THE CARNIVAL IS A PORNO
Jody Fletcher
A gold carousel winds alone on a hill,
no one wants to ride it, no one wants the thrill.
A ghost town of music is alive in the breeze,
intriguing young Mary, she looks out in the trees,
to find the birth of this music, where this party may be.
The longer she travels, the more she can see.
She walks through the mine fields, dodges a bullet or two,
the risk she is taking is false more than true.
Ahead in the distance she sees blurred colored lights,
from the haze of the springtime on cold april nights,
are the ones that deceive you, make ash into stone
Mary gets closer, and finds she's alone.
That this party is nothing but a magical dream,
she must be asleep, and this vision's a seam
on her silky nightgown that keeps her safe from this night.
She's not sure if that's true, but she hopes she is right.
Her eyes find the merry go round, she gets a ticket to ride.
Sooner than later it will cost her the pride
that she once kept too easy in the holes of her jeans.
The sign gives a warning, but does not know it means
that those holes in her pants will be torn off and thrown,
this ride will seduce her, and make sex of her throne
that was once decorated with youth and allure.
She may not be a virgin, but she knows she is sure
that the choices she's made until now were allowed,
she has had raunchy sessions, of all she was proud.
After a simple decision, the purchase is made.
Ladies and gentlemen, it is time that mary gets laid.
She walks on the platform with heavenly ruse.
She walks past each creature, trying to choose
which one will be fitting, safe and secure.
Is the tiger worth touching, is the dove really pure?
Is the eagle distinguished with his prominent wings?
Does she even wish to know, any of these things?
The first time she rides, she sits on the dove.
She laughs with the moon, she believes she's in love.
Of all of life's promises, this one she will keep,
she does not believe it could cause her to weep.
Yet the dove's white color is from long years of flying
with an elegant madness, so there's no use in trying
in a sky with forgiveness and a secret to hold,
and for no high dollar would it ever be told.
It won't have to be, Mary soon will discover
the true type of nature of her immaculate lover.
The gold he provides her will rapidly rust,
he will violate closeness, intimacy and trust.
On her second adventure, she opts for another,
the dove is not pleasing, he cannot suffice her.
But the second ride comes with a small little catch,
'cause riding the tiger is a much better match.
Now the dove remains empty, no one wants to stay,
and we secretly know he will soon fly away.
But the tiger will prowl and make feasts from the girl
after she's finished her time on the "Ol' Tilt-o Whirl".
He watches her spin and waits for his turn,
when Mary will cross him, but how will she learn?
'Cause the tiger is charming and lures with his skin,
and knows every step from where Mary has been.
The carousel dreams her, and she always goes back,
to make up for the fun that the dove has to lack.
But the tiger grows hungry, and yearns for some danger.
Mary walks past him as if he's a stranger.
Now the eagle has landed, on her third time around,
he stands there with stillness, devoid of a sound.
A few times she's passed him and gave him a glare,
she did not believe that the eagle would dare
want a spin with the girl from a world colored black,
but he'd wait for her coming and make an attack.
He strikes with his tongue and he licks her good heart,
the tiger and dove do not witness this start.
And the dove is the famed one, the first of her lies,
and the tiger is second, he comforts her cries.
The eagle comes last, as he thickens the story:
the escaping of sweetness and the sad loss of glory.
Around and around, she takes turns on their charm.
She did not see reason to set an alarm.
'Cause fun will be had with each ride that takes place,
but fun is a monster with a soft, wicked face.
Obliged to the dove, yet the tiger will lure.
The eagle will stay, but Mary isn't quite sure
how the beginning of beauty became such a mess,
or how she conserved her body, now less and less.
Seduction is a web that all spiders will weave
on the prettiest houses, that Mary won't leave.
And as she goes 'round, her lips become dry,
they are sucked by three wishes, her belief is a lie.
And to cheat and abuse her body made free
is a sad, lonely tale of a woman as sultry
as whores on a street corner, eyeing some men
"A hand job is five bucks, and a head piece is ten".
Mary disarms her lovers with all she can take,
and her body now slithers, like that of the snake.
And the snake will bring poison as righteous defense
destroying your blood stream, and the heart as a sense
of what was once trusted, the strength of instinct
is now a large tugboat, unable to sink.
And her venom is tasteful, and her touch is a game
where the prize is the orgasm, that is never the same.
Her moans will be quiet, or calming, or loud,
as her body finds oblivion, her psyche is proud
of the release that will follow the jolt of her cum
that will flow down her thigh that is shaking and numb.
Grab a hardhat and a canary in a cage.
Get on the elevator to descend into the coal cave.
Men hunched over picking
at the walls
hope the shafts don't crumble and fall.
Breaker boys wish for a schoolteacher
and pray not to lose
a finger.
At dusk, dark figures emerge from the mines
covered by black soot except for their eyes.
A day's work pays
out pennies
for meager meals to feed large families.
Boys go home to their loving mothers.
Men go to the pub with
their Irish brothers.
Their voices are silenced by intimidation.
So the Mollie Maguires plotted retaliation.
Explosions,
murders, and workers' strikes
vigilante justice for miners' rights.
