Choreography's Turkish Delight

Choreography’s Turkish Delight On sediment at the bottom of the cup of societies drags of dis-enfranchised masses are waiting for a trickle from the leaks of luxury founded on coffee planted on wealthy soil and pittances from labour Reading the ground rules from a chalice turned upside down and upright once more the fortune told and retold providence destined is unchanged its café royal remains a future chained to the past The coffee knows what lies ahead no clairvoyance no Tarot palm lines crystal balls psychic power needed on the menu of the human condition's commandments suspended the puppet master is still written in the stars Strings attached Jo and Joan will always feed on scraps and they are strung to grinding bones and soul to the core while exuding aroma of sweat blood and tears so that porcelain sheltered charm infuses delight for the few In hypocritical slurps I write to the tune of my coffee and choreography remains until the revolution comes in vain