Another child is born
then sold to an industry.

Workers build castles out of sand
on top of quicksand.

There's worship in a temple
where objects rule subjects.
 
An eye atop a pyramid,
on a dollar bill, watches.

And a broken promise 
to reach some promised land
lies
shattered like tainted glass.

Aren't we still in Egypt?
Corporate Egypt. 

Working hard?
Poisoned with just the right dose
of complacency. 
Stagnated. Sedated. 

Sweating in a place as hot as hell...

Pushing blocks and building walls,
monumental like a pyramid
offered to a stone god, 

a stone idea,

   ...the Pharaoh.

He's harnessed the power of lightning
and intimidates like a lion, roaring.
Devours family units and the creative spirit,
then spits them out scattered,
sowing neglected children
who breed neglected children
to be sacrificed over and over again
in the name of rotting rituals, mummified. Preserved.

How could this be?
Is this a mirage?
This vast neon wasteland.

Escape! 

The exodus, in God we trust.
There's no time to reach for golden coins 
and bowing down to golden cows
that mesmerize and deceive 
like a king's magician.

There's Pharaoh's soldiers right behind us,
they swarm like locusts
wearing business suit and tie,
sent from the top of the pyramid.
The secret chamber. The eye.

Chariots chase
away the space
as whips crack bloody backs of horses. 
They must run fast or die 
   ...until they die.

Where is this promised land once promised?
Or the one to lead us there?
Who will split the river in two?
Just like we did, with me and you?

For demi-gods that go their own way
are powerless. 
Half a life. Half a soul. 
Entombed.

Listen. 
I am. 
Just past the river. 
It's wide open. But we must pass quickly 
and swiftly together.

Take the children by the hand
and lead them to where a bush burns 
but does not decay in the oasis 
within heart, mind and soul. 

Not one of us can be left behind
when the river closes like jaws 
on Corporate Egypt, 

   ...that heretic empire
and it's wrath of meaningless work
that enslaves. 

All swallowed up and consumed 
like a serpent's meal. 

Reclaim what was always ours...

Corporate Egypt, now ruins,
is no more. 

(I promise)

© 1998 by David Bozzi