A clown standing,
a clown wearing around his waist the Earth,
an empty glass,
a broken heart,
a wave of the hand,
a dismissive art,
a heartbroken face.
A mime artist.
A tragedy that you cannot quite place,
until he pulls his problems as if from out of his heart,
the problems of the world pulled out in sufferance,
and as a piece of art.
And as he cries the tears of a clown,
he sits down and the clown slumps upon a chair,
with the world watching,
a clown,
with all the problems of the world upon his shoulders,
the clown the symbol of humanity,
the fragility,
the tragedy,
and with the symbols of the problems of the world,
now held in his hands,
environmental damage,
disease, racism, rape,
inequality.
Greed, jealousy, poverty.
Famine,
drought,
war and death,
and yes, as he does, a crowd watches,
and drinks,
and laughs,
and celebrates and points, waves and jeers,
and laughs and cries tears of joy,
and no one helps,
no one helps but they pickpocket him,
and they plunder his wealth,
and everyone parties and enjoys themselves,
whilst the clown suffers emotionally and physically,
and suffers in agony and in pain,
and suffers for his mental health.
And so, shall we see
In humanity and so, shall we see,
and so, shall we see,
the nature of life and its depravity,
and so, shall we see,
what savagery is yet to be,
what savagery,
because I think I have seen it all,
and it destroys me,
it destroys me constantly,
for there is so much war,
so much blood,
so many deaths,
online,
and upon my TV,
and in the newspapers,
and in the magazines,
and oh,
how terrible it is,
and it should not be this barbarity,
but nothing would surprise me,
nothing at all if we conjure up some new infernal machine,
some new infernal machine,
capable of destroying whole continents in a second or two,
a new infernal machine,
that can destroy humanity,
much better than we used to be able to do,
a much more efficient barbarity,
yes, it would not surprise me.
