Messiah Boy - A Televisual Event (Episode 1)

Messiah Boy - A Televisual Event (Introduction)

Messiah Boy is quite capable of taking over our television screens. He understands digital TV. He understands fibre optics. He is capable of invading our cable and satellite networks like a virus infecting the central nervous system.

From his birth as a sub-atomic particle, radiating energy, he hurtles through systems and circuits, gaining velocity, crashing into other speeding particles, transforming, mutating, until an image is formed, an outline, a faint glow at the edge of our TV screens. He enters our consciousness gently, a character in a sitcom, an occasional guest on chat shows, a feature in celebrity gossip magazines. He feeds on our lust for entertainment, drama, 24 hour news coverage, until, finally, Channel 4 offers him his own reality TV show.

We become obsessed, fixated. Every thought, every emotion is conveyed to the public via sensors attached to his body and head. Our nervous systems and brain functions are digitally pixelated. We become one cyber organism - Messiah Boy and his disciples. He leads, we follow; he speaks, we listen. Oh Messiah Boy, Son of the Most High Wired, we worship you!!! Oh Messiah Boy, wi-fi, hi-fi, wi-si-hi-pi, Most Highly Defined, we magnify Your Name!

Extract from a Prose Poem Novella in Progress

It begins with no( )thing. At least nothing observed. Perhaps a description. A dark frozen sea. Floating chunks of ice reflecting moonlight. Then, ( ).
The northernmost rim of the earth. C.

si
le
n~
ce

A slow curving back breaks the calm plate surface of the water. The arching back extends and dips and throws up a tail which flips and softly sinks. I go there in movies, in dreams.

Light-Being Boy has the temerity to step inside my dreams on a nightly basis. He summons me north. We hover above the Pole, irradiated by Aurora Borealis. He replays the scene before our arrival - the flat frozen sea, the leathery whale, the vast unending emptiness. I switch off and stare into the past.

Dream no.151:

The whale basks in warm tropical waters. The islands sparkle like emeralds set in blue. The palm trees sway in mild Caribbean breezes. C.
Having established the scene, we attempt to locate Light-Being Boy. We follow a trail of ganja smoke.
In a hut in the woods on a hill in the forest with the high priest of Rastafari lies a boy in a vest with a cape on the floor (a silver cape, discarded - too hot) and a hood on his head (a silver hood, retained - too cool).
Cult Girl screams, indicating the presence of snakes. The fug of smoke rises and drifts below the ceiling. Light-Being Boy is awakened from his reverie.
- I thought I was with you in the Arctic, he says.
He sits up and coughs, emitting a dazzling corona from the top of his head. The high priest of Rastafari intones the daily prayers, irritating Cult Girl, who for the time being has sworn off religion.
- JAH . . . RASTAFARI!
He thuds the drum in clouds of smoke while the forest resounds like a heartbeat.
- JAH . . . RASTAFARI!
He chants the Psalms and invokes the name of Selassie, until the goddess Nyabingi ascends from Rwandan rainforests and takes possession of Cult Girl, sending her into a nightmare trance where the history of African cults runs like a film reel through her.
A beam lights up the wall, which acts as a screen displaying an array of spirits, dancers, and witchdoctors in black, white and various shades of grey. We find ourselves witness to the rituals of a pre-colonial African village. We feel like anthropologists taking part in a seance.
When the drum stops, Cult Girl sighs and sinks to the floor in a melodrama of her own devising. Light-Being Boy beats me to the mango juice. She sips the juice from his hand, licking up the last drop until the taste can only be that of chrome metal. The high priest leaves with a look of non-committal. He has forgotten his drum.
Outside, pages of scripture are falling from the sky until the forest floor is littered with sacred words.
- God has too much to say for himself, says Light-Being Boy.

All Smiles

The Ladder Of Perfection

Ascension

It Meets My Needs

The Waiting Room (Take A Number)

Walking Dream

In Over Through

The Drifter Makes His Escape

Running Away Won't Help

He'll Just Pass You By

^(X)^ - A Visual Poem

Please click on to enlarge.

Emanations

The Light-Being Takes Off

The Light-Being at Home

The Light-Being has a family. Oh yes! It comes as quite a shock to me who always considered him a lone wolf. Not so! He lives in little love groups, moving from light to life in fiery circles, fiery cycles, icy fircles.

God bless you Light-Being, and your little love group. In life - love. In death - love. In life in love in light - love. Oooh those little love groups! It's where the fire starts, where it burns brightest. And even in the wild light beyond life, where fire is fire is fire is fire, may the love group light keep shining.

The Return of the Light-Being

The Light-Being makes his way out. From death to life, confinement to liberation. Light to light. Will he escape the fires of hell? Perhaps some day he will return, all knowledge and memory submerged. Or maybe he will advance, stage by stage, hurdling dimensions like the cosmic athlete, the astral pony. This point of departure comes to us all, sometimes before lunch.

If you see the Light-Being, stop him and gently take his arm. Ask him if he remembers where he's been, if he knows where he's going. He may get shirty and slap your delicate chops with the back of his light-infused hand. Don't get angry. Don't retaliate. Plant a kiss on his face and suck on the light.

Oh Light-Being, Light-Being, where are you? We love you, we miss you! Where on earth will you turn up next . . ?

An Introduction to the Light-Being

Here he is. He's in all our towns and cities. He's the Limbo Kid, Bardo Boy, the Light-Being. He's our souls in transition, transmission, waiting incarnation. He's who we are in the before and after life.

These signs are the portals, the way in and out. Look out for them. Look out for him. He's you and I in another dimension, carrying the weight of our lives, the hope of our lives. He is pain, bliss, rapture. Let's see what he does next . . .