The Circus

6 Comments

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  • Hurt

    The Circus


    Too many men maneuver around adorning faces of black
    Miming emotions of catatonic consequences
    Masquerading around in their bodies of lies
    Putting on a happy face for the unsuspecting
    Condemning their love with their magnificent smiles
    Drawn to the faces of black like a moth to a flame
    Accepting that the allure promises certain demise
    The pain will subside as long as the music keeps playing and the lights keep flashing
    Those mindless sheep will keep clapping
    Professing their undying love for the men who continue to hide their faces
    Pretty little women play hide and seek with their own reflections

    Transcending time and spaces

    Falling down flights of insecurities

    Living unfulfilled lives with no immediate direction

    Mesmerized by the show being performed by these men
    Cloaked in deceit and robbed of their desire to love

    Hand in hand they spin around

    Until their world of make believe comes tumbling down 

    Poem Comments

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    SilverGirl commented on The Circus

    08-03-2009

    WOW serenity.. What a fantastic poem.. goes hand in hand with my Prelude to Love.. only in a different fashion.. Great job.. love the metaphores and the flame.. Hugs SG
    Reply to Comment

    Vincent commented on The Circus

    08-03-2009

    A unmasking of a fool, written for a to see. I get the message. good poem smiles Vincent
    Reply to Comment

    Rance commented on The Circus

    08-03-2009

    Deep and real. says alot in a simple way no doubt about what yur saying
    Reply to Comment

    Mrpoetry commented on The Circus

    08-03-2009

    kinda reminds me of that show fantasy island only this is the real. Good poem keep up the good work
    Reply to Comment

    Tempy commented on The Circus

    08-02-2009

    it was a well written poem but reality can't interfere with make believe, they can only be two parts of two different viewpoints that can only be compared in relation to possibility or wishes and dreams but they can never be of the same time and space, unless it's your chosen reality.
    Reply to Comment

    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

    Serenity1225’s Poems (17)

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