The Chosen Dummies
published by Uka
Out in the dark valley of the night
pitch black moments glue to each other,
a constant subtle tremor’s energy anticipates
the twisted habit of the missing sun
to change the spectrum of the things
the days have done.
Who now thinks therefore I am?
Refreshing with his conscious cogitation
my being all the time while I’m asleep?
One of his dummies takes my place,
am I replaced, or are there many I’s
scattered in dependent timelines?
And more importantly when did we extrapolate
the sun’s return as scheduled,
hadn’t we witnessed his insane departure
every dusk, all he ever leaves behind
is a bipolar room for doubt.
We dream the past when we’re awake,
and sleep throughout the now.
It is as if the sun was what Shakespeare
may have had in mind, “to be or not to be”
was the bottom-line.
Although Spiritus ubi vult spirat,
a poet knows that here it’s always dark,
a poet listens to the ventriloquist’s heartbeat,
reversed replayed reechoed in slow motion,
a pattern torn by chosen ones
who don’t come back to shatter any myth
or spoil the dummies’ dream
and cut the prince’s tongue and arm.
Such is the only deal for a real life,
kidnapping your fake self in Now’s broad daylight,
one dummy less, missing from the drama
and never looking back.