Esoteric enchantress mellifluously serenades
Abattoir hymn of threnody in this boudoir
Quintessential embodiment of thanatopsis
Quixotic dreamscape’s lachrymose fountain
Melody of scarlet puppetry in a masquerade
Grandiloquent gaiety phantasmagoric vitae
I don't know if from where do people draw their bitterness against other people. But bigots nowadays don't know the difference between patriotism and puppetry...
When everything you say is scripted,
you can't choose your words,
for your brain does not even function on your will.
You're like a puppet that moves
by the flick of your master's fingers
and speaks by the will of his mind,
in a show where you are only
paid as an extra.
Do you think a stone cares much about what
puppets say, when they don't even speak
according to their thoughts because they
themselves have no idea about what they
say or whom or what they speak about?
January 6, 2024, PST, BC
Each bedtime makes me a night-clown,
Minty paste seltzers every tooth.
Puppetry for sleep at sundown,
Ends in a circus, dreams of youth.
Tamed at knee in dress of cotton,
Each bedtime makes me a night-clown.
Farce forgives day-gains ill-gotten,
Hangs on bedpost the big-top crown.
Smile bones polished, no longer brown,
Gaslights flicker, still, no romance.
Each bedtime makes me a night-clown,
Illusionist trick, sleepy trance.
Ticket prices have now been paid,
The audience has been sat down.
Soft as applause, my head is laid.
Each bedtime makes me a night-clown.
The dance was a misguided tour
Masks and dresses Halloween
Themed promenade of sexes
Dark and dimly lighted
We invaded the wilderness
Beneath the hallowed moon
The wolves howling in the distance
Not one of us fearing their brutality
For assured that our costumes
And our numbers would keep
The creatures of the night away
One, two, three, one, two ,three
Living and shadows alike
Moved in unison in the thicket
A masterpiece in the making
Bestowing the puppetry of our
Dance to delight in the invisible
Strings for which the moon
Pulled us serendipitously
Like a haunted ghostly mirage
A choice to die wearing jacket:
Creamy ones he’d paid for packet.
The mad man had bought a racket
After seeing one at the market.
His boss to him like an ice cream,
Poor wages for decades nice dream;
Against his wife filed a law suit,
Because she’d soiled his three-pieced suit
Pursuit of puppetry ample
Guess, thus, why he is their first stooge.
One could this link with his being huge
Like cursed dinosaurs but poor-brained:
Didn’t know last night it had rained…
Thank God I still call him ‘Puppet’
Even as he’d warned me: “Stop it!”
In convolution's twist the puppets dangle
And by intellectual snobbery
Confound themselves in obscure philosophies
Within this miasma of strings
Bring thier selfrighteousness to weigh
And heavily obey the populace
Puppets mouth the marionette of speach
Chatter with placatory promises
Gather their idiot payment taxes
Weaving the jerking kink of threads
Into the fashion of a brand new security blanket
The wisdom of puppetry hangs in banknotes
A masquerades entertainment for the fools
It is a dictators empire so steadily employed
To a deception of freedom
To act as the puppet would
Without accountability in the annals of performance
Puppets mereley do their job
Bouncing around on mass medias stage
Dancing through the loopholes they have made
Don't blame me they say
Someone else is pulling on the wires
And I've been played
Puppets perform by popular demand
A roll fulfilled by another's command
In convolution's twist they dangle
Confounding all by obscure philosophies
Bring thier selfrighteousness to wiegh
And heavily obey the populace
What do theologians call a life without events?
The lights of my prison-like room dawn before sun's first blush.
I open sand-papery eyes as my AI announces the morning.
I begin the puppetry of morning routines:
I study my pale inmate face as I polish the porcelain.
I look less of a drowsy-angel than a zombie as I splash cold water
on the face with an almost determined lack of expression.
I’m absorbed in an ocean of predawn cold
as I 5-mile-walk away my sleepiness - this small freedom
- keeps me fit and acceptably sane.
Later, bathed in hot indifference,
and clothed in exhausting obligations,
I dine, at my reserved table, with my gang of irritations.
Soon I’m ready for another taxing day
of waiting for the disease to run its course.
