Psycho Circus

~Psycho Circus~
 

Psycho Circus is back in town, where each cadaverous, morbid clown
spreads fear, not cheer, none can be found, but horrors here, they do abound.
The Ringmaster brings on the show, whilst eerie effervescence grows;
coaxed creepy clowns, from pits below, dance so divine to steal your soul.
 
 
No one dares to look away, that’s when the dark ones make their way
to places on the old midway–there’s no games there you’ll care to play.
The lights are dimmed, it sets the scene, things borne of Hell, so foul–obscene,
rise up to join the merriment beneath the big top’s tattered tent.
 
 
Mammoths strut their massive girth ‘round fiery ring for all they’re worth.
Perpetual poundings shake the earth, as all here get their nickel's worth.
Morose Morganna, high above, tiptoes the tightrope, talks thereof,
concern her falling to her death–all in attendance hold their breath…
 
 
Calliopes cue, in tragic tunes, chimps buoyed high by bright balloons,
which tap Morganna off her wire–she plummets...down–her death, so dire.
The chimpanzees are now set free (they’d never liked her much, you see).
Grotesque ghouls gallivant with glee–none was as brutal to them as she.
 
 
Outside torrential tempests rage, the barker then takes center stage.
Knife thrower wields honed sharpened blades, the shiny steel will soon engage
full figured female on his wheel–he spins, he throws–oh, such appeal!
He misses her not once, but twice--his third throw, though, did cruelly slice.

Now you may think you’d like to go, yet here is something you should know;
admission costs to see this show aren’t worth the price you’ll pay to go.
Should Psycho Circus creep to town, heed my advice, avoid the clown
in tear-stained makeup, misery–that tortured clown, you see, is me.