sold to the devil in the corporate shirt

sitting in comfy armchairs
pointing fingers
and all she wanted
was an honest dollar
but you couldn't see
caught up in corporate lies
buying time
versed in rehearsed lines
to dismiss what she insisted
was political justice
using white collar fist
coming down, coming down
on her head
forcing her self esteem
into the ground
pounding! pounding! pounding!
till she disappeared
another one gone
'next please'
a secretary somewhere shouts
another face to replace
that's all she'll ever be
while we squint the truth away
but not me..not me..

and over the years
that she became we
and we toiled and toiled
fattening pockets that aren't ours
while they launched rockets
against us
shoo shooo  shoooing us
like fowls in the hen house

we danced and frolicked
fucked and slept
ate and fought among ourselves
just like their grand plan
keeping us mentally captive
stunting our growth
as we fell into their hands
like falling babies
would instinctively
when danger lurks
and they frighten us
into believing
we are no where
without their lies,
without their power
and we belived
grown men calling out
'Mama'  'Mama'
can i have, can i please have
an extra dollar
so my baby won't starve
so my wife can have...



continued.......

continued...


we laughed and cursed
talked behind backs
afaird to face our truth
afaird of the devil
in the corporate shirt
and when it was your turn to laugh
it echoed through the emptiness
of our hearts
and you laughed and laughed
at your gold mine
thirty pieces of what's mine
thirty pieces of greed
thirty pieces of corporate lies

but the price tag of your lies
hangs over the soul
you've sold for thirty pieces
of modern silver
stock tips, real estate,
keeping the poor.....poor
while we bounced heads in the fowl pen
taking a wine and chook
knowing that the end is near

that our groins willl ache
for acts of pleasure
a luxury, a reality
an economic majority trump
we wined and chooked
waiting to hear the hammer
pound at our auction
"And what do I hear for this soul?"
thirty drops of tears
of a nation's split semen
thirty strands of a raped
young girl's pubic hair
and the hammer goes down
as the auctioneer shouts
sold! sold! sold!
sold to the devil of corporate corruption
sold to the devil of lies
to the devil of greed
sold! sold! sold!
sold to the devil
in the corporate  shirt


copyright 2000
paula obe