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anthony Brady May 15
The secret’s out – Hip! Hip! Horray!
Meghan Markle has had her way:
no papparazzi just a note to state.. framed upon the palace gate..
a baby born to her and Prince Harry.

It was a very private affair - narry
a Home Secretary  was there to see
the birth - a custom ended by decree:
though historically meant as inclusion
t’was deemed at last a male intrusion.

Now in an age where all is bi-
ethnic black and white tie
parently neat and true
with the royal blood line’s
red, white,  and blue.

By George! To Will and Kate
in poetry  - I must relate
there is no comparison
other than that word
rhymes with Harrison.

Hey. Nonny. Nay.
Alack a day -
I must away,
for this verse done and said
I could withall lose my head.

The Jester came to see the King one day ,
“these fools are no good they are full of dancing’.

Then the following day a joker came up to the king ,
“; these fools are no good for they are full of laughing .

And we are no good for we sit and moan for the crown we stole
has been a stolen .
The ring we borrowed ,
the knowledge we shared ,
the love we cherished ,
Is as loose as a hang mans noose .

The jester stands on our walls we built ,
just to tell us we are fools .

The joker on our bed laughs tingles his bells as we lay asleeping .
The minstrels have all but left to go a Caroling ,
the love we cherished lies
as empty as the grains of wheat to sodden to eat ,
to sodden to sell .
Christ’s love hangs in art
ripped flesh a truth of love lost
lies in rock umugst our sands .

We head off to the streets with laughter one foot to the right ,
the other to the left ,
the joker stands in the middle .
One foot to the left ,
then to the right
and we all sing lasciviously ,
as the plagues acoming ,
and we go asinging ,
for its. acarolling time ,

and it dos’nt lead to heaven .

For now the wine tastes sweet ,
and the barrels are dry ,,

our heads are kinda dizzy ,
We ***** and puke ,
then **** and poo as we
hung draw and quarter our souls as O
the boils will rise by the morning. The joker jokes ,
the jester sings ,
and we held hands ,
round and round and round we went
and it did not lead to heaven.

#Gals. Come home my dears come home my loves ,
for we will cook you pottage in the morning
and they didn’t end in heaven.

Men reply and we’ll all be dead by the mor ..ning #

And the boils arrived in the morning
and they didn’t. lead to heaven.
annh Jul 10
Wit when overreached
Is neither as endearing nor amusing
As the antics of a court jester;
But it is infinitely more foolish.

‘The greatest fools are ofttimes more clever than the men who laugh at them.’
- George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords
Pagan Paul May 2017
So here I am once more, in the playground of the broken hearts.
One more experience, one more entry in a diary self-penned.
Yet another emotional suicide,
overdosed on sentiment and pride.
To late to say I love you, to late to re-stage the play.
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday'.

The first words you killed me with.
The first Script to make me cry.
The opening song on a plate of sorrow.
The opening sight of my Poets eye.

Your words soaked my childlike mind
as I lost on the roundabouts and swings.
The Jester stands with violin and quill,
composing tears on his broken strings.

I sat and chewed those daffodils
and I still struggle to answer why.
I grew up and left that playground
but its the place where my heart died.

So I never did write that love song,
My words just never seemed to flow.
The martyrs twisted smile haunts me,
my Harlequins head dreams in sorrow.

The game is over.
The game is over.

© Pagan Paul (22/05/17)
*First verse from the title track of 'Script for a Jesters Tear' by Marillion.
First heard this song when I was 14, I always wondered why Fish's lyrics spoke so deep with me. I only understood when I started to write poetry.
The album is their first, and the first of a trilogy that also includes Fugazi and Misplaced Childhood.
I am the Harlequin. PPx
Must it be a Test to Love without Cause
Like Dad's Clothes worn un-thinking of Perfection?
This be your Practice despite Facts beknown
Towards way-end your Silence ignores Diction
For One who speaks on-file, eager to Present
Once your Lights dim and return to Normal
Expect Reserved Silence to those you amend,
Played Jester with Clouds and thought you Mortal
Even ID's have Foot-Long Lanyards, Sir
Meaning regardless of Gold or Bronze frame
Remember this for all Intent and for Her
All primmed Apartments connect the same.
This you adjust, according to your need
Her she understands, whatever you please.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
jerrey Aug 9
I’ll give my spirit for you
Because when you’re down
I’m forever your fool
Ask me if I will dance
And I’ll give you a second chance
I won’t stop until you’re pleased
With my whole body’s abstract grief
I won’t stop until I’m dead
And my feet are burning fiery red