(To American Protesters)
Let them go on with puppetry and think our life is a game
Or a gambling scene where they win at the cost of our dear name,
Just to heap wealth or fix their steps in more future collusion,
Boasting of serving poor people, seeking to reach their own aim.
Let others sleep or clown around. We know who he had in mind
Who first introduced Republic1 — not these fools who have no shame,
Not lawyers, or politicians, or dealers, sunk in the ditch
Of legal fraud and truthful lies, our dignity to defame.
With these seekers of private wealth in the name of their nation
This fallen world shall not prosper; it shall sure burst into flame.
True devoted scholars we need who rely on native means,
Not robbers looking for riches outside their own inland frame.
Let’s not take part in these fool games. They ‘are not’ the s.h.i.t they claim.
Once we are fooled, for four odd years ourselves we shall have to blame.
10.23.’20
1. See Plato’s Republic.
No comments, please!
Facts now have alternatives to fortify an elite’s status
Truth has lost its authority
Principles abandoned as minds become amorous to like-minds
Intellectual treachery
Corporations have frozen the status quo
Arrested ideology
Anti-capitalism is pretentious and treasonous
Distrust the politics, kill the new entry
Religion is a sanctuary of poverty walled by tyrants
Machiavellian weaponry
A cloaked politician claims anointment from God
Blind flock in an amen chantry
Jesus misunderstood for good for life is good
Yield to Caesar with slavery
Every system wants a piece of your livelihood
Patriotic puppetry
They invade privacy with dosages of conformism
Online artillery
I am an armoured guerilla in a humanism suicide vest
Blowing up the system
In this now troubled world, man’s hope falls,
as dire need for peace remains unsettled
even besieged: and awakening voices roar,
to soothe nights of delirium, of alarm…
While I , a mere mortal among all races
flame my hands, writing about indigent children,
terrorism, heinous crimes which scar beings---
beyond these, my heart weeps when egregious
plunder of nature inflicts the environ!
Though nations mediate, the obtuse reasoning
of leaders consecrate their holy gifts as ego
those masks guileful as puppetry to obscure avarice…
For the deepening of collective oneness resides
in a delicate yet brave spirit, perhaps unseen--
faith’s light enkindling this hunger for unity
maybe, laying global discord to rest.
8/30/2019
For John Hamilton's Eight word challenge 9 Contest
You need to clean up your act
You start to over react
With jealousy and lots of rage
You belong inside a cage
Acting wild and unsure
But I have the only cure
Known only to a lucky few
And I'm telling it to you
Act like a man, not a child
Keep the anger very mild
When you see me with a man
Who has been a long time friend
From my childhood till now
Quit having a raging cow
Fit because I will not be
A stringed piece of puppetry
You control it will not work
So calm down you stupid jerk
Pull the strings it moves in harmony-one good show, bad reality.
>> 12/19/2018
I am moving in and out of these animated lies,
Silver linings now sagging shadows
Burning desires now dimming coals
How did I ever become so fixated
On such unreliable light?
It is the demon of doubt that reigns tonight
It’s got all the strings to the puppetry
Raising its arms to smite all joy
Condemning our souls to dull life’s shine
Where are you now,
My swelling source of hope?
Why do your eyes wander
Where danger canters?
Trotting on soils dried by the sun
My reason for living
Now my reason for moaning
Its dragging me by the hair now
Telling me to take refuge on its stage
So it can play us over and over
Succumbing to its pathetic goals
To its putrefying plans
All I ever wanted was a place I can feel
A place I can feel
At home
I don’t know how that feels
As I seek all these thrills
I still don’t know how that feels
Timid and kind,
They grow surreal.
The Connections which shall,
Bring some love unto this world.
But, forever crying about its fate.
Away from mundanity,
Guiding me, sensitively into reality.
Feeling, perceiving, and living in these
cruel instances of reality.
The hate, the puppetry of our lives,
frozen as a disgusting image in their eyes.
Their need for change,
Shall turn this world astray,
When two ethereal minds meet,
They will die but change the world at last.
Fulfilling their purpose and desires,
to create their perfect reality.
Ideas of justice and empathy running deep,
in their blood, I shall do my part.
To get these minds to meet and,
Change the world...One day,
For I am an ethereal being too.
---Udit
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