Debt

[TheWall0912]

Another go

The saxophones have found her home and slither in,
running riot on the quiet of her body.
There’s an empty ring within the silver tin
and one candle lights the depths of her study
where she’s learning lap dancing and TEFL,
to throw a dart in a far part of the globe I have read through the other comments and I must disagree with some. I really enjoy this line and the two following. I think it does take a second read to really understand the meaning behind them, some may say its cryptic, but I really enjoy them. Interesting way of saying that she's using her body to make money.
and chase the arrow for some precious metal
while her lips and her legs remain in vogue.

The West has gone down with depression and stress
and we can’t afford the servants any longer.
She’s in a tipsy state and a flimsy dress, Really like this line and the next. It gives me a nice clear image of what's going on.
bent over at the wrong end of a conga.
While foreign eyes are leering at our daughters
we’re being treated for Adjustment Disorders. I'm going to have to agree with some other comments and say that the fact that you introduced a new "character" here is a little confusing. I understand their purpose, its obviously a father who is having trouble accepting what his daughter has become but maybe play around with it and see if you can make the transition smoother. Though, for me it is fine as is. Nice job!





Revision

The saxophones have found her home and slither in,
running riot on the quiet of her body.
There’s an empty ring within the silver tin
and one candle lights the depths of her study
where she’s learning lap dancing and TEFL,
to throw a dart in a far part of the globe
and chase the arrow for some precious metal
while her lips and her legs remain in vogue.

It’s closing time in the Gardens of The West
and we can’t afford the servants any longer.
She’s in a tipsy state and a flimsy dress,
bent over at the wrong end of a conga;
and as foreign eyes are leering at his daughter
he’s being treated for Adjustment Disorder.

Original


The saxophones have found her home and slither in
to run riot on the quiet of her body.
Forefingers and thumbs stretch a pliant skin,
she grows wet in the depths of her study
where she’s learning lap dancing and TEFL,
to throw a dart in a far part of the globe
and chase an arrow for the precious metal
while her lips and her legs remain in vogue.
It’s closing time in the gardens of the west;
the baton is passed on to feed a hunger.
She’s in a tipsy state and a flimsy dress,
bent over at the wrong end of a conga.
While foreign eyes are leering at his daughter,
he’s in the queue for Adjustment Disorder.