I’ll never care if you fall short
Because you’re my king
And I am your court
If you told me to take
Another heart and make it break
I won’t stop until it shatters
And give it to you on a golden platter
I won’t stop until I’m dead
And make sure that you’re well fed

I’ll let you do what’s best for her
Because you’re my king
And I’m forever your jester
Tell me that you don’t know
I’ll tell you to please let me go
I won’t stop until you leave
Even when I’m too tired to grieve
I won’t stop until I’m dead
And have erased myself from your head

I’ll be here when you must be found
Because you’re my ringmaster
And I’m your best clown
Tell me that she’s what’s right
I’ll never try to put up a fight
I won’t stop until you’ll see
You can’t say you’re still here for me
I won’t stop until I’m dead
And my circus act is for now abed

Whenever and whatever you need me for
I hope you know that I am forever yours
croob Dec 2018
The clown would’ve been beaten up and down
a long time ago, if he didn't know
how to force scowls into smiles,
bafflement and battles into laughs
like startled bells and baby rattles.

Who would he be now, if he didn't know
how to play the jester, how to stitch
his words together
like the mouth of a snitch
or a quilt of dodo feathers?

He learned it from pain: how to be a joker,
how to act the fool.
Does it count, still, as stand-up comedy
if he's just crying on a stool?
The ‘Deceivers Of Time
  Masquerade Ball’

Invitees file past

Yesterday in drag,
  Tomorrow disguised

Today—the Present’s mask

Memories hide
  in the shadows of hope

All wishes dancing fast

Until the Jester laughs
  as the final waltz ends

Deception to the last

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Every time I hear of you--
I wonder what went wrong
that you would choose
another over me.

The cogwheels of my brain
would constantly rewind
to the very day we meet;
the nerves I had prior
and the brief good memories.

This bitter nostalgia
reminded me of
my foolish sense of hope
that I was the special one
among many others--

Only when I was told
that I was rejected
did I realise...
I was only a pitiful jester;
dancing and joking
for your fancy
on that very day.

I could not help thinking,
being rejected on a Christmas eve
is a terrible Christmas present,
and also the only Christmas present I had.

They say that it was not His will--
But they also did not know...
Perhaps it was His will
that I spend the dead morning of Christmas
soaking my pillow in tears
while nursing a overactive mind.

And yes, I saw you again on New Years Eve--
from afar, where everyone was celebrating
of their successful association with you
with delirious hopefulness and motivation...
Meanwhile, I was made to
welcome the New Year all alone
with tears in memory of your rejection.
Happy belated New Year.
So yes, I will not have stupid expectations and resolutions for 2019. I will be realistic.
BoringBoy Feb 27
I passed my hat
There was a Jack
I knew I'd have a better Job
The Jack will bow
I rid a cow
Went down to join a raging mob
There stood a king
Next to a queen
Attempting to keep them all calm
I threw a card
I know it's mean
I mean it slid out of my palm
Lined in metal
Sliced off his head
I threw more cause it's just a game
They hopped and chopped
It's called hop-scotch
No one wanted to soon be lame
I found his crown
And fled the scene
My choice of paint is always red
Hear, hear, your king
You better sing
Or the new game will be you're dead
No care the place
I'm there, i'm pleased
That's how I came to gain some fame.
There's isn't peace
But let us feast
I wear my smile like your pain
I'm called Jester
Of all the Suits
Because I equal to their might
Call me a freak
You sad pipsqueak
But all will know that I can fright.
Rob Rutledge May 2018
We float on unkown oceans
In boats more made for land.
The sails have ceased to function,
And our boots are laced with sand.
The rudder is unresponsive,
The first mate seems quiet too.
The ship has started leaking,
Weakend wood and stale stew.

