CORPORATE LADDER

Loose yourself in the green paper over and over

Through and through it goes in no exits at first

Not all currency is of the color of spring, come to think

Only the dollar, slew of fresh grass if you will

The God infused paper so they claim

Every time it passes your fingers it reminds us of in God we should trust

Each bank note calls the sage, when no green paper laid itself at Jesus’s feet

At his last supper no coins were exchanged, no banknotes rolled up

So loose yourself in all colors of all the currency you touch,

How many thousands of rolls have you held in your hands?

Did it warm your heart or did you forget?

Even then imagine it all collapses tomorrow

In order to keep warm

You’ll watch it all burn

Fire will cook the fresh meat you hunted

With a sparrow, maybe with your bare hands
Absolute void of the green roll

Swiftly arrives a sheer instinct of survival, of a wolf's howl

When do we become well-oiled machines and slaves?

To the colorful paper with all sorts of denominations

The time will come when in middle of splendid mountains 

A moose running loose you and an abandoned bus

You will burn the wood first, naturally

The bed frame, the sheets and blankets perishing next,

Alaskan wilderness can prove deadly if you aren’t prepared

Those colors in that paper you hold have a similar stand

But it is not your body that is at stake

Your insides, the tree of life, the roots of any true wanderlust

The very soul of whom you are,

Once you taste the juices of the berries, purple and black

Sweet success melting in your hands

It’d be unheard of,  you inclined to think and state

Unthinkable to utter, a clownish performance at best

To return to the Barcelona streets penniless

Yet free of any constraint of anything

That squeezes you in handcuffs until it draws blood and rubs skin

Puts you in a wheel chair as if you are handicapped

Keep climbing with your eyes and hands,

Lift each layer of the corporate mass

Lust away at the glitter and the over priced,

After all why not

It suits you like a well-made glove,

You have become a salve in your own right,

Willingly, without anyone throwing a swift lasso at your neck

At the downtown dirty bazaar

But believe you me, leashed you are

It may be the color of gold or platinum

It’s as thick of a rope as any farm animal would know to rub its skin

Colored paper rolls in your hand, a king’s portrait

Speak your best, do your worst

Bid your presence null and keep the slave you bought

Happily, thrilled to go on and build

Another pyramid taller then the last.

12.14.2010