Carefully, meticulously, I attach strings to my puppets and teach them how to dance.

I already know that some of my flock will be more popular with my audience than others; these are the chosen ones who will cause eyes to widen and mouths to shape into 'Os'. But still, I must allow space and stage time for the duller members of the troop, the rent-a-crowd, the puppets whose mere presence is required in order to allow the chosen ones to shine.

Sometimes of course, for reasons unknown, a small and ineffectual puppet will catch the audiences hearts, or perhaps their minds, and step forward to become the unexpected star of the show. I enjoy these situations but I can't profess to understand them. But who am I to decide on the appeal of the puppets that I create, and lead, and mold, and command?

For no-one sees me, out of sight behind the scenes.

The reality is that my role is largely anonymous and wholly divergent as each individual member of the audience embraces the puppets, both the stars and the add-ins, in their own unique way. And it is a concrete, set-in-stone fact, that some will not, will never, enjoy the show at all.

For I am a puppeteer of words and this is my story.

you'll find me across the room

not looking at you perhaps

I'll be lost but somehow found

thinking, processing, puzzling out

not miles, galaxies away

but I'll be there and soon

sooner than we both think

my limbs will be tangled up with yours

they won't be mine anymore:

mine will begin where yours end

and just then you'll know

when to play that John Mayer song

how to prepare my tea

- unsweetened, scorching-

and my theory on how the Earth came to be

but until then, keep tiptoeing

the world; you'll find me

soon enough.

Raven meet me at the midnight hour

under the old clock tower

where the dead forever rest

thats where I should like it best

wear your favorite red satin gown

Let your ebony hair cascade down

bring along black satin ties

you will be a sight for sore eyes

Your porcelain skin glows from the moonlit beams

as I watch you waiting there nervously for me

your luscious ebony locks dance on the wind

as you wring the black satin ties I begin to grin

Slowly from behind I make my way to you

this experience i feel is long past due

you've teased and tortured me long enough

I'm calling you out now on your bluff

I place my hands firmly on your hips

Making sure you wont escape my grip

as I kiss your necks supple skin

I feel your resolve begin to give in

I take the ties in my hand

tying yours behind your back as planned

whispering seductively in your ear

Tempting desires for you to hear

you fight me not on this devilish plan

feeling excited by this crazy man

I unzip your gown with one single tug

as I smile at you looking so smug

I push your dress to the ground below

your body now is mine to know

now in heels and stockings alone

it's time to hear your lustful moans

Sometimes I wonder about

The thoughts in the heads

That look and see me

But ignore me instead

Do I look normal

Or am I to dread

If it’s the latter

I hope they misread

I think about them

As they bob ahead

Where are they going?

What have they said?

Do they think the same

When they see my head

Or am I not noticed

Just blocking the bread

Do I seem put together

Or like I just left the bed

Do they notice my good side

Is just makeup spread

I’ve thought these things

About other heads

I pass and they nod

But is that just inbred

Can they tell that my

Eyes are a little widespread

Do they think I am late

As I speed up my tread

Or am I just something

With a shadow to shed

Over their footsteps and

They don’t think a shred

Her eyes, her hair, her life,

Was a beautiful mess;

Semi destroyed, semi put together.

No straight lines -

Just doodles on the wall.

Musical notes that were wrong,

A chin that was a bit too strong.

But when put together,

There was magic in her storm.

Ritika. Jolly

I have seen my parents younger

but there’s not long anymore

until they close their eyes

look to the skies

and walk the one-way door

I watch their sun go down each day

and I have been keeping score

of the countless years

just like the tears.

I’ve seen them happier before

The family is here right now

to see their final paces

but it’s a big disguise

it’s in their eyes

and the smiles behind their faces

They’re all wishing time would fly by

and were like it from the start

They would not waste time

if it wasn’t a crime

to stab them through the heart

Within their home is plenty

within the bank is plenty more

for years they had saved

to have the road paved

so their kids would never cry poor

The time has come, their number up

their hearts have been released

it breaks my heart

when a world falls apart

when they think they rest in peace

My family have gone, the race begun

for them there is no peace of mind

until the house is bare

and they’ve taken what’s there

whatever my folks left behind

I will never forget what my father had said

as he whispered to me through the pain:

“I wonder the cost

of no love lost

if there was never any love gained.

You know my good son it’s just not the same

throughout and beyond other cultures.

I can see their disguise

and blood in their eyes

with their mouths dripping like vultures”

Yellow crinkles under feet,

the stems of leaves,

damp from the recent rain,

but you walk down your asphalt

driveway to get the mail.

The limbs of gray trees,

empty of their leaves,

whistle to the wind,

but you sway your hips,

a shimmer of red cloth.

The mailbox clinks open,

pulling out crisp envelopes,

twisted from journey,

but you turn back around

to slip up the hill.

A whisper smooths its way

from the glide of your feet

to the crunch of tree petals,

the orange burn curling,

but you just slither on,

the click of blue scales,

shifting under your dress.

I've gone dry

With words

That aren't flowing

Rivers run in my mind

But my pen

Won't move

Stuck

Blocked

My mind knows

What to say

But the pen

On strike

The ink

Between my fingers

Frozen

Words get jumbled

Thoughts snowballing

Tangled wires

Messages saying abort

Until another day

K.j.a. (c) 2017