Glitzy, Vegas-style seductive dancers
Lascivious lancers' lances
Glam and rock in hilarious fashion.
Quintessentially Parisian
Paris Crazy Horse, the most avant-garde
Enticing and sensuous dance and song concord
A fantastic cardio exercise that makes you sweat
Each wagers to sweat out the greatest
Well-crafted jokes, mockeries, and ridicules
There are arrayed dance arcades with rules.
Fall in love with this incredibly lovely present.
To the fullest extent possible, you will live in the moment.
The teal peels as it submits to gloaming,
and a round lucidity exposed abroad.
As the alien brilliance shines far away,
the maneuvered view is being cast.
'Tis dormancy that exacts dark period of tenure,
countdown from the zero hour.
Distant silhouettes grow versus fawning growth,
dipped in Luna's balm.
The etching of profiled naturalness acquiesces,
constant figurines masquerading the expanse.
Subtle contours architecturally restructured,
split seconds surrender serene scenes.
The solid realm maintained lifeless postures,
as the teeming formations made idle trims.
Mimicry traces the bestilled in passing,
perfect copies render mockeries silence.
Heights claim their surroundings,
as the tight-lipped verdant statuesque frames.
Depths summon intimate intrigue,
whilst burgeoning burrowed bedrock bound.
Exchanging brightness extremely bold,
lilt ventures its routine as the subject of Sol.
More or less defining shadows...
there's no difference that a day would make.
And so they want me to put on another show,
Smiling, singing a happy song,
Like there is nothing wrong,
so they want me to carry on.
Heads up, keep fighting, don't quit, don't cry,
You are strong, don't be sad, the tears will dry.
They keep repeating these words to me,
Like I am supposed to never fail, never scream.
Put on a mask and be a clown,
Go up there and make them laugh,
Satisfy their want and keep them light,
While i carry the burden of their darkest night.
I can't be weak, have to stand strong,
So they can hit me and blow me up again.
Some with mockeries, some with lies,
Some with praises, some with smile.
And I am not supposed to fall,
They say you are too strong so you can handle the pain,
And cut me into pieces like it doesn't hurt me at all.
A fallen angel
Burst in flames and tumble down
Here lies the Devil and friends
Stealing souls to waste
Making mockeries of God
Blaspheming all the way down
Middays muse; with tinseled fingers and what is this, but a mockeries dust amid the wind....
Lost laxus, in its own schematics malignful maze everwinding unto inevitables end within
A self-fulfillings twisted prophecy spelling this enigmas day of irony, that shall be!?
Finding but a paradox in bittersweets truth clinging to these ivy genuises walls
Scaling both reason and purpose; this mingling of night with day and laughters illusions
Soon to fade into what was no less than a sifting breeze passing by as it lingered upon
This bed of thornful roses which pierced their eyes while tears gathered in shadows blind....
Unto where is the irony to be found in this tangerine testament aneath times carnival tents?!
In quantums theories these porcelain dolls with their charcoal smiles; defiles dangling
Upon strings of pain to be broken inside; a chorus line of deceit and lies kept in a bios box
As daydreaming within this mirages muse amid a maze which they once believed, their truth....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....“The Puppet Master” *