Puppet

[peter danielsen]

Considering the discussion about the new song "Puppets" I thought that this piece from "Book of Mercy" shed some light


LET ME NOT PRETEND YOU
are with me, when you are not with me. Let me close down, let the puppet fall among the strings, until, by your mercy, he rises as a man. Let him dare to call on you from the dust, where there is nothing but dust, and the coils of defeat. Enter me again into the judgment, I who refuse to be judged. Enter me into the mercy, I who have forgotten mercy. Let me raise your kingdom to the beauty of your name. Why do welcome me? asks the bitter heart that is not broken enough. Let him lie among the strings until there is no hope for his daily strategy. until he cries, I am yours, I am your creature. Then the surface of the world is restored, then he can walk and build a will. Blessed are you whose blessings are discerned by those who know your name. The evil are seen clearly, and the good are beyond safety, and in the panic the whole world prays, Let us not be tested. Blessed are you who creates and destroys, who sits in judgement on numberless worlds, who judges the pressent with mercy.

Peter

[lazariuk]

Considering the discussion about the new song "Puppets" I thought that this piece from "Book of Mercy" shed some light


LET ME NOT PRETEND YOU
are with me, when you are not with me. Let me close down, let the puppet fall among the strings, until, by your mercy, he rises as a man. Let him dare to call on you from the dust, where there is nothing but dust, and the coils of defeat.
Peter

That position of the puppet in the dust with the coils of his defeat at a much later time changes to the following:

Yes, I'm feeling better
about you, already.
I'm looking forward
to our white hotel room
where the two puppets
can be naked at last,
and in each other's arms,
surrender to the strings.

It seems like a very good direction that he has travelled. I wonder though about the puppets. I don't see puppets much but twice a week I see something that comes close. I go to physio therepy and there they have a skeleton that is held together by cord which could be easily made into a puppet.

But Leonard is not a skeleton or so I thought until I came upon a post that was written many years ago over in the real LC discussion area. It was written by someone named Julie. Julie to me was wonderful beyond belief and this is what she had to say about the song teachers which might explain how Leonard began experiencing himself as a puppet:

She wrote:

As I read your words I'm reminded more and more of LC's song about Teachers... I cannot recall right now what he called it.We spend time searching for meaning... we look for a teacher to lead us in the right direction... but we are unsuccessful Until we chance upon an irrational man who tells us that we must help him look for his mind in some lost place. But when we ask him where to go... he 'walks behind,' forces us to dictate our own way.
By some miracle we wander into a place for healing. And though we do not notice anything out of the ordinary.... we come to discover that we are too crippled to leave.
Our answer arrives later... when we see placed before us a scalpel and a silver spoon. A silver spoon tells us we've been born into a great wealth. The scalpel tells us that the silver spoon is useless unless we are willing to carve ourselves away, piece by piece, to reveal that treasure that is hidden by our seeming wholeness. The truth that is finally revealed is that, 'child, you are a bone!' A sturdy, supporting bone... but completely devoid of vigor or vitality, and incapable of moving on its own.
Those who 'wander by mistake' into the mess see us and we see them and we become painfully aware of how incomplete we have become, and how exposed and obvious and gruesome our ravaged selves look lying upon the table and floor. When they leave we determine to hide the evidence so that no one might tell us again how fragile we are, and so no one may pity us.
And so, alone, we see the purpose of the spoon and with it we proceed to consume the self that we have carved away, piece by piece, until we once again possess it in totality and fullness. The difference is that this time we have tasted it.
The memory of the taste stays with us... We taste it in everything we do and see. We look for someone to teach us something new... someone to rinse the flavor from our lips. We can find no one, no thing... and we begin to resent what they cannot give us. We want to lose that burden which we cannot escape -- ourselves -- in someone else. If they would love it.. we would take it back and feel rich instead of cursed.
But when we try... we find that we are separated by too wide a gulf. Even when we try to communicate our surest thoughts and our most intimate feelings.. we fall short. Our languages do not connect. 'Did my singing please you? No, the words you sang were wrong.'

This has taken me on a train of thought and I have no idea where it is headed

Jack[/quote]