A.
Things have changed, you say/
You will follow through, break barriers ,live your dream, be freer
live by Oprah Winfrey's words.../
As the office cubicle walls are caving in fast on you in your shetl(Ghetto) walls/
Get out of bed out kid you are all grown up now/
your babies are hungry, tuition gotta get paid off soon/
So rent your time to the highest bidder and get a new job/
leasing your good name at a reduced market price based on your credentials(you have paid dearly for them)/
You will learn lessons in humility, ridicule and social isolation repeatedly/
and feel like the cheapest of whores on Seventh ave or the Bowery
who sold everything inside for a low price /
just to survive/
B.
She religiously proclaims that she is not lap- dancing here no more
in the VIP back room/
with cheap champagne/and a ticket to heaven purchased at the door/
Office politics often are mistaken for something else/
I know what I bring to any table, she reminds the audience/
Surely More than a smile, a little flesh/
Surely more than broken inner candlelight with a
wick that holds the eroding remains of your inner flame
into crumbling fragments of dusty black resin /
on a cold metal pole dancing quietly alone succumbed by
dreamless oblivious Ghetto nights... /
C.
Stomping on these ghetto walls..../
Putting on her high-heeled dancing shoes, argyle socks
And killer mascara/
for flamenco/ salsa/ tango/
The HORA a circle of life dance,/Russian Cossack Dancers,/Whooping Crane Wooing dance,/Lambada/ Cotton-eyed Joe/ Lady ga-ga,/The Hustle/ the beer barrel polka/
Reigniting the reconnecting dance moves that kindle extravagant flames of lusty aliveness
while holy crimson sparks of crackling embers hover above/
while holy crimson sparks of crackling embers hover above/
She awakes like a belly dancer in high-heeled shoes wooing, twisting the
snake dance of a life joyously raptured into moments
This perfect feeling of illumination and awesomeness is rare these days/
Clearly forbidden and dangerous/
The history of banal and tedious labor started long ago mandated in metaphor of a couple of curious ancestors who in the beginning of time dared break the rules and not listen to a higher authority/
They were expeditiously banished from the magic garden/
whisked off in a private cattle car/ processed/ showered/ chained to some meaningless desk job where they never achieved their full potential or even had fun most of the time/ in exchange for a safer stability or a pension/ Unblissful tepid work for dull minds in the eternal battle to monetize/ But from a high and mighty trap/
D.
There is no tenure in the magic garden since the rules of time itself remains elusive and not linear/
There is no tenure in the magic garden since the rules of time itself remains elusive and not linear/
Time is always fleeting and your candle is waxing down conjointly to
the rhymes and reasons of a personal life cycle/
Flawed Shadows call you out, kid/
To burn intensely what’s still left of your once pristine inner dazzling flame/
That now flickers perilously wounded into the shetl(ghetto) night…/
You romanticize your past memories from a tainted kaleidoscope of distorted prism glass images
of ex-lovers / chic trendy cafes/, lofty books/, far away exotic land/, warm smiles and tearful departures/ aromatic wines/ esoteric knowledge/ and that mind blowing first kiss/
you may not have visited really but would liked again to go there/
But in this recession- muted grey dimly lit room
designed for profit margin-/not prophetic poetic visions
that can keep you up all night dancing with infinite possibilities/
Punch your clock out/ and collect your pay check before you go home/
Because tomorrow is just another working day/ as your life- candle is waxing down shorter/
 |
| They were expeditiously banished from the magic garden |
from a high and mighty trap/
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