Puppeteer Poems

Screwtape

Long forbidding fingers dig deep in,
Appearing black contrast on pale skin,
The puppeteer directs your gaze,
A brief view but the vision stays,
Ruinous renderings plague the brain,
His dark imprint now shall remain.

Rumors

The players enter the arena to battle out their mind
But we already know that only one will survive
Four friends fight over rumors that spread
Let us the audience see how their relationship will end


1. The Goddess
The leader of the friends and the leader of the school
Everyone in this room is a victim of her rule
However, her

The Puppeteer

A carpenter nails boards together
    The architect envisions the house
  The laborer sweeps up the progress
    A poet positions
    each stanza in the framework 
    of the universe... 

  The sun smiles, the moon yawns
    the stars wink

The Puppeteer

The puppeteer should be fun,
As they manipulate their puppets,
One by one.
The puppeteer hides,
As he pulls the strings,
To make the puppet,
Do anything its capable to,
Unfortunately, its talents are very few.
The puppet entirely depends,
On who is pulling the strings,
At the other end.
Have we become the puppets,
Dangling on that string?
Dancing up and down,
Like a spiral spring?
While listening to

Puppeteer

A puppeteer, you may call it,
the master of manipulation.
All his fingers hold the knots,
to the cracks in your foundation.

Hidden by your tall, lean shadow,
he lurks behind your back;
forward, with every move you make,
warlock takes his attack.

Each digit fidgets suddenly,
and your body seems to twitch;
the hands of time stop ticking now,
trapped in by the witch.

The only

The Puppeteer

He looked out at those who had gathered before his small stage. Amidst this noisy, crowded market, full of bright cloths, and fragrant foods, they were his audience. They stood, or sat in the dusty market place, surrounded, and at times jostled by merchants, browsers, pack mules, or horse drawn drays. He realised that they

The Puppeteer

A shadow puppet lurks,
manipulated like a mental marionette,
Creeping from the depths of my subconscious. 

The voice I hear, is no longer mine.

Lusty demons I’d not forgot
Come laughing back with sinister thought.

Gashes, scars upon my heart
Tear tender wrists apart.

Indian summer cannot hinder
October’s black internal winter.

Humanity's Puppeteer

In last night’s dream I found
One million strings
Holding up things
And to my hands they were bound

So suddenly I became
The head puppeteer
For the new year
Although each thread looked the same

Which meant every decision
On our whole globe
Was mine to probe
But I lacked moral vision

Plus my weak hands loved to shake
As the world stood still
Until I found the

The Puppeteer

In life, we are the puppeteers
till the promise of death unfolds
we journey the story untold
for the spectators’ eyes and ears 

The job is to entertain and stir
the audience till time goes old
in life we are the puppeteers
till the promise of death unfolds

The ventriloquist, we yet to meet
the foolish, the joker, the voice, the bold
yet still

Master Puppeteer

Can you comprehend the surveillance?
Recognize the Cyclopean that is manipulation
Suffer as fingertips osculate the doll 
Your existence in cadence with its animation
Answers painted upon the walls of elucidation 
Yet enveloped within a sadistic façade 

If only mortification was your apparatus 
Feasible would be your liberation
To fracture your damnation of kismet
Your oblivious disposition maintains insurance
Of my

My Puppeteer

Pull my strings, or I can't walk.
Pull my lever, so I can talk.		

Made of plastic, with no heart.
As you wish, to tear apart.

Put me back, on my shelf.
I am no good, by myself.

Round and round, so we go.
You pull my strings, that's all I know.

Puppeteer

I hate you.
Does that bother you?
I hate that I care enough to hate you.
I hate that you make me over think things.
Do you care?
I can’t stand knowing that you don’t.
I despise the way you creep in and take over 
As if I’m your puppet. 
I hate how I always let you hurt me.
Do you try

Puppeteer

Am I destined to be your puppet?
Will I ever be the puppeteer?
Do I even have a chance to measure up?
Or will I forever be drowning in my fears?

You’ve captured me in your shadow
I’ll always chase your ghost
I’m a prisoner to who you used to be
Maybe that’s what I miss the most.

Follow me, I beckon
To a

The Puppeteer

She's running toward the light.
She's chased it all her life.
She wants it all to end so bad,
But she will never reach salvation.

She sold her soul.
He tricked her.
The master of deception.
The puppeteer.

She thought he wanted more,
More than just her mind,
But that's all he wanted,
To put strings attached.

She has to break free,
Before he comes.
She must cut the

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