Puppets On A String

This one should be familiar to some who read my blog. I wrote this about a year ago, maybe more, and actually started it in a Juris class. Those who went to Juris with me won't be surprised, that class was mind-blowing. Well, it was to me anyhow!


What we know as reality is really just fiction
Our perceptions of the world a cumbersome restriction
You are not you, I am not me
Each day we become who we want to be
Perhaps we have dreamt up this world we reside in
Perhaps these ideas are us realising
That there is nothing upon which we can depend
There is no one reality, do you comprehend?
Do we not feel alive at night when we sleep
Who's to say this 'awakeness' is any more deep?
Our lives become a handful of memories
Scenarios as faint as our nighttime reveries
And yet we continue day after day
Believing our lives a moldable clay
Which we can reform this way and that
Totally reshape at the drop of a hat
Oh foolish fools that we have become
Marching in time to the same old drum
With State and Society providing the beat
Generic beliefs moving our feet
We are no more individual than we are real
Our god is Authority and before it we kneel
Choice, Chance, it's all the same
We're the lifeless figures in a golden frame
Wealth, Riches, Material Possessions
Hiding the sadness of our oppression
On the beach of life we are mere grains of sand
Puppets on a string; But in whose hands?


Some other poems I've posted on this blog can be viewed here, here, and here.