Primal Marionette by T.J. CarverAnts go marching one by one,
crushed beneath an oppressive thumb.
A monkey on a throne, you laugh and play;
deceptive smile, the faithful pray.
You made us toys, o child-god king,
our cries and prayers to you, nothing,
our blood and tears, a joy to bring--
as we hang ourselves from the puppet string.
Sick machinations for a clockwork god:
bare the child, spoil the rod.
No wax to fill our sheepish heads,
O honeyed shepherd: your flock, the dead.
You made us toys, o child-god king,
our cries and prayers mean not a thing,
our blood and tears, a joy to bring--
as we hang ourselves from the puppet string.
So we burn our wings and hope to fall,
and turn away from your great hall.
You clap and grin as we descend--
rotting hands, a violent end.
You made us toys, o child-god king,
our cries and prayers to you, nothing,
our blood and tears, a joy to bring--
as we hang ourselves from the puppet string. 12/28/2006 Posted on 12/28/2006 Copyright © 2025 T.J. Carver
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