Tag Archives: acrobats

The Circus – 3

black-and-white-circus-vintage-black-amp-white-Favim.com-1027173

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The acrobats and the trapeze people eye each other up.
It never abates, their competitiveness.
The acrobats wonder how complex it is to do gymastics on a swing.
The trapeze people wonder why there’s a fuss over some jumping around on the ground.
With training they could do each other’s jobs. Neither are inclined.
The acrobats build pyramids, temples with their bodies.
They fly around the big ring, battling gravity.
They do a graceful job of it.
Acrobats are supple, lithe. They can fold themselves in half.
They don’t have margin for error. Too much rides on each grip.
They don’t suffer from pressure for a perfect performance.
Usually, theirs’ is.
If there is a miscalculation, a moment of uncertainty, it shows.
That showing does not earn the acrobats a wage-cut.
Why does it earn the wild animals a slap?

It is time the ringmaster laid down his whip, think the tigers.
Their great minds think alike.
Why he holds so desperately to his voice of reason is not hard to see.
He is not in charge of anything without it.
The big cats are tired of it all. The cages, the show, the people.
They hold a referendum. Kill the ringmaster.
Their views are extremist, built up of fresh resentment.
The tigers have every right to be resentful.
They haven’t bred in centuries.
Something about circus policy.
Not that a tiger would want a cub under circus conditions.
The tiger does not want a circus under circus conditions.
The elephants voted last time to kill a person from the audience.
They were certain that method of communication would work.
They heard of their cousins trying that in India. It worked.
They got the bullet.

The acrobats believe there is a way to teach a flying clown to land
– something about a somersault, a roll –
for when the net set to catch his fall is removed.
There is talk about an acrobat doing the act dressed as a clown.
The talk is ignored.
What about the Two-Headed Polio Twins, the hairy Ape Lady?
The fun really begins when the Dwarves come out, all cartwheels.
Their dimensions are an optical illusion for normal eyes.
I suppose some might say that the likes of Dwarves and Ape Ladies
are not fair game for a show-and-tell?
That the Two-Headed Polio Twins have feelings, too?
The Twins can articulate their feelings.
That is the only difference between them and the tigers.
I suspect there are many sane freaks on this planet
who would gladly take money to be stared at by curious people.
Just pay them well.
Capitalism is an industry, after all.
And that trap, celebrity, appears to be everything.
But the capitalists these days do not quibble.
They want what they want.
Money is no object.

 

 

 

 

 

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The Circus – Blog No. 70

CircusFest_Photo_Matilda-Temperley_low-resThis earth is a circus.  It’s about time it got its act together.  There is an audience, waiting.  There are animals pacing, fretting, hating.  The big top is filled with suspense and the acrobats are waiting to fly.  Where is the ringmaster?  The circus is at a standstill until the ringmaster arrives.  What can he possibly be doing?  His show waits to go on.

Perhaps he has been eaten around the back, by a tiger.  Perhaps he is drunk, in his trailer.  Perhaps he has forgotten that he has a performance this day?  Whatever his excuse, it is not good enough.  You cannot choose to be ringmaster and then neglect your duties.

The wild animals would all like to kill the ringmaster.  Each one of them.  He is a nuisance to them.  A man who punishes, bullies, exploits.  A noise.  Each flick of his whip is a death-wish.  If he should turn his back on the wild for even one moment, he will lose his life.  He knows this so he shouts, postures, threatens.  The animals watch and they obey, wearily tolerating man’s ego.

The clowns are sweating yesterday’s booze and this morning’s boredom.  They know their act is not funny but they line up in the wings, ready to entertain with fake enthusiasm.  The audience is anticipating stupidity from the clowns, and they will deliver that stupidity with practiced ease.  They always do.  They are paid to do that.

The tightrope is strung high.  There is no safety net.  This day the walker will perform successfully, or die.  He is fortunate that all eyes on his progress keeps him glued to the sky.  The walker watches horizons, he does not watch each of his steady steps, forwards.  You cannot look down and hope to know where you are going.

The dogs are the only ones who enjoy their performance.  They find fun in lying, rolling, jumping hoops.  They know that each trick will earn them a treat, a reward.  That is enough to motivate them into obeying orders.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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