September 23, 2007

Rhythm of the Circus

When our caravan takes to the interstate, I remind my children that there are millions of trucks in Ethiopia starving.
I am the most proud to introduce,
The summer is coming on slower every year,
Now that we've settled the lawsuit about pinhead abuse,
I expect each cheer to bring to Mademoiselle Coyote a tear.
There are three rings around the furthest planet, our drunk journalist's fetus.
The human cannonball refuses to steal bread even when her daughters are lost in the timing.
Louis Moreau Gottschalk has been kissed
In front of his sixteen pianos by Misses Margaret Thatcher;
You know, I used to date an aerialist,
So, where are the safety nets of our nation to catch her?
And the bass-baritone ringmaster, who knows of no better way to cheat us,
Like he cheats this circus, than to campaign for elephant rights on the back of his omnibus.

Guadalajara! Jalisco! Mariachi! How I yearn for the days of fermenting agave & the girls, skinny with large eyes!
There is murmuring of a rebellion,
The antipodist has been armed with a Kalashnikov,
The carnies are in caves in the hills eating marinated scallion,
The riot police have been choreographed by Mikhail Whatshisname.
The strangest rumor on the wrath vine is about Mabel's supposed husbandry of large catfish.
And when it was discovered that FucĂ­k the Gladiator was copyrighted, the band had to improvise.
With my ukulele, I step out on the rope,
And ululate for all Sacramento to heed,
My balanced prophecy is part hip-hop & part artichoke,
I miss her, but I have several hundred poodles to feed.
And the financial executives, who are drinking scotch at the Hooter's in Cavendish,
Like they drink this circus, are reflecting on a consolidation of televised daytime news which would foreclose on those nouveau Swedish.

The fleas have gotten into the knife thrower's colon, like the yeast sideshow in my inner-refrigerator.
Alice had never seen so many clowns
Without make-up when she fell off the caboose;
By late September, we'd been to all the meretricious towns,
And Alice was hand-feeding me rotten fig juice.
We will end this show when you find a better one. The bearded lady is shaving her legs.
I'm against walls & Jenny Ruth's against cages. China & Russia are rapidly approaching by freighter.
When is the last time you visited your grandmother?
Her retirement community has been infected by contract bridge.
I want to amaze your sensations like no other,
The strongmen & midgets are waiting just over the next ridge,
And the audience, who can't see your mistakes if you can't see their mistakes,
Like they can't see this circus, are at home arguing about whose turn it was to buy eggs.


Anonymous said...

your poetry is inspiring. avoid the cage!!

Kenneth said...

Thanks for your comments on my site. I appreciate your interest.

Kenneth Baker - Poetry Log