Puppet Show

Someday we’ll all be
dancing on bones and dust
marionettes on strings
of the departed
slipping between worlds
painting faces with fresh blood

reaching aching yawning
outstretching fingers
with hollow eye sockets.
we are all a dream
of a deceased soldier
fighting
      lovelifeself
in search of
      peacecalmquiet
      moneyeasepain

 

should we stop dancing
barefoot with muddy souls
and let go of the strings
say goodbye to the red faced puppeteer’

enter a thrill ride
because the end result
remains the same
ashes, dust, buried, scattered
beneath the earth
of the air
on the lips of lovers
who can sever rope
and just let go.

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1 Comment

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One response to “Puppet Show

  1. Very nice. I am always glad to find thoughtful poetry.

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