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The Ballad of John. C. Karl

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John C. Karl is all but dead
He sleeps for hours
Upside- down on his head

You might see his features and think he’s not real
But I’ve seen him speak
And here’s what I feel

I feel that John C. Karl has been pushed to and fro
Been left in his home where weeds cease to grow
He’s tired and sad
His life’s been neglected
I’m sure he’s not bad
Just gone undetected

He used to be king, this Mr. John C.
As he roamed the streets for all to see
He walked through the town
He was friendly and handy
He ne’er a frown
When he gave out free candy

But as he grew old he soon lost his mind
He tongue shriveled up and both eyes went blind
He’s now left alone
Without family or friend
He won’t have a phone
Or the tabloids lat trend

But I saw John C. Karl as he flipped off his head
He fed two small cats at the foot of his bed
He pet each one nice
And they smiled at him
One’s sugar, one’s spice
They were well-fed, and prim

So I just can’t imagine with all of my might
That John C. Karl could give me a fright
I’ll ring his door bell
Without any shame
I know this will go well
I’ll call out his name

Oh, John C. Karl, I’ve come with a treat
There’s a few of these people I’d like you to meet
He opened the door
He wasn’t too pleased
He fell to the floor
I fell to my knees



Oh, thank you, boy said John C. Karl
I’ve been waiting so long for one who won’t snarl
At my wrinkled face
And elderly hands
You came to this place
With genuine plans

Then I looked at him and he looked at me
And we both saw something that just could not be
His nose and his grin
Both crooked like mine
His eyes and his chin
A copy of mine

Would I be a John C. Karl one day?
And sleep on my head in a preferable way?
We sipped on some tea
And had a sweet treat
He spoke just like me
We have similar feet

And now I recall him washing the plate
Telling me kindly it was my true fate
To fill his old bed
As ancient as time
To sleep on my head
And feed a feline

He said that his job was to be a real myth
A tool that each child can do anything with
Make me old
Make me dead
Make me bold
Make me red

With each little story the story do tell
My big loving heart does another big swell
You all have such minds
The stories are great
So why not shut my binds
And encourage my fate

My job is to be whatever you think
A child’s mind should be able to blink
And open to fun
And I love it so
When day is done
So now you must go

And off I went back home to my bed
And tried all that nigh to sleep on my head
Now I am he
And live in his home
And I love to be
The end of this poem




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