It's time to grow up and start seeing the world the way it really is and not the way we want it to be.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

the clown at midnight




the knock, the knock at midnight comes
my skittering heart turns chill and numbs
no strength to run, no place to hide
i’d burned my bridge with white-hot pride

for i have been more places than
i can explain...you understand
my pervert past has given me
no peace, at least, i can foresee

the room is cold, the room is bare
the town is eastward of nowhere
i thought i’d left him far behind
but now he’s here and now it’s time

i shuffle on a tattered robe
slip slippers on my slippery soles
i scuffle cross the wooden floor
and hesitate before the door

the knock knocks on with no less force
a metronome without remorse
clump-clump, clump-clumping on it goes
i grab the doorknob, curl my toes


i twist and yank and pull it back
the door slams hard, the wallboard cracks
dark splashes in about my feet
grabs at my thighs, most indiscreet

betrayed by night that once had leant
some solace to a soul most bent
i feel my face flutter and flinch
a grim, unsculptured countenance

the hand that knocks is fisted still
a fist that lists my listless will
as yet another stone to pave
the path from pussy to the grave

and here he is and here i stand
i, in my slippers brown and tanned,
he, in his shoes impossibly wide,
waiting, as they do, to be asked inside

his shoulders slump, his spine a hump
his fingers gnarled, the blue veins jump
his breath is fouled by bloody bile
caught in his throat a demon vile

his make-up white, bone in moonlight
the scarlet slash, his mouth a gash
the rubber ball a bloody boil
sits top his nose a ghoul’s gargoyle


black tears drip down beneath dead eyes
no pity there, no compromise
his hobo coat tattered and torn
the lapel lily limp, forlorn

‘you’ve traveled far’ i found my voice
‘aye, that i have, but not by choice’
his words cackle, croon and caress
‘but now it’s time we both should rest’

‘come in, then, if that’s what you will
it’s cold and i’ve a bottle to kill’
he took the chair his rump ker-plonk
and with a rag his nose did honk

i sat on the bed, rested my head
he talked a while, i talked instead
we drank the bottle till it was dry
and with the dawn he helped me die





No comments:

Post a Comment

Pages

There was an error in this gadget

Suggested reading:

  • A History of the End of the World by Jonathan Kirsch
  • American Colossuss: The Triumph of Capitalism 1865 - 1900 by H. W. Brands
  • American Colossuss: The Triumph of Capitalism 1865 - 1900 by H. W. Brands
  • Life After Death by Alan Segal
  • Radicals for Capitalism by Brian Doherty
  • Radicals for Capitalism by Brian Doherty
  • The Science of Evil by Simon Baron-Cohen
  • The Science of Evil by Simon Baron-Cohen
  • Traitor to His Class: The Privileged Life and Radical Presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt
  • Traitor to His Class: The Privileged Life and Radical Presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Followers

About Me

My photo
I am from West Virginia. Born in New Martinsville to a minister's family. Traveled around West Virginia and Southern Ohio growing up. The only stability I got was from my mother's side of the family in Boone County. My Great Grandfather on my father's side was preaching in Madison during the Mine Wars. He ran for the state legislature on a pro-union ticket and won only to have the coal companies tie the results up in court so he ended serving only one day out of this term. My Grandfather on my mother's side stood with the miner's at Blair Mountain and died of Black Lung when I was still in my teens. I was raised a Conservative Christian...not a Fundamentalist. Strict separation of church and state based on the understanding that what makes for a good politician is pretty much the opposite of what makes a good Christian. I'm politically radical in that I believe in one man/one vote and the only way to have political equality is to have economic equality. I'm an atheist because once I accepted the fact of my own mortality I found no need for belief in God.