The Fool

The Fool short poem

Photo by St0rmz

Curtain call yet once again.
Time to track the boards.
Greasepaint hides the shameful faces.
Lime-lit shadow-play,
Pantomime dames,
Evil stepmothers,
Monsters behind
The innocent eyes
That focus on the fool.

So I enter the game;
It’s the only one I know.
I learned it as a little child
When I had nothing else to show the world.
Just an idiot’s jig
In arrhythmic dance
Wearing shoes tinkling bells
I limped across the floor.
When I finally fell they laughed for more
So I donned a disguise
Of all I despise
Made of patchwork pieces
Cut from the cloth of my soul.

Inside the costume the sickly, sweat smell
Traps my sense of perception
With silkily laid deception
Like belief in something I was told to hold.
Dream-coated truths,
From men in black suits
That produce rabbits from couture top hats.
Tailor-made to fit my thread
Sewn to mask and dull my head
With patterns I follow
And probably always will.

Rag draped man;
Fools-capped dunce.
Today’s entertainment grooved from the life
Of a simpleton,
A simple man,
One who thought the sun would rise from whence it fell.

Pumpkin carriages arrive
To take away and cast
Actors that tread rotten boards;
Those that thought there would be more
Now dressed in social cotton,
Soon to be forgotten
By directors who take the applause.

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