Poem: Elevated Descents

Steadily elevating space between levels

Silent hollow servants saving passive footsteps

Sleek silver boxes, busing people shufflers

The steady bumble of cable car pulleys

Rumble, bumble, rattle, and pull

Stringing the mind, wandering thoughtful halls

Floors become reachable, levels unlocked

Pings, dings, consumed by ringy ring rings

Collums of encircled numbers, Illuminated choices

Consider the great machine-god puppet strings

Puppet-masters of penthouse manipulations, pulling their strings

Manipulators hoisting lives toward socially gathered platitudes

One descends through the climbing boxes… passing doors unopened

Who pulls the strings anyway? They? The numbered buttons?

Those glowing faces with smiles of parting falseness!

Glowing pressed faces with a thousand expectations

Do the faces listen? Those minions of machine-god puppets

Strings of choices, False Choices! They trap me in this temporary prison...

A prisoner of that bastard puppet machine-god pup-pet master!

Pulling strings, strings of death pulling us up! up to False Gates!

False!...

Stringing down bare puppets before the masters!

strung-out puppets bowing while bound-down!

False!...

False Lies, False Beliefs, False Pillars of Platitudes!

Don’t they see the false strings as I hang before them?

FALSE FOOLS! Why won’t you cut me loose already?...

-Jan

(Inspired by the frantic writings of Francis E. Dec)

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