I saw a man hold a made thing

twined in tough cord which held *him* straight

as a prisoner might show itself

in restraint. He threw the odd device

downwards into the air. It rolled

out its tether backwards dropping

till *that* jerked hard at its ending,

the escapade suddenly dead,

as if a trap had been banged wide

open unexpectedly beneath



yet the round body pulled itself up

upwards into a salvation

from whence it took the drop again



like clay birds all day flying up

identical factory products

without their own conscious power



or a dog fetching a ball more times

than it can count, self-persuaded

that it's autonomous and free.



“This,” said the man, with nonchalance,

“reminds me of my staff at work.

They do not realise control

is beyond their hands. All they want

is the string and how it works right here

with them dependent on its knots

which they cannot retie. Weak minds,

each self-aware, they believe; so proud;

but hindered by what's possible,

planning regime variations

while they are first governed, and then

let loose, completely, on a leash.

What they eat, what they drink, we sell

with ease; what they decide, I have

suggested to them many ways,

as I too am chained entangled

stapled by hard steel to constructs

I have been offered and agreed

to love, to keep the money thick

in my wallet, big coins weighing

towards the buried iron core

of limited understanding...

What do I know of final things?

I'm sure I am retained. Thus I

am not enslaved. I do enslave.”



Thus, you, unfriend, who always said

the best thing to each one of us

to keep us obedient, are now

neither a yoyo nor player;

a fake; a manipulator

who reworks incoherent rage,

which might, just, make sense; but doesn't.

There is no part original

in what you have written or said.

There is scant substance to your speech

with much meaningful malign intent...



You fooled me, yes; and many more,

till I grew weary of your moods...



Some may come yet and hear utterance

that builds up some implications

according to what you purport...



You are a disappointing git!

All your words mean rather little;

and, what you say, you've said before

twenty years ago; further still.

Many were impressed by your talk,

but I think them to be trite fools

for all they speak in a register

reserved for smug theologians;

building their own theory coffins

while, as with all systemic faith,

they malign bodies politic.