Boy, you Folks sure have a lot of Nerve!
You empty your Corporate Colostomy Bags,
On the same Workers that filled up your Greedy Guts,
Then pay them off with their own Bloody Rags!
Have you no Shame? You Clowns! Have you no Soul?
Your Mantra seems to be a bit One-Sided,
More Money! More Money! More Money Boys!
You hoard the Cheese and keep the Mice divided!
Those Long Corporate Strings are strong and stretch for Miles,
You Dangle your Puppets and Dance them till Dawn.
"But, how dare "They" ask "Us" for Concessions,"
"Gee, can't they see that their Labor Leash is On?"
From their Lofty Loft, they "Blow" that Big Bullhorn,
Jump! Jump when we say "Jump" all you little "Slaves!"
"Breaks? Benefits? Bonuses? Insurance? Pensions?"
"Your list of Rights are "Moot" unto your Graves!"
"So, Adapt to your Strings that Feather no Wings,"
"Shove your Grievances up your Bowel Syndrome Rears!"
"You Demand our "Trust?" Then "We'll" give it to "You,"
"We'll pay you off with "Dust" for all your Faithful Years!"
One of the clowns in my circus
wants to be ringmaster and crack the whip
one of the sailors on board my boat
wants to be captain and steer the ship
but there's only room for one
under the big tophat my dear
so they're both out of luck
and the buck stops here
I have the last and final say
tho' not one to overwhelm
to maintain a steady course
there can only be one at the helm
The warden's dog steals every snack,
The inmates plot to get them back.
A daring heist for honey buns,
'Til Fluffy wins, and off he runs!
The gym’s a war of flexing might,
Larry claims he’s built for flight.
He jumps, he flaps, he hits the ground,
The weights just watch, they don’t rebound.
The prison chef’s the true enigma,
Serving stew with chunks of stigma.
Was that a bean, or was it glue?
If it still moves—you're doomed too.
Tattoo artist, cellblock legend,
Ink by day, regrets by seven.
An eagle looked so tough and wise,
Now it's a penguin with lazy eyes.
The books are old, the pages torn,
The plot? Confusing since day one.
Billy swears it's full of schemes,
Turns out—just grandma's cookie dreams.
The great escape? Just pure finesse,
Using spoons with zero success.
One guy digs for seven years,
He found a pipe—now he’s in tears.
Lights go out, the stories start,
Tallest tales with zero heart.
"Elvis once lived in this cell!"
Sure, and unicorns patrolled as well.
several crazy clowns of different cults
craved to commit crimes for luxury
careless critical calculations are causing
crucial conflict with cashless returns
concern with catching several cases
candles and coke chanting in their cars
stalking copying conjuring while
continue casting spells while I'm calm
I'm a cosmic cat that construct from cubes
my crown was cloaked so you couldn't see
came for me countless times clearly warned
now completely cornered by the clapback.
You laughed too hard in 1996/
Thought I'd trip and stay down for kicks/
But I climbed back up, twice the size/
Now I shred, watch the sparks fly/
My drummer joked, said guitars are lame/
Left him roadside, questioning fame/
Why does a guitar need a case, he asked/
To contain its stringed up past/
Steel strings bend, the pick obeys/
My solos melt minds in dazzling rays/
You call it noise; I call it fate/
Crowds roar, my riffs attack/
Like a clown with a vengeance strapped to his back/
Why did the guitar cross the road/
To escape tuning abuse overload/
Strumming stainless, lyrics sharp/
Every chord bite, every note barks/
What's a guitarist least favorite job/
A fretting accountant, stuck in a fog/
Clowns don't cry, we shred and slay/
This guitar doesn't play, it dictates the day/
Why did the guitar get detention in class/
It couldn't stop playing tricks so crass/
Now I roll into your town, no disguise/
My solos make statues blink their eyes/
One last joke before I'm done/
Why don't guitars ever tell lies/
Because their strings keep them strung/
has he got
the balls
to juggle?
doesn’t he
have
balloons?
only a knife
and a photo
of his mother
not meeting
their gaze
only walking by,
fixed eyes on
the horizon
he walks down the block party
where mothers
hold children in fear
and Dennis is in a trance
dancing toward
the uncertain nothing to leave
toward another town
start anew
parties in high rise apartments
of fashionably well-to-do
with a mason jar of beetles
and a guitar with one string
the toast of
Bean Town
or Broadway
the life of
the pity party
the talk of
small town U.S.A.
