Dances with Madness   by Whispering Sid.

Book 1.


Philosophy for the dead.

Narrated By Whispering Sid.

Dance 1. (OCTOBER 2005)


One Of You.

Let me take you, one and all, on the journey of a life time. A journey so difficult it will probably end up killing you before you reach anywhere near the end. Yep, I`m afraid so ladies and gentlemen, it`s another one of those weird and wonder-full philosophical journeys into the unknown .. but, before you begin pulling at your hair folicals and tearing these pages into a thousand and one pieces just here me out a little.

This journey begins with you and me my dear friends: the front runners, the dangerous ones, the ones who stand and fight, the ones holding so much fear and pain back it is almost kills daily. I know who you are and know to some degree how you feel - why! - because I am one of you, I am of the same species as you, I cannot be otherwise, I cannot possibly be anything else, I don`t know why or how I just am.

But What is a human anyway? - and why is everything about being one so complicated...? I breath, I blow, I take the air from this world and use it to stay alive, I take pictures from a life so incomplete and use them to warm my heart of a Friday evening - I love, I hate, I want to sing, to dance, to howl beneath the moon on new years eve - I want to flood the world with my thoughts, my ideas, my tears - I want to live my friends - I want to soar, up, up into the very height of my being - forever...

Do we all not want this? - to live? to venture through life with blood red heart? - to feel life lap gently upon weary shores??........ Climb aboard the ghost train then my friends, she`s just about ready for another fearless journey into the unknown...

But before she begins to roll, let me first try to explain a little more about the journey, that, with broken hearts, we are all about to embark.....please, if you are easily unsettled do not read on, you have been warned, this isn`t for anybody.

The Ghost train.

....\"Are we really blessed with life? have we not come to this world laying gently upon white fluffy clouds floating down from a place beyond the stars?\" the religous journey-men whisper to themselves whilst carefully seeking out their deceptive spirits in all the nooks and crannies of their wooden owl chambers on a Sunday morning. Now don`t misunderstand me! I have absolutley nothing against religious people who ever they might be - each to their own thats what I say, but, while these half human spirit seekers are floating along their polished floors like silent phantoms they miss real spiritual essense of life, that, like an invisible train thunders past their moss-eaten wooden doors at every moment. Similar to the ghost train riding deep into the very womb of hell does this essense realease itself on life - watch it, as it passess forever on - Damn! what a spectacle, what a sight to behold it is - power! - in all its devouring glory. Watch closely, as on board the passangers look out from the mirrored windows, their faces forever turning pale with terror at the relentless pounding of the ghost wheels destroying the lace track as it rides on. If you listen closely enough you can almost here the whistle blowing through the chains and echoes of child birth - listen to it, can`t you hear it? - the agony, the extacy, the blood, the lead weight? - on and on and on and on and on and on she floods, her engine powered by nature`s purest oil; spitting gallons of blood into the air with-out remorse as she goes..oh! the sight, the sound, never ever ending, always forever begining again - power, pleasure, pain, agony, exctasy, highs, lows, love - the absolute hatred and disregard for the pettrified souls on board - On and on she thunders, straight through the deadliest night into the brightest day she turns, never ever ending, never ever letting up for a single second - carrying those on board - carrying them on through a world of impossible it!!, watch carefully as human souls let themselves be thrown around inside each minted carriage - no escape possible - no way out - shackled to natures very own ghost train forever..

Fifty Streets Away.

I look back toward the shore, waves gently lap the boat, a salty taste waits on my inside lip causing memories of mum and dad to come to the fore. Hotels line the seafront with orange blue light. A couple walk hand in hand along the twinkling promenade, their hearts warm with hope and anticipation for the night ahead - a night of rhythms, a night of love and danger, a night of drunken highs mixed with sober lows, a night of pure alchohol - a night of loosening the head and heart from the world a little.

I Watch their warm runny souls slide together in and out of dangerous seaside bars - both anticipating, both waiting, both scanning across smokeless rooms - both looking for a stolen glance - a glance stolen from another member of the same mirrored species, a species with too much passion, too much emotion, all waiting impatiently - ready to burst asunder at any moment unleashing the human beast within.

I stare past them toward the hotels as the wind begins at last to catch my thoughts...I watch, I wait, I hope, I dream; I sit quietly on the back of a deep blue monster looking longingly toward the aching shoreline with warm meloncholy.....before my eye the day begins to fade....mmmm what an evening...

Then, to my horror and amazement, like a warm illusion on a Christmas morning, green ghosts begin to appear in each of the hotel windows. One at a time they emerge from the back wall of each orange bedroom and stand half naked in the window looking out to sea. Silently they stand, motionless they wait, quietly they stare these shadows with purple lasers: - Looking for something they are, some kind of sign, something on the horizon they seem to be looking for - what on earth could it be?

I turn slowly and look out toward the darkening sky with cold eyes; I see nothing, nothing except a few seabirds drifting up and over a dangerous band of red cloud; twisting, turning, - forever burning through purple holes in the sky... oh! what an evening!......

I turn again toward my existance....

Such a strange sight they are to behold these phantoms, such a weird experience this cold night is turning out to be....I shiver and shake all over with anticipation as I watch...What exactly they look for I really don`t know, why they stand so motionless is totally beyond me, but something seems to draw my eye to them - something eerie, something sinister, something dangerous it is that draws my eye so.

And then, just as my jellied lenses begin slowly to focus themselves clearly on these late evening images my heart, suddenly and for no reason at all, begins to sink. - Bang! down the inside of my body it sinks, down and out through the bottom of the boat it drops, down into the darkest depths of the sea it falls this October heart of mine....sinking forever.....dropping into a world of stick and bone.

Like a cold mushroom trip..SNAP! my mind folds in two - my whole soul freezes and seperates as I become trans-fixed by the sight of these green spooks: - in two I`ve split now, into a world of pain I`ve dropped - falling, spinning, turning, burning into the darkest water; drowning now, screaming now, hoplesly hoping for dry land and rescue - sinking into a sea of doubt I am - allow question after question to run through the many chinks in my armour and to slowly flood out inside I do.... Then the shakes, the cramps, the blinding heads - the ones that make your fuckin` bones `urt come with brute force to my wafer body. Uncontrollably I shake as painful illusions begin to break lose in me. My mind begins to freeze and fill with the most terrible thoughts. I watch, I listen, I cling with white knuckles to the side of the boat as a voice begins at last whispering to me from the depths.....

\"Why do these phantoms stare toward the horizon so? What can they be looking for? A beam of light maybe? some kind of illumination from the darkening skies of mankind perhaps? some glimpse of hope? anything to help ease the boredom of their existance? - something - anything - just one beam of light to cut the clouds and fill the dark void in their lives with a secure spiritual longing that must be crushed at once by their over-aching hearts and shackled forever to the world.....?\"

I start back quickly, I quiver, I quake, I swallow hard, I listen breathless as the wind begins to talk dangerously to me using an old forgotton language. Shock, cold blood, panic, fear of the dark, devils, demons, creatures from the black lagoon all come rushing up from the depths to the sound of metal buckets now, all to the smell of old dog bones and wet rope. I look up, I look down, deep into my hands I look, into a never ending well of souls I stare - into something dangerous, something deadly, into something forever splitting in two but always remainig the same again and again I blink..