Star Jumper

The world is a sad, sad place, for a clown; from the perspective of a “nothing learned , travelling old ground clown”.

I think I should purchase a type writer, sit on my chair, at my desk, near the window and clatter some keys. Yes a type writer is the type for me. But then next week, a pad, a pad and pen, like the month before last. Yes a pad and pen is the thing for me. Maybe the week after next I could wear nail varnish, or better yet learn accountancy, yes nail varnish and accountancy the perfect pair, the perfect mix for a clown; “for a cover old ground as new land, frowning clown”.

I’d like to be star jumper, I don’t know what one is mind, in fact, I don’t even think they exist. But by golly, by gosh, one day, you mark my words, I’ll be jumping stars, I’ll be the biggest, bestest star jumper there ever was. But as for this week, I’m a nothinger, a nothingness, a no hoper, a drop out.

An artist darling, an artist.

I’m a question mark. Question me quickly and I’ll search for an answer. I don’t have one yet, but mark my words, by golly, by gosh I’ll find one, I’ll find you the biggest bestest answer a liar could construe. I’ll mix you a match and run my speech to you. A poet that’s me, in the form of a meat suit, I’m a poet don’t you know, but I’m a business woman too. So let me sell you some words.

Take these

Nothing comes for free

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