Holiday Jester Blus

a poem by Ash sarge, USA

I am the Holiday Jester,
Tis, no season,
I'm ignored,
Little clown,
Do not tempt me...
I'm getting bored,
I long for mayhem,
I long for the applause,
Oh please do,
Keep being you,
Till I find thing's to improve..
The pretty bows are faded,
The paint, has too much lead,
The suit shoulda,
Been shredded, in 1922.
Oh, is it angry,
Hmmmmm,pastel,
Isn't your color.
Heres a fork and socket,
Really frizz that hair.
Heres a paint bucket,
Acid is lead free.
Black leather,
From a freshly died cow,
And platform shoes,
Gosh they trip,
But your width you will loose.
Sparkles and glitter,
Are really what is in,
Heres a couple bottle rockets,
To put where you've done,
Your thinking.
Scotch, without the rocks,
Horses to race,
Toss me your keys,
Cars and four running legs,
Are not the same..
I Am the Holiday Jester,
Heres a bag, play Halloween,
Get me some treats,
While I think.

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