"freakshow" poems
Do I relate to the post-postmodern
True-life voodoo incomes are hard-earned
If I put a hyphen between words
Does that spawn a new one like lovebirds
Isn't love the same word that I saw
Don't crows live like bandits and outlaws
Don't they have the outlook of bourgeois
Carry stolen crackers in their claws
There's no change that I couldn't change
Every change that I change always stays the same
I wanna sing with a slingshot serenade
I wanna donate change to a masquerade
I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height
So give me all your red green yellow blue
If you can find a pool then I'll refract with you
You're a mirage and your favorite color's see-through
You're my fata morgana from this point of view
Are there any words for my freakshow feelings
Isn't sugarcoated terminology appealing
Wouldn't it be easier to represent the meaning
Of a hard to swallow concept with an arbitrary ceiling
Cryptic cultish crease in the catalog
Paranoia backtrack to analog
I can run much faster than I can jog
Magic circle summoning Chernobog
I can break the barrier of sound and space
With these essential elemental explanations in your face
But it doesn't matter everything I say will go to waste
Because the power of the mind is putting power out of place
Hindsight reflecting, teenagers texting
Late to the punch with the big money flexing
Let's settle this with a match in the ring
Or a match to the rope of a cannon firing
I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height
I wanna hypnotize and paralyze
I wanna make them think that I'm their size
I wanna break their spirits drink their blood
I wanna **** their souls I wanna **** them good
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
superstar of the lowest level of the food chain
they marvel at my wondrous acts
i am enticing, raucous, too loud
the prima donna of the freakshow ballet
they would pay
to be seen with me
the perpetrator of chaos
hoodies with spikes on them
batman tshirts
and too tight
skinny jeans
tired pink sneaks
from my wandering days
i am the queen of misfits
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
(insert generic death metal song title here one)
Human blood bath
Soak in ********* and human waste
Got a taste for the diseased human race
Acid melting face
Drink from the spewing flesh
Gurgle and gargle to the dying beat
Of a victims last gulp of tarnished breath
(insert generic death metal song title here two)
Skull cracked and bleeding
Blood **** filled wounds seeping
Immaculate Christ unjaded
Aborted abortion
Born and bathed in afterbirth
Blown and constipated in foreign ***** matter
Torn from arms of zombie flesh
Decaying in the hot summer sun
Baked in the hot summer sun
(insert generic death metal song title here three)
Trash my intended victim with nothing better to do
Than torture **** **** and torture some more
Death does not last in the flesh
Emancipated from life
Just a breath away from dying
Hang on to the threads of the noose
Strangulating the frustrating last gasp of air
Torture **** **** and torture some more
Out of boredom and out of time
Boredom kills
You better watch out
I’m coming for you
(insert generic death metal song title here four)
Hollow eye sockets
Wretched
Reeking
Filthy ****
Plastered on crimson caked hands
****** dirt beneath the fingernails
Scratches scraped in the walls
From bodies dragged thru the hall
Down the stairs to the killing room
Meat hook art show of disembodied
And disemboweled corpses
Dismembered in some horrorshow freakshow
Bowl of human remains cooked on the stove
For this years All-You-Can-Eat chili fest
Lick savory lips with salted tongue
Hunger pains from cannibalistic urges
The brain tastes best when paired with a good wine
Eat, drink, and be merry
Tomorrow you’re on the menu
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 2:23 PM UTC
My therapist says i need to be honest
i need to tell everyone the truth
about how i feel
what goes through my mind.
im so lonely and distant
and the only way to get close
is to be honest.
