<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418141" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Gifted Puppet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I can see them now: invisible wires <br>running directly into the minds of your dogs. <br>You’d beat the drums until you found <br>their frequency of fear and fixed them to it. <br>Or shot them if deafness kept them free. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">That wasn’t fine by me, but I didn’t <br>have the air for barking sympathetic pleas. <br>The fine cabling firmly fixed in place <br>your animals needed no leashes to speak of; <br>so keen did they seem to do your bidding </div><div style="margin:10px 0">out on the moors, like distant extensions <br>of you and your intentions, obediently running <br>circles round dogs deprived of the protection <br>of your approval and throttling inhibition - <br>piano wire bound to some old darkness. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Highly strung” was always a puzzling phrase <br>to a boy harnessed by thought strangling steel. <br>But I couldn’t be shot, and I couldn’t be sold <br>for the fortune that fear made your dogs worth <br>to men who craved the power in your forehead </div><div style="margin:10px 0">to kill the light of my late afternoons. <br>Crunching tyres down the track, and the crack <br>of a door snapping shut, tuned a terrible tension <br>into your gifted puppet cowering low <br>behind the hills of my dreams.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">31 12 08</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jim+Hogg">Jim Hogg</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418141" data-title="Gifted Puppet de Jim Hogg" data-description="I can see them now: invisible wires running directly into the minds of your dogs. You’d beat the drums until you found their frequency of fear and fixed them to it. Or shot them if deafness kept them free. That wasn’t fine by me, but I d..."></div> </div> </div>

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