The course was never charted,
This was known among the crew.
A passage for the faint of heart,
The bard and the jester too.
These denizens of darkness
Embark with the morning dew.
Depart with mist horizons
To find the start of something new.

For months we sailed
Through winter times,
On waters cold yet still serene.
The memories of warmer climes
Seem like nothing but a dream.
Cannons fire, deckhands scream,
Ship splintered by the sea.
Driftwood caught in ocean's sway
Swept up then cast away.
Butch Decatoria Sep 2018
Hell is like waiting in a long line for the zoo
So this must be limbo...

Time stretches / skeleton skin skeins
The tock the tick / the clock
Schizophrenic melancholia
Mockingly sickening
Traffic of panic / deafening
Time stales / takes Forever
A long while - in limbo
Zombie shock / mind akimbo

And loneliness is a box
This corpse sits in
As existence / outside frightful / persisting
***** and spritz-ing
Our vibrant thangs
Songs shouts to gang sign slangs
Even when the lyrics
Go deep
Six feet sorrow
Hip hopping to defeat

But we gots to love it
The life we have
The Flava and the savor this last dance .
Makes me wanna Dougie
Percolating / jump / criss cross
Vanilla bean / jump jump

But what is a song to a diminished bird
No cage more cruel than the loss of worth
Hearts depart from its soul
Jester / fools / without cheer
No cartwheels glee or clue
Happy days adieu
High times zero new
Birds to the sky / fist pump / guns
This is for the Razza
End what's done begun

Waiting to get thru
Theme parks colorfully masking
Reality's streets and truth
Inmates as we are forced to wait
Hate is quicker to arrive
Behind bars hollows Time
Takes our forever
Even waking up
Still in limbo / thirsty without a cup
Same ole system
Who's business makes slaves
Kept blind and silently afraid
In a state / of mindlessness
Now worse than before

Schitzo screaming schisms
Crazy IS the war
Fear wreaks havoc
Boom boom back to a room
In your head goes the bomb
Shrapnel wounded / half none...

Are we there yet?
Just farts in the wind
Waiting is hell / how does life begin?
Just passing by / passed away / a passerby
Yelling and complaining
Let me in ? Get me out ?
Ghost to life's boo hoo / poor you
What happens to dreams wasted
In the zoo
Eyes turned frozen
Cold uncaring
Dying and lying / lifeless stories to share
As beauty within is in despair
As beasts overcrowd the fair
Flotsam in limbo float
Alone in its killer cold
Time still passing / parole / on hold
Much hope

Where are we
If there is nothing
No penny for fairy tale wells

Wishes are dead in fountains
Rich and heavy to the bottom
With tossed currencies. Fell.
How will a coin speak
Who will ever know
If we do not paint out loud
The masterpiece of the dream?

Tell me dreamer what time do you have
Still waiting?

In this zoo...

When it always was and is
And always will be

Up to you.
Revised retitled
The rain and the wind, ragged and wet weather
unlike any other out in the forlorn West.
We go at it all the same, buzzin'
in the soaking precipitation.

That night I saw a man realize he'd spent years of his life
wasting around G-town, and'd naught to show for it.
The lure of endless craic and perpetual sessioning
had ensnared him and he'd lost himself to this place,
Became a character in the local scene that recited his lines
and acted out his part.
What was all that he felt?
Were it at the behest of his
town, the jester himself
knows this place well.
Artsy-types, buskers,
Hippies and jugglers,
Krusties, line-backers
Shams and knackers,
Sesh-heads all.
Passing students, wanna-be teens.
All pretending they're larger than life
or whatever, in this way they almost are
but in-keeping their company you'd easily

become a fixture of the town. Ah,
You can't blame the city for its nature,
Though you may certainly curse it some.
After all you're the changeable one, careful
of each scene you spend your time being.
It's been twenty long years
Puppet to entertain
Stepping back from it now
I'm in awe; Can't explain
Like that saying is said
Definition: insane
To repeat the same actions
Expect not the same
Final outcome, results
Thinking somehow they'll change
Foolishly I'd go back
And would replay our game
Said each time it's the last
I'm done feeling this pain
Once the moment has passed
My conviction will fade