but i cant
im not sure why i cant
i cant tell him how im dying inside
i smile and blow a kiss
but i have killed myself a thousand times
in my mind
"surface relationships"
thats what she calls them
doctor know it all
doctor get inside my head
doctor please fix me
maybe im just a freak
she tells me not to say that
but the idea of letting someone see my pain
is so terrifying
anyone whose seen me bleed
tried to stitch me up
stop the gore
or brush me off
and i cant do it again
i cant get close
once i do
they disappear
even if they didnt want to
they were gone
and sometimes im the one who leaves
i dont know why that is either
because im just a freak
i bat my lashes
and put on my red lipstick
smile and laugh
like a babbling idiot
when all i want to do is die
and i dont know why
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
Mommys a glorified ******
With her 50 some year old married boyfriend
Favorite aunt is a stripper
Used to walk in on her shows
Daddy's a drug pusher
Gave me my fist high at 12
Granny's a kleptomaniac
Must be where I get it from
And it don't stop there
The show goes on
Drug addicts galore
To add plenty of drama
Then there's the snitch branch
Well to do Christians
My biological grandfather
Who says 14 is too old for his tastes
Plenty of violence
To keep things perked up
And everyone on their toes
Welcome, my friends, to the freak show.
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
I'll rip your
neck off
& watch it
bleeding slow
because
that's
always
the best part
of the show.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 3:58 PM UTC
Welcome to my magic show
Where only the brave dare to go;
Beyond the depths of reality
Hidden under lock and key.
There's not rabbit in a hat, no graceful dove,
Just an angel with broken wings, fallen from above.
There's no illusion, no trick of scorn;
Only a lonely girl, tattered and torn
Welcome to the freakshow, look through the glass.
She cowers in fear, gazing at the points and laughs.
They mock, they tease,
They bring her to her knees.
With a desperate plea she lifts her eyes
And everyone sees she's a devil in disguise.
The confusion is evident on every face
This girl has a side that caused her to fall from grace.
Assumptions are made, a decision reached
Everyone with an opinion they morbidly preached
The girl lifts her hands in absolute fear
And in a flash of smoke she disappeared.
I hope you enjoyed the show
Where she went, you may never know.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
Is life on earth more than just a freakshow,
or should we all just join the circus?
We're all just Nazis anyway.
We were all just born to hate.
So you hate me,
and I'll hate you.
We'll hate til there's no hate left
Hate til your last breath
Ain't that why we're here?
Make me afraid
Afraid of my own shadow
Make me afraid
Afraid of myself
Let's join the circus.
Since we're here to see the freakshow
Get the message out.
Make sure you let the freaks know.
Why not?
Might as well.
I'll join the show.
Come one, come all.
You've got nothin' left to lose!
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 3:16 PM UTC
People poke at my sides jokingly
"She's so skinny? What are you like a size 0?"
No, size 2
108
I wrap my arms around my abdomen in shame
But it's not where I want to be
0, 00, 000
98
That's my wish
"You're such a twig! Haha"
"Let me see your arm, wow!"
"I could wrap my whole arm around your little waist, haha"
Am I a freakshow
Or the star of it
It feels the same
I hate
and hate
and hate
and hate
until there is nothing left
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 12:17 AM UTC
The darkness can embrace the page a silk sheet of verbal perfection .
Empty streets and bars cast shadows that cling in mind like some ship long sailed from port.
Why must they see the end and never fight it's truth ?
We find so little compassion a snow storms emotion has left this summer night
vacant as the motels sign.
Drift for a second with me and i'll show you nothing but flawed perfection in return.
Cats in the garbage winos hold court in the parks distant to the .
The child never should know.
Poets speak in smoke filled rooms of nothing more than a broken souls frustration and second
avenue's false shine a glass charm and a freakshow diamond the ***** a true friend in
times all to often I need.
Whats your sport the streetwalker asks me in such a pure jaded sense.
wash me pilot hands are clean but thoughts seem to stain walls of the union mission
I love its true sense of decay .
Jack are you still on the road or just lost in big Sur?
Bob can they ever decode the message or just set free in the paint you cast as words?
Poets fools profits and second street saints I feel comfort in madness for
sanity's annoying plea just takes up my time.
Are we nothing more than junkies?
Slave to page and the veiw's no matter how blind they may be.
A drunkard , A clown, And a welcome stranger in many a lost souls view.
Charles I can understand your humor in the utter sense of ***** it all and the crued beauthy i reconize so very well.
And a whiskey laced brother kindred spirts seem to go better with southern bourban to
wash it all down.
Now sweetheart im not saying im any good but im always a goodtime.
We have to be ******** to be anything at all.
They all knew as so do I.
Heros gone were never heros at all.
Im the last of my kind hundred proof deadly with a **** eating grin.
