"Big Top"

They call me Blaze, a name I picked up is Desert Storm working demolitions. I was special Ops, so any mission I may or may not have been a part of never happened. At least that would be the official story. Now I'm a pyrotechnics expert for the circus, still earning my keeping blowing things up. So, I guess the shoe fits.

The outfit I work for is one of those year round operations that just seems to appear in the middle of the night. You know the kind I mean. One day you're driving past an empty field and the next there's a big tent and the overpowering smell of large animals. We come in the little fanfare, hoping to draw the curious, and once the fat lady has sung, we vanish. The people get a show and we get to eat.

Lately things haven't gone so smoothly. It is that damn carnival. We all know it. They seem to be in every town we lay stakes, stealing our business. When you have the only show in town, everybody shows up, but when you give the folks a choice...Well, they don't always choose you. It was easier before we had to compete with the Professor and his band of freaks.

The other clowns ehre at the circus want to go "Godfather" on the carnies, but the Ringmaster has issued strict orders not to cross the midway. He doesn't want to make our feud a public affair. It's not my job to ask questions. The Boss has been running this show for nearly 40 years, so he must know what he's doing.

"You pickin' up Deadeye today?" Whiskey asks, as I pass his cage.

The lion is our star, trained by the famous Salazar. He's also a raging alcoholc, hence the moniker and the flammable breath wafting in my direction. He's lucky my cigar's not lit.

"Yeah" I answer, barely slowing.

"Make a stop for me," He yells, gesturing with the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels he's drinking. It's the universal sign for "I need a refill".

I just grunt my assent and keep walking. I ahve an hour till the asylum officially releases Deadeye into my custody, but its a 45 minute drive and there's always paperwork to sign. This is Deadeye's eighth trip to Branherst, so release is old hat.

It wouldn't be a big deal if I were a little late, but the Boss has a job for us to do and the sooner I get Deadeye, the sooner we can get the job done. It's one like my Iraq days. Something that won't officially happen. We get in, we get out, and we get back. If it all goes right, we'll be back in time for the show. If not, Caliberini will fill Deadeye's slot. That's not an option any star wants to take, so I'll do all I can to get him back in time.

"Aiming for the Skies"

The Amazing Caliberini was the toughest mofo in the Three Rings. He knew it, and so did everyone else. That was why he could keep his head held high, even if his act wasn't a headliner yet. Someday he would make it to the center ring, and when he did there was no going back.

Currently, El Circa de Cykoticas boasted three star attractions. The opener was usually Deadeye, the Juggling Jester. His fiery displays and deft manipulations of hand and eye had earned him some renown as the most daring juggler in the world. Next came the high-flying acrobatics of Triple X. The troupe was made up of two brothers and their achingly beautiful sister. The death defying act was only made more brilliant by the tastefully erotic spin they put on their performance. The closer was a veteran of the circuit. Known as Whiskey the Wild, the trained lion pulled off tricks that would make Sigfried and Roy's cats jealous.

Anything other than the three stars was just filler. Sure, Caliberini's name was on the poster, but almost as an after thought. No one would notice it if they weren't actively looking for it. That was something he hoped to change.

Waiting the other acts out wasn't an option. The "Exes" were young, Deadeye in his prime and Whiskey had tenure. Their slots were secured, unless a really spectacular act came along. So, Caliberini worked on his act. He swallowed swords, took sledgehammers to the sternum, cannon balls to the cranium, and dove on dynamite. Tonight he was going to catch a bullet with his teeth, and tomorrow he would wrestle a grizzly. Whatever it took to draw the crowds, he was game.

Yeah, Caliberini was the toughest mofo in the show and anyone who doubted it, wouldn't by the end of the night. He would always prove that claim, just like he would always aim for the skies, whether he was in a cannon waiting to be shot over the Big Top or not.

Introduction to the A to Z Challenge....

When my Dad told me about the writing challenge planned for April, I was intrigued by the idea. As a part of the "blogging community" and as a writer, it was an exciting proposition. So, over the next month I will be posting writing titled alphabetically A to Z.

