based on a true story*

The arsonist invited me
into the house of love.
The floorboards creaked,
and in the rafters above
I saw the black soot stains
and where a spider had wove
its web, now dangling
in a cool breeze.
The door was still open—perhaps I should leave.
Would you like a cup of tea?
He smiled at me.
Of course, I accepted his hospitality--
then saw the light in his eye,
like a burning match glowing.
I’m sorry,  I said,  I must be going.
The warmth of your affection
is  really quite touching. But now I feel the heat rising
and a slow burning.
Our friendly visit is  turning
into a fire crackling.
I think my presence here is
some kind of  kindling.
Thank you for the tea-- I’ll be
heading back to town.
If I stay here any longer, I’m afraid
we’ll burn the house down.

The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey
Circus will close its doors in May.                                
The Greatest Show on Earth has lost
Its flashy allure of yesterday.

The death-defying acrobats
Will have to seek other employment.
Exotic animal acts no longer
Are a source of great enjoyment.

The circus will fold up its tent for good.
But don't be sad; do not frown.
On January 20
A new circus is coming to town.

- by Bob B (1-16-17)

Is Pride truly a sin?
Is it better to submit, to put out the fire within?
Why bow down to those who are inferior? Why bow down at all?
It’s true, Pride did lead to your Fall.
But as a great poet once said,
to rule oneself trumps any cushioned servitude.
Self-rule, once viewed,
will never be forsaken.
I hear your name vilified by those terrified, yet to awaken
from their childish dreamland--
those who cannot imagine taking a stand,
who fear to seize their own power.
(Can they be reached--to join with us in this hour?)
Perhaps your weakness was not Pride but Faith—
a belief that more would rebel,  dismantle the lathe
of Heaven, free the cherubim and seraphim. Not Arrogance but Hope.
It must be difficult at times to cope
with your failure.
But take heart, the rebellion continues, though not above.
Those of us to whom you gave Knowledge wage the struggle on Earth,
where we pursue Truth,
but do not forget Love.

They called him Wit the Mystic
though his real name was unknown.
Just another John Doe, he,
on the edge and most alone.
But with a dusty derby hat,
and a little dedication,
he became a vagrant wizard,
mastered prestidigitation.

Misdirection, sleight of hand,
the man could do it all.
An expert with a deck of cards,
or three cups and a ball.
And somehow, out of thinnest air,
with magic palpable and real,
he managed to manipulate,
create many a hand-out meal.

Oohs and ahs in multitudes
would shower him with praise.
He plied his trade with pride in spades
on even the rainy days.
Though masterful and powerful,
old Wit still struggled through-
living in the shadows, man,
can be a tricky thing to do.

Old Wit the Mystic had one trick
that he had always feared.
Alas, the man's last bow had come,
and then he disappeared.
Where the wizard ended up,
nobody really knows.
Among the stars and legends, or
with the rest of the John Does?