Cirque de la Lune (Valkyrie)<\/p>\n
Dyer-Bolique, your humour astounds me,
\nWords so bold and yet painfully dry,
\nThough I am not so deceived,
\nBut I am intrigued,
\nAnd longing to make that clown cry.<\/p>\n
We wait beneath the canopy of the trees,
\nMorose, hideously masked, noxious.<\/p>\n
We wait for the inevitable, mismatched battle,
\nAs the clown\u2019s date rejects her potential mate.<\/p>\n
Dyer-Bolique, diabolical in his deviant planning,
\nMeticulous in his over-abundance of supplies,
\nHas woken the sleeping dragon.<\/p>\n
Bear trap and barbed wire, pulleys abound,
\nMechanically minded he guides, ever attentive,
\nAlways paying note to their troubled discourse\u2019s climax.<\/p>\n
Prim and proper leaves first, nose high in the air,
\nDisgusted by her blind date\u2019s plain appearance,
\nShe strides furiously into the trees.<\/p>\n
Silent bait, for the clown will eventually follow,
\nSilent, but must be forever silenced,
\nThe bear trap snaps\u2026<\/p>\n
Silence breaks into a raucous, short-lived scream,
\nSilence endures as my lover\u2019s blade steals her head,
\nSend in the clowns, he comes, unable to accept reality.<\/p>\n
Phone\u2019s light guiding, he sees her, behind a stump,
\nHer head stands tall on a branch, summoning the fool,
\nHurriedly he runs, trips, wire tightens about his ankle.<\/p>\n
There the pendulum swings, hanging inverted,
\nShocked as I approach, such a sight for sore eyes,
\nBionic woman, he pleads for assistance, cries for help.<\/p>\n
I push his form as it hangs by one leg, it swings again,
\nImplores and fights, I tilt my head nonchalantly,
\nThrilled, impassive, detached, I flay with lash.<\/p>\n
Cleaves clothes from flesh, and flesh from bone,
\nAnother swift movement gnaws another welt,
\nAs my Urumi rises for a third strike,
\nDyer-Bolique grabs and clasps my wrist tight.<\/p>\n
Into my hand the hilt is placed, machete ready, sharp,
\nTaking a step back, and drawing my strength,
\nAnd drive the blade down vertically.<\/p>\n
One half of the clown slithers down,
\nBetter a quick death than to drown.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Cirque de la Lune (Valkyrie) Dyer-Bolique, your humour astounds me, Words so bold and yet painfully dry, Though I am not so deceived, But I am intrigued, And longing to make that clown cry. We wait beneath the canopy of the trees, Morose, hideously masked,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":278,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-115406","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/115406","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/278"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=115406"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/115406\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":115414,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/115406\/revisions\/115414"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=115406"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=115406"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=115406"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}