The Proxy’s Servant

June 29, 2015

p a r t   O n e 

My puppet makes millions

Yet, I serve this empty proxy

My hand up its ass

Brilliant ideas the proxy proclaims

They smell of shit and my sweaty hand

Behind the proxy hides a coward, I 

The world pauses, then passes by

p a r t   T w o 

I Blackamoor, shunned

Silver falls from my puppet’s mouth

I grab it and run

Chase I sex drugs fun

Years chew away my folly

Time belches regret

p a r t   T h r e e 

The play draws to its conclusion

Knowledge my life was all illusion

A dance of strife, fear and confusion

I grasp at straws of frail allusion

Beg I, “Mulligan?!”


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