The Clown Kings

By Andrew R. Duckworth

The clowns on the hill
Sit fat and happy
With the lead in the rings
Of a growing circus
Saying funny things,
Blubbering weird words.
He’s held up by strings
While he pretends to be
A king.
It’s no wonder
Those from overseas
May let out a chuckle
While we’re stuck paying fees
On that which we don’t agree.
When the clowns
Are in control-
Then comes the toll
Of our handiwork-
The cast vote
For the words they wrote
While they were only ambitious.
And, when they remove
The paint from their face,
We won’t notice
And we’ll be stuck in place.