I am no Faustus, I am just the clown

 We know what’s coming, it is our reward 

for each adventure, and all of the parts 

we learn to play, regardless of how hard 

it is to practice the obscurest arts

of presentation, and to fill the stage

with a true message risen from our rage.

Each author thinks they are the only bard,

the only master of the hidden charts

from which all others have been strictly barred

for lack of ingenuity and smarts 

to set the right words on the proper page

with a true message risen from our rage.

All other pathways must be marked ill-starred, 

so we have learnt, and thus we play our parts

as humans whose great hopes are often marred 

by inability to fill the arts

that are the dullest aspects of our age

with a true message risen from our rage.

Our strategy is always to bombard

the watchers with shocks off the charts,

requiring constantly that they discard 

the words they’ve dragged as if on heavy carts.

So we ask to be filled, by fool or sage,

with a true message risen from our rage.

My friend, I know you got each proper card

to cue your entrance, and hurl the right darts

into observers of both calm and jarred 

odes aimed directly at the calmest hearts,

and fill the minds that know not what’s backstage 

with a true message risen from our rage.

We answer both the victim and the mage

with a true message risen from our rage.