The Tinman
Posted: Mon Dec 08, 2003 7:37 am
With blood flowing fully
All energy exploding
Cascading effort culminates
With enough force to push a camel through a needle
Not enough to bend the finger attached to the hand
In the direction the brain already chose for it to move
Floating on the ocean of existence
Pummeled by the billows of time
The sun wakes up the day
The body seized up
All the joints frozen
The tin man he grins
Standing paralyzed as the world moves about
With all courage gathered he disdains to speak
Always and forever silence as life’s prayer
For every foreign word he turns the other cheek
Passive condescending remarks pulling him into his cell
Walls stiff like carcasses terrifying the living prisoner
The mirror is a lottery with odds insurmountable
Hours pass as tin eyes stare down tin eyes
The bloody thief he stole his own soul
Fires burning all through on the inside
Tears too weak to extinguish frightened flames
Rust like a malignant virus spreading
The mechanical heartbeat slows as it fades
A metronome with lost rythym and time
Like the ticking from a grandfather clock
Echoing quiet fragments down the hallway
Tearing apart the slumbered silence of the night
Stabbing fear into the one who alone is awake
Making him alert towards the spacious darkness
Staying vigilant to deeds of which all are vacuous
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tick...tick...
‘What shall I do today?’
Fill the void.
‘Make sure to let the dog out.’
Fill the void.
‘Don’t let your dinner get cold.’
Fill the void.
‘Its a great day for a picnic.’
Fill the void.
‘This book I’m reading is so good.’
Fill the void.
‘Get dressed, we have to go to church.’
Fill the void.
‘My favorite show is coming on at nine.’
Fill the void.
‘Where are you going to?’
Fill the void.
‘What will you do there?’
Fill the void.
* * *
This is where the pigs dance
This is how the swarm of flies survives
Cracked is the cackle of the cattle’s crow
Tainted was the hairline fracture in blue skies
Maroon paintings drawn on rusty modern roads
It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times
Slippery comments said by snide heads
Screams from the red-nosed echoing through alley’s
Peppy cartoons casting out news tales
Rats shackled behind screens dictating jests
It was the age of foolishness, it was the age of foolishness
Battles fought valiantly against the self
Crawling up the arm the syringe plunges in its needle
Into his own heart a lost soul drives the sword
It was the season of Darkness, it was the season of Darkness
Bombs over Baghdad blowing winds of change
Holy wars for holy words by the children of Moloch
We are all going direct the other way
Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?
We are all going direct the other way
* * *
The world it stands frozen as the man moves about.
I think I have something to say.
‘What?’
I think I have got the answer.
‘Speak up.’
No, now I have lost it.
‘I can’t understand you.’
Help me look for it.
‘I do not get you at all.’
Please, I am so lost.
‘You’re mumbling.’
Let me be something to you.
‘You need to talk clearer.’
Understand me so that I won’t have to go.
‘What did you say?’
I really do love you my dear.
‘I can’t hear a word you speak.’
I see through the great words twisted to rhyme in tune with the rythym of the mind.
I see through the morning and evening doses of sertraline hydrochloride.
I see through the moment of crisis and the dull, mundane, drawn-out disaster.
I see through the perverted curves chiseled down by the daily routined jogs.
I see through the actions of the kind produced as required by years of lonely cries.
I see through the preacher’s words that keep the poor peasants unlearned.
I see through the family gathering for the festival with their desperate, ruined faces.
I see through the heart-stopping panic brought about by illusions of purpose.
I see through the political ties with furtive business deals and wars for blatant lies.
I see through the wind brushing the leaves and the sun browning the grass.
I see through love which is nothing more than a bridge on the verge of collapse.
I see through my own feeble attempts to make any little thing mean something.
All that exists is a hollow world
That is simply a reflection of that which is within
Never will the time come when death is dying
All that exists is a monotonous consciousness
And freedom to travel
From barren thought to dead action
Freed from the skinny threads of sanity
He falls through endless space
His metal uniform
Shatters at the joints
Painfully he pushes
Forms a human posture
Walks out the door
And goes another day.
