Chances were the premium at the chances store.
Called up their proprietor and asked for just one more.
Inside information suggested relocate.
When they closed the chances store, it sealed the users fate.
With no plans for the future and the future, it is here.
Who knew that the sun would rise and whisper last nights fear?
So we headed for the highway, which ended at the light.
Looked upon arrival, no chances store in sight.
Searching for the answers that will ease the fears.
Some will stand there crying and find few are buying tears.
All are someone’s baby lost along the way.
Strangers and sojourners who have lost the need to pray.
And I say, “Pray”

Dennis Mantin

When I was a kid in the 1960s, the farmers could be heard lamenting about a changing world that they feared.

Beautiful stone cobbled streets of small towns were replaced with “The Shopping Mall Generation!” AND cities grew. “Who would grow the food?” The farmers asked.

But did anyone see this coming down the pike? A generation so smart that they make money while they sleep?

A generation who became so important that not having children became for them, the best option. Which is probably the best thing since we can no longer determine genders…

I am not afraid. I am not in control. I am embarrassed… or am I entertained?

There’s this feeling that’s just so nearly…

Like the battered and the bruised.

I wonder if I heard clearly.

Deep down, I’m just confused.

There’s a man who’s screaming something.

In the face of that sad clown.

There’s a juggler in the spotlight.

That didn’t use the right pronoun.

The siamese twins grow tired.

Two heads can not agree.

Cooperation is required.

No discernments they can see.

The wives they seem so angry.

The husbands have that look.

Doesn’t much matter which way I go.

Either way, I’m on the hook.

And the men

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

You hear often: Sometimes, a tearful exclamation! Other times, it’s an instructive statement…

“Life is not fair.”

Those of you who grew wise in homes with  quiet fluffed pillows are probably most shocked by this truth.

I hear the strained voices and see the upturned hands with the WTF expressions on the faces of those whose idea of an inconvenience is waiting for someone to serve them their food and complain when this doesn’t happen in a timely manner.

It’s not that I wish you mofu’s suffering…  I just wish you a dose of life that’s

” Not Fucking Fair!”

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.

A large gaping mouth set on a gigantic head, held up by a tiny neck unable to swallow their desires…

The horror! The horror!!

Now I have the visual of the narcissistic view.

They fear they don’t exist…

A large gaping mouth set on a gigantic head, held up by a tiny neck unable to swallow their desires…

The horror! The horror!!

Now I have the visual of the narcissistic view. They fear they don’t exist…

It is drama in the kitchen.

Exaggeration on the phone.

Silence in the bedroom.

Until we are all alone.

It is drama all this bitchin.

Humiliation… no atone.

Beauty is just skin deep.

And Ugly goes to the bone.