Timothy Birdnow

In honor of the White House Correspondents Dinner, I give you this poem from my archives:

The Dance of the Marionette

See the wooden marionette dancing on a string.
Upon your set it does a show, prancing like a king!
A hollow mouth on wooden head carved out of Eden`s tree
Into your home, into your bed, in stereo color teevee!

The dummy Head lively and gay, or sorrowful and grave
The words it said or didn`t say, those stories that it gave
To tell you how to think and feel, and which way you should go
Before the puppet all should kneel and worship at the show!

The puppet master tugs the threads-the words the puppet brings.
Its mouth moves faster; words of dread, or marvelous shocking things.
It does not matter what is on, CNN or NBC
The buzz and chatter`s never gone, the spin rolls constantly.

The marionette would rule the Earth if left to its` device
But it`s a fool of little worth with empty, vain advice.
A mouth without a living brain, an eye that cannot see
A bout of madness, reign of pain, a lie, a left wing spree!

The puppet thinks it pulls the strings and whispers in the ears
The Master spreads out full his wings, and laughs at what he hears!
The puppet is the slave, you see, and works its` lords` desire
And in the end its grave will be as kindling for his fire!

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at 12:39 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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