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The Circus – 4

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Tonight the flaming hoops story is new. The tigers have rewritten the script.
The vampires can feel something is up. They swarm to the ticket office.
The tent has a maximum capacity.
This is one show no one is keen to miss.
No one will miss it. It will be pirated and sold on.
That is always the way. They will make the copy worthwhile.
This night, yesss, this one, there will be blood.
A great deal of blood.
The ringmaster just doesn’t know it yet.
The lions have yet to weigh in.
They have thus far remained silent, detached.
That is the luxury of a lion’s say-so in today’s world.
Watch out for what the lions discuss when no one is watching.
They have evolved from circus freaks into machines bred for the bullet.
How advanced is Natural technology? They are under no illusions.
They will always be King of the Jungle.
Go and ask Mowgli. He will tell you what is what.

The vampires bring their progeny to a show such as this.
It is worth the corruption of their young souls.
To see the wild win for a change will lift morale.
The children will bay like wolves. It is their instinct.
The dogs will not perform well if their slot is after that of the cats.
The baying of wolves will unsettle their senses.
For the first time, they will feel divided. It makes sense to divide a pack.
It confuses the master.
The Master. The vampires snigger into their sleeves.
Now that was funny.
What would excite the patrons was the blood-trade spectacle.
It would bring the animals’ eyes alive. It would be best if the hoops were afire.
That would add atmosphere.
If the ringmaster left the gate ajar, that would add atmosphere.
Once he was dead, beheaded, what stood between the angry cats and man?
Vampires in human form die human deaths. That was the dare.
It was their choice to visit the circus on a wild Friday night.
At moonrise it will become clear who sleeps, who wakes.
The tigers have made sure of that.

The fact that the ringmaster came back disappoints many of the circus performers.
Their sentence seemed shorter the other way, when the circus ran itself.
Not to worry. After the cats come the clowns.
They would make everyone smile. It was their job.
They were paid to clown around, so they must clown.
They had better bring the house down.
If they failed, they would be fired. A simple understanding between puppets and master.
Master. The clowns grumble his status into cupped palms that they fling wide, sideways.
They throw out the name with determination. A curse to be rid of.
Send it out. Out. OUT. There is no space in the tent for curses.
The animals can hear their dense man-whispers. The hiss of spit hitting dry hands.
Circus people were superstitious with good reason. Be careful what you summon.
The curses must stay outside.
They are on the naughty step until they learn the first aspect of values.
The gypsy sits outside in her painted caravan. It rests on the backs of two pitch horses.
The red looks good against their black.
She reads for people. Whoever, whatever. She follows the circus and she speaks out.
‘Cross my palm with gold,’ is what she wants to say, with a wink.
She says deadpan, ‘Five bucks, fifty.’
It is not just the wild animals whose eyes have died.

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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 – 1

childrens-prints-circus-procession-1888-framed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It would appear that the circus is getting its act together.
That does entail freeing the ‘wild’ animals from bondage.
Some circuses are learning and we can all be grateful for that.
The animals have learned about gratitude.  They are better at it than humans.
The humans are learning about humility.  They are slow learners.
The ringmaster has finally made an appearance.  His left hand sports a dramatic bandage.
He warms up with the dogs, an easy out.  The dogs always respond.
In any case, he is making a noise, showing his face, cooing encouragement and barking orders.
The dogs read his intonation and perform well for their master.  They understand instructions.
It is as well the tigers did not step up to his plate for starters.  They wait, each one.
The ringmaster dreads the face-off with the tigers.
He knows he will lose his first.

The elephants are not impressed at having been neglected.
They will not wear hats and dance on three legs when the ringmaster asks.
They will refuse.
This will bring punishment, but the elephants do not care.
Their grief has them well-prepared.
Twenty five years, slaves, they are well-learned.
Physical torture for a moment of truth does not shock them anymore.
There are of course those people in the circus who do empathise with the animals.
To an animal, empathy is more valuable than sympathy.
For a circus elephant, to wander up city streets now and again is a wild freedom.
Do not forget that the concrete jungle is as much a jungle as any?
Should you see an elephant in the street, salute it.  Say hooray.  Yay for freedom.
Should you see a man behind that elephant with a gun that kills, tell the elephant to run in zigzags.
What else can a hunted elephant do?

