The puppeteer

How can anything be said
in other tongues
than mine, still sticky from
your stolen honey?

How can anything be told
in any other books
than mine once inked in
blood on parchment skins?

How can anything be done
with any other arms
than mine still aching from
the strain of cutting necks?

How can you believe
that your wants and wont
is not encoded in your brain
by me a destiny that’s

stringed to mine.

The puppeteer by  © Norman Rockwell

The puppeteer by © Norman Rockwell

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August 23, 2016

11 responses to “The puppeteer

  1. sure we dance at the end of destiny’s strings, still your questions posed are valid and thought provoking
    Have a blessed week Björn

    much love…

  2. I’ve always been fascinated with puppetry — I’ve yet to try it onstage because I suppose, there is a bit of fear involved with choreographing and controlling them. You’ve captured the darker nature of the art, here — love your last line, entwining the masters destiny to his puppet, ultimately part of himself. Thanks for sharing.

  3. This is just the most wonderful piece, Bjorn. The impact of each question is quite stunning, these questions about what it means to be bound to another.

  4. oh those puppeteer’s – I have met up with far too many of them in my life. They are everywhere, of course, but seem to thrive in great bureaucracies where creativity is abhorred and there is limited job prospects.

  5. Hi Bjorn ~~ I’m running late for this, sorry. At first I was thinking an extremist religious viewpoint, very similar viewpoint and, sometimes, outcomes.
    THEN I saw the picture and ‘saw’ your point of view. Still a bit gory but not as bad an outcome as my mom gave for those “cutting necks.“. Mom put her foot beneath the chickens’ head and pulled hard on their feet. The heads stayed on the ground and she through the chickens a distance away before she got blood spurted.
    Nice write, fits your butcher puppeteer vey well.

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