The box, the body & the beast

Rows and rows of boxes all spruced and lined up,
Each one has been checked and well-labelled enough.

They shine so invitingly with historical backing,
Each label firmly designated what's under the wrapping.

If you get the right box, or wrangle it somehow,
You're set for life, no questioning what, when or how

You see the boxes were written before you and me,
They've stacked themselves up throughout history.

Some forming newly, some fading fast,
Some are more stalwart and others smash like glass

We must respect that tradition, history and community is upheld,
No risking one wisecracker collapsing the shelves.

To dodge the label, box and the fate that's inside,
Brings about something so transgressive, deemed insidious lies.

Yet, it's not all that bad, there are boxes of plenty
There are ones a bit wacky, not fruitful but steady.

And right in the centre, there is the golden shelf
Among which, your parents strive dearly to place yourself

The problem is that the boxes don't work
One size doesn't fit all and some people are off-curve

Square peg, round hole - something that comes to mind
stranger yet still when there's no peg even to find.

It's a dangerous game to think "outside the box"
The story isn't written that way, you've messed up the plot

No order, no rules, no d*mn compliancy
Get back here this instance and fall in line with us please

But I have a box of my very own making
Not completely original, from many cultures I'm taking

But my box is out there, and it shall remain
Standing proudly alone, ahead of its game

The box is flamboyant and a whirlwind of ideas,
The ups are ecstatic and the downs ablaze than tears

There are phobias of cucumbers, of dogs and sunlight,
Tricks in the box are brimful with delight

Legs behind head, plaited fingers, the lot
It doesn't stop there, physicality is not all you've got.

You're keen, smart, resourceful and you've learnt beyond most
You've seen genius too - melted your brain to toast

Now you don't know if the box is really right
Was it fabricated all along, a trick just to fight

They made you believe that your box was created outside
But with the systems permission, that hardly deserves pride

You look at your box and your look at yourself
You look at your body and the thing inside as well

The are all different parts, some faker than others
they lie side beside, connected like brothers

The most sombre note yet is that one is astray
Despite your beckoning, it's still not here today

He'll check in time-to-time to see the ship's running
But he's not in the body, the box - he's gone running

But you are all three connected, the box, body and beast
When none are united, sheer reality is creased

Play through the motions, you know the box well
You body moves with actions, that's easy to tell

Maybe some day, you'll all be truly united,
Or maybe perhaps this is a hope that's rose-tinted and short-sighted.

AFRIENDOFTINA