Long Lived Overseer

006e25d5f93c5908e9295c648d9e7d94by Stefon Napier23 Jun 2014

Let me explain, the overseer never left.
Days of hot ignorance blister the sensitive heart.
The whip cracks at the self.
No angry passions, no friendly meanings I can bear,
Work mingled with honest blood only lends indifference.
The whip cracks at the self.
What star would look down upon this multitude in its
Bees hive misery with no talent to sting the old and swell the new?
How much longer will we exist in dull cuneiform?
The whip cracks at the self.
Still a wasteland for the sober and the marching uniform paraded
loudly at dinner parties and while the idle talk of artists goes on there
are no fertile dreams.
And the whip cracks at the self.

Give me liberty from this multitude, this starched society
weaving its regular gyre with the same pale thread.
Free me from the traditional day
and its terrible smell of cotton.