MystyrMystyry
09-28-2018, 01:24 AM
Equinox in that remote little town finds the doors and windows nailed down;
At the rise of the moon to basements the townsfolk cower;
With dogs and cats and food for the night, all to survive the blistering blight;
Shaking and quaking every bug, every spider, every tiny weedflower;
Creaking wagonwheels splinter the air, as electricity statics the hair;
From over the hill the snorting and grunting is riotous;
The peel of the broken bell loudly announces the Carny From Hell;
And then all visible life is sucked dry by the quietus;
Whiplashes re-echo, as the twenty beast begrudgingly haul - and it suddenly ceased!
Here it arrives in the dead of night, growls and roars as the troup disembark;
The tents are raised with argument and chatter, and sharpening knives amid the clatter;
But finally the first is up! the second! and on! Like the teeth of a tiger shark;
Hoots and hollers carry around, far from that unholy ground;
As the undead and skeletal rise from their grave;
Drawn to the chaos and devilish laughter, and a glimpse into the not-hereafter;
The band of gorgons play the March, as the circus freaks fill the stage;
And the stands, and the aisles - those freaks were leaping over the stiles!
An alligator tamer armed with a spear, rides one around for quite awhile;
But his head lasts not as long, as holding its mouth proved he was not so strong;
It was the boogieman who noticed, asking which clown painted the crocodile?
The acrobats followed this, the fire-eaters, then the trapezists;
Callers moved through the raging throng, with magotty cakes and vomitty drinks;
And outside were the gaming galleries, the toothless kisses, and Fortunies;
The crowd favorite Michellina, tattoos on her tattoos in exotic flurescent inks;
But still on the street, near an ashtray, a little girl, alone and astray;
Peeks through the curtain at the bright colours, strange pictures;
She wanders around not at all concerned, about those condemned, those been durned;
And minces into the main tent where the Ringleader rictures;
'You!' he mouths, silent as a ghost, and then he wavers, and then is lost;
She pulls from somewhere a slim sheet (perhaps her pocket?)
And then he drops down to his knees with the most ungainly unease;
What she holds she unfolds, and it seems it's a docket;
And in a whorl of smoke, and gas, and fumes, the Carnival it thence consumes!
As a vulture flies high overhead, and copping a whiff then buzzards off;
The people get up to greet the sun, to find all the Devilish work was done;
And then in a blink the little girl vanishes, to the hazeward scoff;
I guess some things we are not meant to know, like who was the girl, and where did she go?
And what was her purpose in arriving just then?
But wherever she is and whatever she did, the townsfolk'll be grateful they hid;
Not seeing the evidence they'd never believe it, not now, not again
At the rise of the moon to basements the townsfolk cower;
With dogs and cats and food for the night, all to survive the blistering blight;
Shaking and quaking every bug, every spider, every tiny weedflower;
Creaking wagonwheels splinter the air, as electricity statics the hair;
From over the hill the snorting and grunting is riotous;
The peel of the broken bell loudly announces the Carny From Hell;
And then all visible life is sucked dry by the quietus;
Whiplashes re-echo, as the twenty beast begrudgingly haul - and it suddenly ceased!
Here it arrives in the dead of night, growls and roars as the troup disembark;
The tents are raised with argument and chatter, and sharpening knives amid the clatter;
But finally the first is up! the second! and on! Like the teeth of a tiger shark;
Hoots and hollers carry around, far from that unholy ground;
As the undead and skeletal rise from their grave;
Drawn to the chaos and devilish laughter, and a glimpse into the not-hereafter;
The band of gorgons play the March, as the circus freaks fill the stage;
And the stands, and the aisles - those freaks were leaping over the stiles!
An alligator tamer armed with a spear, rides one around for quite awhile;
But his head lasts not as long, as holding its mouth proved he was not so strong;
It was the boogieman who noticed, asking which clown painted the crocodile?
The acrobats followed this, the fire-eaters, then the trapezists;
Callers moved through the raging throng, with magotty cakes and vomitty drinks;
And outside were the gaming galleries, the toothless kisses, and Fortunies;
The crowd favorite Michellina, tattoos on her tattoos in exotic flurescent inks;
But still on the street, near an ashtray, a little girl, alone and astray;
Peeks through the curtain at the bright colours, strange pictures;
She wanders around not at all concerned, about those condemned, those been durned;
And minces into the main tent where the Ringleader rictures;
'You!' he mouths, silent as a ghost, and then he wavers, and then is lost;
She pulls from somewhere a slim sheet (perhaps her pocket?)
And then he drops down to his knees with the most ungainly unease;
What she holds she unfolds, and it seems it's a docket;
And in a whorl of smoke, and gas, and fumes, the Carnival it thence consumes!
As a vulture flies high overhead, and copping a whiff then buzzards off;
The people get up to greet the sun, to find all the Devilish work was done;
And then in a blink the little girl vanishes, to the hazeward scoff;
I guess some things we are not meant to know, like who was the girl, and where did she go?
And what was her purpose in arriving just then?
But wherever she is and whatever she did, the townsfolk'll be grateful they hid;
Not seeing the evidence they'd never believe it, not now, not again