Only through others eyes are we truely seen .
So I ask how's your view?
Admire many only to realize your lost in ego's storm.
Few understand and even less care.
Im always here till im truley gone.
Stay crazy friends and remember it's not to be admired.
For heros always must fall.
A breeze in the summers burning heat like many others.
I'll only leave a soon to be taken vacant seat.
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 3:24 PM UTC
What is it with society
it can't leave girls alone
to be the way they want to be
they have to **** and moan...
"Now this one she's too skinny
with a blatant lack of ***
legs stolen from flamingos
and arms like two matchsticks.."
"Now this one's far too chubby
observe her thunder thighs
see her wobble as she's walking
it's clear who ate all the pies.."
"Now see the tattooed freakshow
flesh tunnels, garb of black
in burly boots and trenchcoat
she must be taking crack.."
"and what of lil Miss sunkissed
with her streaky perma-tan
who dresses like a two bit *****
but never keeps her man.."
A war on flaws is raging
as media fuels the flame
mixed with the tongues of gossips
it gets stronger everyday
we're taught to judge a person
by looks and shape alone
regardless of their inner selves
their talents, dreams and goals
It really is a worry,
to watch our young girls grow
bowed under weight and pressure
with self esteem so low.
So tell them that they're beautiful
it's not too much to ask
and please be sure to tell them
that the media's an ***
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
The colored carousel is coming for me again
The roller coaster zigzags across my vision
My head thumps with it's own band inside
Pounding away on one side, wearing it down to bone
Colorful streamers follow it, but I can’t focus on them
The image shifts with each movement of the eyeballs.
Why do they always have to bang on the same spot?
I knock some holes in the wall with my head
The freakshow’s fat lady is on the other side, taking a bow
But it feels just like looking into a mirror.
In order to feel some control over the pain I'm privy to,
I tighten the vise on my temple a few turns
Then I bang my neck with a tire iron
Just for equal opportunity agony.
The dwarf man stares at that, as if I am the highlight of the show.
I start to do a little tap dance, but my head blasts off on it’s own,
As if out of a cannon, rocketing above the arena
Slowly turning in it’s bug-eyed orbit.
I remember just in time to tighten the noose and step off the chair,
To the excited howls of delight, from the crowd-
But the support gives, every time; it’s all part of the act.
Why do I always have to work so hard performing
To achieve what my body does without thinking?
The clowns are pointing at me and laughing now,
And the children want to know, what is it all for?
But now blood is in my eyes, and the striking of the clock
Makes my vision shake, so I lay down in the cool doom of twilight
And wait for the loud music to slowly dissipate.
Nov 4, 2010
Nov 4, 2010 at 9:48 AM UTC
Spotlight is on me.. yet again
I am the main attraction; the one they all came to see
The one they laugh at. The one they joke about
As long as I've remembered, I've always been the "ugly" one, the "awkward" one
A freak
and I'm starting to believe these controversial jokes
I am a clown
and they all seem to laugh at my downfalls
but
Whoever said I wanted to be in this circus?
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
I remember the day my dignity was lost
Not by choice but taken
The air was dewy and the grass was layered with frost
I recalled every word he said and was shaken
I walked through campus looking like a freakshow for everyone to see
I felt the blood trickling down me
For years we were friends
I thought I could trust him till the end
I remember gaining my conscious back
He whispered, "shh, it's okay I'm almost done"
After those words the silence lacked
With my tears drowning out his "fun"
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
Stolen words from my mind
Quickly turn to make me blind
With fear in my eyes I turn away
I’ve lost all the words I wanted to say
They reek of death and disease
Then again it’s the dark side I please
If darkness could speak would it be my voice
If life were mine, would it be my choice
something dark within me seeks its way out
could I stop it if it made me scream and shout
in agonizing pain as my insides decayed
would I turn to a husk, gruesomely displayed
upon some freakshow wall above a fire
or would I be made into piano wire?
put in tune with others like me
as we played a dark gloomy symphony
while a vampire danced with his soon-to-be-bride
would I find courage to jump out or hide?
doubtlessly now you think I'm insane
otherwise you'd have words to blame
but you know by now they cannot control
the entity me, though I am not quite whole
speaking of holes, why six feet under
its not like the dead would awake with thunder
enough idle chatter, I know why you're here
to take me away from my mansion this year
shackle me up like my words said you would
tie up my wrists to posts made of wood
i'd laugh in your face and declare you a fool
your torturous ways will only make me look cool
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
I left my heart in our broken city
deep beneath the dark and crushing sea
In the cold and crumbled streets
where you and I used to run and hide.
