The ballad of dancing Willy rabbit heart (true-enigma edit)

[tectak]

The ballad of Dancing Willy Rabbit Heart (Chris/ chazz edit.)

Dance Willy dance,
yellow eyed and wretched,
grey side chops and lobotomy scar,
everyone knows you're crazy - except you.

That's it Willy,
you beautiful black bastard,
move those arms wobble those legs,
in a spittle stained T-shirt and polyester pants.

Dance Willy dance,
act the child for children,
clap them hands shake them hips,
I gave you a penny now, dance, dance, dance.

That's it Willy,
old then, dead now
pine scented but unforgettable
everyone thought you were crazy - except you.

Well done Willy,
you moved those arms and wobbled those legs,
you clapped them hands and shook them hips,
eyes covered with pennies,

now rest Willy rest.

--------------------------------
(original)

The ballad of Dancing Willy Rabbit Heart

Dance Willy dance,
I gave you a penny so make me laugh,
everyone knows you're crazy except you.

That's it Willy,
you beautiful black bastard,
move those arms wobble those legs,
in a spittle stained T-shirt and polyester pants. ( edit BY vicktor)

Dance Willy dance,
yellow eyed and wretched,
grey side chops and lobotomy scar,
everyone knows you're crazy except you.

That's it Willy,
act the child for children,
clap them hands shake them hips,
here's another penny now, dance, dance, dance.

Dance Willy dance
old then, dead now
pine scented but unforgettable
everyone thought you were crazy except you.

Well done Willy,
you moved those arms and wobbled those legs,
you clapped them hands and shook them hips,
your eyes covered with pennies,
now rest Willy rest.

Information about this poem
Dancing Willy lived in my neighborhood when I was a child. He was also a fixtu[re in the park that I used to play in. If someone gave him a penny, he would dance and everyone would laugh at him. He was harmless and docile because of a scar on his head. When I look back on it, his story is obviously sad. However, a child generally only sees things at face value. I didn't realize what we were doing was actually wrong and that he was afflicted. I only saw a guy who would dance for a penny. I figure I owe him a little more for his time considering how fresh his image remains in my thoughts. I set these lines this way for clarity, and I am open to all suggestions.
Thank you in advance for your time.
Chazz
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Hello charles,
I confess that this one troubles me on several levels. The reason I use the "confess" word is because I knew Willy...not your Willy...my Willy. Where I am now, I am convinced that there is, or will be, a Willy in everyone's life. So. What's my point? Well, if you want this to work you have to convince me that your Willy is better than my Willy. You think I am joking? No. Not even close.
This is a formula poem. The concept is much greater than the poetry...to you.
As a tribute or memorial it is fine, just fine...but as a poem it is thin as cellophane.
Look what you give me. He's a crazy old nigger ( please, historically anachronistic? OK. Try "black bastard"...happy now?) who dances a weird ol' dance for a dollar. He was in a movie or seven...I saw him.
Now, this MAY be veracity verse...so MAKE me believe in your Willy. As it is, you are sticking a few uninspiring cameo-construct words in to a story that has been overtold...if there is such a word...and if there ain't there should be.
Frankly, I rather wish you had not given the resume and had made the whole thing up...it would have been more believable if it was fictional.
On a different level...you have missed an opportunity here. This is a DANCE you are poeticising. Where is the rhythm?
On a different level...you missed an opportunity here. This is a MEMORY...your memory...your fond/familiar/favourite memory...where is the pathos, the imagined depth of time-enhanced emotions.
It needs more texture.
Best,
tectak