Up and down in the dark


Conceived
Of straw and trimmings
Rags and cloth,
Lace and stiches,
Wasn't supposed
To have a soul
- Marionette.


Her once bright colours
Withered shades,
Fervent expressions
Fade away.
The thigh is torn,
Joints are displaced,
Jade is written
On silk face.
In plastic eyes
Uncommon gaze
- Cause neither mind
Was planned to embrace.


Magician's hat
And disguise smile
Dexterous hands
And dark attire
He had the brain for wicked games
- The Puppeteer.


He learned to pull
The puppet strings
Amazed at how
He moved the things
He did not need her,
But he played
Excitedly
Vocation trained.
She was so right,
So flexi-bright
Compliant grace
Limbs sticked in lace


But when the strings
Were torn apart
Then he sewed
Her velvet heart
..
..

She's in the dark
Pulled to and fro,
Chord-woven heart
Doesn't let go.
All's left is just
A silhouette
Having no ground
- Marionette


She's not alone
They scattered lie
Property toys
- Shelf of rejoice.
Their strings so tangled
That he could see:
He pulls string A
but puppet B
Raises her hand
And turns the head
Of puppet C..


Out in the dark
The puppet hangs,
Triggered sometimes
From her "console".
Her mind and soul
- They spoil it all.


Though he is also
Sewn with chords,
He masters them
Never unfolds
Looks through the glass
Shop-window pane
At pride from which
He can't refrain

- The Puppeteer
and his strings
that might as well
Turn into
- Wings.


Instead of blowing in
some Life,
Up he ends
Misusing the Might
That's in his hands...