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…

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.

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.

The plot is in arrears.

We’ve been in the battle royal.

Taking chin shots in our stride.

Telling myths so we don’t spoil.

Laughing loud, the truth inside.

It is such a lie, all this beauty.

Of Kings, Whores and Lonely Men.

No more joy. Accounts and duty.

Bite your tongue and count to 10.

Having thoughts lots about dying.

And other things that I don’t know.

Its not the fear that’s got me down.

Just that I don’t want to go.

Now sure I know I have no choice.

Has been made abundant and clear.

This transformation is all the rage.

I just kinda like it here.

I hear all this complaining.

What’s wrong about this and that.

You never really stood a chance.

With an attitude like that.

I recognized my nature.

Not much was steeped in good.

There was this strange sensation.

Like maybe I just should.

Forget it all and start a new.

Take the narrow view to wide.

Take my head out from my ass.

And maybe look outside.

Not all is gain or glory.

Not all is pain and strife.

The road the path the choices made.

It’s a wild ride this life.

She gave me many gifts. Though none were intended as such. When I thought I could get no higher, she pulled out the rug and removed the mask, and let me see the truth. I have not been the same person since. How many of us can draw that line and say this is who and what changed me?

I wonder if she had a choice? I am beginning to think that this was beyond her control. However, really, I don’t know.

She removed the kindness from me. I am no longer the gullible and needy sap ready to give at the drop of a hat. I have that great ability for savageness that so few come to embrace, for now I see that weakness for what it is.

To know intimacy with both sides of the same coin. The light and the darkness. What a gift!

I still have the pause button. The ability to walk away. To maintain the ability to fight another day. To not cross that line. I’m afraid if I ever started, I might not be able to stop.