This much I know:
I don’t need all that makeup
or those giant red shoes;
don’t need a beanie or a
cone-hat or a minuscule
derby smaller than a coffeecup,
taped to my skinhead wig, or
lost in a frizzy orange sea.
No.
I don’t need none of that crap.
I know what I am;
and I ain’t
no kind of Svengali, either;
can’t wave a hand, cast a spell;
can’t un-make what’s made. No.
I am what I am;
a clown’s a clown.
You think I’m kidding?
—————[|||]—————
dVerse Poets Pub
Poetics Tuesday
~ Clowning Around ~
———[||]———
—————[|||]—————
RDP Wednesday
~ CLOWN ~
———[||]———
Scrambled, Not Fried 
Like. A lot…
For some reason I am getting the image of a tough guy from The Bronx saying that. Nice!
Comfortable in your skin. That’s what’s important.
Straight from the shoulder Ron. I yam wud I yam… good stuff.
Clowns need clowns too… I think we all are their clowns
Your title hooked me, Ron, and I enjoyed the first-person denial that ended in a threatening direct address. Even scarier than the average clown!
Is a clown’s clown like a double negative?
Life is mostly trying to convince someone else who we are instead of just being who we are. Nicely put.
I like your description of a clown’s wig as ‘a frizzy orange sea’ – and the bold statement that you are a clown and do we dare laugh about it? I am not so sure!
I can at least deal with a clown that doesn’t have their face painted.
Yep, some clowns don’t need “all that crap”, dress them up fine and they’re still a clown.
Ya gotta like a guy who knows the score, knows who he is!