Do not ask me who I am
Ask me why I am
For that will give me peace
An affirmation of my existence
Amongst the many others God created
A lamb to the slaughter?
who understands the sacrifice she is going to be  put up for and makes peace with it
A clown in a Circus?
One who's duality knows no bounds
A looming shadow?
One with a beating heart
A crow amongst the doves?
Shrewd and menacing
A grasshopper in an ants colony?
Who understands life best in the depth of it's ruins

popped - out of the freakshow donning a ball of red on my nose, and blue streaks of paint running down my eyes. to you, i look like a jester - but,  these lines are but tears i couldn’t shed in the form of paint to me. in  fact, coat  my entire face with the blue dye for the stains of dissapointment that spread their invisible contagion across my face - like a bacteria infecting me.
under the pale paint that has concealed my tired skin is filth and dirt that no water can cleanse of.
so circus master,
do i stay a ridiculement in this hurting society
as this pompous identity that you forged,
hiding my true blemishes & stains or
be at liberty & viewed as
disgusting as i
am always
seen as?

Many laugh and many sing.
Many mouths sit agape with a cheek-to-cheek grin.
Fire swirls in the air as the acrobats swing—
Elephants weep, extravagently, with a tusk-to-tusk grin.

Amidst the cages, monkeys sit,
Faces pressed against the bars,
Rubbing their *******, dreaming of the trees
From which they would swing.

The freaks and the clowns sit amidst lurid lights—
Applying their faces with a cheek-to-cheek grin—
Constructing their masks, aided by the conjure of the magicians,
Those who draw salt from the air and harbour apparitions.

On stage now: Rotondo, the clown.
He dances, naked, with an ear-to-ear grin,
Rubbing his *******-belly, penetrating the mind of the Big-top ring,
Shrouded by the coiling laughter of an audience who yearn for the lights of deformed suffocation as Rotondo, the clown, paints a new face and ushers in a parade of freaks and deformed grins.

The circus! Led by

the animal with the nose --


that can walk along.

I was asked to explain what I mean by
"Dead Inside"
Typically I pawn off a joking motion
waving my marionette arms
to hide the rabbit in the hat
I adequately nick-named misery
because it keeps me company.
But if you sawed me in half
I'm quite certain all you will find
inside is a silhouette of  man
dancing around in a light box
doing the same fruitless jig over and over.
A couple of loose strands
and a few holes in the images
but the end is the beginning
and I am putting on a show for you all now.
The curtain is  my mouth
strung so tight you'd think it was a smile
And the words I say spin round and round
not a genuine frown in sight.
The light may be on inside
but the picture never seems to change
day after day,
collect the pieces off the floor
get up,
fall in love,
trip over the same type of girl
have my heart shatter into pieces
fall back down on the side of the road
remember how uselessly alone I am;
rinse and repeat.
This is paper thin love
and see through expectations that will not fail.
And it doesn't matter which way you spin it.
Its A tragically bad silent comedy
that doesn't need a narrator to explain
Just how miserable the person inside really is.
My heart is just a silhouette of a man
and if you think you can put some tangibility
behind it and not have it shatter into 1000 pieces.
Congrats you too have joined the circus.
and spin round and round in my light box.

There’s a concert in my back yard
solos and duets all day
a circus with acrobatics
clowns painted with reds, blues and browns
just feet from my perch
here as I peck on the  keys
the stars fly in
then flit away with ease
as if to tell me:
you can’t hold me long
with your seeds and your eyes
we are free to dive the skies.

spiral learning
spiral failing
life is always spiral
spiralling
twist me up
spin me down
give me a plastic sequinned crown
now I'm the bloated circus clown
ha ha you laugh!
at my dripping mascara and baggy pants
my **** in a bucket of sawdust
a pie in my face

the poles are pulled
the big top falls

sobbing in the stubs
and sweet smell of candies
I lie suffocating
sad and bloated
a clown in a plastic sequinned crown