Spiders And Madmen

            Madmen hold their
            greasy fingers
            on the buttons,
            while pigeons shit and
            congregate
            in Pershing Square.
            As the fly is devoured by the
            spider in the corner
            of your living room;
            its huge web a maze of
            fly corpses.
            Madmen trade your name
            to other madmen.
            You are nothing but a series
            numbers to them.
            Or a piece of meat
            meant for the butcher block.
            Madmen think you are
            nothing but a body to be
            bought, then destroyed in mass
            in the middle of a bright
            full moon night.
            Madmen see you as profit
            or loss broadcast on CNN.
            They don¹t care about your
            immortal soul, and curse
            you and your descendants behind
            armored doors.
            While pigeons still shit and
            congregate in Pershing Square,
            as thousands of fly corpses
            fall down from the web in your living room,
            blocking your frantic escape.


           God Opens A Swiss Bank Account

            I never expected the
            burnt offerings. I didn¹t
            care whether it was a
            goat or a
            14 year old virgin. I
            was in it for
            the money: the gold
            and silver coins, land deeds,
            trust funds,
            resellable mutual bonds,
            placed at the altar
            of my feet.
            Must you bring slaughter
            and idolatry into
            the matter?
            I can¹t use your ATM cards,
            too many numbers
            to remember.
           
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