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VG E Bacungan Feb 19
Like marionettes,
dancing, swirling, jibing
moved by strings of their desires.
Their bodies set ablaze,
by the fiction of their hides.

Despairing to escape by any means,
keeping their mem'ries in the haze.
Aimlessly thrusting til' Tilda tires;
swinging, struggling, scathing,
like marionettes.

And when the zenith is reached,
comes a fleeting sense of victory.
Their point of contact comes to an end.
***** hollow, and soul still empty.
Like marionettes.
Written 25 November 2020.

Original Commentary: This poem was inspired by a theme set by a friend.
Man Mar 2022
why are you there
and not by my side
sharing my bed
slide inside
my head
and make yourself at home
pick me apart
dissect, and use my tendons
your marionette man
Alpha Jan 2022
You are just a marionette
In your masters deathgrip
Release yourself and make it
To the other side
The refrain of a hip-hop song I wrote some half a year ago. To my shame, I wrote it on a memo in my phone which I soon lost. The memo, not the phone. Still, the text is gone, and this is all I remember. It wasn't that virtuous anyways, and still it's a shame...
Rescel Dec 2020
My wardrobe's full of sparkly dresses
But I don't know anymore who to wear them for
My life's excess has sustained the press
I asked for more, became their darling *****

They gave me a glass cage and called it a home
Put me on a cross and called it a throne
Danced like a ballerina in hopes to please
The hungry abonnés should fulfill my wish

Spotlight on the stage replaced my sun
I'm a property of everyone
And I sometimes think I do regret
Selling myself as a marionette...

Ruffled hemline dresses, different shiny gowns
Nightly royal dance ball in different shiny towns
Smiling to impress and not to express
A damsel should not let them see her distress

They gave me a noose and called it a necklace
Told me to patch up my porcelain crevice
Broke my fingers to make it fit into the shoes
Stitched my lips into a smile, romanticized this abuse

Camera flashes replaced my stars--
A price to pay for a superstar
And I always think I do regret
Selling myself as a marionette...
Arms tied with hard strings
Lips sealed for the ventriloquist
And I do, I do, I do regret
Selling myself as a marionette.
Lou Romano Oct 2019
Blue sadness drips
from long tired eyes,

her star weeps alone
filling entire oceans

with the salt of life
lived not living, but

dangling from strings,
a marionette's fate.
ALesiach Jul 2019
She sits in silence upon the bed
hands folded neatly, but with drooping head.
Her gossamer chords, silvery and fair
float gently through the winter's evening air.

Slowly his music fills her hollow form
as she waits for him to strum her gossamer chords.
A dancing silhouette, bending to his will
spiraling, swirling, or capriciously still.

His fingers dance across those gossamer chords
as she silently floats across the floor.
Tirelessly she performs the night through
never once missing her cue.

As his haunting music begins to fade
and he slowly turns away.
She slumps back against the bed
hands folded neatly, but with drooping head.

ALesiach © 02/16/2015
OpenWorldView Mar 2019
You think you are free?
Free to stand on our own feet.
Dare to cut the ropes.
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