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BEING PLAY THREE OF THE WARP BY NEIL ORAM (c) 1978, 1979, 1980 & 2004. This speech can also be found as Rap 24 in` Spy For Love', 87 Raps from `The Warp' by Neil Oram published by OBERON BOOKS

Billy McGuinness, the Irish Gypsy Orator, is talking to Phil, a beatnik poet, Hazel

Phil's girlfriend and Nat Schaffer, a street musician, in the basement of The Mingus,
which used to be Phil's Soho art gallery. Billy has just gone through a painful, yet massive spiritual revelation.

BILLY:     (STARING AT HAZEL. SHE IS SITTING UP - LIT UP - IN GODDESS POSTURE) You're right there, man. She's eaten the pain of the world. No longer is she Eve. She is now Morning. Mary. Not Mary the mother but Mary Magdalene, the earth goddess, crowned with the light of the spirit, sitting in the centre of the sun. And when you stare at the centre of the sun you will see her. For she is the passage to Eternity. You must walk through her, man. If you look at her she will become transparent. Then you pass beyond her. Yes, and you will pass into a dark land of strange intimations. And there, a man must stand alone. ALONE... Hear that, man, ALONE!

Must stand up listening... listening... waiting to hear the voice of love, man. Yes, you've got to hear love amidst the clattering decay. (LOOKING AT PHIL) And you need strength there, man, because there you have no form, having left your body when you pass through her soul. And you wait to hear the voice. And she meanwhile, is bereft of any consolation after having given you her life. And you must not come back and worship her, man, though she begs for you to return. No! You must walk on, into the dark, until you are crowned with the light of your own discovery of God...

THEN, as she hits you from all sides for not bowing to her demands... then you start to impregnate. You hear that word, man? Impregnate her with the light of God as she hurls her frustration at you. Yes, you must stay immobile and let her pain come into the furnace of your love. For there are two loves - one the love of woman for man and the other the love of man for God. You need the love of God to be man and she needs that love of man to find God. Because man only becomes man when he's found God within. Then she knows she can burn up the world which she's been carrying around in the womb of her love. A pain she could be free from by giving it to God. And every woman knows in her heart that she is looking for that man who is not separate from God. You understand, man?

Because if you fail her love, if after passing through her soul you don't pass the test - if you funk and return to HER, wearing the dark cloak of need - if you say that she is your God - you abandon her, man - you've thrown her love away - cos she needs you to be pivot - fulcrum, so she can turn around - so she can turn to see God... so, if you come back as a frightened child and say you need her, she will pulverise you! "Need me, eh? So," (BILLY TALKS IN HAZEL'S VOICE) "you want a place in the WORLD eh? So, you want me to name you? Well I do. You're a coward! You want my love? Well my love has become poison! Have some venom for starters," she'll scream! And when you complain that she's become HARD, she'll batter you with the truth, that that's because of your weakness! (HAZEL LOOKS ASTONISHED AND KEEN TO UNDERSTAND. SHE STARES AHEAD LIKE A PROUD PROW OF A FINE SAILING SHIP)  "I've got to be HARD because you're so fucking weak. So flabby. You've got no real strength. It's all wanking with your tongue. You're just an image fucker! Stop clinging to ME! Go and fuck yourself!" Yes, you abandon her to the desolation of the world's wilderness if you don't make the JOURNEY THROUGH THE UNKNOWN, TO FIND AND BECOME ALIVE WITH THE LIVING TRUTH OF GOD. You abandon her to the desolation of the moon's rhythms.

So listen folks. I have crossed across this chasm! She is waiting. We are the four corners. You are my three nails. The twelve, seven and three are spliced together now! Follow me through the violet light into the endless Love. And so, Poet, end this journey with silver words of praise. (CLOSES HIS EYES)

in `SPY FOR LOVE' by NEIL ORAM published by OBERON BOOKS.  

Arthur, 55-60, the mystical grocer, who speaks with a strong Yorkshire accent, is talking to Phil in his sitting room next to his shop on Sun Street, Haworth. He has just invited Phil in for coffee.

