Behold, we present you the jester
A colorful character is he
Bursting forth in improvisation
Just sit back and savor what you see
Voila, there are eight contorted faces
A bulldog a jack and a mule
We’re astonished at this strange revelation
Making an ass of yourself was so cool.
Oh my, here’s an impersonation
Of an actor a maid and a prince
All jokers before it was way of of line
Yet we applaud with a chortle and a wince.
What on earth now the bastard is dancing
Each gesture is bawdy indeed
The tears fall down, in hysterics from this clown
Oh crap, would ya look, I have peed.
The comical comet exits the stage
Hear the praise of the king and his court
He retires to his quarters, brief relief from the orders,
‘Tis too quiet now for his sort.
His sanguine heart slows its thumping
A magnificent rush abruptly departs
Absent noise, that blessed distraction
Too still, too calm, too peaceful.
The universal lauding is a cruel drug
The last laugh trickles through his brain
Hushed into an unsatisfying memory
Agonized to relive it once more.
The court carries on making merry
While the jester weeps in the dark
Brutal irony was this last act of tragedy
Funniest man in the land cannot laugh.
**Personal Note: Like so many others, I was saddened by Robin Williams’ passing. His improvisational humor, impersonations, and absolutely unexpected comedy have greatly inspired my own attempts at humor in my life. While I have no insight to the depth of personal pain Mr. Williams lived through, I have a small understanding of the exhilarating nature of getting a laugh and longing for it again deeply, to the point of loneliness. Even the last laugh, it seems, is never good enough to satisfy a hungry soul. And so we mourn Mr. Williams.