Lonesome Liz's Mojo Menagerie

Official stream of consciousness page of Outlaw Magazine's Lonesome Liz

Posts tagged poetry

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A night symphony echoes with a thousand chirps and croaks while the moon shines through a willow tree. It’s all somehow so still…

A night symphony echoes with a thousand chirps and croaks while the moon shines through a willow tree. It’s all somehow so still…

Filed under moon night poetry

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The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
Walt Whitman

Filed under poetry whitman literature

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The Clown

From Lonesome Liz’s Mojo Sideshow: http://lonesomelizmojosideshow.blogspot.com

I was just clowning around!

A clown’s face hides much; including age.

It also hides sadness, enui and rage.

Whatever it is that you’ve been told,

I promise you, I was much too old

to act on my antics.

I was just a romantic.

Ah! She was a sight

when she’d bend, plates all a-spin!

The most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

I dreamed

that I was no longer a man

who was laughable and

I dreamed I had her heart.

She wasn’t very smart.

She clung to rather provincial rules.

She made it clear she thought me a fool.

Unthinkingly, as she did most things,

as easy as a small bird sings,

she told the Acrobat.

And that was that.

I never saw him coming.

He was so good at tumbling.

I was just clowning around!

My body was never found.

They knew I was dead

because they found my head.

Filed under poetry literature molly crabapple theater plays

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The Leader of the Team of Fantastic Twirlers of Plates

From ‘Lonesome Liz’s Mojo Sideshow’. The Mojo Sideshow features art by Molly Crabapple, Wes Freed, (Drive-by Truckers), Katelan Foisy and more.

http://lonesomelizmojosideshow.blogspot.com 

 was born the nervous type.

I remained so all my life;

eighteen long years, filled with strife.

Each year brutal, stealthy as a knife.

It wasn’t so strange, the not breathing, you know.

I’d always lost my breath with each chill wind’s blow.

A lot of them blew.

Let me tell you…

It was really more than a little late

when I became a fantastic twirler of plates.

Most begin the trade at three or four;

six at the most. I was more

than thirteen.

Somehow, the team

found quickly I bested them all.

I could twirl more plates, no matter how tall

the stack the others spun.

What an odd, funny fate. 

To lead a team of fantastic twirlers of plates.

I deeply loved the Acrobat.

That’s a fact.

He was as lovely as the dwan.

I was happy. Till I found what went on

inside his head.

It’s been said

mine was a particularly gruesome demise.

Oh, he lies!

He says strangle’s all he did.

What he didn’t tell you is, he hid

my body in seven places or so.

He put my toes where the four winds blow.

That’s why I walk

but do not talk

through my throat.

That’s all she wrote.

Filed under poetry poems literature

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The Midway Boss & The Midway Merry Go Round

Act I, Scene I

Midway Boss I

I’m in charge of the Midway here,

which mostly entails instilling fear

in passers by

and making damned souls cry.

Occasionally, I cover up

unexpected death and such…

What do you see when you look too close? What will you be when you’ve had an overdose of fun?

One thing is certain. The closing curtain won’t make you forget. All of the regret in you is here.

All of your fear 

and your ugliness is too.

It’s true.  

We are not all shadows. We are not all dreams.  

Though conjured in screams of near-madness and all kinds of badness we are not just ghosts.

We are most actual.

We are your darkness, your sorrow, your pain. We see you again and again and again

in dreams and on the street. We are a complete nightmare.

Do you dare?

Barker:

One thing is certain.

We’re pulling back the curtain.

Act 2, Scene 2

The Midway Boss II

What do you see when you look too close?

What will you bewhen you’ve had an overdose of fun?

 One thing is certain.

The closing curtainwon’t make you forget.

Alll of the regret in you is here.

All of the fearand the ugliness too.

It’s true.

We are not all shadows.We are not all dreams.

Though conjured in screamsof near-madnessand all kinds of badness

we are not just ghosts.

We are most actual.

 We are your darkness, your sorrow, your pain.

We see you again and again and again

in dreams and on the street.

We are a complete

nightmare.

The Midway Merry Go Round

Act 2, Scene 9

Midway Boss:

The Gaffer and the Gaffer’s Mark eye the merry go round warily.

There has been no end to a maniacal spin that began

about an hour or so ago.

The Magician has been trying to intervene

but quite a scene erupts through the Midway.

It’s spinning so children can’t get away.

Roustabout:

Maybe Madame Ugly can stop it with her face.

Barker:

The whole place breaks

into nervous laughter.

Not too long after the Hellhounds begin to bay

and The Boss of the Midway roars through in a rage.

The lion looks restless in his cage!

A man walks on coals and swallows fire!

The Barker:

The Midway Boss’s ire startles the man swallowing fire.

He met an unpleasant end my friend.

Midway Boss:

Then I laughed and sneezed

with such force that, of course,

it made the Four Legged Lady freeze mid-fan kick.

Then The Clown played tricks.

