Dance of the Mutants
Wheeled…
Strapped to a chariot of the infirm
The clanking of ungreased wheels
Play discordant sounds over the well worn antiseptic linoleum
Faces of Normalcy
Displaying well practiced smiles
Feigning heartrending concern
Fluorescent lights
Flash strobe like
Revealing motion in staccato relief
Kaleidoscope figures move with furtive intent
Pulling strings attached to vials of pharmaceutical salvation
They control the marionettes of the damned
They orchestrate the dance of the mutants
Legs dance, contorted, painful
Bodies bent at impossible angles
The Mutants move to the incessant demands of the strings
Their faces scream their hopelessness
Juxtaposed with silent resignation
The audience laughed and applauded
Such funny marionettes
For who can not help but laugh
At the dance of the mutants
Tags: conformity, Dark Poetry, mental illness, Poetry, system









Posted on November 21st, 2009 at 2:17 pm
Hey man! Cool beans, you have your own site now. Congrats!
I remember this dark, twisted and oh so real write from DS. It does sometimes feels as though we are puppets when dealing with mental illness.
Best of luck here darlin.
Posted on November 21st, 2009 at 2:35 pm
Hey Tammy Poo, Yea ain’t it the truth. I call it the invisible illness, no Cat Scan nor X-ray can find it. Therefore, “It’s all in your head!” No shit! Thanks for stopping by, can I get ya something to drink?, eat?, don’t leave Tammy, don’t leave… LOL