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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The clown juggled his feelings in front of an incredulous crowd Life is a circus and even a fool’s manna does not fall from heaven He had balls to impose his mask and mascara onto instant applause Was not sure though about who was the jester of standing ovations His delusion was the illusion of reality in preposterous meaning An existential artist he seemed to be in retro postmodern nostalgia Intermezzo personified with endless beginnings entombed in a grin Cut with a razor tattooed on his skin facing an ignorant audience True to his script he stumbled and fell short and flat of intemperate desire Gobbled up sand mixed with elephant poo and regurgitated misplaced pride ‘I sold my soul to fake laughter but even the kids are stuck on their phones’ Past his best like a relic he assembled dust of anger and fear for the future He had turned into a proverbial slurve a slipped metaphor of fading delight An imposter of joyful exuberance in a tedious world that could not care less A projection of resentment a nuisance and overdue reminder of innocence lost He was real to himself though like a hole in a bucket draining trickles of faith As he gathered oblivious agony and immeasurable shame and contempt He whipped one last sphere of hope high into the canopy of sad gloom Hoped that the contorted trapeze artist might catch his final effort to escape She twisted dangled reached out then crushed into a net suspended in yearning With the show over ungrateful spectators left the miserable dishonest display The tent was locked up and the onlookers retreated into self-righteous boredom As lions horses fleas impalement and con artists took to their cages’ containment The clown and the acrobat slipped off the road and eloped into a promising night 17th June 2019
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