Comedian Poem

Punchline. Joke. Insanity.
Punchline. Joke. Insanity.
What does the world have for me?
With all the laughs and rape
A smile reigns upon my face.
As I inch closer to my ducal crown
to become the clown prince or king in town.
I smile, I jitter, I laugh a lot.
kill or be killed because I need to laugh
because I like to joke ‘a’ lot
with my hands choke ‘a’ lot
than clean my palate w/ some chocolate.
.      Hee Hee                 Hoo Hoo
.                         Ha Ha
.                          LaLa
.       S                                      me?
.           m                               h
.                i                        t
.                     l   e     W   i

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13 thoughts on “Comedian Poem

  1. theShadow says:

    This wise friend is one of many that I keep in my collection. He reminds me of my younger self, as though my perspective on life were not constantly changing.
    I quite agree with you on that.
    I like your mic. analogy for madness. Perhaps that is why many people are intimidated by public speaking – to be amplified at the stand? Do you speak publicly much?

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  2. theShadow says:

    Quite so. I often smile when I think of how far off people that aren’t mad are from the fun of it. It’s intoxicating sometimes. Do you ever find that?

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      • theShadow says:

        Do you think *you* are mad?

        I appear mad to some as a result of the surface manifestations of my sanity, which, without proper explanation of my actions, or evidence of causal or perceptual connections, appears to be random. However, this doesn’t answer your question. I’ve got room for madness, but the personality that assumes control of this vessel is, on the whole, resoundingly sane. I learned to synthesize personalities from a wise friend, and nearly lost all control to the madness of a few personalities I favour. Sometimes when I get bored, I dust off their boxes and let them out to play, giving me just a taste of wicked freedom, and strengthening my sane resolve as I put them back.
        I believe that ‘they’ cannot know the edge of madness because madness is a sanity and a reality that they cannot touch, cannot grasp and cannot feel. Madness is a spike driven through the consciousness and its removal leaves a nasty, shrinking hole that scabs, scars and eventually disappears, but, while it remains, always call you to pick at the scab, the cover which is your sanity. I am different from most, and, like the madman, always keep picking at my sanity.
        Aren’t I funny?

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      • Who is this wise friend?
        Insanity being a scope within sanity. So that’s why there is no edge of madness for there is not distinction between the two.
        Instead of a scab or a scar I would say madness is more like a microphone. Everybody has one but no one plugs it into a speaker. Every once in a while some lad will have the guts to go on stage and use his mike infront of everybody. The words he chooses to ssay will dictate whether they like him or hate him. Madness is more like an open mike stand.

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      • I am guessing that ‘they’ are those who are not mad. I would agree with you that they cannot know the edge of madness because madness has no end. There are planes divided from each other, and crossing over into madness will separate you from ‘they’. But, once you are in there is no edge.

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