GROCER:     My name is Arthur. Yes, well, let me see- strange really, it's a long story. You see I started writing poetry after I had this strange... well, quite honestly, mystical experience, although I didn't know what it was at the time. It was like this: I had this dream... in it I was standing at the head of a bus queue. When bus came in, everyone rushed past me and when I got onto bus, every seat were occupied! At that moment, I made a definite decision to not feel hard done by and immediately, dream dissolved in a flash and there were this man staring at me. His face shone with light and he touched me on forehead and all at once my head exploded into light. I woke up feeling extremely feverish and for weeks and weeks afterwards, I remained in a peculiar state of mind. After this, I would hear strange music coming from nowhere, and other odds things occurred. For instance, on one occasion, I was sitting in this chair and suddenly I went right up, and out of my head. I found myself in this strange world which were composed of precise geometrical forms. Then I realised that these forms were aspects of the mind. They were completely solid but the horrifying aspect of it all was, that I couldn't get back!! I seemed to be surrounded by steel walls. It were terrifying. What to do? Of course there were only one thing to do. I prayed and suddenly the same man as I had seen before broke through and I found myself back in chair, feeling very shaken up. Sometime later, someone left magazine called `Mountain Path' on counter by mistake. I opened it and what a shock! On first page, a photo of the man who had twice burst through. Look. (HE HANDS PHIL A PHOTO OFF THE MANTELPIECE) He's called Ramana Maharishi. I wrote immediately to address of Ashram in India and soon got a reply to say `Ramana had passed on.' I had described in letter my experience and, in reply, it were suggested that I go to India and take up position of secretary of Ashram. Well, I gave it much thought but came to conclusion that I'm too old to go to India now. Excuse me. That'll be a customer. Damn nuisance. I'll lock up after this one. It's closing up time anyway. Make yourself more coffee if you like. (GOES OUT. PHIL PUTS KETTLE ON AND MAKES COFFEE. WHISTLES WHILST HE DOES IT. GROCER COMES BACK IN)

Yes, now where are we? You've got coffee? Good. Now no more interruptions for an hour. Yes I think I'll have a coffee as well. Quite honestly, it's been frightening. Frightening! Absurd really. One night I couldn't sleep, I looked out of window and outside shop, at about two in morning, this brand new, black shining limousine. It seemed very odd because, although it were brand new, it were a late 40s model. There were two men sat inside, with black hats on. The car were stationery. That odd thing was, I felt it were in some way monitoring my consciousness. Well, for some reason I went over to t'other window to look out back. And blow me, if car ain't now on t'other side of house. Same car. Same men, and now, I'm looking at t'other side of car. I rushed back to first window. Nothing there! Rushed back to back window. Nothing there. Back to front window. There were car again... in a slightly different place. Now I checked thoroughly to make sure it weren't an hallucination. I mean, car utterly obscured white markings of road, and you just couldn't see through it. Suddenly, one of the men looked up and waved to me. I felt this shock of fear, then car vanished. Nothing there! I went back to bed and tried to relax. Suddenly I hear this music and, looking up, I saw two figures at end of my bed. Strangely enough, I felt completely calm. As a matter of fact, it were a man and woman dressed in silver suits. `Who are you?' I questioned. They simply laughed. `Well, where do you come from?' `Not very far away,' they said. `What do you want with me?' They laughed again. They talked to each other at length. I began to gather they were considering using my house as some sort of intersection point. They suddenly disappeared, and then I heard sounds of running water coming from bathroom. I rushed in and there seemed to be a half a dozen of these beings messing around. I got angry and told them that I didn't want my house used for their games and they all burst out into uproarious laughter.

I tell you for months recently, I hardly had a wink of sleep. It's such a relief talking t' someone who has intuitive understanding of all this. God bless you for listening to me. Please pop in again for your Weetabix and Ovaltine.


It is also RAP 53 in `SPY FOR LOVE' by NEIL ORAM published by OBERON BOOKS.

Phil in 26 Powis Terrace basement, Notting Hill Gate,late summer 1967. He is addressing a collection of disgruntled would-be artists and disappointed could-have-beens. TOM has just returned from Ferando Po where he had been working as a cook on a ship servicing oil-rig workers. The crowd around Tom have been leeching off Tom's hard-earnt loot. PHIL, disgusted by the parisitical fog enveloping Tom, thought he might change the ambience by giving a planned philosophical talk the next evening. After Phil announced his plan to spout out ,Tom cleaned up the pad to a spotless perfection. The room's stark presence is amplified by a single electric lightbulb. Phil addresses the half awake, cynical audience, in his white suit, straw hat and white shoes.

