A smoke of cigarette, and here he weeps And checks the blue-red arrow-mountains tall And watches the tumble of the Shares And sends another of his seeds To the hungry Savings god Cain’s altar holds a grand But Abel’s gain Triples that of Cain’s And here’s the thing, my lamb: The fruit of labour tastes as sweet as Eve’s, and half as cheap as weed The news presenter shares, Coiled around his brain Enables Cain And Abel’s stain Of blood and wool and half-sown grain To please the Boss in his throne of half-won pain And puts a curse upon the brother’s name, and Shares will soar And slither up around the tree of never-ending food and drink and tar and oil and more And Cain will lose And Abel too And God will think That it is good. - Estelle, March 2022
To be like God, the Devil knows, must burn, As golden juice runs thick inside their veins And knowledge seeps around their brains like chains, To know, to care, and yet still love the spurn Of mud-piles you just made, who made in turn Your breath a game, your love their lost campaigns. “I should rejoice for causing You such pains,” The Devil thinks, “for I have made them Learn. I did the one thing that You never would: It is finished, Your world is made anew. I take, and look, and see that it is good. And I alone, have saved them all from You.” Instead, the Devil feels as numb as wood And wonders why his curses won’t come through. He watches eyes that hide forbidden sight And thinks this is what Elohim had felt The seventh day, when all the parts were dealt, When everything was sung in motion right; The emptiness that wraps around you, tight As snakes, its grin