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Matt Jul 2
(Three voices, one truth)

I

You laugh like silver bells,
(Or is it a siren's call?)
You hold the door with grace,
(Or push them down the hall?)
They call you cruel, a storm of spite—
But I see sunlight.
You remember little things,
ask about my day,
make me feel like I matter.
(Do they not matter? Do they not exist?)

They

We whisper, we warn—
(You never listen.)
We've seen the mask slip,
(You never glisten.)
A shadow moves beneath your praise,
But you still chase.
We’ve watched you excuse, rewrite,
pretend you didn’t see.
What will it take?
(Does it have to happen to you?)

You

I am the sum of all they see,
(Yet less than half of what I seem.)
I am the echo, sharp and sweet,
(A kindness dressed in quiet teeth.)
Do I love, or do I take?
It’s not my choice—
(It’s yours to make.)
And you have made it.
Again and again.
So why ask what I am,
when you've already answered?

Conflict

They carve your name into curses
You wear their spite like silk
I stand at the altar of your shadow,
offering silence,
wondering if I am blessing a saint
or kneeling before a sinner.
Pray tell, Janus,
how, does, it, feel?
Does, your steel's,
duplicitous, reflection, reappear?
When, the, officed, place,
your, only-thought, used to, lay,
it's, bulbous head,
blossoms, into,
a, tangible idea?
Does, the bedrock's, stele,
make, flowering mettle,
of, the insecure hay?
And, from, the ore,
did, a, garden-variety,
blacksmith, bow, kneel, and, forge,
a sword, for, you, to, falsely, slay,
the poltergeist's, of, those, evil,
sons, and, daughters, seeded by,
that, shiny, yet, mistrusted,
Monarchy of Fear?

So, pray tell, Janus,
how, does, it, feel?
Does, your steel's,
duplicitous, reflection, disappear?
When, your mettle, is, made molten?
Does, it, maim, to see,
your, valued core, first, loosen,
then, wobble, as, you, backtrack, sore,
and, falter, on hearing, the, magma mists,
of, you, hiss, and, squeal?
Is, cerulean, gold, scarlet, and, purple,
all, that, you, listen to, here?
Does, the, imperious, court,
within, your mind, reveal, only,
Knaves-Jesters-Jacks-and-Jokers?
And, does, the, gilded line,
(you speak of naught),
that, you, and, your; Kings, and, Queens, crossed, of yester,
split; all, of, your faces, in, two,
with; royal-blue, hot, i-ron, pokers?

The answers, as always, were; curved, and,
swerved. In, a, spineless, motion, with, gall, but, without, feeling, or, nerve. Pride,
watched on, unaware, of, the fall, that, lay, beyond, the cliff, where, evil, is, served.

© poormansdreams
A poem about the two faced nature of power.
johnny solstice Jun 2019
God is everywhere
God is in the meadows full of flowers
God is the child locked in a cupboard
God is with the dolphins in the sea
God is at the heart of all atrocity
God is full of benevolent kindness
God is plagued by selective blindness
God is the name of our inner peace
God is the bomber and the bomb released
God is the congregation deep in prayer
God is the cleanser, the killer, the slayer
God is the sound of children laughing
God is the train now departing
God is the question to all the answers
God is the famine and the eco-disaster
God is the breast-milk from the mother
God is the oil-slick sea-life smother
God is the oil that fuels the lamp
God is the guard in a concentration camp
God is the abundance of fruit on a tree
God is the maker of child-*******
         God is good........God is bad
         God is happy.......God is sad
         God is living........God is dead
God is everywhere inside your head
God is everyone you've ever met
God is horribly the best thing yet
God is no-one and all things as well
God is innocent and guilty as hell
God is is the answer to all our prayers
God is the darkness at the foot of the stairs
God is a poet.....a juggler of words
God is THE AUDIENCE
            ..........HOW ABSURD
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
Regardless of your skin tone or status,
For every choice made, there will be
consequences
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 190 FOLLOWERS!!!
Really, I'm super grateful! ^-^
Lyn ***
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
The enemy is the opposite,
but they operate the
same.
Keep your eye on the true light.
Lyn x
Francie Lynch Sep 2015
The moon wore Janus masks last night,
Winking and nudging at our daily shenanigans;
Our wrong turns, the vanity of our foibles,
The apprehension of non-events,
Poking at our comedy of errors.
Our youthful angst.

The other mask keeps an eye closed
To our secrets,
The thoughts we cannot share;
Our furcht of past to future
Since our first fires,
Since someone said, You've said too much,
Or, What business is that of yours?
I've buried my losses beneath that mask,
With all the irreplaceable loves and deaths
Of my real drama.

— The End —