A Puppet Given the Throne

I remember being angry about people who were welcome in the eyes of teachers only because they made good grades. Conforming I guess was the easiest way out for them...

A Puppet Given the Throne

A poem by Alejandro Manuel Espinoza

Is it by chance that I,
Foreshadowed by red curtains
Gleaming floors
And outer light so dim,
Be the one who’s gospel is snatched away from him
By crooked canes with bladed rim?

The indifferent mannequin,
Sweet trim,
Oh, garments so slim!

You bow and I envy you…
To God you stay so true…
To the generation you seem so new…
Out of pleasant gardens you seem to have grew…

With trembling and locked knees,
Yellow green papers and grade-point-average you please.
Shaking and fretting on highs of speed,
To do the impressive deed
You need
Cauldron-brewed speed.

Darken clear circles correct and precise
In front of the silent applause, the crowd.
I pop these clear bubbles with my lead tip!
For with inadequacy I’ve been endowed

All of this to settle down in front of a glass screen blinking halfway down the road,
To bask in slumber and pleasant levitation in the domestically content humble abode.

Chance, is it?
Invisible notes so…
Maybe so…
Exquisite?
What is the gift that you give it?
The metal egg you inhibit
That causes ivory knees
To buckle as you please?

Fair maiden, Great man
Deepen my vision, help me understand
How beautiful puppets with breaking strings
Can be the only ones to be seen as kings…

 

Author's Note

Angry about Conformity...