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Tuesday, 5 March 2013
"Master's Puppet"
So long I've fancied severance.
Compensation in raw form.
Driven deeper into chests
Than pearls clutched below necks
And yet you unlock it at will.
I remain still; even amid beckoning.
Your subconscious is vast and unruly;
Laying summon to that which never lived.
Doing what I can
To give you some semblance of normalcy.
Dormancy seems fitting for you:
Alone laying awake behind drapes.
Haunted by your transgressions
And swift defeats you fondly recall,
Heads bang against walls.
Fortune is my only protection.
I know nothing of your plight.
You scream as if I've planned this.
I'm not meant to understand this.
I'm indifferent to your trials.
We have traveled miles
For children with bright smiles
And have very little to show.
Used to place me where light glows.
I am now bound to my threads
and thrown under the bed.
Can't recall what words were read
Or the harsh things that were said.
Your gimmick is your plague.
Vague will serve you extensively.
They ignore the recluse.
Your manic wiles a mystery
Better left for the old or untold.
Who would be so bold
Of a wandering vagabond
To stand before your scold?
Only me, I'm afraid.
Lifeless instrument of diversion
Still unable to lend aversions
To your countless fits of perversion.
Your dim beam of liberty
Shown as a path of considerable libation
Amid foul acts unfit for the sane.
I never sought to pick your brain.
I am your greatest failure.
Triumphant in your downfall,
You drag me as you crawl.
How I detest closed quarters.
Nights I've sat in this corner:
Wet and mangled,
My threads tangled,
unfit to greet the day
But to my dismay,
I am wiped off and unbound.
You work in secrecy
As if I would make a sound.
I sit upon your lap;
Pretending to recite fables
Until placed on wooden tables;
Be it countertops or barrels.
Spruced up and unraveled
to an audience less enchanted
With what you've barely managed
Than how pathetic we seem in vantage.
My garb like a dirty bandage;
Barely concealing or healing my scars.
The embodiment of what is truly marred.
I dance as a distraction;
But in my mockery of vanity,
Do I serve more as a fantasy
Or your last shred of sanity?
Am I your display of propriety
Hiding what their eyes might see?
No doubt you're ashamed.
They are not entertained.
The bond between us surely strained;
But we cling nonetheless.
You manipulate my threads
Until I tread under your rhythm.
Silence rips into you;
Rooting deep within your mind.
Your levity isn't hard to find;
But you choose to stand behind.
I am not you;
But you are we.
Herein we are bound;
We can be free;
But you hold fast to my strings.
Such feeble things.
The frailty of each extension
Making tangible the tension
That you succumb to earnestly.
How easy is the release?
No complexity or crease.
Just threads woven in unison
Bound to what has claimed your peace.
I can't implore your decision.
If able to manifest this vision,
It would be a swift division
And we would part ways.
Can't say that I've grown tired.
Can't claim to have retired.
Can't even regulate my tone
To ask you to leave me alone.
And you can't do what you can.
You are your own sanctuary
Locked behind a cage of loathing.
A million keys line your clothing;
But here I prance.
To your music I shall dance;
Unfit to shield your emotions
Yet routine in my devotion.
Part the curtains
And take your chances.
All that remains certain
Are their judgmental glances.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
So long I've fancied severance.
Compensation in raw form.
Driven deeper into chests
Than pearls clutched below necks
And yet you unlock it at will.
I remain still; even amid beckoning.
Your subconscious is vast and unruly;
Laying summon to that which never lived.
Doing what I can
To give you some semblance of normalcy.
Dormancy seems fitting for you:
Alone laying awake behind drapes.
Haunted by your transgressions
And swift defeats you fondly recall,
Heads bang against walls.
Fortune is my only protection.
I know nothing of your plight.
You scream as if I've planned this.
I'm not meant to understand this.
I'm indifferent to your trials.
We have traveled miles
For children with bright smiles
And have very little to show.
Used to place me where light glows.
I am now bound to my threads
and thrown under the bed.
Can't recall what words were read
Or the harsh things that were said.
Your gimmick is your plague.
Vague will serve you extensively.
They ignore the recluse.
Your manic wiles a mystery
Better left for the old or untold.
Who would be so bold
Of a wandering vagabond
To stand before your scold?
Only me, I'm afraid.
Lifeless instrument of diversion
Still unable to lend aversions
To your countless fits of perversion.
Your dim beam of liberty
Shown as a path of considerable libation
Amid foul acts unfit for the sane.
I never sought to pick your brain.
I am your greatest failure.
Triumphant in your downfall,
You drag me as you crawl.
How I detest closed quarters.
Nights I've sat in this corner:
Wet and mangled,
My threads tangled,
unfit to greet the day
But to my dismay,
I am wiped off and unbound.
You work in secrecy
As if I would make a sound.
I sit upon your lap;
Pretending to recite fables
Until placed on wooden tables;
Be it countertops or barrels.
Spruced up and unraveled
to an audience less enchanted
With what you've barely managed
Than how pathetic we seem in vantage.
My garb like a dirty bandage;
Barely concealing or healing my scars.
The embodiment of what is truly marred.
I dance as a distraction;
But in my mockery of vanity,
Do I serve more as a fantasy
Or your last shred of sanity?
Am I your display of propriety
Hiding what their eyes might see?
No doubt you're ashamed.
They are not entertained.
The bond between us surely strained;
But we cling nonetheless.
You manipulate my threads
Until I tread under your rhythm.
Silence rips into you;
Rooting deep within your mind.
Your levity isn't hard to find;
But you choose to stand behind.
I am not you;
But you are we.
Herein we are bound;
We can be free;
But you hold fast to my strings.
Such feeble things.
The frailty of each extension
Making tangible the tension
That you succumb to earnestly.
How easy is the release?
No complexity or crease.
Just threads woven in unison
Bound to what has claimed your peace.
I can't implore your decision.
If able to manifest this vision,
It would be a swift division
And we would part ways.
Can't say that I've grown tired.
Can't claim to have retired.
Can't even regulate my tone
To ask you to leave me alone.
And you can't do what you can.
You are your own sanctuary
Locked behind a cage of loathing.
A million keys line your clothing;
But here I prance.
To your music I shall dance;
Unfit to shield your emotions
Yet routine in my devotion.
Part the curtains
And take your chances.
All that remains certain
Are their judgmental glances.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
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