All energy exploding
Cascading effort culminates
With enough force to push a camel through a needle
Not enough to bend the finger attached to the hand
In the direction the brain already chose for it to move
Floating on the ocean of existence
Pummeled by the billows of time
The sun wakes up the day
The body seized up
All the joints frozen
The tin man he grins
Standing paralyzed as the world moves about
With all courage gathered he disdains to speak
Always and forever silence as life’s prayer
For every foreign word he turns the other cheek
Passive condescending remarks pulling him into his cell
Walls stiff like carcasses terrifying the living prisoner
The mirror is a lottery with odds insurmountable
Hours pass as tin eyes stare down tin eyes
The bloody thief he stole his own soul
Fires burning all through on the inside
Tears too weak to extinguish frightened flames
Rust like a malignant virus spreading
The mechanical heartbeat slows as it fades
A metronome with lost rythym and time
Like the ticking from a grandfather clock
Echoing quiet fragments down the hallway
Tearing apart the slumbered silence of the night
Stabbing fear into the one who alone is awake
Making him alert towards the spacious darkness
Staying vigilant to deeds of which all are vacuous
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tock...
...tick...tick...tick...
‘What shall I do today?’
Fill the void.
‘Make sure to let the dog out.’
Fill the void.
‘Don’t let your dinner get cold.’
Fill the void.
‘Its a great day for a picnic.’
Fill the void.
‘This book I’m reading is so good.’
Fill the void.
‘Get dressed, we have to go to church.’
Fill the void.
‘My favorite show is coming on at nine.’
Fill the void.
‘Where are you going to?’
Fill the void.
‘What will you do there?’
Fill the void.
* * *
This is where the pigs dance
This is how the swarm of flies survives
Cracked is the cackle of the cattle’s crow
Tainted was the hairline fracture in blue skies
Maroon paintings drawn on rusty modern roads
It was the worst of times, it was the worst of times
Slippery comments said by snide heads
Screams from the red-nosed echoing through alley’s
Peppy cartoons casting out news tales
Rats shackled behind screens dictating jests
It was the age of foolishness, it was the age of foolishness
Battles fought valiantly against the self
Crawling up the arm the syringe plunges in its needle
Into his own heart a lost soul drives the sword
It was the season of Darkness, it was the season of Darkness
Bombs over Baghdad blowing winds of change
Holy wars for holy words by the children of Moloch
We are all going direct the other way
Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?
We are all going direct the other way
* * *
The world it stands frozen as the man moves about.
I think I have something to say.
‘What?’
I think I have got the answer.
‘Speak up.’
No, now I have lost it.
‘I can’t understand you.’
Help me look for it.
‘I do not get you at all.’
Please, I am so lost.
‘You’re mumbling.’
Let me be something to you.
‘You need to talk clearer.’
Understand me so that I won’t have to go.
‘What did you say?’
I really do love you my dear.
‘I can’t hear a word you speak.’
I see through the great words twisted to rhyme in tune with the rythym of the mind.
I see through the morning and evening doses of sertraline hydrochloride.
I see through the moment of crisis and the dull, mundane, drawn-out disaster.
I see through the perverted curves chiseled down by the daily routined jogs.
I see through the actions of the kind produced as required by years of lonely cries.
I see through the preacher’s words that keep the poor peasants unlearned.
I see through the family gathering for the festival with their desperate, ruined faces.
I see through the heart-stopping panic brought about by illusions of purpose.
I see through the political ties with furtive business deals and wars for blatant lies.
I see through the wind brushing the leaves and the sun browning the grass.
I see through love which is nothing more than a bridge on the verge of collapse.
I see through my own feeble attempts to make any little thing mean something.
All that exists is a hollow world
That is simply a reflection of that which is within
Never will the time come when death is dying
All that exists is a monotonous consciousness
And freedom to travel
From barren thought to dead action
Freed from the skinny threads of sanity
He falls through endless space
His metal uniform
Shatters at the joints
Painfully he pushes
Forms a human posture
Walks out the door
And goes another day.