A dark star falling to earth.
Quiet shuffle in a dark hall.
A single ripple on the lake.
Earth- as it begins to shake.
So night reveals this dark speech.
We cry for some hidden meaning,
And beg the sky for understanding.
Yet our light is still fading.
Send in the clowns, my sir,
To cheer hearts of the weary.
Though they smile and they cheer,
Many are already rotting in Hell.
Tight smile on a bony face,
dark eyes, pale skin, suffering disgrace.
Lipstick applied to one thoroughly died-
All the while screaming for blood.
The dead can’t stand the living–
The sight of one brings rage.
“Make him like us!” They cry,
Seeking justification from another’s deep humiliation.
A corpse dressed as a ringmaster,
He approaches me with a mask.
“Your face is too colored, friend…
Put this on and join in!”
A lowly Usher on perdition’s train,
Trying to give me front row.
The ticket is one way only,
The only cost is my soul.
I awoke suddenly from my dream…
Cold sweat as my only friend.
Mystery may drive a man mad,
At end, ’tis all we have.
[CK]
Wow. Disturbing, yet cool.
‘Tis truly amazing what one can accomplish with six words, eh?
Interesting piece, old boy, and certainly deserving its place among the “Best of the Uprising”. Was that old six-word-per-line theme a discipline or a metric device?
Mostly a discipline. It is truly a measure of irony to think of rigid rules for an artistic excercise, so rhyme, rhythm and meter are more afterthoughts than anything else in most of my stuff. Thanks for the comment!