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From Plato's Cave

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  • From Plato's Cave

    cave dwellers leashed by chain
    gazes fixed-forward remain
    hour by hour to appraise
    shift-shapery shadows ablaze

    hieroglyphs cast by propheting puppeteers
    whose chants each gazer surely overhears
    and these pairing to pictures makes doubly queer
    meanings of imaginations held dear

    so crouched captives post-pontificate
    and paper crowns for the most articulate
    goes something like this:
    “Look! A starlit stag flowed in blood!”
    “Bled and rack, a muddy flood.”
    “Or there-- crusty dross atop the bludgeon poles.”
    “Tis how they grind the pace of four souls.”

    then what when one who wonders why and how
    where doubt hath drug her to the end of the bough
    should creep from collar, turn round her head
    learn her ways, days, friends false instead

    so claws she o'er the edge of the wall
    where credulous clerics cushion the fall
    their specter-topped scepters askew in the fray
    with six solid steps her past she betrays

    nearby, Fire Fierce, father of figment
    drowns entrance light of gentler pigment
    blistering heat bullies to keep her
    but she’s no more a fire-form believer

    of her severe shadow coffle-mates propound
    disheveled officials revoke and confound
    yet through fat flames quavering legs leap
    smoke to the outlet, “You cannot have me.”


    ~Scott Zogg
    Last edited by ScottZogg; 02-01-2015, 12:46 PM.
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