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 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.

The feelings were confusions.

The expression was surprised.

The product of delusions.

The truth had somehow lied.

The children were selected.

In the group who would be spared.

No deception will be detected.

If you smiled like you cared.

It works for just a time or two.

Because bullshit baffles brains?

Even babies raised by wolves.

Know about deception pains.

From the safety of the Tele, we watch it all go down.

Not all… is truth or fiction, not all is swim or drown.

It’s kinda funny how it hits you, when we are all alone.

Beauty is just skin deep, but ugly goes to the bone.

You feel that the darkness, that roams in your own heart.

It is looking for a cuddle, but you come to rip apart.

Just try to face your demons and see the color of those eyes?

Just once try to calm your fears and listen to your lies?

You may never get there, maybe like the land of Nod.

Where Cain is still searching, in the shadows seeking God.

The Absurdity is in the hand wringing… The worry, strife and sorrow.

The furrowed brows, the panicked fears, the big plans for tomorrow.

I wish I knew this earlier, a regret of wasted time.

Not learning to laugh sooner in the gutters and the rhyme.

Better late than never is as close to no as yes.

No one’s getting out alive, unless I’m wrong a guess.

My friend Victor died a few years ago and last night I saw him and talked to him in a dream and I have never had this type of experience before. I just want to record this and acknowledge that this happened. In my dream, not knowing it was a dream I embraced him and told him that I missed him and began to cry.

Then I woke up and remembered this clear as a bell!

The sun dropped to horizon.

The night fell from the sky.

The worry came upon us.

Like a fear that would not die.

We listen to these moments.

For the truth is in the sound.

And the music plays at heart strings.

In the shadows love is found.

It is sunshine in mid February…. Vitamin D is in my mind.

A sad and tortured memory has lingered there ‘in kind’.

Sometimes I have these moments, I relive and think of us.

I do my best in letting go, trying to diminish all the fuss.

If I can sit there quiet and give those thoughts no say.

They disappear and just like that, we live another day.

Sigmund wrote, ‘One day in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful. ‘

There it is the truth!

I don’t agree with everything Sigmund shared, however this is bullseye!

How I love to complain and share my misery to only later brag about how much strife I have endured and somehow miraculously still the ‘Great I Am’ lives to tell the tale!

Now thanks to Sigmund I now have awareness and know that this trait I share with most humanity can be tempered with some restraint.

I tried to be worthy.

I gave it my all.

All beauty and curvy.

You laughed and stood tall.

It hurts to be honest.

But I’ve given up hope.

That slide is so Slippery.

Unforgiving that slope.

It’s clear and it’s Thursday.

Feeling good, it won’t last.

It is all coming up roses.

I’m at peace with the past.