I went too far at get-go.

Most said I was uncouth.

That too far was a no-no.

But I was looking for the truth.

The clergy got all anxious.

And the fam began to sweat.

No notes to praise to thank us.

And no bottom in sight yet.

I was tired when I woke up.

I guess now that’s just the norm.

I was up to something different.

When I found shelter from the storm.

Time is fleeting, not illusions.

On my face, you see the strain.

Where once were lines of laughter.

Are now harder to explain.

The bad luck raised suspicions, on a path that was beat down.

No one dared to look within or see the wise men in the town.

It was happening for eons, as long as Grandad could recall.

Like a dark foreboding plank walk or a dream in which you fall.

Until the child spoke her words that, “Maybe somethings wrong with me?”

So we made a meeting with the Doc, down at the Family Psychiatry.

The doctor raised awareness and we all took a look.

Things are looking so good now, might take Grandma off the hook.

Now life is far from perfect however the family’s not so sad.

Looking in the mirror, not blaming blind luck, good or bad.

Have you ever noticed that those who criticize the most are the ones who do the least? Or is it just me?

I’ve got this thing for beauty.

The kind a smile often hides.

That doesn’t stop me diving in.

Like a carnival of free rides.

Like I’ve missed some info somehow.

No doubt innocent as a child.

That kept me at the beauty trough.

These desires large and wild.

Well, there must be worse afflictions.

Then, to have this beauty thirst.

Have met like minded along the way.

And we’ve all felt far from cursed.

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

They say there are 3 loves…

The 1st is a childish love. You lose this one for silly reasons.

The 2nd is hard love. This one will hurt with loss and betrayal.This one will teach the lessons of pain and manipulation. This one will show you what you want and don’t want.

The 3rd love will find you when you have stopped looking. This love just arrived, and I do not judge such gifts. I have stopped judging her. I have been fortunate in all of the 3. However, I didn’t know this fortune during the first 2.

She gives me touch so much touch that has laid dormant there and such, and a part of me goes WTF oh I remember but maybe I just dreamed all that before and have no memories at all and this is all a new thing and these are the gifts that will amaze me before I’m halfway through?