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The marionettes came back to our street today,
And another 100 souls were spirited away.
They’ve been with us now for five years or more,
Their numbers swelling as ours seem to dwindle.
But maybe the marionettes just have louder voices?

That’s what I hope.

CLACK, CLACK, CLACK … it starts again,
Words which are not theirs flow from primed mouths,
On a disruptive, destructive mission.
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
Swirling and birling through the street.
Scything through brick and steel
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
Seeping into minds
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
Impossible to ignore
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
It’s futile to resist
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
Or is it?

I’ve lost too many friends to the marionettes.
Good people who cared. Good people who tried to counter-attack.
Facing up to the CLACK, CLACK, CLACK.
Reasoning with the CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
Arguing with the CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
Throwing logic, facts, indisputable information.
But all that came back was CLACK, CLACK, CLACK.
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK until sweet souls were destroyed,
And all that remained of their human shells
Were piles of crumpled clothes on a filthy battleground.

But we watch, we listen, and eventually we learn.
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK has a weakness.
There is a way to walk among them and remain untainted.
To be able to weave in and out of the marionettes unseen.

When the incessant chatter begins again I take to the street.
Choosing one, I stand directly in front of it and fire first
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK I mimic.
It immediately becomes animated, responding
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
This time I remain silent.
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK
I say nothing. It becomes agitated, very agitated
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK?
And its limbs jerk furiously, uncontrollably
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK?
I realised its fuel is my response, and I’m starving the bastard
CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK?
As it jerks and dances and CLACK, CLACK, CLACKs
I take out a pair of shears and … SNIP, one arm falls lifeless.
SNIP, the other arm slaps against a wooden ribcage.
SNIP, its left leg flops and it wobbles, balanced on only one leg.
SNIP, the marionette collapses in a jumbled heap.

A head looks up at me from a messy pile of skittles
I can see confusion, disbelief, fear, and finally surprise …
… in eyes that flick toward me and then, as realisation dawns,
Toward the sky directly above.
You really didn’t know, I say, feeling almost sorry for it,
As its flame flickers and dies.

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Welcome to my Canvas

Some of the items on this site won’t be to everyone’s liking, I get that. Basically this is my place, my wee studio to mess around in – experimenting with words and thoughts. I’ll be chuffed if you enjoy it, but if you don’t, c’est la vie. As a friend used to tell me “it would be a boring life if we all thought the same.”

Jack Montgomery
A wine press,
On a farm at the end of the dirt track,
The Setúbal Peninsula,
Portugal
E: jack@buzztrips.co.uk