Copyright 2008
the words are my puppets
i jerk ‘em around
they stand at attention
or lie flat on the ground
my pen is a bullwhip
to lash lazy ones
i brook not one sluggard
keep ‘em under the gun
but as I close watch
the words as they dance
and laugh and sing smartly
of fate and romance
there seems a small problem
befuddled i see
to my consternation
the real puppet’s me
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