Josef Lesser
Who am I ---- ??
I emerged from the French middle class circa
back some hundred years and my first is in L
as is my last and call me "abe" for a nick-name.
With wand in one hand burning iron in the other
I roam the world power in my veins, dictators choke
on the chicken bones of envy the weak always
choke at the hint, at the twitch of the thought.
I am LabeL I am strong once expressed in song;
upon you the label of desire you are wanded ---
rise, upon you the burning steam of birth
you are marked --- go.
Single black mother of three one child with A.D.D
you are marked --- go into the crowded neon desert
where glowing eyes alert the neighbourhood watch
who sniff like sniffer dogs your life-time underwear,
while next door the desired, the wanded and correct
pass untouched wearing socks of contraband and hate.
You are wanded --- You are marked.
From village stores to city chairs of learning
from untouched meals to sabbath prayers
the branded danced one day on barbs
the steaming barbs of ghetto wire,
the one desired the guard with scissors and gun
hacked beards, kicked and shot just for fun.
"We have been marked with the wrong star"
wept the pain yet David stood his ground ----
out imposter out.
You are wanded --- You are marked.
I hitch-hike the highways tools of the trade on my back
last week picked up by a retard on sunday a slow learner
three lifts so far to-day a spastic autistic and black-sheep,
not to forget Miss Prom of 1922
(my potion of desire can at times backfire)
still dragging her trophy along.
I never tire I am LabeL I am strong.
You are wanded --- You are marked.
I also like to play some pranks
with jars of jam and bottled wine,
the sign you read outside before
you enter does not always match
the taste you find inside;
( gossip of spice from the Orient
with a baby's breath of smokey honey
matured in oak by the waters of the Nile.)
Of course I am the leader unto temptation,
but as I discovered climbing back
way back to the seed of my family tree ----
C'est la vie
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