Saturday, November 12, 2016

The Village -- Magician

The magician strolled into the village
His top hat black and tall
He called the kids, the women, the men
Come one, he said, come all

I'm here to show you magic, fuckers
You better prepare to be amazed
I'll leave you freaked out, bamboozled
You'll be confused and dazed

Then Tommy said, Mr. Magicman
What kinds of magic do you do?
If it's rabbits/hats, sawing babes in half
Well, sir, in that case, fuck you

Oh no, little Tommy, you're so wrong
My magic's strong and weird
I pull hot babes out of my hats
And pull hats out of my beards

So, let's have it then!
Bamboozle us!
Tommy stuck out his chest and declared
Then he was just standing alone, no one else was there

A darkness descended on his head
Like the soft touch of doom
He cried and yelled and yelled and cried
In the ever increasing gloom

Now this is magic, you little fuck
You'll stay here till you die
So save your tears and shush your voice
Or the demons will hear you cry

They never found Tommy in the village
Forever the boy was lost
Some say they here him crying still
Some say it's just his ghost

This is a poem for a special someone who reminded me that I'd missed writing about the magician.

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