Los Titiriteros

Two marionettes.
A puppet show.
A spectacle, constructed.
Wit with teeth,
an upwards blow.
It informed, just as intended.

Gawdy, flailing caricatures
depict the flustered state.
Faced with is own flabby slurs,
veins bulge, it becomes irate.

As if it’s its late stage rancid rot,
weren’t clear enough to see.
It enters in this piece of theatre.
With batons, cuffs and boot shod feet.

And in its furious, frothing reaction,
In it’s theft of liberty,
the puppeteers point’s not lost.
In fact, it’s more complete.


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