I am stuck in the past
History here to stay
If unknown will relapse
Help me tie off a vein
It all happens so fast
Find myself in a grave
As I'm dying, you laugh
Your messed up and depraved
But the buck I can't pass
I'm the one who's to blame
'Cause the actions I act
Full control I contain
Simply get what is asked
Have no right to complain
Can no longer react
Must take hold of the reigns

If I can't make a path
Set the forest ablaze
Leaving nothing but ash
Flatten over and pave
Stop this ride or I'll crash
Can no longer sustain
My permission not asked
But that all ends today
A court jester for laughs
No more; I will not play
Jump to first; Had been last
Discontinued the race
Hoisted sail on the mast
Moving forward with faith
Don't let door hit your ***
Time you be on your way
Written: June 21, 2019

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Tetrameter format]
I am your peasant
In my heart is resistance
Can only admire from a distance
I your knight in shining armor
I will defend your honor
I your dancing jester
Your heart will never fester
You are my kingdom

Classy J Feb 6
Trying to figure why a ***** tried to stunt on me.
While my homie fronts on me.
Triggered lie’s blasting out like bullets into your chest, golly!
Vigor dying whilst family crying that left me locked up now in a little celly.
Why did I pour out my heart to that ***** named shelly?
**** got me melancholy, casting out poxy curses.
My proxy is dropping down which got me feeling worthless.
Growing up in projects where one survives by snatching purses and killing snitches.
While society bides their time by tying nooses.
Rigged games yet we are told to give no excuses.
So, a minority got no choice but to role with the punches.
But with darker skin colour most don’t or won’t notice the bruises.
Vile nobility just loves hunting gooses.
Stark contrast idly confides and resides Inside institutionalized nuances.
Some people can be such nuisances.
Got me feeling like tony roaming through the different cosmoses.
Lonely sinking feeling, with my hope which was once flickering but is now slowly fleeting.
Reciprocal tensions pokes through my barriers like an unwelcomed greeting.
Typical tropes of under-achieving maybe it’s time I let God start intervening?
However, I’m doubtful on whether spirituality is real or nothing more than Kris Kringle.
Jingling jester choirs who always be harping on my people.
Which makes me ponder whether or not God’s supposed love is fickle.
Or if supposed believer’s have actually ever read the bible?
Religious pharisee’s not seeing the irony of praying to their falsified idols.
With their heads so far up their own ***. That they don’t even realize that they’ve actually been worshipping the devil.
I'm clever almost never
That's untrue, I am quite daft
I once came close to dying,
I got stuck under a raft
Sarcasm is my strong suit,
I use it when I can
This fact became a nuisance,
When I worked for Uncle Sam

In class I played the clown,
I was often tightly wound
Always acting out
The court jester to the crown
I know how this must sound
A rotten apple on the ground
Just don't beat me while I'm down
I might shock you with the knowledge
I still have parents who are proud

See, Im verbally proficient
Surprisingly efficient
I'd cast you out like bait
Cause I’d much rather be fishing
I'd cut you down with such precision
If this was my decision
Without any permission
I'd stitch up your incision
That seeps down in your torso
And turn it into a tradition

My verbiage is unrelenting
Savage and outstanding
There's thought behind my speak
I'm a primed linguistic freak
Destroying all on-comers
Feasting on the weak
Tiptoeing like a sneak
Subdued and quite discrete
Let's hope we never meet
If we do you should retreat
Along with your whole fleet
Like the shepherd to his sheep
Go on head back to momma
Continue ******* on her tete

You can't handle what I'm dishing out
It only adds to my mystique
I'm steadily reminiscing
Back to when Caesar led the Greeks
Conquering all his enemies  
Well established as elite

