Puppets and Gods

In the theater of the absurd,
the stage is set,
the lights dimmed low —
welcome, dear audience,
to the grand performance,
where corporate elites pull strings,
politicians juggle marionettes,
and we, the audience, sit entranced,
our popcorn seasoned with apathy.

Behold the puppet masters,
their hands clad in silk gloves,
each twitch a command,
each smile a deception,
as they dance us through the motions,
their laughter echoing in the rafters,
while we sway to the rhythm of their whims,
a chorus of marionettes with tangled strings.

“Vote for me!” they cry,
“Invest in this!” they chant,
but behind the curtain,
the truth is a tangled mess,
as we question —
who controls the puppeteers?
Who tugs at their strings,
in this absurd game of power?

Look closely,
the gods of commerce and politics,
enthroned in their ivory towers,
are but jesters in a cosmic play,
where reality bends and warps,
each decree a flourish of the hand,
and we, mere pawns,
march to…