A wobbling bridge ; 7 February, 2024

                                   

A WOBBLING BRIDGE

 

Ah !... What a twist to suppos’d power :
The servants bow down, submit, feign :
Yet, they have the last word in the matter :
They play the part as need'd in the reign…

 

Ay, all be chart’d out in a manner uncanny,
Beyond the control of the bosses :
All exceptions out will they toss :
Nay, the system brooks no mutiny.

 

Lock’d into the footsteps of destinies :

Alas, into a strange life to be submerg’d…

Dragg’d into an orbit without any escape,

A hopeless trip, even for the very brave.

Towards a fateful destination enlist’d.

 

 Embracing a new destiny, taking a road of no return :

The whole being grabb’d : in a relentless fire to burn…

Play the role, do thy script’d part, don’t mess about :

Nay, there be no rescue : and, give off no shout.

 

Master in name :

In name only :

This be the price of yon fame.

Of no use be any resistance, any poor pretence.          

 

A parallel, invisible establishment doth operate :

A force that forges ahead, careening along :

A crushing power that ne’er gets it wrong :

A roller-coaster whose might nothing can abate.

 

An authority that hath no master,

No structure, no leader, no decider :

Nothing be written : yet, known to all :

Machinists well hard-wir’d for the call.

 

A ruthless force that overrules even rulers :

A machine that projects beyond cadavers :

For it, life and rule be no more than milestones :

All be chart’d out, even the fate of ashes, bones.

 

Creepy crawlies, grave dust and ashes from the urn :

Everything the machine coldly stares down in turn ;

All matters be totally regulat’d and orchestrat’d :

Flawlessly be the unfailing orchestra conduct’d.

 

Elite lives be just like bridges :

Bridges that snap down, break up :

‘Tis all just operations, since ages :

The machinery fails not in the mop-up.

 

In the lifetime be rehears’d the morbid sending-off :

Only outwardly be yon make-believe life a fable…

The chilling rituals be unchanging, unchangeable :

From rulers to challengers : let all fret and scoff…

 

Pinn’d down securely by the stout and burlies,

Until finally hand’d over to the creepy crawlies.

 

A forc’d compliance for the rest of times :

One be not even allow’d to protest, to retort :

All around always to give but a lost battle.

 

Ah !... Alas, what a sorry destiny…

How better off be yon slaving nanny…

Let no one into such a fate enter,

Or, regret it they will, for ever after.

 

 

     To stop, to look, to listen, to stalk :

     For dear life, cautiously to walk.

     To be always on the alert :

     Nay, ne’er be yon chats inert.

 

Entering willy-nilly into some hermitage,

To be assign’d the illusory job of a sage :

The fort snapp’d shut : to be forever herd’d.

 

To plod on, to soldier on, to go on labouring :

Lord in name only : always just a subject :

A subject to the system. 

 

Waiting for the repose everlasting,

Cold and stiff, not even shiv’ring.

Of real gratifications were there precious few :

A witness to the languishing tale be yon sliding dew.

 

Be it many decades, or a century,

‘Tis a destiny that be so weary.

To have fallen afore the fate that was beckoning.

Merely to have surviv’d for so long be the wonder.

For centuries to come ‘pon all this to ponder… 

 

A form of fate.

Without a name.

A form.

A formula.

In a well-drill’d parlance.

 

To cower : under the assault to smart :

A life that be destin’d ne’er to brighten.

 

To surrender to the system

To capitulate.

A poison’d chalice.

A heavy burden on the head.

 

To be fully aware of the life brutish,

To have been flogg’d with an existence fiendish.

To play. Ne’er to fiddle. To go through the motions.

Ne’er to fiddle with the system.

In the land of shows, of hush’d nods, known to many.

In squalls, in showers, in sunshine, in sleet, in snow :

Surviving quietly, as known well by those in the know.

 

Itself history repeating  :

Very soon, oh how soon…

Have the creepy crawlies gone yet ?...

 

To live amid a hush’d, strange sort of band :

To waddle piteously in the moving sand.

Cleverly conn’d into an imaginary life,

Oft with regrets the existence be rife.

 

From fake glory, to death in house arrest,

Only demise could put the sore heart at rest…

Fetter’d in utter splendour, but still in a jail :

The cold, pitiless machinery ne’er doth fail…

 

In the last days, pinn’d down to pass away :

The job done, outliving all usefulness,

In the cold deathly place forcibly to lay,

To reflect woefully on the lapsing recess.

 

A one-way ticket, a no-nonsense trip :

The falt’ring heart sank, took many a dip :

Yet, pitilessly shunt’d out of the way,

To languish helplessly till the last day.

 

A golden jail : plush luxury :

A ling’ring, make-believe story :

Held down in a ghostly “sanctuary” :

Awaiting the trip down the lane of history…

 

A place from which there be no escape :

No need for any manner of manacles :

No need for restraints or shackles.

 

A trip to a place moral,

Very far away.

No Ballyhoo.

A history of dying peacefully, in the sleep :

Of lapsing into slumber, everlasting, deep…

In the family,

There  be such a history…

 

Oft dying peacefully, in the sleep :

Flak that……

 

‘Twas all but peaceful : a place with no echoes :

A dungeon from which ne’er do escape the woes.

 

The well-oil’d machinery ne’er falters :

‘Tis only the unending future that matters.

To the far, hidden holding place,

Shunt’d out of the way.

 

Some witnesses will see all :

Yet, will see nothing…

Rock that... 

 

To be shunt’d out of the way,

Very far away;

To await the proper timing…

 

To join the queue

In dinner for creepy crawlies…

 

A history of dying peacefully, in the sleep…

Even after demise, no repose, no respite :

The remains be cart’d off to an abode of “pride” :

Roughshod ‘pon everything the ravenous rites do ride.

 

Hark, finest chats even far off still be reverberating…

Of a ravenous appetite the system smacks.

Everything be script’d, order’d, laid down :

Nay, ‘tis not the paranoia of some clown…..

 

Well drill’d,

The lone piper letting forth his languishing lament,

A plaint reverberating throughout the arching temple :

The life was a secret lament : the unique tale, a parable :

 

The system stares down the mighty tenant :

Even the illusory powers have to cave under.

So be it : ashes to ashes, ay, dust to dust,

Microbe to microbe : the bubble hath burst.

 

The wheel hath to turn full circle :

From nothingness, back to rubble…

 

Relentlessly, way back, were the seeds sown…

No control even after death, nor during life :

‘Twas just ling’ring years of toil and strife.

 

For the creepy crawlies, no fence, no deterrence,

No difference, no deference, no preference :

They toggle on between one dinner and the next :

Ay, the scavengers go about it without pretext.      

 

What a life…

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7 February, 2024

(END)

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