Your eyes were shaded by a vision
When stricken with a nasty condition
Embarking on failed missions
Should I even bother dissing?
All while leaving a lasting impression
On the mouth you never were kissing
To only end up missing
The target you were *******
Without help or assisting

From beginning to the end
I'm burning bridges I can't mend
Breaking all the rules no one would think to bend
Born to live until we're dead
No more all this wishing
That you were dead instead
Using the brains inside our head
And coming to a conclusion
Your brains' been underfed
Relying on the masses
To muster up intent
Resolving every problem
With a bandaid made of lead
Surviving on a crumb of bread
Its only temporary
A fazed out forgotten trend
Like disco and bellbottoms
Or mohawks and shaved heads

It's time we payed back our debt
Make sure the homeless are all fed
Put these issues to rest
Tucked away in bed
It's not time for story telling
The fairytales of past regret
Back before our needs were met
Finding solutions to our problems
We mustn't ever forget
More a rap than a poem. Had fun writing this
JA Perkins Sep 23
.. likes tearing people down
with loose talk and harsh words -
Empathy tossed aside
by the misuse of nouns and verbs.
.. a twisted view of society
just bound to be seen and heard -
Everyone, listen quietly
till every harsh word is slurred.
The Queen of the Night Life;
her brokenness - a crown.
Out-spokenness - a sword
that she just loves to swing around.
And me, I'm just a jester;
my struggle - a comedic scene,
but she’s justified by anger
only entitled to the royal queen.
Hurt people hurt people
Laura Sep 24
If I could paint you
in a single moment
and twist out mauve.
Calm thoughts would form
for a jester like me.
You remaining audience.
I would draw out
my cold feelings like Poe.
Shout for resolution,
knowing you share resolve.
If I could paint you
in a single moment
and pull out trust.
Soft constance would form
for an angel like me.
You remaining front row.
I would draw out
my warped touch like Dali.
Shout for self reflection,
knowing I share the mirror.
Burlesque fatuous is the implication of your emotional daily pretentiousness. I am seldom, otherwise a psychopath, able
to own fraternity which I can't
discernment or jester because there is an art to love and ******
And it's a conventional edit to your own dullness. I am vivid,
Debris to impersonation.
I am absent but identical
to thin air. I am a Prometheus
Arabian night in Lysistrata premise.
My words may remind you of the day I held your eyes in infinite cluster. Perhaps my love isn't enough for you to understand. For example, the glassed vain is paralysis iridium illicitness which is svelte to inadmissible synthesis. The cloud let are torsion, assail with cypress and impossible solariums; and the propane was a sensation of disjointed loveliness.
Every time I go for a walk, mosquitoes understand my lonely talks because they sip my blood at a quarter past ten but these glazed roads scrutinized my wrist, escorted vernal preposterous blue/purple relentless ghostly cheekbones.
Thought I could festive the blaze among the cedar bridge road
but take a pause and look at my skin and thighbones,
Preterists to flowered unless I smile and tell you
"This is heartbreak"*

*Unable to keep up with your facetiousness, personality failed me temporarily. Mind melting in a moment of dissonance,
This cognitive refrain refracts the 'I' that oscillates accordingly.
One's morphology, tuned to its own metric of change.
Hypnos whispers and sleep beckons, taunting insomnia (which makes a mockery of all humans) but Morpheus has no time for anything less than grandiose archetypes.
Last night I may have dreamt or drunk some foolish things, told people the truth untruthfully, let slip more than I should have.
What a pity, secrecy. They say
information wants to be free.
Who lingers in the details?
Past memories are liberated only by the present. I stand here in the downpour, soaking it all in.
Compassion, god is in the rain.
My fulgurite heart resting on the palm of a deity, at a tilt, slowly it's sliding off; when it fell I gasped.
The reflection of wide eyes in each of its atria, emotion flowing through these venae cavae, those
dilated eyes shimmered before it shattered, gleaming with passion. Us, in the blink of an I.
written on May 13th, 2017.
David Flemister Mar 2017
i was born all naturally
formed in a lax factory
im actually
a hack with ******* in my nose, practically,
every day,  haphazardly
stumbling home, half asleep
i cant tell whats happening
vision begins blackening
im whack like kriss kross
crack like rick ross
major brown boy to houston
be like, "yes, we have liftoff"
dont like me when i'm *******
cause *****, i'm bruce banner
or maybe i'm bruce wayne
either way, i got mad manners

