I think I'll open a tragedy club
where people can come to weep
I'll tell the saddest stories around
admission will be cheap
I'll call the venue Tragic Relief
where heartache is the norm
and "open mike night" amateurs
can mournfully perform
To be a standup tragedian
has been a lifelong dream
No longer caring to cry alone
I might even form a team
We'll bill ourselves as "Wailing & Tears"
and tour throughout the land
We'll have them bawling in the aisles
til they can hardly stand
They'll cry a mighty river
at our films from year to year
We'll throw in fresh cut onions
just to wring out every tear
Appearing at my club some time
to do a special show
the hottest new tragedians
will tell their tales of woe
No matter if your background is
from denim or fine silk
we'll gather round and cry all over
puddles of spilled milk
So take a break and come on down
and turn your joy to grief
Just keep your eyes peeled for the sign
that says Tragic Relief
Limericks crochetés : Once a French Goncourt telecast live
Once* a French Goncourt* telecast live:
“You don’t write from knowledge of (knowing) Life.
You write from reading books!”
Prize won for swagger looks?
Or longest novel on unlived strife?
Who takes the Cup for creating lives?
Should Shakespeare not read Plutarch’s lives?
Nor Cervantes adventure?
Greek tragedians Homer?
Watch! Which kurti* Goncourt henceforth survives!
• Once: Elisabeth Quin’s “28 Minutes” on ARTE channel,
Feb. 28, 2014
• Goncourt: Premier French literary award(ee)
• kurti: shirt (kurti) hanging out of long pants (salwar),
Indian style
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Sadly I’m happy
I worry
From you to me
I shouldn’t have you
And vice versa
You sing me songs
I write to you in cursive
A reluctant curse of mercury
My words
Never purposely hurt you
Champagne glasses
A fence of Vinyl
Our intake of your chardonnay
Too vastly
Becoming more comfortable
With this character
You typecast me as
You take me
You ruin my thoughts
Who’s right
Who’s never wrong
On weathered days we picnic
We voyage the river home
It’s obvious
It doesn’t bother me
But it does
You are all that I was
Seductive
A game seldom played
Lovely
An inspiration
Not welcome in our days
You cry
But I don’t care to focus
You care
But I don’t notice
If I hurt you
You nurture me
Even as my touch
Tortures anything I see
Shall I go on
Melodies and violin strings
Sooth me gone
I miss you
Do you miss me
Tragedians
We’re beautiful
Are you with me
We’re a romance
Yet no one leaves happily
"coffee & songs without you"
She tells me it’s hopeless
She just won’t come down
Circles are shaded
Boundaries are built to cross
Highways are fortuned
And nothing seems important
I should call her
Or I should drive my way
Are we all just kind of doing whatever
Until something real comes along
Or are we all in limbo
Just sharing our songs in doubt
So what’s your purpose
And I don’t get it all myself
And I learned from Stoppard
That life’s a gamble at terrible odds
Holding closely, to what she said
Tragedians at our finest
And the real world's
Coming for our heads
Are we all just kind of doing whatever
Until something real comes along
Or are we all in limbo
Just sharing our songs of wrong
And she just wont calm down
She says she’s been about
And around this sound
She says it’s not worth it
It’s all just a hopeless
Little realm that we live in
And I couldn’t change her mind
Even if I wanted to
So I just sat next to her
On this bus ride to Kansas city
Beautifully broken
She touched my hand and said
Oklahoma’s great
But you’re going to love this town