We were in the cool sweet air.

Darkness late October night.

Waited too long to be fair.

Dreams and sleep would have a fight.

Control was fading faster.

To the bankers at the trough.

Somehow, we drove right past her:

In the shadows getting off.

Mercifully, it all ended.

To the sounds of sad goodbyes.

Like a stiff martini blended.

To the wonders; how’s and why’s…

Such sadness at the opera.

Tears fall down-long face.

Dining drinks eases the pain.

Entertainment lens and double takes.

Fears like that are no place special.

Just more or less adieu…

There was something about the final act…

Left me cold for something new.

No rest for the wicked.

All those evil things I’ve done.

Got forgiveness and punched my ticket.

Except for you, the damage done!

I woke up in the morning.

A dream about a pain that’s in my throat.

I was leaning towards realizing.

There might be something to worry about.

I asked my wife if she hit me.

She was too groggy to understand

I have heard it all before.

If she did, it wasn’t planned.

There is rain and the leaves are falling.

On a ground that’s black and wet

Halloween is fast upon us.

With no masks or costumes yet…

The sun is just south of the horizon.

It’s a certainty to rise.

Been thinking about the past too much.

In my throat, I caught those lies.

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.

Sam posed these questions:

“Why do you write? What is it about your voice that we should know and hear and understand?”

It’s an important thing to ponder; these 2 separate questions.

Driven past the boundaries of human acceptance. The God’s and monsters granted me their admission to witness. No reasons were given.

Just silence.

I waited things out; isolated, watching, observing, practicing patience; I began to write. Anything, really. Thoughts, opinions, prose. Too young to shave. Too old to cry… I hesitated to give into an audience for even though I wondered Sam’s query long before there was a Sam. There was nothing to weigh any of this against until I became a father. And then God, yes! Now, it made sense. She/he shows me the reality of why I have no choice but to write… They’ve abandoned me to this.

I do not know what you should know and hear and understand. I only know why I need to write…

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