Masks Of The Crustacean (Republished)
MASKS OF THE CRUSTACEAN
I would say the secrets of my soul
Yet trust no one to their hearing
Some keep silence, some keep talking
When they find they have nothing to say
And the fulfilled don’t write
Lame excuses and sprung steel alibis
Meshed fast in the complexities of pain
(Only my pleasures are simple)
Masks of the crustacean
Designed to reveal what they disguise
Playing at love like a game of chess
Not well, not badly, just lazily
Without due regard to the consequences of my moves
Reading too many fairy tales
And kissing far too many frogs
The generous truth is a beggar to find
Buried deep among the unsuspected cruelties of the small print
(When God finished the world
He saw that it was perfect
… And then of course He began wondering what to do next … )
Security in a pound note, safety in a pin
The tired old trumpeting of Church and State
Magic is afoot but the world’s gone metric
(Electric) and Securicor scares
The light fades, the air is flat and stale
The rain beats against the glass
Nights and days an endless tapeloop
Of supermarket muzak
Brush its teeth and put it to bed
The well-oiled programs run
Asleep within the fractured eye of my attention
Life, well-travelled, opens and closes around me
Here and there embroidered with a flower
The footsteps I follow through the blizzard of my memories
Are my own
Posted on February 16, 2018, in Republished and tagged Life, Love, Memory, Religion, Secrecy, Secret, Security, Self-examination, Self-expression, Sharing, Theology. Bookmark the permalink. 7 Comments.
Masterful writing, Ben. (In fact, it inspires me.) Great last lines too. So glad you republished it!
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Thank you, Betty. Something I read recently reminded me of this and prompted me to post it again. I can’t believe it’s been 6 years!
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I know what you mean! (Will go back and try to find your original to see if I had read it before.)
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I saw myself in there once or twice.
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Both individual and universal thoughts, feelings and experiences.
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Those last two lines are the perfect ending and a lovely way to bring us back. Wonderful. I identify.
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I thought (hoped?) you might.
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