THE FENCE ( When Day Turns Dusk)

An empty stomach, a bad counselor_
A dizzy eyes see a blurry vision_
Shabby hands are begotten of pebbles.
The lost shape of apple must taste bitter_
For the plot of man is evil.
But who is worthy of praise_
When the good men are on the fence.

When heavens seem high_
And earth not nigh_
Cankered tongues sip upheaval labyrinth_
Debauched hands Wright confusion
Then the center wilt not hold
The appetite of man
In the sonorant clangorous bunk.

When a wise_fool is full
And filled in his folly_
Day Turns dusk_
Dusk turns dawn_
Brown becomes black_
Tom turns Thomas_
Hovering cloud,
A moving world_
He is confused in his state
He is trapped in his own snare.

In a coven, a haven_
His safety spells no credence_
He is chased by mirage_
A running cheetah
Who never catch a snail_
A dangerous lion
Who crave for safety_
A poison venom
On a hide of rat.
He is in confused estate_
A pretty farce in a fence.

He is wise in his folly_
He is jinxed with a kiss of Delilah
A hoodoo in a romantic paradise.
When the winds blow_
He is tossed like a dry paper_
Flying to the free will of nature_
At the command of a exigent wind.
The fence!
The lot of a rich man_
Who has no plan for future.

I will yet speak of his lost faculty_
A loosed spigot like a nut in the brain_
A missing faucet in the head_
Thence his decision are blown
By a gentle touch of Rehab.
He is on the fence_
He will be in the fence_
For his real man in man is being tossed_
Even his safety, he questions.
Give him a pen_
To write his course on earth.

JUDAISKY CARES