Chimera Poetry

Unmask! Unmask! 
the time of disclosure approaches
as the hands on the clock creep closer to midnight
the hour of transition
will you move forward
stand and be counted
 brave the reveal
stepping off the platform out of the mist of burning incense
or will you run
skirting the cusp of dark and dawn 
and brazen your way through the crowd
scattering rumor like seed
leaving them to whisper about the lots cast for your clothes
while you set the mask more firmly in place
as the midnight peal ends the last tone rises
 fading into the air
Unmask! Unmask!
the time for unveiling is gone 
and the theatre demands an encore
you have been bought and paid for so
take your place in the line once again 
wear the part as your skin
for the mask now has grown too tight to be removed…

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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