The Host is at the meeting.

Can see them there most weeks.

Time moves swiftly, all but fleeting.

Holds accounts the tongue that speaks.

The Host he smiles gently.

Just a simple subtle nod.

The tongue just rambles on and on.

Like they have the ear of God.

But the Host can’t still be listening.

Because he has heard it all before.

He is praying for the end to come.

Or some silence to endure.

He meditates on patience.

Imagines screaming mindless shouts.

The Host is out of virtue now.

There’s a humor in his doubts.

Batman going crazy, he’s been angered since his youth.

And Superboy came out as gay, saying goodbye old phone booth.

The Joker feels normal now, like Matthew Mathers spitting truth.

The Myth-Men seem so human.

Clarke Kent hides behind a curl.

The Aliens are all the rage.

Only Star-Lord gets the girl.

I have

This Need.

To Write,

And Paint.

Never leaves,

Me alone.

Thank God!

Don’t know,

What I,

Would do

Without this.

Probably die.

Maybe cry.

Doesn’t matter.

We will

Never know.

Big Hopes lie on the horizon. I can feel it in the air.

Or in my bones or in my heart… I just know I feel it somewhere.

It’s not an all or nothing. And it is not a Fait Accompli.

But it’s something long overdue and I am longing to be free.

It’s either joy or sadness.

It’s either win or lose.

Success is guaged by failure.

Lost love begats the blues.

It was a quiet celebration, and no one rang the bell.

I mostly sat there smiling, alone while silence fell.

There was something of a rumor; though whispers seldom choose.

No one knew what I could know, and loose lips sometimes lose.

I like the taste of chocolate. Pride goes before the fall.

I’m thinking how I almost drowned in that sea of alcohol.

Fate has shone her blessings, no luck, good or bad is cure.

I’ve got that shiny gift it seems, that faith and love endure.

There is bad blood walking down that road, with a stride of discontent.

Something bad is in the water here, and the money’s all been spent.

The business men and lawyers have no more dividends to cash.

They’ve scraped the bottom dry and clean. Leaving bad blood and a rash.

The spirits have come calling, say there’s not much left to do.

Or in my dreams I heard a voice, “Out of bad blood beauty grew.”

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

The line formed past the blue coats.

Pain and failure filled the eyes .

No more love or time outs.

No more try, we’ve said goodbyes.

The train had had left the station.

We are lining up in court.

The judge has heard it all before.

All these failures to report.

There is hope on the horizon.

There are dreams we might attain.

I’ve made my bed, I’m lying low.

I’m too wise to try again.

Love was not a road to happy.

A mistake for sure, by me

The path showed what I could take.

If I could only see.

I am going to take the high road.

There’s a lesson here to learn.

I now know my own business.

Deep down those bridges burn.