Poem: The Show is Over
A paucity of bread and circuses.
Mussolini our ringleader cued up the band Trumpets and drums incited the crowd The spectacle beneath a polka-dotted tent Hanging by a noose, microphone and lights The big top dazzled us away from the dearth Salted peanuts– boxes of popcorn Leave them wanting with animal crackers The crowd salivating, basking in bread The stench of moonshine brimming in there Angel wings ensnared by the circus air Watch the holy mingle with ladies of night Their nephilim kin stealing candy from babies They say a flood will cleanse this carny filth And bless these roustabouts their needed rest Til then the show proceeds, so too does the band Empty laughs reverberate the aisles Leaves these peasants in hollow stitches Hollering like Pavarotti Pieces of a dying clown These Bozos and Kokos Who Travis tore and Mantecore mauled A tattered pagliacci reduced to shreds Keep them dazed while John Wilkes is in range Excite the crowd with staged assassinations For nickelodeon shows across the TV stations From these ashes, Griffith births a nation Gladiators in a coliseum of minstrel dread Tells of revolutions entrenched in red Innocence of our laughs was just a mirage Fellini, his clowns, and all his pretty starlets Mistresses gliding on trapezes so wondrous Could not distract the orphans so ponderous Wondering why their limbs and mothers are gone Like lambs to slaughter, they murmur bleating The song of their hearts, a whimper beating Now the greatest show is tainted and bleeding Every minute a sucker is birthed The bears, the elephants and seals handing out cigars Dreaming of days when they’re freed from their canvas sorrow