We'd stick each other with syringes,
and ****** black eyed waifs
from off the backs of violent giants.
Set them free for a taste of their blood.
We'd listen to Django and Stephanie
on that old Victrola,
while we snacked on chips
and drank pilfered gin
from the busted Circus of Values.
Because, your tightwad *******
brother, couldn't spare a dime.
I still have that snapshot,
of you with your Tommy gun
mowing down splicers,
a puddle of Eve at your feet.
Where did we go wrong?
Was it in the half-flooded sections,
were we hid from Ryan's rampage,
before he made me smash his skull.
Or was it that last gene tonic we split,
after the reactor went supernova.
Somebody Rapture me, already.
I wasn't made to last anyway, my lovely.
I just wish I could have lived long enough
to see the girls grow up,
under the cerulean and cream sky.
But, all dreams are destined to die,
the fire and freakshow was fun
while the liquor and shotgun shells lasted
The only thing I know for sure,
is that what they call freedom
is just Dystopia waiting to happen.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
If your a freakshow
everyone will hate you
if you be yourself.
If you hide yourself
without openin up
its easier, right?
Ive compartmentalized myself
but in each room
is
me.
Hate it or like it
I will be who I be.
You can too
I understand more than I let on
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 1:39 AM UTC
on the outside, nobody'd ever known he was unhappy.
he had his mother's eyes, soft and blue,
reminded me of babies for some reason.
he used to pop in every now and then to give me the news,
gossip he'd heard at school that day,
the what-not.
i was real sick at the time, mama had to keep me hidden away sometimes,
ya know, i think she was a little ashamed seeing how it was a little her fault.
i didn't blame her for nothin' though.
anyways, he came and went as he pleased, nice boy he was.
used to wrap me up in a blanket and wheel me onto the porch so we could watch
the cars and the rich folk with dogs jog right on by, like they ain't never seen a girl with no hair
and a boy as handsome as he was.
we was a regular spectacle, a bonafide freak show,
and them people they always gonna talk, but he told me that the only people that listen are
the ones doin' the talkin', and that ain't us, so we ain't listenin'.
i didn't find out about his daddy until about a month after it happened,
for some reason people have a hard time telling someone who's dying that somebody died,
can you believe that?
he stopped comin' around so much after that, figured it was 'cause a his mama (with the eyes)
needin' extra help round the house.
weeks, maybe even a month went by 'fore i saw him again,
but he wasn't the same boy, and i sure as hell wasn't the same girl.
he looked at me, with them eyes, as if he'd just lost the lottery.
ya know, he sat me down and told me that he couldn't be around me no more,
seeing as how i was dyin' and all. ( i thought that was pretty dumb, i may be dyin' but i ain't dead yet)
he held my hand in his, his was a little clammy, i think 'cause he was so sad and all.
we sat there for a few minutes, hand in hand, thinkin' bout life and death, and the johnny carson show.
now, he never said nothin', but i think he loved me. i never got to find out the truth though.
he disappeared after that day, nobody heard from him, his mama was all outta sorts.
i think he left town, couldn't stand seein' people lookin' at him and me all the time,
the bonafide freakshow,
couldn't stand bein' round his broken mama.
doesn't really matter where he went off to, he was gone just the same.
some days, when im sittin' on the porch, wrapped up in a blanket, waiting to die,
i feel his clammy hand holdin' mine.
you see, when you don't have much left to live for,
it's people like him that save you.
Dec 19, 2011
Dec 19, 2011 at 1:58 AM UTC
Theres nothing left to see now
the circus has finally closed
I sigh
as the freakshow begins
I stand down
lost
alone
my vision clouds
but I see everything
as the tent fills with shadows
I watch their faces
cruel laughter
lighting up their eyes
I run
frantic
as the empty seats are filled
by all the other outcasts
desperate
to laugh at someone else for a change
at least
something good
would have
come out
of my useless life
all Ive ever done
is hurt people
then again
theres a first time
for everything...
