Wisdom cries in the street *
Wisdom cries in the street, the humble rise to their feet
to kick their shoes off, before they hit the road
The politics of sin, the times we are living in
reveal the times, before the times explode
Businessmen in suits, sordid new recruits
Trading places, across the marbled halls
Managers in drag, recite the lunch time brag
Put on makeup, and kiss the corporate whores
Wisdom gets up from its bed, makes sure we’re all fed
wipes its mouth, and leaves without a sound
It takes its heavy load, down the long and winding road
and whispers softly, just to show its still around
The rich and poor alight, with the same old appetite
they check their tickets, and wipe their faces clean
The many blame the few, the old they blame the new
and fix the news, so Wisdom’s never seen
Wisdom’s bloodied head, it makes sure it’s not dead
twirls around, to read the daily news
It scratches the itch not seen, remembers where it’s been
and yells to men, who offer up their views
The greats of literature, they summon him for her
and jot down thoughts that jangle in their bones
The spectacles and shows, deliver mighty blows
and whisper secrets, in muted overtones
Wisdom stands on the grave deciding who to save
and racks its brain for a simple word to use
Killing fields of the soul, democracy in a bowl
the people say, the people have to choose
The words of poets lost, the tragic holocaust
speaks in prose, that no one understands
The Lion lays down with the Lamb, it’s true it ain’t a scam
scowls at rulers, who sit back on their hands
Wisdom stands at the gate, checking out who’s late
Taking notes for the good of all concerned
I’m standing within range of the hungry and the strange
whose love has died whose hopes have crashed and burned
© copyright Stephen Newman 2005