The Half Lady cries.

So do the children as the merry go round spins

then stops in a lurch, as if surprised. 

Midway Boss III

It’s all quieted down

but for the sound

of the survivors settling in.

As early birds tuck in

there’s a gypsy laugh, then,

a burst of flame and a laugh again.

Tightrope Walker:

Rumor is there’s a new Sword Swallower coming.

The Knife Thrower’s Wife:

Everyone’s taste for knife throwing is running out.

That’s the third time one’s turned out

to be more than apparently doubtful.

The Tightrope Walker:

Wonder if the next Swallower don’t take more than a mouthful,

The Midway Boss: 

The Acrobat jeers at the Half Lady out of habit.

The Magician’s rabbit changes from white to red.

The Man Who Bites Off Heads, thank God, went to bed.  

He has a terrible problem with alcohol.

He often smashes rats against the wall in a fevered frenzy.

Someone screams. He laughs viciously.

It’s hard to see  …

but the Gypsy Man With Blue-Black Eyes

gave the Tightrope Walker quite a surprise

back there behind the Ferris wheel.

To the left the Gaffer makes a deal with one of the Roustabouts. 

The Lady with the 7 Veils and the Clown run off with the Barker’s bite.

Tarot Reader:

Over to the left there, behind that curtain, I’ll divine the night.

 I don’t tell the future, no,

it’s the night itself I read;

while primal popcorn bursts and cotton candy spins

of dim and din and games no one wins

drift up to dim the moon and wither the trees.

The Midway Boss

The Man Who Bites Off Heads turns

to eye small children with an ominous glare,

a carnivorous stare and there - look - over there

the Bearded Lady weeps while the Animal Keeper sweeps

and the Fat Lady sings.

Brass rings fall in rust-dulled clinks

on to the candy sticky ground.

The carousel spins round

with a madness and mind of it’s own.

The new Sword Swallower groans

as if he’s met with accident.

A few stragglers shuffle, spent

on the dreams of jugglers and gypsy’s.

You’ve been here before.

And you will be once more.

Judgment:

This production has been brought to you by the whims of Judgment.

‘God’s Gonna Cut You Down’ reprise. 

Filed under literature poetry play theater plays

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The Midway Boss

From ‘Lonesome Liz’s Mojo Sideshow’, featuring art by Wes Freed, (Drive-by Truckers), Molly Crabapple, Katelan Foisy, Lonesome Liz and others. 

The Midway Boss

What do you see 

when you look too close?

What will you be

when you’ve had an overdose of fun?

One thing is certain.

The closing curtain

won’t make you forget.

All of the regret

in you is here.

All of the fear

and the ugliness too.

It’s true.

We are not all shadows.

We are not all dreams.

Though conjured in screams

of near-madness

and all kinds of badness

we are not just ghosts.

We are most

actual.

We are your darkness, your sorrow, your pain.

We see you again and again and again

in dreams and on the street.

We are a complete

nightmare.

Filed under literature poetry circus molly crabapple wes freed drive by truckers

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New Mojo Sideshow Monologues: The Siamese Twins From France

The Siamese Twins from France

 

Lonesome Liz’s Mojo Sideshow features art by @mollycrabapple, Wes Freed, (Drive by Truckers), @katelanfoisy and others.


http://lonesomelizmojosideshow.blogspot.com


In unison

 

We were three. Once.

There was another sister. She wasn’t attached.

But she was as small as a chick newly hatched.

There just wasn’t the room

in our particular womb.

 

We’ve always wondered

had she not been torn asunder

if she’d have survived.

We’ve wondered all our lives.

 

Would she have been more beautiful?

We are, we know, we get an earful

of compliments

every town we’re in.

 

We’ve turned down five hundred proposals of marriage.

We even turned down the man with the carriage

drawn by six horses disguised as swans.

We could go on and on

about them

but we dislike men.

You would too, if you were two.

You’ve no idea what they ask us to do.

 

Our mother left when we were five.

She’d really have preferred we not stay alive.

She sold tickets to us for a while

and would coax men to linger with a winsome smile.

I guess you could say we were quite a team

until what we call, ‘The Night of Screams’.

 

She coaxed one in she couldn’t control.

We’d tell you what happened but it would cost you your soul

just to hear the horror we two have known.

would chill you to the bone.

 

Worst part of it all was she lived to tell it.

She even at one point tried to sell it

but she had better luck

selling us. We were stuck

with a rather dubious Midway Boss.

 

What she was paid she quickly lost

To drink.

We don’t think

She lived past twenty five.

 

We had relatively normal lives

Once we were old enough to tell

everyone to go to Hell. 

Filed under poetry art literature molly crabapple drive by truckers

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New Mojo Sideshow Monologues: The Acrobat

The Acrobat

 

Lonesome Liz’s Mojo Sideshow features art by @mollycrabapple, Wes Freed, (@drivebytruckers), @katelanfoisy and others.


http://lonesomelizmojosideshow.blogspot.com


I’d always wanted to fly.

