart.

I met Marty Gull from Southside College about two years ago and he told me he went to Drama school and I fed him a line right away. So, he started helping me. He'd lend me things, I'd play helpless, he'd give me advice. Well, it was like a greenhouse in that small hot room. And then he found out. "Actress" I told him. Actress my ass. Not only was it musicals. Oh no, I had an ego. One of those bitches. So that day he told me off for bunking, I sniffled like a beaten child. You know, some guys just can't hold their conscience!

I guess you can say I stitched him up over musical differences.

He saw me as an actress, and I saw myself as a star.

The dirty man, man, man, man, man
The dirty man, man, man, man, man

25. Marty Gull
© Chris Port, 2010

Oh spare a thought for Marty Gull.
His fault was he cared too well.
Her hair's ardent lull
on hardened skull
- the quiet charms of hell.

And spare a quid. Poor Tippi Marsh.
She never did come to much.
The light from the stars,
so bright and so harsh
- the sharp of a heart, untouched.

Now spare the time but not the rod.
The staff are hard to find.
The sun's follow spot,
the violet of god
will tan each man's behind.

A soul must be restored again.
A hole in the rain will fill
with tears and with sun,
'til all fears are done,
until then, until, until...

Is Muhammad the anti-christ?

Just as Jesus was the Messiah and was not immediately recognized.

Could Muhammad have been the anti-christ and working his way through the world?

Jesus teaches love.

Muhammad teaches submission to Islam or death.

Anything promoting life is good.

www.thereisonlyonehell.com

Hi Gregory. Thank you for responding to my thoughts. Sorry for delay in my response. Juggling with epistemologies and different perspectives in lots of different forums. Thinking about what you’ve said. Comparing with what I think and what other people are saying. I’ll post a detailed reply soon when I’ve worked out what I think now. Thanks again :)

The ‘God’ Measurement. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? I think we’re both talking about the same thing…”
© Chris Port, May 2011

http://martygull.blogspot.com/2011/05/chris-port-blog-259-god-measurement-it.html

I am philosophical about life. Philosophy is all about the questioning, challenging and undermining of dogmas.

Since all religions are dogmas, ergo I am areligious (or apatheist as I once joked - one who is apathetic about God). However, this is not the same as being anti-religious (since this would, in itself, be a dogmatic position).

The mono-veracious claims of competing religions (while self-evidently fallacious) do not make their central conceit (the supernatural) disappear. Religions are like the blind men groping an elephant. They may squabble over their parochial descriptions, but this is not the same as saying that there is no elephant in the room.

“He maintained, for example, at one time that all existential propositions are meaningless. This was in a lecture room, and I invited him to consider the proposition: 'There is no hippopotamus in this room at present.' When he refused to believe this, I looked under all the desks without finding one; but he remained unconvinced.” (Bertrand Russell on Ludwig Wittgenstein)

The 'elephant in the room' analogy is further complicated by the fact that ‘God’ (whatever that may be) is usually apprehended not as a physical object but as a metaphysical concept.

The supernatural has no place in science because science is properly concerned with the study of natural phenomena. The battle between science and religion has intensified over the centuries as science has found convincing natural explanations for phenomena which were previously thought to be inexplicable and thus relegated to the unknowable supernatural.

It is quite in order for scientists (positivists) to discount the concept of God from their dogma. Positivism is (tautologously) a dogma since it is only concerned with ‘that which can be measured’. It refuses (quite rightly) to become sidetracked by semantics. The concept of ‘God’ (whether you believe in a deity or not) is, by general consensus, supernatural and unknowable, and thus cannot be measured.

Let’s borrow from perturbation theory and find an approximate solution to the ‘God’ measurement by doing a simpler calculation.

Sensible scientists would not dispute the ‘existence’ of unmeasurable concepts such as ‘love’. They would merely regard such a concept as outside of their field of study and best left to other disciplines (such as the arts).

‘Love’ is a semantic interpretation of various physical phenomena (e.g. hormones). While it would be absurd to distil ‘love’ into a test tube, it is quite in order for scientists to measure hormones and their interaction with the physiology. The biochemical mechanisms of ‘love’ fall well within science’s remit here. Psychological and sociological measurements are also perfectly in order. Data analysis of behavioural patterns could provide useful insights. Such insights could be used to predict, identify and alleviate some of the darker passions unleashed by ‘love’ (e.g. jealousy and melancholy).

However, with such a uniquely human phenomenon as ‘love’, no sensible scientist would claim that the data is the feeling. The ecstasy and the agony (and the literature) of love are, from a scientific perspective, just further data for analysis.

So, scientifically, does ‘love’ exist? No. Only the data exists. ‘Love’ is just a story told by human beings to comprehend and express an emergent feeling.

Ditto God. God is a feeling rather than an object or analogous data. It is quite possible for scientists to explain away ‘God’ in the same way that they can explain away ‘love’. But so what? ‘Love’ is an emergent feeling arising from insentient particles and processes interacting within the organism. Analogously, ‘God’ is an emergent feeling arising from natural particles and processes interacting between the organism and the rest of the universe.

‘God’ is everywhere. In much the same way that James Lovelock’s Gaia Theory proposed that the Earth’s biosystem behaves in a way that is analogous to a single organism, I would just extend this analogy to the whole universe. ‘God’ is not the creator of the universe, or outside of it; ‘God’ is the universe.

So, scientifically, does ‘God’ exist? No. Since scientists have no particular organism to study, they have no particular data to analyse here. The ‘measurement’ of God would be as impossible and pointless as the measurement of the entire universe. This is clearly not the same as claiming that the universe does not exist. We are discussing semantics, not data here. Like ‘love’, ‘God’ is a story told by human beings to comprehend and express an emergent feeling.

It is a common misconception amongst atheists that ‘God’ does not exist (or God’s existence is overwhelmingly implausible) because there is no physical evidence to suggest otherwise. The religious rebuff that there is no physical evidence for God’s non-existence is rightly laughed out of court by the positivists. They are quite right to put the burden of proof on the theists, and I leave them to fight their own battles.

For myself, I would say this. When religionists point at various doctrinal texts and babble on about ‘God’ I literally have no idea what they are talking about. I regard some religious texts to be interesting for a variety of reasons (mainly historical and aesthetic). Some contain wisdom and compassion, art and beauty. Some are merely irrational, intolerant gibberish. The only ‘evidence’ in religious texts is evidence of the human imagination.

So is there a ‘God’ anywhere else?

Sometimes, like other human beings, I allow myself a moment of awe and gaze at the stars. Sometimes I read a wondrous poem, listen to a wondrous song, ‘see’ a wondrous idea. At these moments, I briefly experience an ‘epiphany’ - the joy of being alive, sensing and thinking.

To elucidate these sensations in scientific terms would not communicate the feeling as I experienced it, and wish others to comprehend it. So I just label it instead. I give it a word: ‘God’. A devout atheist would probably frown and choose other words. But so what? I would probably just grin and say: “It doesn’t really matter, does it? I think we’re both talking about the same thing…”

Mitchell and Webb in "Big Talk". "Does God Exist?"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUbjpwyesk0

Atheist finds proof that God doesn't exist in a water melon...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QXdP6S1Qsmk&feature=related