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Tag Archives: vanity

the puppets rise to take the stand

to wear the mask and raise a hand

but who is it who pulls the strings

the god of greed or other things?

the heart of man is deceitful still

a plague for which there is no pill

yet one by one they take a bow

in hope to win the crowds somehow

slaves cannot be freed by slaves

though they preach great plans of better days

their words are hollow as they flow

they speak of things they do not know

the puppet-master mocks, he tugs the strings

the puppets dance, as he plucks they sing

truth like lies and lies like truth 

the hearts of men, 100% proof

the other puppets watch the show

they have nowhere else to go

they’ve seen the play many times before

maybe things will change… so they watch once more

each act is like a scene from hell

it’s all one can see from inside this cell

green pastures painted on the wall

but there is no smell of grass at all

loud songs of freedom fill the air

sounds to try block out despair

hope in hope is all that’s left

the orphans

the widowed

alone

bereft

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who is the fool,
tell me, who could it be?
the foolish, blind king,
or those who believe he can see?

who is the fool,
tell me, who could it be?
is it the fool of a king,
or is it you and me?

a man alone
together with the rest
missing the ball
but trying his best
together we fall
but we don’t tell a soul
to appear as a winner
is the ultimate goal

a look at me people
but let us tell you what you see
a don’t look too deep people
in case you see through me

a look alike people
it’s who we try to be
we do it all together
we’re all unique you see

to merge into the neon lights
and shine like stars that glow
to stand out amongst the crowd
it’s the only life we know

our veneer is ultra thin
but we sure cake it on thick
parading before the dazzled crowd
it’s our special party trick

a deep superficiality setting in
many layers painted on
the center core is deathly thin
but still we sing our song

look at me, look at me
but don’t tell me what you see
looks at me, look at me
I’ll tell you what to see

a chameleon remains a chameleon
regardless of its colour
though it tries and tries
with all its might
to become like another
we can close our eyes
and clench our teeth
and hold our breath forever
but everybody knows
that culture grows
regardless of the smelly effect
it has on the nose

flapping lips
flapping lips
giving us those useless tips

useless lips
useless lips
until the flapping finally tips

talking heads
talking heads
empty sleep on shallow beds

flapping lips
flapping lips
rudderless sailing ships

without a keel
without a hull
life out at sea is never dull

until you hear the deafening lull of…

flapping lips
flapping lips
giving us all those useless tips

shameless self promotion
look at me, look at me!
not that you really can see me
look at me, look at me!
or that I deserve a single thing
look at me, look at me!
natural selection 2016
look at me, look at me!
survival of the fattest
look at me, look at me!
ethics in the market place
look at me, look at me!
it’s the truth, I swear it is
look at me, look at me!
as long as I am all you see
look at me, look at me!
it’s all for you, just for you
look at me, look at me!
I lie, I lie, but this is true
look at me, look at me!
it’s the only way we know these days
look at me, look at me!
it’s the only way that sets me free
look at me, look at me!

a finger wrote upon the ground
the words were clear without a sound
a roar was stifled to a scream
the game was up, the blade was clean
a cut from many hands was due
but in the hush there now were few
of many words are many men
until the finger writes again
but still, like bile, the hearts of man
prepare to start the roar again

*

he thought he was

but then he wasn’t

so he thought a whole lot more

in this age of make-believe

no one can ever be sure

*

who do warriors turn to when they drop their swords and fall,

and who will pick up the double edged weapons and return to them their honour?

when the hearts of the people are locked in their own distended bellies

and the words of the prophets are willingly captive to the thoughts of the thoughtless

is it then finally time for the stones to scream out?

and the rocks to shatter under the relentless gaze of the angry sun?

for the water to evaporate before it touches the soil

and for the children to be dead before they are born?

when mankind celebrates high noon in the dead of midnight

and turns into victory the stench of suicidal defeat

it is time gentlemen, it is time!