The experimental play I have written, Dream Child,
opens with Dream Child, a homeless musician,
playing acoustic guitar and singing this song.
“Living on the Street”
song poem by Sharon Lia Robinson
living on the street
sleeping on the beach
waking up to pray
in a stranger’s garden
what about the guy
on the other side of that fence
he won’t let me in
he only asks
too many questions
he doesn’t want my answers
he doesn’t like my message
I am I am I am
living (on the street)
for the sake of love
living in the name of love
living for the way
the way of love
he doesn’t want my message
he won’t trust the work
he can hear me calling
from the other side of whim
yes I’m living for the sake of love
on the other side of whim
all of life
is a gift
loving our Creator
love God love.
Many of my writings portray unconventional, outsider women who search for love and fulfillment. All of these plays and stories are now dedicated to Meher Baba, whose love and teachings help me to accept my “otherness,” giving me insights and a sense of self-acceptance.
I think that in many ways, I was seeking to portray those of us who desire love as a shelter against the coldness, the social isolation of our being different, to heal the sense of alienation.
My experimental play, Dream Child is a series of song poems and dialogue, dance and music with film possibilities. A director, a producer, or anyone who may be interested in the potential of this play – please let me know and I can send you a copy.
The woman in the play, alone, is searching for a companion, perhaps as mask for an unknown, silent spiritual yearning, an inner depth, unfathomable.
I received one very special comment during the discussion after a reading of Dream Child in summer, 2011. An actor who liked the play said I might be interested in the writing of Charles Mee. This led me to the website of Charles Mee, who likes to call his plays collages.
On his website, Chuck Mee writes, “ I like plays that are not too neat, too finished, too presentable. My plays are broken, jagged, filled with sharp edges, filled with things that take sudden turns, careen into each other, smash up, veer off in sickening turns. That feels good to me. It feels like my life. It feels like the world.
And then I like to put this—with some sense of struggle remaining—into a classical form, a Greek form, or a beautiful dance theatre piece, or some other effort at civilization.” (Charles Mee)