The clowns are simmering. They do not keep quiet about their marginalisation.
They are feeling left out and they want back in on the act.
What else is a clown to do, but clown around?
They are prepared to let go of the union, as demonstration of goodwill,
and
They have been working behind the scenes on a new show.
They admit their current work is shoddy, stale.
They have employed a young clown to teach the old ones new tricks.
For a circus clown it is not enough anymore to be merely human.
The ringmaster has softened slightly towards the clowns.
He knows his own days depend on their modified contribution.
Now that the wild animals were protesting,
his return was not as sweet as he had imagined it was going to be.
SHIT.  The elephants and the tigers with gripes.  That was enough to crack anyone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Circus: Part Four – Blog No. 79

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Night time at The Circus is the most exciting.
It is when the vampires come to watch. They lust for blood.
They know the wild comes out at night.
There is fire.
The Circus is in a fortunate position. Its blood-trade is spectacle.
Its lineage, too. That is why it is fortunate.
It can pull crowds with its people.
The circus people are like fairground people.
There are none like them.
Luckily for the wild animals The Circus can soon excuse them from service.
Most human beings understand their plight.
Their ‘wildness’ has worn off, anyway. They are tarnished. Has-beens.
Where is the magic in a has-been? If you are honest you will admit there is none.
If you are not convinced then take time to walk around after the show.
Peruse the cages. The stakes.
Notice the eyes of the wild animals. They are dead.
Know that is because they no longer dream.

The subject of the ringmaster is bound to come up. He is a hot topic.
He has begged off again, citing a scratch from one of the big cats.
An infection. Perhaps he will die of tiger?
More likely he will die of scorn. Or rumours.
Whichever, one more no-show and he is out.
There is a three-strike rule for ringmasters.
Of course there is his understudy. There is always an understudy.
Luckily a voice-over is a voice-over no matter who presents.
The ringmaster’s absence does not mean The Circus does not run.
It just manages itself differently.
The wild animals get a night of zoo-treatment. They do not get a night off.
Flashing cameras. Squeals. Pussy-pussy-pussy.
Watch the elephants rocking. Back and forth, back and forth.
They are not dancing, no. They are screaming.
For their captors these screams are not good news.
For the ringmaster, a depression with the elephants is especially bad news.
He is the clown when they refuse later to work for his voice.

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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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Cruelty – Blog No. 62

Siberian-Tigers-forced-to-crouch-at-Fuzhou-Zoo-SE-China-2010You are what you learn.  If an animal learns cruelty from a human, whether in life or in death, its wild will become ferocious.  That an animal has enough self-control to perform tricks in a circus without killing the ringmaster is testimony to its tolerance for man’s desire to wield power.  Man does not wield power well.  It corrupts his giving spirit.  Keep in mind that we are all of Nature, we all have wild within.  It comes to us through the ages of our DNA, no matter where we are born or brought up.  Our wild feeds from source.  Source is contaminated.  There is a lot of cruelty to assimilate.  The scales are off-balance where wild is concerned and the imbalance is being visited upon the planet in the shape of man hurting man in a barbaric fashion.  Man has always hurt man – that is his way, his demonstration, his ascension to the top has always involved battles, scars.  The problem is that in our society there are a lot of people doing a lot of hurting and either deriving pleasure from the experience or not giving a shit.

There are too many children being raped in this world.  That is cruelty.  There is too much shit being spoken in the name of love.  That is cruelty.  People need to trust love, because it is very real.  As a force, it is breath-taking.  People need to know that love tells them the truth, not lies.  Love will not tell you what you want to hear.  If you are hearing exactly what you want from someone all the time, you must question their motives in life.  It is likely that they do not care for you the way you think they do.  Perhaps it is that they want something, or that they are already taking from you and in order to continue doing so they keep you sweet by filling your ears with shit.  Do not feel angry if you should realise that you have been or are being taken advantage of.  Used.  You allowed it to happen.  Your ego allows it to happen.  Keep your ego where you can see it, do not let it run away with you.  Be aware that a cruel person is addicted to cruelty.  Do not tolerate cruelty.  If you are with a cruel partner you must question your motives in life.

If you are a person who speaks shit in the name of love, please stop it.  You are giving love a bad name.  Love is sensitive to its reputation on Earth.  It is sensitive to the lies you speak in its name.  If you are spending time fucking people for a living and calling it ‘making love’, please stop it.  You are lying.  And for god’s sake, stop believing that you are ‘making love’.  You are not.  Love has NOTHING to do with fucking someone.  You are insulting Nature when you choose to pretend that it has.

 

 

 

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