So, first I tried

the trapeze

but I had weak knees.

 

I wasn’t a very good acrobat either.

So I quit, till I fell in love with the leader

of a team of spectacular twirlers of plates.

I freed her from a terrible fate

not a minute too late.

 

We hit the road. There was nothing to do

but form a duet, a troupe of two;

she twirling plates and I around.

We eventually added The Clown.

He really dragged us down.

 

You see, he wouldn’t leave her alone.

Eventually, well, I had a bone

to pick with him, or two.

There was nothing else to do.

 

I hadn’t planned on strangling them both.

She wasn’t supposed

to be there.

 

While I killed him, she just stared.

She got more and more scared.

She was, somehow, aware

that she’d be the next to go.

I did it like so.

Filed under poetry art literature molly crabapple

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New Mojo Sideshow Monologues: The Lion Tamer

The Lion Tamer:

 

Lonesome Liz’s Mojo Sideshow features the art of @mollycrabapple, Wes Freed, (@drivebytruckers), @katelanfoisy and others.


http://lonesomelizmojosideshow.blogspot.com


(Headless)

 

“You’ll lose your head!”

That’s what they all said.

I lost it alright

One mid-May night.

Then I lost it again.

 

God knows, it had been

Inside his mouth a thousand times.

Which made it scabby, that head of mine

but I’d always kept my wits.

I usually wasn’t bit.

Just scratched kinda deep a time or two

You get used to the lion, he gets used to you

It’s really not as dangerous as it seems.

 

Only got that way when I started to scream.

Like I said,

I lost my head.

 

What happened was this.

There was a girl I’d tried to kiss

about a hundred times.

She didn’t like the lions.

 

Everyone said she’d do me no good

And everyone said I really should

turn my attention elsewhere.

Or they’d say, “Well, of course lions give girls a scare…

Why don’t you try Madame Ugly over there?”

They’d say with a leer;

not caring if she heard their jeers,

“She won’t mind risking mutilation

considering her looks took permanent vacation.”

 

Anyway, what I was going to say

before I went off into speculation

About others who perhaps more deserve damnation,

than little old me, who never hurt a flea…

 

what I was going to say was this,

that girl wouldn’t give me a single kiss!

 

I didn’t hurt her, really I didn’t.

I just slipped something in her drink, then hid it…

the crime, that is… the drink I made plain.

I think hiding the killing’s what made me insane.

 

Doing it really wasn’t so bad.

She’d had it coming, yes she had

and like I said, it didn’t hurt a bit;

not like it did when I got bit.

 

That damn lion’s the one should be damned;

chomping down like that with my head crammed

half down his throat!

It still really gets my goat.

 

SHE WOULDN’T EVEN LOOK AT ME!

 

And then, that lion, his eyes!

He KNEW I tell you!

I tell you and I tell YOU

And he was going to TELL!

He said I’d go to Hell.

He did! YES HE DID!!!  

Said it while my head was hid

Half down his throat.

Still really gets my goat.

 

So, I screamed

and well, I never dreamed

he’d bite;

that I’d lose my head twice.

 

It wasn’t at all nice.

Filed under poetry art literature molly crabapple

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New Mojo Sideshow Monologues: The Master of the Hellhounds

The Master of the Hellhounds

Lonesome Liz’s Mojo Sideshow features the art of @MollyCrabapple, Wes Freed, (@drivebytruckers), @katelanfoisy and others 

http://lonseomelizmojosideshow.blogspot.com

Fox horn sounds, baying of hounds

 

The fox horn sounds,

hear the baying hounds?

They’re bound

to catch up with you sooner or later.

You’re kidding yourself if you think you’ll esacape her.

Part shadow, part fire, their only desire

is to tear you apart.

They’re not for the faint of heart.

 

They’ve got eyes all aglow.

They’ve got minds in the know.

They speak … just so

and weak you go!

 

It’s said if you stare

you’ll get quite a scare

doing it. At first…

it then gets worse

each time you look… By time two

you understand his plans for you.

By time three,

quite dead you’ll be!

 

Of course, you may avoid that fate

but not if you learn too late

the way his eyes will catch you, ohhhh…

Especially when they’re all aglow!

He’ll speak… just so, (baying of hounds),

and weak you go!

 

If you hear their sinister wail,

you can bet your bucket, you can bet the pail,

you’re going straight to hell well in it.

You’re sure to die within a very few minutes.

 

People die a lot. They do it all the time.

So, you can imagine my state of mind.

It’s impossible to rest with all the baying.

Believe me, there’s no use in praying.

I realized long ago God’s decided I’m staying

right here where I am.

Talk about damned.

 

They’re always on the hunt, always on the run.

They don’t respond to a lash or gun.

No, once they’re set upon a trail

their feet fall like Hell’s own hail.

Filed under poetry literature molly crabapple drive by truckers art literature