tearing down walls like berlin
preaching like its a sermon
potential begins to burgeon
i'll cut you up like a surgeon
killing in place of coercion
so you better lower the curtain
my head and my body are hurtin
so tell me how quick does the world spin?

i'm taddling on ya, you can call me a toddler
but the snitchin n' **** is somethin im never fond of
and i never grow up, cause i'm the neverland smuggler
peter pan turns into one of my best customers

i never grew into my head, im not cocky
never had the eye of the tiger, im not rocky
growing up i never got in fights or caused a lotta ****
but presently im screaming "**** the world", i've got a bone to pick

i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
you hold me captive, keep me trapped in your facets of laws
looks of repulsion are what cause me to brandish my claws
constant compulsions reminiscent of prodigal flaws
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
see im a goblin shark i'll sink in my nautical jaws
im not a joker im a jester with lesser facades
wrought with insomnia cause drugs are american gods
Experimenting with rap lyrics
Ainnoot May 30
A jester who is unheard
loses its identity.
The sound of
crickets begin to echo.
Punchlines sock you
in the face
and the
silence is deafening.
Eryck Aug 2018
If I could
I  would 
But I can't
So I  won't
--Be the carpenter to the building up of your ego.
--Shower you with confident praise, umbrella you from dissident things.
--Figure out the high and low moods of an adrenaline *****.
--Nod in agreement, like a court jester, to the latest exploits of a drama queen.
 Its a constant chore I abhor just to get you up and moving out the door.
Push you out the nest to fly,
throw you in the water to sink or swim, to try.
It's what we do when children are all grown,
NOT what we do for girlfriends who are afraid to leave home or be alone.

It's  not a keeping score point system where I'm giving more than I'm getting. Its more of a witnessing to the feeling of the allowing and the letting.

If I could
I would
But I can't
So I  won't
-- pave a yellow brick road through your misgivings.
--Smooth off the edges of your indecisions.
--Give you the cowardly  lions courage he got from Oz.
--Lie to boss Hog that your sick in bed.
-- Tweezer out the splinters of your perceived injustices.

If I  could
I would
But I can't
so I wont
Cottle you, bottle you, can't promise you or promote you. Must remove you and remote you, no longer develop you or devote you. Your on your own.

And in the end, dispite what I  do and the might that I  do it with... the final road is one we walk alone.
  I have to let you go now.
Even her jealousy got the best of her as she got onto my Hello Poetry account and deleted almost all of my notifications which are also connected to the wonderful comments people have posted at the end of my poems. She said I was flirting. I finally told her,  I have to let you go now.
Arzella Sep 2018
Surely you,


Abrasive ...
au naturel?

I think...
Surely not.

Had the aforementioned not just the will to rip through my throat,
 but too the audacity to penetrate the inclement root you call heart.

Well, I had made my decision.
and lo!
I would have stood by it too;
had my own form of insecurity been given the chance to wilt.

Not further admonished on
how to think. how to act
How 'one' should primarily be.
Instead I lie bludgeoned,
and by the very thing that
antecedently spurred  
a cascade of unsophisticated giddiness.

That too was far from the cry of a
Devil-may-care persona.
I would almost weep the lost opportunity,  
Whereas I should simply, and most ardently
Just be.
Eva Aloezos Aug 2018
Mother continually reminded me
I was destined for greatness,
so like the jester
I walked off many sunny cliffs
chasing a mirage

I do not believe it’s true;
although, there once was a time I did

no longer blue,

destiny isn’t as fruitful an idea
as we’ve imagined it to be
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