The Clown and the New World part 2

So here we are again ready to follow our intrepid fool on his Way into the New World.

If you haven't yet read part one, I strongly suggest you do. It is quite necessary for the enjoyment of this installment that you understand the depths of our clowns predicament. So with no further ado, we take a breath and dive back in again.

Part 1 - Tragic beginnings and the Livid Storm
Part 2 - The Carnival is Dead
Part 3 - The Clown and Robert Johnson
Part 4 - The Angel and the Greatest Show on Earth 

3

To his surprise he woke alive

in a narrow berth.

It felt like some one stabbed his heart

and he knew he had no worth,

as in a flash it came to him:

his Girl had left this earth.

And he was still around to hurt.

He’d rather be, under six feet dirt.

There sat a sailor by his side,

he had fallen deep asleep.

The clown he turned against the wall

to weep and weep and weep.

The sailors could not console the clown,

as the Captain set the course he thought

“Should we have let him drown?”

When they fished him from the ocean

they found a round red nose

in the pocket on his breast.

There were mumbles and commotion,

“only clowns wears one of those.”

And the men proposed in jest

that the man he was a clown

But when they asked the crying man

he would only frown.

The ship it docked at a tiny pier

outside a tiny town.

As the sailors disembarked the boat,

in this port so damn remote,

they waived the clown goodbye,

he was wearing but a gown.

He had no place to be or go

but wandering he did.

It somehow felt a little better,

his mind would rid itself of pain

to be relieved.

The walking would be good for him,

that was what he believed.

But he was almost naked

And a stranger in this land

so far away from home,

he would need some clothes and shoes,

if he was to roam.

In a corn crop, by the little port

He saw a scarecrow standing,

waving in the gentle wind

with night dark ravens landing

on his outstretched arms,

in a field between two farms.

A scarecrow not repulsing birds

is absolutely obsolete.

With easy heart the jester could

the scarecrows clothes deplete.

4

The stranger in a strange new land

thought that he would drown

in all the tears that fell from him,

the broken hearted clown.

There was no joy in his heart no-more

Without the daughter he adored

He only wished to be ignored.

But somewhere deep inside there were

a spark that would deter,

the harrowed soul from finding death.

It stopped him seeking his last breath.

Even with a broken heart

a man must eat and drink.

But it’s so hard to make folks laugh

when of only misery you think.

And soon his belly rumbled

even louder than his heart

and he knew the time had come

for his display’s of mirth to start.

In the Scarecrow’s suit

he made up his mind.

“I’ll present my act on the seaport square.

From the look of all these sour-faced men

a show like this, is rare round here.”

He found a spot he thought would work,

wiped away a little tear.

He begun his old routines from home

but found the acts fell flat.

As he did his best to make them laugh,

they all shunned him like a rat.

Moments meant for laughter

were ominously silent

other moments meant for joy,

on the brink of being violent.

By the culmination of his act

the audience had left

the ancient, lonely harlequin

was quite alone in fact.

To stop his hunger,

he stole a bread

and ate it in the grave yard,

surrounded by the dead.

And so it went for many months

the clown became a thief.

To avoid the law his stays in towns

they all became quite brief.

On feet or in a railroad cart

always further south.

Tormented by his drowning girl

consumed by Neptune’s mouth.

The dust it blew right through him

as he walked the wind swept land

not enough of food to eat

neither fresh nor canned.

He was heading straight into a drought.

On his long and lonesome way,

way, way, way down south,

Then one day as the clown

walked into a town

there was a circus in the square.

A tiny little horse drawn show

with a Strongman and a bear.

The half starved and thirsty clown,

walked up like he belonged.

He tried to tell the circus men

he was a clown from far away

who had by life been wronged.

The strong man laughed and told him

straight up to his face

“You, a clown, I doubt that’s true.

You look like a disgrace.”

The jester he would not give up

He wanted bad to be on show

on a stage, in a big top.

But they did not want to hire him

as a funny man.

They didn’t think he’d have a plan

to make crowds laugh until they’d weep.

Instead they saw the poor old man

as a homeless creep.

But finally he got a job

as a low paid geek.

He got his board

and two bucks per week.

So the clown that lost his luck

now made a living eating snakes.

He found he didn’t mind

If he imagined they were steaks.

They traveled in the horse drawn carts,

from town to town,

but every village, just as bad

there just weren’t no cash around.

The shows were empty

but the fairground full

of people looking in.

The children looked so awfully thin.

Trying to get a man to gamble

a game, he couldn’t win

was crime as dark as sin.

When people starve

then no one wants

see the Wildman eat a snake.

With enough days without a bite

you have such a belly-ache,

seeing a man in a pit

bite the head right of a snake

does not repulse a bit.

Then after many weeks of this

they arrived into a town

Every river had run dry,

with deep cracks in the ground.

There had been no rain for months,

perhaps even for years.

The sound of crying, thirsty babes

filled their dusty ears.

Just before the show should start

the promoter called them ‘round,

famous for his armored heart,

he told them that the world they knew

had begun to fall apart.

The fat promoter climbed atop

the wagon filled with poles.

He raised his hands and cleared his throat

to the parched cries of a dancing goat.

“There is no money in any town

neither here nor there,

all the water has turned brown,

we are miles from anywhere.”

His eyebrows furrowed as he said

“We are sorry to have to tell you this

but the Carnival is Dead.”

He took his hat so solemnly

of his sweaty head

and placed it right before his heart

as an example for the crew,

but his face, a tad to smug,

the Strongman yelled

“screw you”

But there were no doubt in any mind

That the fairground did unwind.

And the carnival disbanded when

the management ran off

there were many hefty quarrels

and plenty fight and scoff

before they all went separately

out in the world, all free.

TO BE CONTINUED

So there you have it folks. The Carnival is Dead. But where does this leave us? Can life be any worse? Is there no respite? Fear not, fellow travelers, all will be revealed before the end. Click here for the third installment.

Your truly,

Captain Frodo