Happiness is never being alone, or having to frown
Happiness to me is being a funny clown
Kids laugh and smile making life worth while
Yes, that's happiness to me. my funny clown
I go through life with a bright cheery smile
Making kids laugh for miles and miles
When the makeup comes off and I begin to frown
I think of those kids and my frown turns upside down
Loneliness is sad, it gets me down
So I hide my loneliness behind my clown
Adults are alright, and sometimes make me smile
But my clown and kids laughter make my life worth while
With schools and work overly woke
What stops some from having a stroke?
In these "correct" times
Some limerick rhymes
Can cool the mad fools with a joke
Please bring in the clowns
bring in the those happy fools
bring in the clowns
bring in the fun times
bring in the witty puns and clever rhymes
I don't want no drama or sadness
I need laughter and happiness
I want people who are zany and screwy
I want people who funny and looney tuney
bring in the clowns
those goofy, carefree clowns
Clowns that can tell a clever joke
not someone who serious and woke
Please, bring in the clowns
Those fun, carefree, happy clowns
Double Double Words To Bubble 2 Poetry Contest
Joseph May
Circus Clowns
Crazy, colorful, chucklesome, and comiC
It's under the big top that clowns are so playfuL
Reflecting and revealing themselves as the yahoO
Certainly clumsy-footed and so culturally sloW
Up and around the big top they spiN
Sunnyside up on frying panS
Do you treasure
perplexity
strive to confuse
doubting the obvious
pandering the ruse
Do you live inside
cloud cover
avoiding the sun
exposure avoided
your fear on the run
Do you hide
behind bombast
the panderer’s lie
your costumes unchanging
as truth you deny
Do you wander
left aimless
your ego unbound
to cry from the wasteland
— bereft and unfound
(County Line: April, 2024)
Never let somebody change
Who you are-- don't re-arrange
Anything that you've become
Do not turn around and run
Even if someone is saying
Things about you don't go swaying
In a direction that is wrong
Hold on and stay really strong
It doesn't matter what their thinking
Keep your head up--don't go sinking
Into a world you don't belong
It is right and never wrong
To stay true and never lie
Remember all the reasons why
You can be much better the
Haters who just want to be
Negative and do not care
Shut them out and be aware
Keep the door closed--locked up tight
On hatred it's not alright
To put anybody down
Acting like a silly clown
Towards others--staying true
Never losing your virtue
To their foolish baby ways
You are happy every day
Clowns are usually funny
But one clown that I know
Couldn't even get a titter
Out of the audience so
Feeling very disappointed and
About to call it quits
He went to walk off the stage
And he did the splits
When he tried to get up
From the floor to strike a better pose
He bumped into the wall
Which knocked off his big red nose
He started looking for his nose
His nose he could not find
Meanwhile he dropped his glasses
And without them he was blind
He was in a dreadful state
Nothing was quite clear
That is when a circus flea
Bit him in the ear
A monkey saw the clown,
Performing on the stage
And this agitated the monkey
And put him into a rage
So this naughty monkey
Was ready for a race
And after the clown
This primate gave chase
Round and round the ring they went
You may find this hard to believe
A rat came out from nowhere
And ran up the clown's sleeve
By this time, the audience
Were exhausted in their seats
From yelling, shouting, laughing
And appreciated the treats
The clown had given them
When he thought he had no hopes
Tonight had taught him a lesson
All the best clowns are dopes
Previously posted on PS
You can’t understand how that sounds.
You laugh, but you look like clowns.
Don’t repeat the joke. Don’t assail
my ears with what you would call a humorous tale.
I don’t have the patience for this. My head pounds.
I’d rather eat coffee grounds
than listen to your waste of nouns.
But heaven forbid you notice this detail.
You can’t understand.
Your obliviousness astounds.
It begins to escape the bounds
of what reality should entail.
Yet you seem infinitely able to exhale
nonsense. There is so much about you which confounds.
You can’t understand.
The out of space clowns were real
They turned humans into a heel
But they forgot one
Who had a clown gun
And turned into a wheel
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