I was looking in the rearveiw.

Down the lens of distant past.

I cringed at us. Oh, nothing new.

This forgiveness has to last.

Oh yes, there was some trauma.

Caused by no one else but me.

I guessed the world a stage a drama.

And all those actors! So why not me?

Somehow, now I’ve grown quiet.

I just scream now when I write.

No more laughter at the riot.

In my dreams, I’m out of sight.

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.

My book was published…

The world didn’t end.

I’m on my way back to work.

The kid is 12 now.

One day at a time.

The world is changing.

Grinding on its gears.

Seemingly to new sets of rules.

People are afraid and confused.

The sun is rising.

Standing on the gallows.

Passed the point of no return.

The unknown is my future.

At a stake that’s gonna burn.

Breathing calm and in my meadows.

So many dramas come to this.

There’s a guard who shifts uneasy.

I say ok… go have a piss.

I could go. But I have plans now.

I’m going to face this thing that comes.

I’ve not made a reservation.

But there’s a drummer beating drums.

I’ve been fighting. I’ve been worried.

Many chances. Chances Store.

I have always been so hurried.

No more hurried here, no more.

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

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

She is 12 and quiet now.

I don’t try to break through…

“Let me know when you’re hungry.”

Is the extent of our conversations…

I was warned!

I’m not fighting this part of the process.

Here if she needs me.

I remember my confusion.

However, I was older without supervision.

I will be vigilant.

In empty halls

Where shadow calls

Fear takes hold

Nighttime falls

Alone at last

Deep in past

Sleep arrives

Dreams are vast

I pay the fines

Rich man dines

Poor man starves

Read the signs.