Taserface was sleeping in the bedroom on a quilt.

Free from all her suffering and all the pains of shame and guilt.

Her fur was soft and matted from the garden and the birds.

And the shit and dust and blood and mud and things that don’t have words.

Taserface is sleeping, and she twitches like a cat.

We feed and need her lust for greed, but that’s not where it’s at.

In the darkness, she will awaken, and once more, she will roam.

We are moving, and poor Taserface is searching elsewhere for a home.

We dined on tea and oranges.

On the sand down by the sea.

There were possible storm warnings.

That escaped both you and me.

The dingy left the harbor.

The sail snapped by noon.

The winds grew dark and heavy.

Under far too soon, typhoon.

They’ll be no more tea and oranges.

Or walks down at the park.

The dreamers dream is heavy now.

And faint hopes are growing dark.

I’d been searching for the answers… When finally she came along.

Preforming miracles, curing cancers. Giving music to the song.

She taught and gave directions. Even when I didn’t ask.

She let me know my fortune. In her sunshine I could bask.

She showed me all my foibles. And how little I evolved.

I felt criminally unworthy, so I left her. Mystery solved.

There is a heart shaped carve in rosewood.
There’s a line drawn in the sand.
I pray there on grace and wonder,
and there’s a baby, she’s in my hand.

There’s a virtue called forgiveness.
From a force we can’t see.
It’s how I deal with darkness.
Of how I feel when you’re with me.

I struggle now to hear you.
Seek approval in your eyes.
I hate you for your beauty.
Like I love you for your lies.

It’s a sad sad situation
Department sad but true.
You fear that they are coming
And you fear what they will do.

It’s a sad sad situation
Under heading sad but true
You fear that they are coming
No one is coming for you.

Dennis Mantin

I don’t know why my baby loves clowns.
Whose painted on tears never fall down.
I don’t know what she sees in their eyes
Perhaps the line between horror/surprise…

I don’t know why my baby can’t sing.
Why carnival music isn’t her thing.
It fills my head when I’m at the fair.
Searching for clues in clowns everywhere.

I don’t know why she screams at night.
I hope it’s not why she holds me so tight.
Because I’m the type I’m weak for love.
Carnival music I rise above.

Is it the pain or is it the tears?
For some carnival crime from yesteryears.
Maybe it’s you, maybe I’ll never know.
Maybe it’s me, baby let go.

(chorus)

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the kings horses and all the kings men.
Tried and they tried but she fell down again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
She went to her shrink ended up at the mall.
Humpty Dumpty wanted it all.

Dennis Mantin

I walked in silence on the snows hard crust.

My mind it roamed from wrong to the just.

I watched an eagle swing from the sky…

The silence was broken with his mighty cry.

He looked so proud. He looked so tough.

His freedom, his kingdom. His only musts.

Then, a mighty thrust that shook the air.

In seemingly gloom and much despair.

His blood fell on his rocks from our of the air…

And the silence was broken beyond repair.

No doubt nine times out of 10; Suicide is killing yourself in spite of yourself.

They were meandering in the walkways.

We were all at City Hall.

All were there for different reasons.

Some, really, for no reasons at all.

I was resigned to fate or fortune.

Masquerades as fail/success.

I had bagged all paper signatures.

I prayed and said, “God bless!”

There’s this memory of Fredrick.

Where he wrote that God is dead.

And all the demons there danced with joy.

Mistaking what he said.

I’ve been watching praying listening.

All these decades turned to years.

And I don’t think he’s dead at all.

However, the plot is in arrears.