Trickster of Self

Wed, 10/09/2019 - 20:19 -- Expand

The god of tricking people, they say he is.

sulking alone in a basket of lies;

however, Loki no longer wants to be under that disguise.

Alone, he sat, watching himself on the screen

of the show of his dreams, motion by motion,

His television appearance gazed by many,

His own show, "The Loki O' Plenty," played on repeat. 


Audiences reveled in delight

upon its dreamy light;

their faces lit by their television screens,

the man himself coming to his studio scene.

He would flip, he would dance, he would juggle,

he would even turn animals into puddles.

Still, though, despite the power presented,

he was seen as nothing more than a fella pretending.


Loki tried his hardest to make his tricks wilder and wilder,

but nobody would bother to find her...

The truth, that is, of the feminine kind:

his children around her, embracing,

the people Loki was no longer facing.


They said he was the "god of mischief," which he agreed;

but somewhere along the lines, he had taken the greed

and forgotten his basic necessity:

the family, his spawned ancestry.


As he emboldened the curiosity of the modern world,

his tricks, as they gazed, growing stronger and stronger...

he had abandoned the natural code;

of the family, he hadn't faced...

the lies he hadn't wished to taste.


The spotlight shone on him one specific night,

but this time, something was not quite right.

Loki had arrived unprepared,

the audience... unaware.

He had grown in frustration,

the lies entangling him in a situation;

and when the time had come, he cast his new spell:

the kind that finally would break him free of his personal hell.


"I am Loki!" he had decreed,

as the audience was galloping in glee.

Blissfully unaware, they must have been,

but definitely not, when he turned twelve foot ten.

At first, they drew aback,

presenting timidity, as it started to attack.

But then, one giggled;

another, rising from the evil

which Loki had upheavaled.


"Great special effects!" one had called,

the audience eventually apalled;

the powers that Loki had possessed,

reduced to simpleness.

For it is a terrible tragedy

that even in his greatest hour,

the show continued, as though it were nothing,

and the audiences at home kept thinking

what a wonderful magician Loki must be.


Oh, how Loki longed to be taken seriously,

his own show causing what he saw as infamy;

but the greatest trick was always on himself,

the modern world, devoid of superstition...

his personal hell, removing his mission.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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