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Red Bergan Jan 2014
Creeping souls, Beware.
Look around, shes here!
The Ringmaster's near.
Prepare for thy seasons,
Spring, Summer-sault, fall!

Light, shine,
Blinding thy eyes.
Look, Look this way!
The Ringmaster is here!

"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, To thy Haven."
Of sanity's sphere.

Hello Boys and Girls,
Cackle, clap, cry.
Laugh away my dearies!
High air fives! Good one!(Yeah Right)

I twirl my cane,
dancing into the ring.
I tip my hat, Announcing my name.
"Ringmaster Jinx at your service!"
"Rhymes with Sphinx!"

Stampede around!
Bounding lions roar,
Elephants triumphant!
Sounding war,A war of the century.

A crack of the whip spurs motion,
Big cats rear, growling at the stands.
Ace makes them sit, and spin!
"Get on with it!"

Thundering hooves sound,
Rippling figures race into the ring.
"Horses freedom ring! Hail Gladiator!"
They rear raising their heads high,
Controlled by Vex and Zakirai!

Cackling children scream,
"Oh my! Look!"
"Clowns wheeling into the ring!"
HONK! :o) Laugh and Dream!

Pies fly,
Unicycles collapse.
Laughter erupts!
Pie war! Duck!
Spring, soar!

"Guide the war!"
Left, right,back.
One "SMACK!" Two collide.
I control the theme, an Extravagant team.
Even if, I'm covered in pie cream.

Dance, Bound, Leap!
Up, Up and away my sweet!
Dancing through the air, gravity defy!
Hysterical...Insanity.
Your leap, of faith!

Vex falls into the net,
Safe, grounded, relieved.
My friends cheer with glee!

Insane sanity!
Look around, see me on the ground.
Hello Boys and Girls, Enjoy the show!
Haven Circus, Sphere of Humanities finest!

I twirl my cane,
Tip my hat,
And proclaim my name.
"Jinx the Ringmaster of this train!"

Goodbye one and all!
Hope you enjoyed the show!
Laugh, Cry and Dream!

I take my cane, and hat,
Exiting the Ring..
Sofia Paderes Feb 2013
let’s watch whales together
let’s catch stars together
let’s collect jars together
let’s put our dreams in those jars together
let’s write poems together
let’s play with foxes together
let’s sail together
let’s count asteroids together
let’s save penguins together
let’s read books together
let’s sing together
let’s eat Poptarts together
let’s paint together
let’s talk about elephants riding unicycles together
let’s listen to the willows whisper together
let’s cry of laughter together
let’s ride horses together
let’s discover the beauty in hidden places together
let’s build contraptions together
let’s get lost together
let’s live with different tribes together
let’s…
together
Julia Spohn Mar 2011
There's no formula.
Why would there be a formula,
Why muddle it up with signs and
Figures and giving and taking
When words do enough to draw a
Coroner's bag over it?

All you can know is the beautiful
Tightening of the Devil's hand on your soul,
Which he has now turned into a stress ball
With a witty or motivational saying on it.
Some are smiley faces,
But he crushes them all the same.

Too bad Libra isn't there to balance you out,
Sort out the Good and the Evil,
Your God and your Devil.
Because really, we ride on a line
Some would call razor sharp.
The most difficult task throughout our lives
Is, undeniably, the act of balancing.

Imagine this:
We are all the King's Fools,
We sit in the King's castle
In the Grand Hall
With wooden tables
And beautiful banners to represent
Who discovered and exploited
And conquered a certain piece of land,
And a certain part of the population,
And a certain percentage of humanity.

And these banners are red and gold,
Red for Passion,
Gold for Obsession.
And the walls are ******,
Breaking themselves apart
Like hourglass's employed grains of sand.
We all balance in this hall
On ridiculously tall unicycles,
So tall that the fruit and assorted
Desserts we are balancing on our clown's
Top hats on our sweating heads
Brush against the lion's tail on the first banner,
The boar's tusks on the second,
And sometimes the rose's bowing stem.

We do this all our lives
While the nobility,
Or the cosmos,
Or God and the Devil,
Or Good and Evil,
Sit and watch, laughing and throwing themselves at us
For us to catch and juggle whenever they please.
Matt Mar 2016
I'm supposed
To take life seriously

To make commitments
And plans

To think about the future
And set goals
And on on and on

And care about money

And I think it is just
A bunch of *******

I liked that documentary
About the guys
Who went to ride
Their unicycles
In Bhutan

They rode down
The stone stairs
Of mountain trails

They met with the woman
Before they journeyed
High into the mountains
Of Eastern Bhutan

She told them of the Yeti
And that they would feel
His presence there

She said it would be best
If they did not see him

But they might encounter him
Because the Yeti
Had never seen
A unicycle before

I think it would be fun
If they taught the Yeti
How to ride the unicycle
Just as they were
Teaching the local villagers
Irate Watcher Aug 2014
If Rihanna and Bob Marley had a baby,
it would be her. She was as fierce as peace can be.
Born in the suburbs, I had never seen
coffee-colored rastas with caramel tips,
pulled back from a shaven head
into a ponytail.
She skated in an oversized hoodie
across San Marcos square — a watering hole for
porteños playing hippie.
Mad man strummed ukuleles wildly;
couples dancing interpretively; jugglers rode on unicycles,
as if they were all training for a jester convention.
Still, I couldn’t tear my eyes from her
broken strands tied in knots swinging freely.

Her sea-foam stare met my blue gaze.
I looked like a dork; my hair plastered
and sweaty. I wore a black tank top,
waiting for another bus to another city.

