The Cabaret of the Insane


Sing loud sing louder
and kick one two
the cabaret of the insane welcomes you
no cover for our favorites
step right this way
your table is waiting
with multiple stages and plates already spinning
some hopeful companions are lingering nearby
all lipsticked and kohl’d and in costumes of feathers
and fur
don’t look too closely or you’ll see that no zipper runs up the back
sing loud sing louder
let the rooms fill with the madness of wine and music
to drown out the screams from the ones awakened
who find themselves not secure in crisp sheets
but on a stage where both greasepaint and blood flow
in fantastical designs
and the smoky air thrums with its own special power
as once again the cry goes up
sing loud sing even louder
for the dead are already awake
and this cabaret show goes on all night

*PLEASE NOTE ~  *Inspired by incredible artwork from Lente Scura.*


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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