The shadows
they stare
as if
they havent heard
of things like me before
abominations
monsters
I cant tell
if they really see me
they would be the first...
I watch
as they take their seats
the ringmaster
pushes me
one
step
too
far
and I fall
into the empty pit that surrounds me
inside and outside
finally the same
the shadows laugh
as I drown
in the waters
of my soul...
I feel the darkness
closing in
I welcome it
it will all be over soon anyway
why fight
when
there is nothing left
to fight for
after all
Im not
worth the trouble
no one
faught for me...
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
if you buy a ticket,
theres no turning back.
welcome to the
Freakshow.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
Yeah, right. No wrongs, just lost sight. Skies clear up and dust settles. Played smoother than the piano, I remember just saying hello. Oh no. And there she go. On her way, tomorrow is always today. Leaving it with her say. No toys but plenty of time to play. And her smiles transmit a fearless hope that maybe she'll be there. Yes, and maybe she won't. Too many do's, too many of her don't s. you win some, and some you'll learn to let go. No longer your main star in this freakshow we humans call Love. Scene one and Act two, you thought there was none above. Two for one, one for all. This woman makes me feel tall. For her, I just fall. Rough landings, smooth sailing. This feeling I dreaded. Failing. Gone.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
Behold the wondrous, the strange
The odd, deranged!
The beautiful, the hideous
Now get you a ticket
You don’t want to miss it!
The shock and all the fright and surprise
Gather around! Feast your eyes!
Tall and short, young and old
Ladies and gentlemen, here we go!
This is the Freakshow!
Hello, hello
I’m Mike!
I chew on glass and yes, I bite.
So watch out or I just might
Impale my skin with an iron spike
Oh, I see you that you really like that
Watch me swallow swords and survive it
Watch me spit out flames
The highest that you’ll ever see
Do you dare mess with me?
Now walk on by, keep on going
There’s more to this show than what we’re showing
Behind the curtains, away from the viewing
There is a plan that the freaks are brewing
But no matter, pay no mind
You paid the fee and they’ll stay confined
Oh! Looky here! Isn’t this exhibit grand?
These are our lasses of highest demand!
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
Portable Carnival.
You pack it up and roll it away two weeks to the day that it arrives. The lives of these carnies have never mattered. They exist only as a part of the traveling freakshow. Something we pay money to stare at, to laugh at, to mock. It’s degrading, but it’s how the freaks have to earn their living. It’s how Two Toe Toby affords his next meal. But he doesn’t have a favorite sit down restaurant, because they keep putting him back on a bus and sending him to a different city to manage the tilt-a-whirl; And all the hurling ***** from children's’ stomachs that are full of corn dogs and cotton candy.
Portable Portajohn.
A traveling **** storm. Citizens come and give us their paychecks in return for cheap thrills on rinky **** rides that spin their minds into oblivion. Just so they can say they’ve tasted the clouds and all of the pollution that surrounds them.
And just like that, we leave again. Vanishing into our next city, for a scheduled two week period.
Jan 16, 2019
Jan 16, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
And it's morning on Mannheim Road.
The early/late commuters, sounds of them wheezing by, juxtaposed with the monotonous chirps of birds of all the same color. Life! Happening without you or me wake or even semi-conscious.
Everyone, every sound, every thing trying, desperate, to be the main character of a story never written.
Each of us and thing, hammer and nail with nothing to hammer and nail.
It's all here to see, like a freakshow, in Des Plaines, IL.
And when the sun fully rises, it's all normal again. Nothing to comment on, nothing to notice. Same conversations, same food, same never-ending road, same, same. So close to insane.
And nobody can give two ***** about it. It's too much to ask for like some spare change They'll only use when They're buying a large coke and maybe some extra fries, "more please."
Sad? No, tranquil. Free from disturbance. So beautiful even the blind could see it.
Don't seize the day, just enjoy it.
And I wish I could have wrote this in spanish,
Buenos Dias folks.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC