The Emperor's New Clothes
"The Emperor’s New Clothes"
We write about beliefs
our prayer flags flying
like chrysallis books on a branch
of those higher deities we trust,
submerged, we are always listening
in our quiet hours of sleep
mostly when 3.33 calls us in,
we wake regularly, we wake
like sleepwalkers, we turn over
and speak to walls, still listening
and waiting
silence
no voices, but our own heard
in our heads, the noise is busy,
yet no messages relayed,
just the centrifugal whirling
of thoughts in our segue brains
we roll with the flow of it
fecund fertilisation for dreams
listening and waiting
cocooned we are like
prayer flags flying, waving
and waiting
silence
We read between the lines
of others and their shining
ballyhoos, they feed the panegyrics
forcefully like porridge to a child
that does not have the taste for it anymore
we spit back, disbelief on our faces
waiting for the spooning approach
fixated in our seats facing front on
the inevitable command to open up
and swallow what has been oversold
time and time again
by those waiting,
time is veritably variable
the silence softly sterilized
panaceas anaesthetic
tried and true, the recipe repetitive
bakes the well risen cake
that we are all taught to eat
without question, wafer thin,
yet open minds push back,
by those waiting
the tacit silence
is filled with the music
of explicit questions
hurricane wings unfurling
novitiate larva peeling open
tightly stitched cocoons
taking in new air,
on their own, the real
in your face view
seeing how it all is
the forensics of silence,
the futility of waiting,
listening to those preaching
those not being heard
we are breathing in the rich air of prodigals
those of a different mindset
breaking barriers looking for answers
that others bury and avoid
truth is hard for some to swallow
these are the codes
like prayers, complacent,
well meaning, but never acted upon,
that keep us tied up
like matyrs in words
ears are closed to pariahs
who wear their thoughts
and honest answers
to others' questions
like the Emperor's new clothes
the finery is never seen
on the surface,
it's wrapped up
in its cocoon,
underneath the skin
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"My love
Your light
Incantations
Struck stars
Like tears fall
The sequence ends
Downtime
God speed
Everywhen
We concede
The sequence ends
And begins
Everything
You think you know
Everything
You think you know
You think you know
[Outro]
Blood ties
Blood ties
The sequence ends ..."
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Lady Labyrinth
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