Random Puppet-talk

On the starry stage I see,
blue lights and curtains green
rolling, fading in and out
and with them
comes the block routine.

All dance to someone else's tune,
all smile only to please
who doesn't want a heart-felt clap
their egos to appease
characters, things and even air
is full of expectation
and on the heavy floorboards bare
the dance of affectation.

There used to be a lifetime once
when bliss was not so rare
when eyes were full of honest-talk
and lies most lips did spare.

Waiting in the wings I am
for my turn in Acts
of lofty stuff in hideous chugs
I bring on ponderous facts.

Find me a sprightly kite, O Sun

that doesn't want to fly

like a bird on the horizon

or a cloud across the sky

Find me a glossy mermaid, Thor

that doesn't want to dance

in a ball by the prince

or by the shadows of the yacht

Find me the stiff-necked puppet, 'Speare

that doesn't want to hold

his own strings for once

without being snappily told

If never there was one

such actor, maid or kite

then i would also turn around

and make my cravings right.

I may be held

by glassy strings

that make the palms to bleed

I may be twirled

in waves aghast

hurled 'midst the rocks of weed.

But ever if

my puppeteer

would look at me up close

I'll look him in the eye

and say

I'm better off when loose

You think

you hold me nice and stern

and lead me right along

what then 

of that inner voice

(You put it there)

that says I'm God and

makes me want to turn?

Wait...

hold on right there

don't put me on the line

don't turn Your back,

I may owe You

all my Time

on stage

but after hours

when I'm no puppet mere

and You no Puppeteer

then 'midst the floating

freeing light

You sure do owe me Mine.