The Last Laugh
What is the cost of laughter?
A handful of bills
To win a front seat view?
Or a bottle of pills
Coloured a pretty blue
And weekly appointments at two?
How about being stripped naked
To give a sheer-curtained preview?
Or untied, criss-crossed laces
Toppling forts of dominos?
Perhaps it’s a contract of silence
The three wise monkeys
Must be the biggest fools
Would anyone flinch
At a blood-stained pavement
If the screens are filled
With tomato sauce commercials
And fries are served with their food?
The fastest in this rat race
Long since learned to replace
Their shiny leather brief-cases
With balloons and bright-coloured wigs
But the winners read off scripts
We wrote for them ourselves
With our transparent, oblivious grins;
When did humour materialize
Into customised blindfolds we tie
Around our eyes willingly?
One chair offered by seven billions
Builds stacked thrones too high to reach
For all except the ones we let
Occupy the highest seats
Can one really discern
Between an angry mob
And one that erupts into laughter
Long before they hear the cue?
Is the only thing that sets them apart
The choice of weaponry used?
So then, what is the cost of laughter?
Buried under the pristine rug?
Buying from thieves that stole
From our own homes
Then lining their marble gravestones
Disclosed in grieving tones?
Cutting off fingers
Daring to point at our fun?
If so, better grab the needle and thread
For I'd rather sew my mouth shut
Maybe the cost has already been paid
And for each spilled laugh, we trade
Miniscule chips from our towering brick walls
After all, who cares what we’re laughing at?
A cry for help or a gimmick for cash?
It’s all the same in this maze of rats
And for that, I pity the mouth that brags
Of having the last laugh