~ never break the heart of a clown ~
“Gaze upon me
if you will
my countenance crafted
to fool
and thrill
I’ve spent years in greasepaint
fear
and sorrow
I rued the past
I dreaded tomorrow”
they call me smilin’ bob
it wasn’t intentional
you see
I only wanted her to
hear me
to know my heart
but her laughter
her hollow
taunting laughter
her mindless laughter
wouldn’t stop
it wouldn’t stop
and I needed her to hear me
to understand how I felt
but the laughing
and laughing
the incessant laughing
I simply couldn’t have the laughing
so I made it stop
now I hide behind this painted smile
now everyone is laughing
and laughing
laughing
laughing
until they ‘re not
I’ll spend my years in greasepaint
but no more fear
no regret
I shed not a tear
still hate the laughter
but no more sorrow
I rue not the past
don’t dread tomorrow
so gaze upon me
if you will
my countenance crafted
to fool
and thrill
and when you’re alone
away from the laughing din
smilin’ bob makes certain
you’ll not laugh again
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
NOTE: These first 3 songs represent Smilin’ Bob’s decent from the impact of the laughter, which begins his frustration, down through his madness, finally to his deadly paranoia. The 4th song represents the death of his soul, that put him in his darkness.
The repeating lines add interest. Nice.
So sad that smilibg Bob has to laugh through such pain and regret
Much love…
Much love to you Gillena… 🙂
Holy Mackerel, Rob. You attacked this prompt and friggin KILED IT, Bro. Thanks!
Thanks Ron. Just tapped into that inner darkness that we’ve all sensed at times, but as civilized humans, we keep down…
Whoa! I’ll never laugh too much at a clown from now on! A great write Rob!
Thank you Carol:)
Terrifying…! …what a broken heart will do…wwithout any limits…very well done Rob..
Thank you Ain. 🙂
wow you gave the creeps with this one.
That’s great Rog, that was my dark intention… wah-hahahaha… 🙂
Wow, Rob, very dark. The repetition works very well – there’s something disordered and obsessive about it. I can imagine the confession.
I fear this poor guy is beyond redemption Sarah, and probably not too interested in confession. Who can know what kind of mind lives in a serial killer? Not a healthy one for sure.
A dark and sorrowful read,I had read a book not so long ago to which I could relate when I read this poem,very well done..
Never know what hides behind ghat greasepaint Veera — or why! 😐
A terrifying take on the prompt, Rob!
Hi Ingrid… he is just a clown — a damaged homicidal clown, with a very unusual approach to rejection and ridicule. Seems like a bad career choice on his part, but hey, to each their own — who am I to judge? 😉
My goodness this is potent! We can never tell what one holds within himself, can we?
No we certainly don’t Sanaa!
You really made the most of the murderous clown… I thought he was called Pogo the clown.
Always found clowns to be strange Bjorn. 🙂 yes, Pogo was Gacey’s killer clown persona.
Clowns and dark themes… frightening and then some!
Definitely then some Sussn!
Terrifying! I like the sense of two poems, here.
Thank you Xan! 🙂
We don’t know why some become clowns. They all hide behind the mask and greasepaint. We all have our masks. You did a wonderful job with this.
Thank you Mary… 🙂
A chillingly sad poem of love gone wrong. Well done!
Thsnk you Dwight!
He’s a maniac and there is no fixing maniac. He reminds me of Joaquin Phoenix in “Joker.”
Nope — no fixing crazy Lisa.
So sad and so terrifying, Rob!
Glad this resonated Merril. Wonder how many “Bob’s” pass unnoticed through our lives?
woah… that was really scary Rob! A terrifying but still sympathetic character. Brilliantly crafted.
Thank you Kate! 🙂 Just a clown, with serial murder on his brain — like Pogo.