Author: blackbird212012

If you don’t want to be middle class
What can you be?

There’s no other path
There’s no other road

You can give away your money
Or you can become middle class

The middle class have their territory
They can annex the land they want

They can put the working class behind a concrete wall
That stretches across the land

The middle-class leader will do this
To protect his golden calf

What do you do if you don’t want to be middle class
Where can you go?

Can you wander the land in sackcloth and ashes?
Like a prophet with something to say

To do this is to risk your life
To do this is to be resented

What can you do, where can you go
Is there anywhere – a classless society

You can always tell a middle-class doctor
From the way he straightens his tie

They have a calling – some to be doctors some to be priests
Some to be lawyers, some to be generals

It begins as a noble cause
It all begins with a desire to do good

Until the eagles come with iron bars in their claws
And start dropping them all around their houses

All night long,
They listen to the clanging iron bars as they hit the floor

They can be the most innocent of people
But when faced with the working class

They become introspect; they step back
They follow the unwritten rules of class

Thank you, doctor, thank you, priest
Thank you, lawyer, thank you general

It’s hard to follow the narrative
When everyone talks at once

Counting the uprights of the wooden fence
Every slat talking at once

Slat, slat, we’re all slats in a wooden fence
Talking at once

Talking to a policeman
Talking to a doctor

Talking to God’s replacements
– The system produced gods

As they trample the ground
And test the wooden fence for defects

A hewn wooden parade of slats with pointed heads
In winter and in spring they stand together

As their owners sit in their gardens
as they capture live ones and turn them into new wooden fences

It is hard to follow the narrative
Of our wooden mouths, all talking at once

The disharmonic chatter
On many levels of the mind scale

We are the wooden fences of society
We are the human barriers for the echelons

A cherub lands in the garden
He listens to the narrative of the talking fence

He has the four faces of the spiritual
He is looking North and South, East and West

He is gone back to where he came from
Back to join the protective force in the sky