Self-Expression

Whipped and bruised by the corporate masters
Held back and abused
By mediocre minded notions
Of gentle propriety
Dare not offend While all the while
My heart doth rent
A thousand sunderings
Of ashen soot, feeling wasted
Withdrawn, ashamed, abused
For ever having played the game
And cursing at the wooden masters
Those clean shaven, well suburbanded elite
With petty thoughts and stilted hearts
Fools were they for having let in
This raging Trojan horse
Only to be contained for a short while
Then to burst forth
Gushing forth floods of rage
For having been silenced, for letting the spirit stagnate
Before the unholy altar
Of the bottom line.

© 2001 Denis Kucharski
 
   
Note: This site describes Peterson Toscano's work until late 2003. See PetersonToscano.com for current info.