Baby Crib Plaza

What price the price that one will pay
A soul, a pride, a whooping, public made
How long do we stand and profess ours
and then track back when the walls fall

The Cracker Jack prize is never much
the suspense is what leads one to buy
and now stale memories of carmel corn
and no memories of any prizes won

Those that promise, the carnival barkers
know well the snake and oil to apply
Like little muttons we come trailing in
while the smiling wolves fleece our hides

A pound of flesh roasted, seared and served
is but an appetizer to these appetites
A pound of pride gutted, spitted and spiced
is the caviar they seek to feed their minds

But what the heck lets be friends again
and pretend the Cracker Jack prize is great

Desires life parasite circulating
The spate of tears afire
Percolating the glory of ache
To burn and paralyze

Entice ..wait.. with anticipation
Smack temptation of bland spice
Creations roll a spitfire flaming
Taste the flavor, savor it smarts

Sedate with screechy audiotape
Affirmations on rhythm, to bait
Escape the echoes of manipulation
Deafening ear poisoned to debate

Prosper extending over cashmere
The spiteful polished spear
Here quilted in the flux of fleece
Palpitation over fingered lips