on Stage
a peacock of makeup  
the comedian
bating thunderous uproar
knighting fury
turning humour over the belfries
of the overcharged assemblage

he fouls with them
utilizing his vile material
putting together ideas that no brain wants scribe
visuals
you create yourself
(but
your twist at his bidding)
you become broken down and ******
applied apart by his gagging speech
and his splintering costumes of mood

the comedian builds from this
until rage
and ruptures of relief
integrate...

a berserk laughter is result
kettled in the mob reaction
a collective convulsion
a need
more than a mirth
japes dressed in death
have foraged a credible rebirth

his soldiers attired
he has seized his corps of souls
his Mad recruits of Chaos
the comedian pulls out a plastic toy Sabre  
and directs the revulsion
(the Grand Prank)
in a charge against
the wealthy neighbours