Capricorn in retrograde

[GhostWriter]

~ Capricorn in retrograde * Fair well to the flesh ~

Loss Carnival Dues Mortem, rolls into a sleepy Burg.
It is an uncommonly warm &
dry winters day.
Desperately off key organ music floods from the hurdygurdy wagon,
booth annoying & enticing the locals from their
ruts of work & school.
The residents simply seem to find them selves outside
lining the village side walks,
starring in disbelief at the off season parade.

The Sun seems far too bright,
as it exposes unwelcomed details
in the unheard of
collection of freakish beasts.
Booth wild & lame that scream & claw through
the rusty twisted bars,
as they are pulled along in faded Carney wagons
by half blind horses, mangy zebras
& ancient scared elephants,
that all move in an uneasy sumimission.

Clowns of all of all unholily shapes
& size prance, tumble & crawl
down the boulevard along side of freaks
& circus geeks
all garbed in Goth & frowns,
handing out flyers as they pass through the crowd, leaving behind a trail in the
air of cotton candy, saw dust,
Rude perfumes & animal dung.

As if waking from a dream
a blond haired man focuses his sad blue eyes
upon the poorly printed
& over copied peace of paper in his hand.

~ * Dues Mortem Loss Carnival * ~

~ Opens * One Night Only ~

~* Dusk until dawn *~

On the Old Town Square Lawn

All that day he would find himself starring on
& off again at the flyer. He
tells him self " It is just the birthday blues",
he wasn't the type to draw attention to such things,
Past 21 what was the point,
He had told himself this
for years now.

Suddenly he laughs at himself,
snatching up the the flyer,
he looks at it one at it one last time,
saying aloud "I just need a change of pace".
He balls up the flyer
& over hand banks it off his dingy office wall
where it tumbles into the trash.
He smiles, overly pleased with himself,
just as most guys will over such small achievements.
He says" Yep this year I'm gonna treat my self to
the Carnival.

The rest of the day went by painfully slow...
He mocks himself thinking
"For a special day, this one seems sadly dull",
But he knew, Tonight he would go to the Carnival"
& The glow of that "idea", had brightened his day.
It would make this birthday
special enough to be remembered at least.

It was not easy to keep his eyes off the clock,
The second hand was loud
& relentlessly slow..
"FINALY" it was 5pm. One last thing to do.
He logged on to his PC Home Page,
"NO NEW MAIL"...

Then he remembers,"Dusk until Dawn" !
Without bothering to log off he rushes to the door,
bumping the desk in his haste.
The computers mouse "arrow"
scrolls across the the screen like a Owija board,
landing on the word of the day;
Origin & meaning : An ancient Roman Holiday:
Fare well to the flesh.; The word is Carnival...

The page blinks into a politically correct,
predictably business like screen saver,
hiding the message that was never read..


"Now is the hour of our discontent!
A moment of Protest & souls foul regret.
To take up arms, or lay in shame,
if the victem bares no name then who is to blame?
We are but tokens in a pointless shell game".

Thus was spoken by a seemingly blind
& home less retch that bared the path
of this hopeful yet Sad, birthday boy..

Attempting to avoid the smelly old man he shifts
first left then right & back again.
The profit sways as if in a stupor.
Blocking a doomed mans path.
Still the business man is sincabel, logical,
he only hears the distant sounds of loss Carnival.


The elder man stretches out a wizened,
gangly hand, it's gnarled
& bony fingers extending in untold forboding
toward the blond haired man.
But, still more puzzled than afraid,
the businessman wards off the vagrant's grasp
with a gesture of annoyance,
leaving the old mans fingers trailing in the cold air.
"Another drunken bum"
mutters the businessman reproachfully
as he continues unperturbed,
undisturbed & undissuaded.
Though somehow
he felt that the words he spoke were not true,
He denied the passing thought that
Alcohol had never passed that blind prophets lips
or dulled his wise eyes..

Shaking his head full of regret,
the suposidly deranged old blind man
walks into the shadows,
pausing only long enough
to turn his head in the direction of the carnival
as if watching the blond haired man
cross the threshold,
into the Vulgar, over lighted,
pedestrian congested path,
where freaks & geeks abound.
All selling worthless dreams of chance
& grotesque amusments.
The scruffy elder sighs
"Some who see are truly blind"..
then the shadows carrie him away .
leaving only his voice to fade unheard,
"Happy birthday."


As The man stands watching the unusual carnival,
Time stands alone, Unwanted memories flow,
& a gruesome chanting begins in his head.
The music from the parade seemed to change heart
becoming evil and hypnotic,
slowly he deepens into depression.
For this year the carnival seemed just a vain,
evil, plea for people to be happy,
in a most vulgar way.
The clowns passed like devils
trying to look pleasant,
but they had evil faces
& as he turned, the crowd became inhuman,
The adults screamed rude, unpleasant words,
The teenagers were wild like beasts groping
& pawing one another, the children cryed
or scream spoiledly.
Slowly they seemed to transform
into beasts beyond discription,
snarling and snapping wildly,
Like the farie tale donkeys of Pinocchio,
becoming evil and wild.
They ran everywhere screaming
and yelling chaoticly.

For the blond man his birthday had turned unhoilly, gruesome and desperate.
Then he notices
that one person had not turned into a beast,
The blind drunk had become a wizard,
smiling at him evilly with eyes that reflected his own.

Suddenly a terrible realization came upon the youngish bussiness man.
The lights had became far too bright,
too Meany details did it lighten,
the music was too obsein!
He had to run, to flee this Sean!

Averting his eyes from all the truth around him,
he dares not see it as he hurrys past the seemingly endless stalls,
ever deeper into the carnival,
ever seeking some dark quiet place to hide,
searching for some glimmer of hope..

There was a tent ahead &
yet another sign he would not pause to read.
He ducks inside and quickly turns to hide his face
in the cool dark perfumed silk draperys
that lined the tents inner walls,


It seems to him hours would pass
before his heart would slow.
Then he heard her voice...

It was calm and inviting,
Full of simpathetic concern
& cool compassion as she bid him " come in".
She fore told of marvilouse things.
She drew terrot cards & showed star charts
all concerned with one very special day
& the grand futcher he would enjoy,
he would know love
and all the bliss he had ever forgotten to dream of .
"Capricorn was in retrograde"she said
& the Cards all spoke of hope
& wondrous change.

Then & there, in her crystal balls reflection,
the hypnotic spell of carnival was broken
& the truth he'd ever hidden
& refused, now Ran from him, finally he was free..

Finally the sighs were clear & read at last...
He saw the truth of his reflection.

In the early dawn,
Loss Carnival Dues Mortem was broken down
& packed away.
That was when they found them.
From toes to nose
he had chewed away her flesh to bones
& died in a fit of madness..

He had seen the truth..
The only freak,
the only beast or demon of loss Carnival was he...
He would hear the lies of hope no more.

The terrot card of change was found in his hand,
on it's face, of course, was the image of Death
& scralled across that image
was written in her blood
"Capricorn in retrograde"...

A blind old drunken fool stumbles into the street,
His dull white eyes roll wildly
as he Shouts incoherently
"I told Y'all that boy didn't look right to me.

Fini