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Bearded Lady of West Sussex

Updated on December 5, 2012

Joy is a bad bush;

she needs a buzz on the sad side,

a face-lift of painted face masks

sequestered amongst hays and lowing cows.

She pinches teats of witch’s milk,

squeezing summer between her thighs;

drop of lemon-lime and bumblebees

spiral musical organs of slow ragged

blues that shred lullabies left behind

by a serenade of smooth stubble

on a girl’s upper lips.

I unearth her in a warm bath.

A jetsam of pepper and almond sneezes

floating tapestry on a sternum of

gigantic dwarves and consuming

electric facials,

toilet scribbles

the elephant body of uncensored paint-suit

of silver lining, peanut shells,

tools which uncut string medicine

from its ginger patch.

Then the Centurion leap

giggles of blinded blinders

and spun cobwebs

fly her on wing-catch

lest she moans with glorified condemnation

shrink on a leather couch, mouse breaks back

manicured mess swinging

a noose for good hypocrisy

for the fragile molasses

minds of God’s rehabilitation dream

in a temple that sheds

corporate goodbyes to two spoons


and a hard stool of irritable

bowel syndrome with a shaved

golden peg under the tent

with the rise of applause and roar

of thunderous hooves in lion’s dens.


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    • Gypsy Rose Lee profile image

      Gypsy Rose Lee 5 years ago from Riga, Latvia

      Thanks for this incredible journey to the circus.

    • MooMyuu profile image

      Krista Felts 5 years ago from Nashville, Tennessee USA unsettling thought...

    • onetouchnewlife profile image

      Albert Kivak 5 years ago from Cemetary

      poems fly over their heads?

    • katoly profile image

      katoly 5 years ago

      now i know why girls falling for you ;)

    • MooMyuu profile image

      Krista Felts 5 years ago from Nashville, Tennessee USA


      no words can describe the thoughts in my mind after reading this poem.