about an evening ago I was near torn to shreds, clothing and all
by a vicious animal, something posing as human
it took me in and called me by name
it degraded me and made me feel ashamed
for not knowing him, though he knew me all the same
but another agenda he laid out in plain
tomorrow you shall dine with a friend of mine, he said with a wink
and you will serve his every demand, his every wish, even to the brink
you shall take him in and call him by name
it degrades me to say...but you shall do the same
do as is his wont, as is his will
forget your shell, your protection: as if you have ever had it, and hand him this bill
on the morrow he awaited his due trial, for being alive, for being born
they shaved his head, mocked him, and made him to mourn
and they called this preparation, with one cloth for a mask
and skirt, though with eye and nose holes, and gave him a flask
for to see the spectators watch his noisy death
through their own kind of rose-colored glasses, minus the stench
it is all for show, another actor assured him backstage
a red ribbon is used for blood, and a plastic prop for the axe
when you DO die, everybody will applaud, and rise from their seats
and they will scream BRAVO, BRAVO, whistles and clapping will abound
and who WOULDN'T die for this, what schmuck WOULDN'T
and finally the young man, listening to the old, made up his mind
I will walk in, he said to himself, and I will walk in Bold
and so he did, and so he did, he was screwed either way
so why not die honorably, he resaoned, if only with a sigh
as his cue was read, he ran in and marked his spot, with tired eyes
"Do as thou wilt!" He screamed, though he had no lines
and the guard stabbed him, though unscripted, it was improvised
but the death was real, there were no ribbons, the blood was riehl
as the man coughed, and the audience gasped, he asked:
"Was it GOOD enough? Was it GO-"
the man that swayed the sword took a bow, and like nothing had happened
"The show must GO ON!" He would yell later in his defense
but for now the crowd clapped, cheered, and called for more, and nothing less...
and moreover called for the "CAST! CAST! CAST!"-they yelled from every which way
and so all of the Pro's came out and onto the stage, though the dying man never moved
and the applause never ceased, each actor basking in his own wave from the crowd
the actors even tripped over the dying man as they made their way exit left
they stamped and clumsily made their way past the actor, they thought
giving it all that he's got, to the detriment of others...a dying breed
"Out of the way jack-ass, the score is over!"-said a man tripping over a leg
"Get up off of the ground. The play is over!"-shouted a Southern belle
"What the F***!?"-said a camera man, whilst moving within the crowd
And everybody, without fail, cursed the dying man upon the floor
and even indirectly, even without knowing so
"Stop bumping into me!" Screamed an extra: "It's not like we're doing a funeral march!"
It went on like this for three takes, each one worse than the last, and, by the end
they were screaming obscenities at the corpse, the already dead man:
"Are you stupid?! Get up and MOVE just like the rest of US!!!"
"Excuse me scumbag---what?---are you DEAD or something? Get the fuck UP!!!"
and this last lady even tried herself a few times before giving up, and with this exclamation:
"He's too fucking DRUNK to stand up. Just lay him the FUCK down and let's move on."
The band of acors threw the dead man into a cart out back before
making their way back inside:
"What a waste of Catsup!"
"What an actor!"
"What a fucking mess!"
"Who's going to call his wife?"
This last was taken as a quip and all of the men laughed
but the first did not and merely repeated the question, finding no humor
The laughter subisded and everybody only looked at what they had been doing, and then:
"But he was the BEST drunk, how could WE have known?"
"We thought it was all just stage props, you know?-very make believe..."
"Who in the hell stabbed the jacksass?!!"
And all of a sudden silence abounded, you could have heard a pin-drop
(like the old Sprint commercial)
wind wisped through the open corridor and then, somebody untimely, screamed:
"It is his soul escaping through the open window! It was his soul that was-"
and then he was tackled by a hired usher, and quickly silenced
everybody in the auditorium took notice, and no further display was created
The man was burned in a funeral pyre as the unknown men around him smoked
to quell the stench of the burning carcass floating before them, and staring at the sky
some of them nodded thier heads, others bowed, and others found the bravery to
laugh and drink---some wonders never cease
I am told that this happens at most funerals...this was my 1st
I promised myself to never attend another funeral, or another play
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