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
Categories:
pittances, prayer,
Form: Free verse