The Troubadour

What is left when the curtain falls
leaving hollow halls, cold white walls?
The Troubadour stands with nothing at all

Empty, spent, music rent from deepest soul
Delivered to a crowd both drunken and loud
beyond all control

Metaphor lost during months that it cost
to tear into heart, break through the frost
caused by that crowd, drunk and loud in their chairs

demanding debonair flair
Pretending to care
what the artist infers when the world isn’t there

Still Troubadour tries, in sunshine sighs
those nightly cries bereft of all ties
For family has gone, they just cannot live on
with one so obsessed, by a dream so possessed
self-assessment invested in impossible contest
and contextual conquest

Confound the crowd! all drunken and loud
Drowning out human heartbeats howling proud
Some day they’ll see that entertainment for thee
may be another being’s Earthly purgatory

That day finally came
It all seemed the same
but something intangible seemed to have changed
Subduing the crowd, not so drunken nor loud
who waited breath baited for curtain to rise
and when it did, the surprise

“The Troubadour has gone!”
cried the gathering throng
“Dear minstrel passed on
from where spotlight once shone”

Wait! Could they be wrong…?

For on the far wall

Was a note very small

The Troubadour’s parting song to us all

“Where were you I wonder, the day I bared it all?”

Words by Josefus Haze

Artwork by:

Sarah Kemp

Blake Thompson

Jadfrey Mercado

Imogen Lewis

Robyn Lindop

Martine Albriktsen

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