April Madness

The Flea Circus
Welcome, oh welcome,
All ladies and gents
To this circus of fleas
For only ten cents!

Though those swings look empty
You surely can see
They move up and down
With the help of the fleas.

You say ‘Where are the bugs?’
Well, you really should know
They are too small to see
In this tiny flea show.

They do acrobatics,
Swing on the trapeze!
They’re so very much smarter
Than flies or than bees.

Goodbye now and thanks!
Oh, I hope you had fun
Seeing fleas in a show
It’s great for everyone!

See there, I told you
What fools people are
Mechanical tricks
And some smoke in a jar.

Sit back and relax,
Have a drink on me
And we’ll talk of prices
For mechanical fleas.

Waiting for Storms

I demand the sea calm after the storm
even when the water spout shrivels
the palm trees on the coast.
This is something I am allowed to do,
I take words and use them against
the earth like boulders of sound,
crashing against the sand and spraying
elemental force through leylines.
These judement calls are made without blinking,
watching the sun shift into the moon
and the body of the world buckle into darkness.
After I am empty, throat hollow and raw,
the silence is strong. I sit by the window pane
and watch the waves again.

Cognac and Black Roses

The lady in the sunset stretched before him,
the shade, an omen, of a toast.
No longer like a dream,
no, much more lucid.
So much clearer, much too close,
Much too real, and growing nearer,
nearer grew that shade, that ghost.

'Come with me, cross the valley,
greet the Beast, or touch the Host.
See the sinners burnt to embers,
or stand with He who loves the most.'
Said the Lady, no more fleeting
than eternity.
She'll wait no longer,
every man will meet that ghost.

'It's not my time,' he said through choked lungs.
The man lie dead, he choked no more.
No life lingered, no pity taken,
No more days will pass him by.
'I understand your frustration, but time is up,
your work is done.'

'Years from now you are remembered,
years from now a toast is made.
For the one,the one who sings of raven's!
Cognac and three black roses!
Even though the worms- they conquered,
deeper, deeper, to your core,
do not take their praise so lightly,
few men care to praise a corpse.'

A Precocious Eye Set Upon the Brilliance of Both Time and Fate

silvery-sweet metallic balls of congealed lightning,
hanging on puppet stings--hand-pitched by
the godly and furious--swirl by and by,
altogether in a disciplined line untouched
by the hands of the mortal, or, the moral
and to and fro with the tick-tock of the angry
father clock--one with a beard usufruct
by the mites of tomorrow--
they go.
they go, to
and fro,
go
in ways unseen
by eyes unfazed, uncocked
even with the tempest of numbers
that bind what one might commit for in a day.
no hands so wicked and no mind so dumb can stop
nor quicken the flow of the silvery-sweet metallic balls
of congealed lightning which hand on puppet strings, for only

This is a secret line hidden by fate!their
Stop reading!can
Don't read this line! Beware for terror comes from it! Stop it! timeless glory.
God I told you to stop reading!mount

canny, then, is the way fate swirls by,
for with time penultimate to its plans,
the silvery-sweet metallic balls would sine die cease
twirling in-line with great Clock's fancy, [motives yet unclear why both they go by]
unless the Throne Master himself throws in his mighty brawl,
to stop the tick-tock
to put halt to the metal balls amo ck ;
to devour the beauty of bo t hdeathwdarkos cul ato r
and to blow our lives a Only the Righteous will be followed by time y.
And that only means that no one can be.a