She dismissed her band of perros
and grasped my hand, asking me
if I wanted to sleep by the river with her.
It was late so I said yes.
We walked from the yellow lights
of the town square.
She grimaced.

No more bones for starving dogs.

I wasn’t starving, just lost,
a traveler,
dried from a bucketful of adventures,
I dreaded repeating as empty stories
over
and
over
and
over.


O Celia,
you were a coyote wearing a hoodie;
no one could tame you, refracted by the white
light of the moon that embraced each
of your steps by the shrubbery-ridden riverside.
I stumbled as we approached
an embankment sheltered by magic trees,
the glistening water chilled waves to perked ears;
reflections of villagers, we pitched tents together,
tipi-ed by the ritual
of finding niche in transition.
You built the fire; I prepared the mate;
your weary locks whispered callejero wisdom.
Your stories were everything I wanted to say,
but too timid to be.

You were dancing in my basement,
bathing in moonlight *******,
unashamed to say how good the water felt.
You probably lost your virginity in your tent;
shadows of leaves shaking a disturbed night,
unlike I, crying, semi-drunk, wishing I hadn’t.

You actually played the guitar;
you bought it yourself;
it was tied to the skateboard
you drug behind on open roads.
I got a guitar for my birthday after
watching Lindsay Lohan be a rockstar in a movie once.
I was inspired to play for a while.
Then it just sat in my room.

So you taught me your favorite song, Legalizenla
We didn’t even have a porro — you wished we did.
But all I wanted was to memorize those chords
So you listened to me play them out of tune for hours,
pressing my fingers on the fretboard like butter.
Strums shuddered my soul.
You wrote the lyrics in my journal
with the note, con mucho amor.

Now, each time I dust off my guitar,
I warm up with that song  
to remember your vibrations.
Honest opinions here? What do ya'll think?
Xander Duncan May 2016
“Hey, I’m third-wheeling! Haven’t done this in a while!”
Wait… No… I’m going to stop you right there
Just because your friend has been texting me daily
Does not mean that we are any sort of duo for you half-heartedly attach to
Because I am a ******* unicycle
Admittedly, I don’t always stand too well on my own
But all it takes is some momentum and a little bit of blind faith
And I’ll be the one-wheeled contraption staggering unsteadily over any terrain imaginable
The only sort of second tire you’ll be hearing about for now
Is the declaration that I’m “two tired” to deal with this *******
Peddle your flirtations all you like, I’m not buying it
I’m the single spokesperson for a single set of spokes
You cannot tread on me just because my tread is wearing thin
Notice the lack of handlebars, you see, I am in control
Although my balance is unpredictable at best
I don’t have any brakes, because I’m getting sick of being broken
Do not mistake clowning around for simplicity, you see, I am easier said than done
The unicycle is not an easily mastered skill
And sure, perhaps I should be grateful that someone even bothers to try
But if you’re trying to shift gears, I should warn you
That doesn’t appear to be an option
I should warn you
All rides are solo
I should warn you
Unicycles might go in circles
But at least it's what they're meant to do
David Nelson Aug 2013
Story Teller II (the mill's on fire)

the bells are clanging and sirens scream
woke me up from a most unusual dream
oxygen was getting low about to expire
heard someone yell help the mill's on fire

jumped out of bed grabbed my boots
truck horn is blasting giving two *****
slide down the long pole helmet in hand
down through the tunnel to never never land

the giant cat with whiskers of gold
shivering now why is it so **** cold
my naked body exposed to the raw
took a swipe at me with his huge paw

men on unicycles doing fancy tricks
juggeling ***** and poking me with sticks
somebody tell me what does it all mean
Gong show's Gene Gene the dancing machine

someone please help me show me the way
this dream is a blast but I cannot stay
crackling timbers that horrible sound
the fire is burning the mill to the ground

I really must wake up and go I have a job to do
it is desperate when someone's counting on you
just 40 more winks though would really be nice
just spray it with water and tons of shaved ice

Gomer LePoet....
Michael Stefan Apr 2020
Oh I can't stop these words
tumbling and falling
from empty spaces in my head
as they ride the wicked helix
from here to hell and back again
on fettering wings like bats
that get caught in angel hair spaghetti
that gets flushed down the toilet with all the other
goldfish crackers

Each shouting head
surrounds me in rings of fire
with one desire
to watch me burn
as they hula-hoop with rubic's cubes on boomerangs
set for mars or maybe Seattle

Sometimes it's just this way for me
with my mind floating free
like butterflies in nets
or sickly flies in butter
waiting for the spread
but you know it's 10 to 1
and I'm about to get knocked out
I hope you didn't place your bets
on me

I wish the endless stream of consciousness
didn't feel like emptiness
with the only ears that listen
are glued to my head
like Halloween costumes
when Jason stole my candy, called me a dandy,
and ran the hell away

It's really hard to describe
when words won't take logical form
like being gaslighted by my own brain
who wears red ribbons
and plays with ***** of yarn
on rolling farms
as the cow jumped over the moon

But if you think that the cow
was a sight to behold
my imagination's untold secrets
got something for your mental circus
I just saw purple hydras on amino acid trips
riding unicycles
wearing diapers
hanging out with Picasso
who said
"What does this poem even mean, bruh?"
And just to let you know, I was not on drugs for this.  Sometimes my brain just starts racing and I have to put what I'm thinking down on paper.  I hope it wasn't too confusing.
Saumya Singla Sep 2020
I see swells
hum and chug
to death
shakes of sun
charming snakes
******* candy caramel
cakes and pink gum
top snow under unicycles
shavings of nutshell and breath
lettuce crumbling in juicing recycles
peanut suits for marbling steaks
steel welding ribbons and writer's ****

— The End —