And
One Binds Them All
Barbara
King
Email:
Dking9797@aol.com
Hobbeldy
gobbeldy they clamber up the stairs
Crazily
clutching their cardboard cups crammed to the brim
With
pink and white ever so tasteless popcorn
All
dressed alike young and old in fluffy joggers
Clumpy
trainers and baseball caps with American logos
Spare
hands frozen to the cans of ice-cold coke
Like
bees entering the drone disorientated they search
In
the dark for the best row of seats to view the mammoth screen
All
avoiding the front because of its neck-breaking capability
Wriggling
restlessly in their seats they buzz in unison
Before
sucking straws and rustling bags of crunchy crisps
And
manipulating a drinks holder: the new found toy
And
this continues through endless commercials and trailers
Until
finally as the stragglers emerge from the foyers
Blackout:
surround sound sadistically shudders under feet
Title
graphics loom ominously overhead; credits roll and suddenly
For
the next one hundred and eighty minutes the room takes on
An
alternate reality; the space and time beyond all living dreams
With
wizards, halflings, elves and fairies chased by Satan’s army
They
dance the dance of yin and yang: of beauty and ugliness
Of
the brightness of life and the darkness of cruel death
The
language is strange yet somehow strikes a chord for
In
the hollow recesses of those strained subliminal minds
Materialism, the Dark Lord has long held them in a spell
No
voice is heard while the screen speaks; abandoned treats
Lay
idly on the floor: their owners, the consumers
Do
not need them any more
When
the lights go up a young boy asks, ’That Tolkein bloke -
he’s good, ain’t he? Has he written things before?’
