Poetry Blogs (Circus)

She didn't use you
But you did have a use

You didn't lose her
But you tightened her noose

Too cowardly to step off your stool;
Not a lion,
She is but a cub

It's your call
behind that curtain,
Ringleader 

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Sky Dancer

On a high wire she balances with

strong legs - a sturdy foundation.

Big toes grip the metal string

feeling her way along the fine line.

In moments of uncertainty, legs shake

as balance compromised, waving

steady arms straight out, knowing if

she fails, the safety net will wrap secure.

Sky Dancer isn’t scared of the landing,

she’s terrified of the fall...

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Hypocrisy 

Animals untamed 

Raging 

Masters too lenient 

No discipline 

All in bursts 

Of anger 

Not for lessons 

But for dominance 

To be asserted 

Wisdom onto deaf ears 

Desensitized to morbidness 

Anything could be entertainment 

Pain  

Onto thick skin  

Stress  

On the lazy 

Words 

Left unspoken 

For who will listen 

Anger  

Justif...

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Surround me.

An Idola, who deserves the persecution that comes with 
the eyes of a hungry audience.

The Lion greedily roars, depraved in hunger and gifted with I, the sacrafice.
Big Top mentality, the bigger the crowd the thirstier for bile, that drips into the cotton candy machine.

I have crossed my eyes with x's, until I could be accused of a clown's facade.

I've 

...

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MR BOJANGLES

Like Mr Bo...

my heart jangles 

when your smile

misses your eyes.

The face of a clown

soft shoe shuffling

through my soul.

White hands clasped.

The generous frill

framing your mask,

flutters like a wing

across the circus tent

of my broken heart.

Funny shoes walk strong,

confidently skirting around

landmines of feeling

clothed in ...

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"You'll be safe, I promise", reassured his mum.

“But its not you who’ll end up sat on your bum!”

A conversation they’d had most every week

but it didn’t make his knees feel any less weak.

“Now come along, Harry, stop messing about,

go finish your homework whilst I clean up this house.

The show doesn’t start till the end of the week

and all this chatter is making me Squeak...

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That Which Autumn Leaves

The clowns were funny in the ring,

as they joked and tumbled and fell -

but in the camp, after the show,

they made our young lives hell.

Still in their masks of garish paint

and drunk on Vodka shots,

they cut and bruised and beat us,

hatching cruel, twisted plots.

I never saw the demons

lurking safe behind the masks

...

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