Random Puppet Talk – a poem

On the starry stage I see,
blue lights and curtains green
rolling, fading in and out
and with them
comes the block routine.

All dance to someone else’s tune,
all smile only to please
who doesn’t want a heart-felt clap
their egos to appease
characters, things and even air
is full of expectation
and on the heavy floorboards bare
the dance of affectation.

There used to be a lifetime once
when bliss was not so rare
when eyes were full of honest-talk
and lies most lips did spare.

Waiting in the wings I am
for my turn in Acts
of lofty stuff in hideous chugs
I bring on ponderous facts.

Find me a sprightly kite, O Sun
that doesn’t want to fly
like a bird on the horizon
or a cloud across the sky
 
Find me a glossy mermaid, Thor
that doesn’t want to dance
in a ball by the prince
or by the shadows of the yacht
 
Find me the stiff-necked puppet, ‘Speare
that doesn’t want to hold
his own strings for once
without being snappily told
 
If never there was one
such actor, maid or kite
then i would also turn around
and make my cravings right.
 
I may be held
by glassy strings
that make the palms to bleed
I may be twirled
in waves aghast
hurled ‘midst the rocks of weed.
 
But ever if
my puppeteer
would look at me up close
I’ll look him in the eye
and say
I’m better off when loose
You think
you hold me nice and stern
and lead me right along
what then 
of that inner voice
(You put it there)
that says I’m God and
makes me want to turn?
 
Wait…
hold on right there
don’t put me on the line
don’t turn Your back,
I may owe You
all my Time
on stage
but after hours
when I’m puppet no more
and You no Puppeteer
then ‘midst the floating
freeing light
You sure owe me Mine.
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