And here I sit before my want and wand shaping words as sculptors mold their clay
Creating with the mud of others’ creation and live for more of the same
Even Clowns can dream of drama
And they do on occasion at least one in a million
For I have and I bear the pale complexion of the jester
And the steps all but ring with my every pace
I am a damned clown walking in sounded steps
Hoping some day to be the lead
The source and conduit of drama’s passions
Hamlet Iago Romeo It’s never going to happen
For I am blond in a world of brunos
Too rare a creature to be accepted in the flow of popularity
For only women are blonde with pretty tresses
And men with such locks hide them ‘neath the ringing tripod hat
Of the fool
Best actor? Not bloody likely
Best supporting is the best one such as we can hope for
When one who catalyses laughter would give up all the whiteface in the world
For a lone tear of a lone viewer of his best attempt at drama
Let his heart cease on the stage before he dies on stage
GOD what he would give for a single singing note of
RESPECT
From his peers not palefaced
That say with their trophies
He did well enough
To be recognized.
Lest he spend an eternity
Juggling words dexterous tongues handling nimble words
The coin of our thoughts expensively spent by the best of hearts
With a sharp quill and sharper wit to whet the minds of those in earshot
So the hero wears motley in checkered colors
Dreaming of tears when all he manages are chuckles
So be it let them chuckle
The limelight of laughter’s better than no limelight at all.