But I was always too late

The circus rolled through town, and I thought they were awry,
and I tried to shut them down, for I had better rings in mind,
the Hawker hawked me, the clowns just clowned,
the Bearded Lady bopped me, and the Strong Man held me down,
all the freaks were laughing, and I wanted to laugh too,
the crowd just stood there paralyzed, thinking it a zoo,
though blood was shed, though prayers were said,
the panic still ensued; while water coolers boiled over,
the dolphins escaped real neat, they flimmed their flam,
they thanked their m'am, and swam or flew so fleet,
a child stayed in the aftermath, and saw what deeds were done,
they rubbed their eyes for all the ash, and then they cleared the lawn,
a King swam down upon the sky, to poll the silly kid,
"what say you boy, how murderous, the things that they all did?"
"why no sir, please" begged the boy, with dust still in his eyes,
"I'm sure they deserved just what they got, though I know not where and why,
"But I'm confident I loved them all, though we had no chance to say goodbye,
"The only tragedy I think I thought I found, kept me here where I belong,
"Down against the ground, here where cover is found, so do not apologize."
The King changed then, into a crown, of constant shape and mass,
and gave the child himself to wear to imagine and live in the world again,
so come all things which come to pass a world unto itself aghast,
how rebounded all our doubts what future brings, what past is past,
apologies seem needed hence but weepingly prevented again,
by the little voice that will not rest until it's given what we've gained.

Dr. King, I'm Made of Similar Stuff

Walk in salt step and see me take every challenge vigorously on
Tiny bells in my Jester crowned head stumble greatly in drunken master
My play ingratiates and imitates mastery happening all around me
Your pomp prism hails Delilah, Ken and Barbie, whose houses are variable
My house is bricked intent turned calamity with robust zaniness
Try Trivial to answer less but before in primacy to wait for age patiently
Resource takes mind warps of leniency to satisfy the frog brain croak high
At midnight to zenith chirped chorus between us, all landscape no heat
How dreams crinkle the sheets to remind us all how hell heats
All salt and ash in clay where fire earth air and mother meet our DNA

Talkocrat Monocrop

What two things should we fear the most
what two hopes give us our best
how many shouts is a carousel of chorus
how fast does it spin when feet leave ground

how do we fast when our feast is sumo-sized
how do our dollars turn wishes grade paper
fear our weakness and broadness succumbs us
see our vision of production and tradition

I plugged in the truck this morning but still
the cold turns coals in eyes water wheels
I learned to make vinegar for sour is power
I washed out products, grew roots in farm pastures.

Monocrop is dead.
we'll forge plantation.
sweat is wasted.
drink to cooperation.

Damn That

Damn that habit
that means one day
at a time to cure,
to live free again.
One day, one hour,
one second inside,
one minute, one moment -
how horribly deficient,
it seems,
yet is not,
to lack that
which catches
at the throat
but won't
come out in that
moment we need it
most.

It makes us sad,
to hear the silence,
of the cry,
from our inner light
screaming adeptly cold
for desperate help.
How empty
our silence is
to be alone with that
knowledge that burdens
the steps
that inevitably follow
a solitude.

We can only grow
to change
with light
like plants
like trees
in a forest.

We can only grow
to change
our approach
to the
plain
elusive
truth
we've already approached
ad homonym times
before.

None of us knows
what approach
truth takes next,
so don't presume
to pretend
to know.

You don't.

But, that's beautiful too.

So thanks.

Keep it up.