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About This Poem
Marionette Master
~Marionette Master~
All my dreams evolve around my wooden floor.
Candles and clowns the show must go on.
~~~~
The moon slowly moves its way into my room.
Dust pushes through my window making shadow puppets on my walls
The talent on my walls dance, scaring my sweet dreams away.
No cradle-songs tonight.
Dangling artisans’ fingertips scratching down my core.
Exquisite observation, an alley down “Death Street.”
Panic rattles my bone,
Stuttering a taste of ma' ma' ma' mama' off my lips.
Grandfather clock ticks with every pull of the string.
Invisible jellyfish puppets swaying their feelers, sting my stare.
A superior skill eating away at my fear.
I can’t breathe,
I can’t move,
It dangles!
What can I do?
Carved Marionette figures locked in my head.
A game in which trickery and deception are the main event.
Staged with an evil sinister mask, sanctioning my nightmares.
No one too rescue me from the danger of this bedside playground.
The puppeteer engages to provoke me with my own dolls.
A dramatic performance throttles my mind …….
I cannot come out from under my blanket,
I cannot run,
My hands cannot reach the circus print lampshades!
A shadow show played in slow motion!!!
Realizing the moon can pull a world of strings with its own light.
***
Suddenly, boney fingers from the sunrise show me the way…
I look down until my toes touch the cold wooden floor.
I creep and creep,
Then I flick on my lamp.
The purple walls swallowed the orgy drawing inspired by the mooned night.
A huge diversity of graphic illusions of puppetry in my room vanishes in one click.
Mother please no more Pinocchio in my lullabies.? ;-)
by;PD
Dedicated to: Vienna Bombardieri
Love PD
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