Chained To The Rythm

A slave has no ownerall proprietors that show at the auctionare his keepers and mastersripe for the picking, freedom is no choicethe Frank masters in their fedoras have some choice wordsas they laugh in jest and hateexchanging francsThe slave’s half choice is house or fieldhis imagined freedom is the desired currency of braverythe fantasy to break freehis physique thrashed and pummeledhis mystique misunderstoodhis mind colonizedhis cultural disposition is against their societal positionsteady storming a brew instead is their cup of teawining dining and blinding with meagre coinssubconsciously conforminga contortion of willsbecoming the armour of the colonizers against their owndangling curtailed freedomtrinkets left over as the minimum wage for peasantswith veiled ultimatums under disguised platitudesa worse slave is one that sees the chains on his feetnot as arms against himbut as ornaments to be shown offchained to the rhythm