A nation-wide movement, The New Clowns Project, calls on all poets to write their spoken word versions of the project's title, The New Clowns; the first of which is a piece developed by poet Wendy Y. Johnson (aka, Maharishi Shri Huma). She became appalled at an article on the internet that claimed that there was a shortage of Clowns in America.
Her response is a scathing, sardonic
and facetious work that catalogs a broad list of the many "Clowns" present in every aspect of our lives: from politicians to religious figures; from drug dealers to soldiers; from media types to physicians to business men, you name it....
"Yeah, we got clowns all over the place"!
A second, complimentary piece was written by yours truly. Both works were first read in tandem at a poetry venue called, Poetry In The Park in Haddon Township, New Jersey in 2014. After that first reading, other poets have asked if they might also add their insights, and write their own versions of The New Clowns.
Consequently, Wendy & Brian felt that it would be wonderfully revealing, empowering and therapeutic to have poets from all around the country participate in The New Clowns Project as a movement that sheds light on the absurdities that feed into the current intolerable courses of our society under the direction of the energies of The New Clowns- "within" & among us all.
THE NEW CLOWNS
You out of bounds!
You say we got a shortage of clowns?
Yo! America runs on Clowns,
not Dunkin Donut's coffee grounds.
Got all kinds-a clowns up in here
makin' government rounds,
makin' funny sounds under the Capital rotunda.
Capitalist clowns fakin' pounds
and takin' us down.
Clowns runnin' our towns.
Clowns' custumes change
that's why you can't tell
they’re all around.
You got clowns across the pond
'bout to get the dirty low down
from prime minister clowns.
You got clowns in white night gowns
runnin' us from their detox compounds.
You got soldier clowns runnin' round
gunnin' people down.
You got border control clowns
insane clown posse's
all uptight and wound.
You got police clowns
beatin' people, keepin' us down
on the ground
bound for the grand imperial master clown
in the white hood,
good for keepin down the neighborhood
gang land clowns
like good ole Nazi clowns should.
We got clowns makin strange sounds
tellin' us that bad's good;
tellin' us that we don't look like we should.
Clowns tellin' us that we could
but they ain't gonna' let us.
Clowns jumpin' round to upset us.
Clowns bettin' against us
to be around when the half-century rolls around.
Clowns trackin' me to anywhere I'm found.
Clowns sendin' drones to hone in on my ground zero.
We got clowns for super heros.
We got clowns world wide
in international embassies.
Clowns in presidencies,
in doctor residencies.
Clowns handle our emergencies.
down play the urgency of our last count down
for the human race.
Oh yeah! We got clowns all over the place!
We got space clowns,
no paint face clowns,
even some sedate clowns.
We even got clowns for Popes.
Clowns sellin' dope.
We got clowns sellin' hope on the internet.
But, these clowns ain't got no funny jokes.
We got clowns landin' jets at wrong airports.
We got clowns in sports, and shorts and boots.
But, mostly clowns in business suits,
frownin' on the clowns that are just real clowns
don't want them hangin' round no more.
The New Clowns even take the laughter form the poor.
(copyright 2014 Wendy Y. Johnson)
We got clowns with sick jokes.
Domestic & International bloakes,
ill on power pills,
trynna' kill the wills of folks.
Sinister Clowns, we got, behind sinister cloaks,
huddled, low, around black-light-camp-fires
readin' Stephen King, stoking
and worshippin' the dark thing.
We got clowns wearin' hydro-carbon bling-
oiled slick designs from pricks
who won't let freedom ring.
Tone deaf clowns who make the whole world sing
their greasy Loonie Tunes.
We got Clowns....bafoons, quick to howl at the moon,
trynna' twerk the Mother Earth toward ruins
with mad mis-doins.
Clowns corruptin' the Holy Loom-
the Godly fabric that lines organic wombs-
erasin' & replacin' with demonic tombs now
pregnant with plastic possibilities
for the souless, cloned & dead before arrival.
Yeah, we got Clowns bettin' on our survival in their
insane reality game.
Clowns, condeming the lame, the defamed,
and of course the darker skinned, to grin
while they're watchin' Happy Days reruns
as a cruel pun,
to help the Clowns unwind from their fun at half-time.
Clowns who knife, explode, shoot, then reload,
hang & drown while makin happy sounds,
and torturous rounds second to none.
Clowns infecting us contestants
one by one-
with no race immune, no daughter, no son.
These Clowns are as evil as they come,
watchin sound minds run
through their mazes;
makin sound minds come undone in hysterical stages.
hatchin' downward thots
that ought to enrage us,
that ought to engage the just in us,
that ought to persuade the must in us
to insist on higher, brighter punch lines.
Cause, these clowns,
though runnin' out of time,
have no sense of recompense.
Mad clowns these are
with a relentless preference
for evil reference points.
Clowns without deference
before those whom God anoints.
Unholy clowns, these are,
with an unholy essence;
a presence that desolates, and abominates,
that infiltrates, subjugates,
then annihilates with each performance.
These are the clowns with the lethal annoyance
of cut-rate, reprobate material,
like GMO crude in your cereal.
These are the clowns with sad routines
for the enormous audience
that pays dearly
as they await the hopeless fate underway
within each center ring,
of each prison cell
under the Big Top circus tents of hell.
(copyright 2014 Brian K. Johnson, Sr.)