The Paradox of Circadia

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Heerbie Hancock “Rockit”

Welcome to the paradox
Where three bears share their porridge oats with Goldilocks
Where leprosy is less severe than measles, mumps and chickenpox
Tubbs and Crockett never leave the house without a pair of socks
Herbie Hancock’s Rockit is the anthem of a rising nation
Brains of Danny Kaye and Jerry Lewis are just cruising in a state of cryogenic refrigeration
Where curiosity kills geese instead
Where little kids get kicks from checking underneath the bed each night
Ghouls are ghosts, long-legged beasties whisper screams in fishnet tights
Charlie Sheen is less than keen to wean himself from destiny
Where Harvey Weinstein wakes with breasts
In place of any predatory instincts

Where My Girl didn’t end with ten to fifteen thousand bee stings
The beast within the cellar doesn’t dwell on misplaced beauty
Where Putin ain’t disputing that the iron curtain serves no duty
Rasputin knows not how to joust
And booty calls leave voicemails
No need for pharmaceuticals as chemists are the menaces to inner sight we hide away when taking on fresh tenants
Where penance for non-payment is relentless entertainment
As we take our brains for walks and then retrain them to think big and bold
Take measures great to break the mould
And generate a winning streak

Welcome to the paradox
Where sticks and stones don’t break our bones
The Twilight Zone is home sweet home
Outer limits limitless
And small talk lives to be full-grown
Where talk translates to action
Slaves to fashion dress in rags not riches
Sons of bitches twitch as glitches hitch up in the system
Sons of preachers learn and teach the art of unpretentious wisdom
Sons of anarchy don’t slaughter daughters at the altar of discourse as fallen angels really oughta be enlisted

Twisted sisters burst like bloody blisters
Fists of fury enter dragons
Games of death pass up last breaths
Big bosses cut their losses
Find a way to tame the beast and floss with its intestines
Find a place to paint their toes and reemerge as drag queens
Girls are boys and boys are girls
Pearls are diamonds, diamonds pearls
And every time the blister swells
Rasputin’s there to lance the lot
Advancing through the darkness with a night-light on his shoulder
While Scully hits the gully to finally outfox Mulder

Welcome to the paradox
Where shit gets real illusionary
Where puppets like verbose Pelosi show up as delusional
The media are less than seedy
Shameless huggers not portrayed as desperate and needy
CDs dance with vinyl
Girls can pee at the urinal
Boys can cry and doves can fly
Love sounds out while hate debates
Eight learns not to be so hateful
Kane enables Abel then to entertain stray angels at the table

Meanwhile, Danny Kaye and Jerry Lewis stage a comeback
Everybody laughs again
Stood naked in the freezing rain
Remembering just what it’s like to breathe again
Dismembered toys we may well be
But here within Pandora’s Box
The paradox supplies the hit
To all who choose to paint a scene
Some suggest we’re headed straight for hell
All aboard the crazy train
We’ll see you in the soft cell

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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  1. Lotus is not gone…he is changing, transforming, BECOMING! What once was a worm, then merely a boy will go beyond the physical, will become the spectral and will transmogrify…!!!

    1. You heard it here first Grueheads. Transmogrification is afoot, the Lotus has arisen and will continue to rise until the worm that once was becomes a Black Mamba, an electrified one!!!

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