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MAN THE CLOWN

By: Ransomed ransom

MAN THE CLOWN

We humans are a race of clowns
Who pose to stand when fallen down
We humorous bubbles poked by pain
Ah, we Sing and dance but all in vain.

We robe ourselves with piles of cloth
And look well fed when we are not
Our faces wear bright red and green
When deep in side we’re dead and gleam.

We do, redo and do again
A layer then another and a layer again
Those crazy games we play of fame
Till the hollow man in us we tame.

And then:
Even when with Judas kiss
That queen of darkness licks our lips
In one last final latest spree
We get our getup for all to see.

We chunks of meat with hopes betrayed
With candles lit and perfumes sprayed
In scented coffins and flowery beds
We lie displayed in that our dread.

Where is the Man in this stock of make up?
How much is Man, how much the made up?
We’ve lost him to the tracks of time
And drained ourselves of life sublime.

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