179600
4
Jesters begin
A conga line...
Then stage
A mass demonstration
For,
Then against,
Stupidity
As they play charades,
Play peek-a-boo
With rumors,
and speculations
rampantly exploited
astonish and amaze
With speculations and alibis
Erotically portrayed...
Magicians trying to create
The most profound illusions
But have only tricked themselves,
Making faux faces, rolling their eyes
in unison...
Causing further confusion
While
Spouting in a chorus
Of endless outrageous lies,
Making falsetto declarations
As if to a sweetheart
In...
Trying to convince them
They are true to only them
While batting their eyes...
To everyone...
Appologizing profusely
Such absurdities,
As a contest
Of who can tell the biggest lie
This serenade between fools
Trying to outdo one another
Playing imaginary instruments
Like a band
Of bickering brothers
Wildly prancing mimes
Who believe they are really
Singing to each other
Led by the circus clowns with
Little dogs towing little trailers
Marked with seven stars
And a broken moon
Happy, just as if
…it was a magnificent
Symphony
Because they were
So badly out of tune
As they wildly
Converge upon the scene
To judge this non-talent show
Playing right into
The discordant melee
Of the broken tunes
It’s almost the comparison
Like Beethoven fifth symphony
With roving bands
Of wild dogs
Barking
At the moon
C2
