String Puppets

 

String Puppets

With threads attached, they cannot stand, on two feet, without their string,

Their ghastly master, twisting and pulling, making them all dance, and sing.

To his evil tune, with every foul stroke, tugging and jerking, in total control,

The king of obedient puppet’s, each an empty slave, without heart, or soul.

No brain, to comprehend the function, of their mindless mechanical show,

As they strut about the stage, performing each tedious charade, to and fro.

Singing badly attuned, clumsily stepping, in his construct, the fantasy world,

Of make-believe, and the feckless illusions, he generates, so roughly knurled.

His hinged sticks, dressed in loud ties, and gaudy rags, all ranting and raving,

A load of nonsense, with their clumsy arms, gesticulating, and wildly waving.

The puppets ruddy faces, coarse brushstrokes, roughly painted, mind chilling,

The puppeteer performing his art, the loathsome lies, that they keep swilling.

The Muppet master, keeping the plot, close at hand, his pawns constrained,

Each puppet closely bound, unable to break free, their will, securely chained.

His show, set to unhinge the spectators, planting seeds of chaos, that spread,

Laying foundations, of perpetual anarchy, in each ignorant recipient’s head.

Within the madness, his shows poorly scripted, loads of tripe, flowing forth,

With the mindless puppets, becoming confused, tangled in the pile of swarth.

Bent over his puppets, his back badly hunched, snout becoming hook nosed,

The piercing tones, in strained timbre of voice, loudly resonating, eyes closed.

The felonious intent, deviously choreographed, roughly plucking each string,

With his popup stages, peddling lies on street corners, for the wannabe King.

His henchmen, like prostitute pimps, a manifestation, of their horrid master,

Heralding a new age, of billionaire control, leaving civilization set in disaster.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (March 2025)