PHIL:     (STANDING UP BEHIND THE TABLE.) For too long now, we've been avoiding the major issue of our time - the impotence of the good, and the fact that intelligence is continuously down-graded. We have become used to the idea that our life on this planet must be governed by prejudice. Prejudice implies a distortion of the present, through the mind - a mind which is a constellated set of interpretations, fitted out to suit a low level of awareness. All governments today encourage selfishness - all governments, that is, in the western hemisphere - and therefore we have a responsibility to alter the `psyche of our society.'  We cannot make this contribution if we continue to avoid confrontation with the real issue. The issue is that we are not thinking. Not thinking with our guts, with our bones, our heart and our spirit. We are avoiding coming into contact with our sleep. We do not recognise the decay we are encouraging, through refusing to name it. I am giving this talk tonight because last night I came down here and witnessed a perfect example of spiritual deterioration. People laying about, lethargic, doped up, draining Tom because he's TOO good-natured to tell them to piss off!  Now, what we need is a space - a common space - that is, not someone's pad like this, but a space where those who are attempting to create and are creating, can inspire those who THINK they can't create - to do something! In other words, a place where I can write poetry, Tom can write music, Meg can do her illustrations, Paul can draw his leylines, etc, etc, in peace, and therefore, by doing it in public, inspire others to create with their minds. Let's say that if, instead of me writing at home, I write in this projected space, and someone else does weaving, and so on, the atmosphere for a start will be an encouragement for others to experiment. You see what is happening? There is a disappointment setting into our movement, because we sense that we are not CHANGING the form of our society. We've taken acid, etc, seen the light, been fried like an egg by
the Sun of Truth, eaten up our past, but failed to convert! Now this IS THE ISSUE. FAILED TO CONVERT, because we are not SETTING AN EXAMPLE. The question is...are we exhibiting ENLIGHTENED BEHAVIOUR? That's it!  One showing is worth a thousand explanations, so goes a Chinese saying. Yers, we can only convert by BEING a pointer ourselves to a different way of life. This means letting one's life be open to scrutiny. No HOGWASH. You take acid, you feel open, you want to love the whole of humanity but, next day, you accept the robotic behaviour of people on the streets, on buses, trains, in shops, etc. When someone avoids contact with you on a bus, etc, IT IS PAINFUL, but the accepted scenario states by inference, that this painful fact must be made subliminal.
Life is being destroyed on this planet before our very eyes, whilst we dream of enlightenment. We have to act but act from compassion, and that means facing that my pain is your pain, and vice versa. We are all responsible for the psychic atmosphere of this planet, each one of us is contributing to the tone of the feeling of being a human being today. So let's come on, up front, and throw away our petty, private escape plans, because we're all in this boat together! Either the whole of humanity will make it or none of us will! This means we have TO THINK - to learn and think beyond the surface ideation process. To think with our core. This is not easy. It means really caring. And the disease of our time is characterised by NOT CARING. This is the Devil's sneer.

So, first we need a space to work and think in. A common space, where host and guest do not operate. We've got to work hard, to get to the core of our dilemma. Let me add one more point. We have to be an example of heartfelt caring. We are up against a massive psychic force, embodied in so-called `scientific thought.' This philosophy of science has actually noconnection with real science which, if it existed in our society, would look at everything that is intrinsic to human life, and life in general. We are being encouraged subliminally to adopt the view that the goal of existence is pleasurable duration. Longevity, without pain or suffering. The idea is that the meaning of living is `endless pleasure for the body'. The spirit is real - but its reality is not formed from photons. The spiritual nature of being is found precisely through thinking. And thinking begins with CARING about life. If this is pursued with diligence and intensity, the spiritual nature of being is revealed.



60) Phil gives this spontaneous speech in The Sanctuary at Sandymouth in 1968. It is an attack on the 'Sandymouth Philosophy'.

PHIL:     I am not separate from the whole, so I cannot see the whole. If I try to see the whole, I separate myself from it. I am the whole, so I cannot join up with `parts', who are trying to join up with the whole! There are no `parts' to the whole. There is no greater or lesser, because there is no such thing as Quantity to the whole. The whole is not an accumulation of `parts' or `functions'. The whole has no function. Those who think that they are a `part' are inventing an illusion, apart from reality. There are no masters or disciples in eternity. Does the whole have to teach itself?

Teaching is a product of illusion. Illusion is blindness to what is. What is, is the whole. I am the whole.

There are `great' universes which don't exist. `Great' teachers who do not LIVE, and silly people who have not been born.

I am not part of a clock or a drop of the ocean. I am not `anything' or `nothing'.

I am that, from which I am. The only worship that there is, is the awareness of what IS. To worship what is not, is to extend idolatry. What is not, is your interpretation of what is.

If you are not, you will want to be. If you want to be, you will not be free. To be free, is to be. Only the whole is free. There is no freedom for the `part', because the `part' does not exist. `Time' is the interpretation of the part. There can be no movement from `Time' to Eternity. There is no path from `illusion to truth'. There is no distance to be covered, for I am everywhere, but everywhere is not a big place... or a little place. I am all, and all is the heart. The heart is joy, and joy cannot be found. I am joy, and joy has no teachers, although it teaches.

I am the OPEN and in love with all lovers. Lovers love the scent of each other. Each is a flower to the other. I am wild, because I am love.

If you try to bring a bucket of the ocean home, it is no longer the ocean. Try and bring some lightning home. You cannot cultivate me, or cultivate a smile.

The great wisdom, is the singing seeing heart, which SEES form, where blind minds look for pattern.
I am form, but I cannot be seen. I am intelligence but cannot be... communicated.
I am singing, I am sorrow, I am loving, I am dying, I am dancing, I am stillness, I am all.