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The Big Top

A federal judge ruled Wednesday that the suspect in the Tucson shooting rampage that wounded U.S. Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords is mentally incompetent to stand trial, putting the criminal case against him on hold indefinitely.


Who am I? Why have I come to this? I’m many. I’m few. I’m me. I’m you. Take my hand and I’ll give you a tour through the circus I've built of a sour wish.

Surrounded by barbed wire, see all the politicians, notice how they’re howling their own perception, snorting and sniffing themselves like foul beasts buying up, drying up and slaughtering Heaven? To the left and the right of this hellish carnage are a twin pack of jackals whom imagine diversity where there is none, scratching and sniveling their cheerless way to the grinning gallows. There is no lion tamer. The cats are declawed and docile, tails drooping like broken flowers, stems no longer able, breath pinched from the weariness of indifference wedged between Heaven and the barricades of madness!

The bale ringe has dropped into the donicker. Hey Rube! Roustabouts have fallen brow deep into the waste! I can’t swim the thickness! Windjammer, blow your bugle! My straw house is without its rigging! O what a hideous taste! The pie car’s bare and the grizzly growls of a misuse come charging with the gait of my drunken anguish. Stepping around and over all of the bloated corpses, arrow’s, faintly painted, usher in the Big Top finish.

Who am I, murderer, executioner, lion, corpse or bear? I’m many. I’m he, he’s me, you’re him and I’m you. The gatekeeper’s fled the carnage! Admission is free! Take my culpable paw and I'll lead you through.


© 2011 by mark prime


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