At first I planned to just write a variety of poems and essays, as I have done in the past, but I didn't find the inspiration. It felt forced and lacked creativity. Then, an idea came to me. Why not write 26 related stories? From there, the juices began to flow, as I began to mold the clay of one of my old creations. The result was what follows in the forth coming April posts. Collectively, I call it "The Show of Shows".

And what is that?

Well, at first there was only the circus, and the crowds came to see it. This was good.

Then the carnival came to town and noone went to the circus. This was not good.

From that day on, the two factions have been at war, and this they call "The Show of Shows"....

"Ordinary Ones"

You can show me all of your picture books
And you can swear its not as bad as it looks
But I know the truth to be had
And I really don't care about that.
I've been a fool only a foolish one could love
I've been fooled a time or two by the man above
But I know the truth to be had
And its not really quite so bad.

So, what are the questions to the answers you seek?
Do you find your conclusions down on your knees?
And who are the ones you think you fear?
Do you run from the all the voices you hear?
Well..

I have a new solution
Bury the fools in the ground

Destroy your institutions
Lay your crosses down

And do you know...
What is takes to live?
What it takes to learn?
Reinstate the truth
Put away your guns
I'm finished with the fight
My ordinary ones

"Night of the Living Dead, Part 6 (Land of the Dead)"

The touch of mortality
Corrupts our sinful flesh
A plague to crush the heart
Beating in our chests
And like the fires of Armageddon
Dancing through the streets
Mindless beasts infect the masses...

The semblance of Humanity
Just one of many masks we wear
As we try to hold on to the pieces
Of this crumbling world we share
Machines of destruction and death
Upon the sanctuary's floor
Pouring their virus into our veins...

Look upon the tower we've built
A reminder of what could have been
Our enemies bare human faces
My killer was once my friend
And this we have constructed
More a tomb than a home
But what is the difference,
Here in the Land of the Dead?

"A Brief Commentary"

I have noted comments on my poetry/lyrics to be somewhat less inspired than those made on essays. Often there is nothing to say, and that I understand. Such is meant to be appreciated or 'experienced', if you wish. Many of the comments are on the 'dark, serious nature' of my works or the 'violent imagery'. As an artist and as an appreciator of art, I find it common for the creative mind to be misunderstood. Often, writings such as poetry or lyrics are left open to the reader's/listener's own interpretation. This interpretation may or may not reflect the author's intentions, it is only how the work spoke to that individual. Sometimes the intent is villainous unjustly, or read out of context.
I often find this occurring with my own writings, and I feel I am being misrepresented or judged falsely because of what someone thought they understood, based on a lyrical piece. I don't really feel I owe on explanation, since I don't write for anyone but myself. I only wanted to take a moment to clarify.
It must be understood that I use the language to display vivid imagery and pain a picture with words. If I were to actually paint the image of Christ on a cross it could be considered violent... It could be considered vulgar, or it could be considered an image of beauty. It really depends on how one looks at it. See, look obscenity and you shall find it. In Psalms, David cries for God to slay his enemies, among other 'violent' requests... Shall we speak ill of his words.
I'm not saying I have written "holy works", only that if they are seen in a certain light, and not understood, they could be misunderstood. But judge me not, lest you reveal your ignorance.

"Can't Shake The Feeling"

A long night in a hotel room
A bottle of jack on the left hand side of the bed
Cool air and lonely blues
Trying to shake the cobwebs out of my hear

Every moment weighs on my heart
And the walls echo with better days
Smooth sheets and the warmth of her breath
The road rolls by in a heavy haze

I can't shake the feeling
I can't put you down
You're like a fire burning out of control
And I don't know,
I don't know if I can

The wheels are turning back to you
And I can't seem to close my eyes anymore
I'm one the other side of 72
But I'm trying to make it in under 24

Yeah, I can't shake the feeling
I can't put you down
You're like a fire burning out of control
And I don't know...
I don't know if I can