Moloch Tells All
Maybe they had you read Paradise Lost or Howl.
OK, I’ve got this thing about money, wanting
lots of it -- no, all. So Heaven probably helped
me cope, but it was mainly the shits, flapping
around God like some nutso canary, cooing
Holy, Holy, Holy twenty-four/seven. If you
did it for a day, you’d see what I mean. But
after I joined the big rebellion, I had to
raise this issue: the Guy’s ALL-powerful,
so whatever ordinance we use, we end up
cluster-fucked. “You think too much,” they said.
And, boom, welcome to Hell. I was about to
tell Lucifer, now Satan, that I told him so,
when he starts this Chamber of Commerce
spiel about making a heaven of hell. Great,
and let’s go buy some Gobi oceanfront.
But I’ve got to admit: the guy was damned good,
had us all wanting a spread. And Hell didn’t
turn out bad at all, God seeming to forget that
“seraphim” means “the burning ones.” We’re
almost pure fire, so it was like Br’er Fox
tossing Br’er Rabbit into the briar patch.
“Ooo! Ow! Please, no more!”we hollered,
lounging on toasty adamantine at the launch
of our Plegethon Annual Regatta. Pretty soon
we got into Ponzi schemes and hedge funds.
You heard of Ken Lay? Bernie Madoff? Two
of our recent grads -- boys I coached personally,
though they obviously skipped a lesson or two.
But it’s great to be back in the money game.
Got a deal right now I’d like you to
look over after I help schlep another batch
of groans and gnashings up to His Grovelship.
We can whipsaw Satan and his Bozos, rule
the board from Boardwalk, and charge fiendish rent
wherever they park their incandescent asses.
