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Pagan Paul Nov 2018
Gaze ye not
'pon the misfortune
of the Harlequin,
his dead eyes
will see nothing
of your heart.
Pity ye not
the clown 'pon
his misery bed
of Narcissus petals.
Emotion has thieved
its own fortune,
carrying the weight
of bitter experience.
The furnace, long cold.
Never the embers
glow in his soul,
trapped in a world
when life cares not,
nor matters to the afflicted,
who is mocked
by thy Gaze.

© Pagan Paul (11/11/18)
Wayfarer Feb 2017
A short burst of substance
A **** in my self pride
Spurn this when it happens
Deep below it hurts
It’s like I am the police men
Chasing down the crime
The arched loop of uncertainty
Crawls and begs for life

It nests in my bold vertex
A lukewarm spot to thrive
I’ll slam the cortex open
And free the sweltering hive

The queen of pain herself
Is the painkiller of the queen
They waltz around like harlequin
I’m gently howling, awaiting help
A cartoonish grim woman
in aft cabin was a harlequin let umbrage
squash her there a known charter while she'd smoke in bed

her aroma did permeate her rise to eat breakfast
a morning prepared for sore again
only technical her rouse indeed tripped her smoke alarm
and went unheeded to another deck till open bar decided her fate

while her interest there was crickety
where love is deep in the sea
their golden groves were bubbles and waves
while they brim with valuables onboard did spill
and they'd evoke near me without their calling

when aquanauts will buck up gear then they really sever
their troves below that really soften thine eyes
where the air is moist and ye suit there so well
I can tell you I am picky today and defray your kind.
Arlo Disarray May 2015
I want to lick all the clown paint off of your face
Undo your motley pants, and give you a good taste
I'd love to ring your bells as I make you my fool
Dance for your queen, and follow my rule!

I want to make you dance around so I can smile
And you may beg for rest, but you'll receive denial
I love you, harlequin with your silly, foolish ways
You'll make good entertainment for my remaining days
Love you, Just Jester (Ormond). <3

You make a fantastic Fool.
D I A Mar 2015
Your face is...
Your mind
A monster...
Wearing the face
Of a woman
Nickols Feb 2013
The cobwebs were hanging in the corners of the room.
While I'll confess I was lost within the masquerade,
of a dance full with the intent of death;
swirling till we sung with how to die alone.

In our ballroom, is what I need;
Step by step; unassumingly.
I'll wait for you there, locked in our rhythm.
I'll wait for you there, till time stands still.

And on death row, I will continue on with a smile.
My mask molding into my face-
Like the harlequin, dancing endless steps-
slipping down the path of the pagan.
I will pray to the god's and anyone listening.
To return me to my heavens.
To a place, I'll recall;
wasn't I just there---

In our ballroom, is what I need;
Step by step; unassumingly.
I'll wait for you there, locked in our rhythm.
I'll wait for you there, till time stands still.

And on I dance, until the days were done.
And then, there I sat with regrets...
Cobwebs hanging over shattered glass.
All the things I've never achieved...
For all I've done, for all I've been.
**In dreams until my death, I wonder on.
© Victoria

— The End —