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Puppet Theater
picture by beq
Tomorrow the puppets may vote whom to hand their strings for the next four years. Or maybe it’s the other way around. The puppet masters vote which puppet may stage at the Whitehouse. Then there is a third option. Electorate and candidates are puppets and the strings are pulled somewhere outside the picture.
 Click on image to enlarge (180k)
Title: Midnight at the Puppet Theater
Artist: beq
Medium: Acrylic on Canvas
ot, but did you see the posts from “centerfold” and “playboy” made on long-archived threads? sort of odd. but then…
beq- when I saw your picture, my mind got all intertextually entangled and the Japanese puppets seemed to be an incubus and succubus, except they can’t both be those things…can they?
Or maybe Queen Mab lies beneath all these images in my head and the play’s the thing…
ROMEO
I dreamt a dream tonight.
MERCUTIO
And so did I.
ROMEO
Well, what was yours?
MERCUTIO
That dreamers often lie.
ROMEO
In bed asleep while they do dream things true.
MERCUTIO
Oh, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.
BENVOLIO
Queen Mab, what’s she
MERCUTIO
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomi
Over men’s noses as they lie asleep.
Her wagon spokes made of long spinners’ legs,
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,
Her traces of the smallest spider’s web,
Her collars of the moonshine’s watery beams,
Her whip of cricket’s bone, the lash of film,
Her wagoner a small gray-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid.
Her chariot is an empty hazelnut
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love;
On courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight;
O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees;
O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometime she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit.
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail
Tickling a parson’s nose as he lies asleep,
Then he dreams of another benefice.
Sometime she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep, and then anon
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab
That plaits the manes of horses in the night
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,
That presses them and learns them first to bear,
Making them women of good carriage.
This is she—
–Act I, Scene iv, lines 51-97
Posted by: fauxreal | Nov 1 2004 22:07 utc | 18
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