burning the noose
Marionettes really are the uncarnate Prometheans of the entertainment world. For them, life is a non-stop lynching. Like touring musicians, the meat of life's obsessive calling is only experienced in those brief moments when the feet actually get a chance to touch-down on the stage . . . but even then, the strings are always attached. Freedom is never an option. So it's another dose of children's Tylenol and the probing hands of those who wish to admire the physical form (As if a touch backstage equals the dreamer's pinch that judges reality from unconscious delusions). After the post-show depravity smolders down, it's back to the string-taut burning noose of existence between the spot lights. When the dangling twitch of wooden feet finally ceases, small-stringed cherubim descend from the rafters to sing the puppets' prayer with thrown voices:
"Tomorrow you will be a different person
Trying to see through today’s eyes
Taking credit and accepting blame
Feeling guilt and feeling pride
For your acquaintance with the past. . .
A symbol of humanity and its relationship
With the common encompacity.
You were everyone else
Choosing to believe that you believed
To choose in choice and belief.
Right now you are a different person
Trying to see through yesterday’s eyes
Taking credit and accepting blame
Feeling guilt and feeling pride
For an acquaintanceship. . .
You choose to believe that you believe
To choose that you are everybody."
You can play with your perceptions. You can see the puppet’s strings or you can see the doll that walks.
Right now you are everybody.
Tomorrow you will be everybody else.
posted by Matthew Pazzol at 8:39 AM
3 Comments:
perhaps escape is possible depending on how much liquid children's tylenol we dirtily syringe and eekd, ouched, and ahhd the today away. as for me, consciously aware of such escapes, I am covered head to toe in extremely gentle and kind adhesive opiates. i get a little dizzy, but they keep the flesh rippers at bay. stuck on in little bubble packs that release calming goo through an ingenius membrane of science and technology's ingenius science and technology. i am still waiting for the ones with the wild wilderness scenes, moon and twinkly-star dreamscapes, fierce leopard prints, hello kitty decals, some m.k and ashleysisms... but none as of yet.
To the two of you I send much Love.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
hey CLownBoy! with all this reference to bathing, cleanliness and the sort, i can't help thinking you might be gently probing some severely cologned problem you have with elements of my stinky blind crippled ass and way of crippled assdom. let me tell you: some shiny sweet 60s geek definitely not emo bottle caps, two well-strung and hung double ponytail braids, and sweet pits whispering that soft, but so urgently whispered desire of urrgggh gotta get IN there!! unnn huh huh, furreeel. Benito, although the false probiscis brings luvvvin to a whole new level what about the pits man? the pits. with or without the braids and glasses, a smelly pit doubled one for one and two for two one nighter of bumblerumpahumper exstasy, in my braided and bearded (and sometimes humble) opinion of course. cheers my dears.
Post a Comment
<< Home