Nocturnal Emissions (16 page)

FAITH

As I’m whirled backwards in circles

Covered in gusts

I look deep in the nest

Intestines of rust

Fragile eggshell humans

Strapped in paint-flaking cars

Swung like maces in the arms of a squid

I cling to my restraining bar

I grin-grimace in fear

I guess this is fun

To be propelled through the air

As though shot from a gun

This is my space shuttle

The rock music a countdown

Will I be cast and explode

Above this carnival town?

I trust my paper flesh

To her brittle bolts and creaks

Her rust stains like shit

But my faith is weak.

She drives us to work

Claps her hands and we crash

She lasting volcano

We transient ash

She reads my heart pulse

Churns out frisbees and shoes

And delivers her own babies

She spits out our news

I’ve been chained to her will

At her feet I strive

For decades her slave

But she keeps me alive

Shoe-cutter, palletizer

Each machine has a name

Ultraviolet plate-burner

And I’m called the same

I am the palletizer

I’m industry’s fool

But she’s more important

I’m an expendable tool

Life is computerized

The Earth inherits the meek

And the Earth is a tractor

And my faith is weak.

I make love to the monster

I endorse her manifestations

I need her mirrored toaster

I watch her TV stations

Her electric blanket drapes me

I gape at Gilligan’s
Island

But she breast-feeds her TVs

With her busty
Three
Mile
Islands

She’s a demolition derby

And we are born into her cars

She’s our rocketship of fools

She gives us neon stars

We forever need her life support

And I forever wear my g-force frown

She’s a robot Mother Nature

In a chrome and iron crown

It’s a symbiotic relation

We’re joined like a circus freak

My dependence never falters

But my faith is weak.

There are more silos filled with missiles

Than silos filled with grain

In a world of mass starvation

We’re expected to call this sane

They’re the foundation of our country

Practically below our feet

Like springs coiled in the mattress we sleep on Like the lamp-posts on our streets

No, they can’t be accidentally launched

They’re not like planes and trains that crash Or like the cars of carnival rides

Which God will sometimes dash

We’re expected to laugh as we spin

In the end it’s a matter of trust

We’re in the hands of God

And God’s caked thick with rust

I’m a baton twirled at His mercy

If I live I’m a lucky streak

I ride the ferris wheel of fortune

And my faith is weak.

900 FOOT JESUS

There are many TV shows for God

But of course this is the right one

And I am tonight’s special guest

Here to tell you of my vision

I was under a sky of stone

Surrounded by flame but unburnt

Just a special guest like now, you see

To find what Dante learnt

There rose a frightful wailing

As from slaughter-headed hogs

And looking down around my feet

There lay corpses of cats and dogs

But no! They squirmed and cried

The sound of full damnation

But mind—you aren’t to think

It was a Hindu reincarnation

They were demons of a wretched sort

Perhaps once of human guise

Though Satan is their master

It is Satan they despise

It isn’t better than serving in Heaven

They aren’t happy that they fell

One forlorn cat blinked and whispered,

“My friend, this sure is hell.”

Oh!—my misery in that dismal world

There was no cool place to hide

When suddenly I was in safe shadow

A mountain by my side

It was He the never-eclipsed Son

With whom no Buddha could contest

He God’s gift to all mankind

Who loves us Baptists best

The Catholics see Him as a little necklace

Most men never see Him at all

But Jesus appeared to me, you see

And He was 900 feet tall

Towering like the Statue of Liberty

His torch of love forever lit

A monument to peace and harmony

Those foreigners have nothing like it

And He said,

“I brought you here that you would tell others They must cleanse their gritty souls and repent Cast out your hate! Cast out your sins!

Cast to me your dollars and cents!”

And lo! He took me up from that place

He took me up in the palm of His hand

As in a skyscraper’s elevator

Or a ride at
Disneyland

No grotesque pet to Satan, I!

In no
Styx
galleon shall I row oars!

My God is my Lord and Father

And my Father can beat up yours

And Jesus His Son looms like a rocket

God’s Godzilla stomping into the city

Admit you’re wrong, that He is King

And just maybe He’ll show you pity

For He is an all-forgiving king!

Remember those witches we burned at the stake?

As many as Nazi-gassed Jews we slew

All for the Lamb of God’s sake

Well, that’s over with now!

I can hate the blacks

And hate the Jews

(Though He’s one, too)

And con, and steal, and exploit the weak

And never for forgiveness lack!

For I’m always in good grace

I’m one of the Master’s Race

All I have to do is say I’m sorry

And I can die with this shit-eating grin on my face He’s big, He’s bad, He’s beautiful!

He’s Mad Max, Reagan, Duke, King Kong

He’s got big heart, and biggest balls

(Though He doesn’t use His dong)

He is Big Brother, He’s
my
big brother He is everything
I
am

I
am loving, strong, and right

I
am Uncle Sam

You are wrong, you don’t love God

Your works are dirty rags to His gaze

He doesn’t care if you feed the poor

If you aren’t like me He will set you ablaze!

So pick on me, I dare you to!

I will run to the Prince of Peace for help

And He’ll smote you with a rolled-up Bible

And like the dog you are you’ll yelp!

Don’t try to contradict me

There is no debate you can win

The Holy Bible is my fortress

The only truth contained therein

No army can scale these cement walls

With no gun can my pride be shot

My armor never will be pierced

With an arrow of dissenting thought

Jesus and I will sit on our porch

In a white swing sipping lemonade

And wag our heads sadly for you

As we watch you slide down Satan’s blade

Mourning that you lost the war

To us, the troops of the Holy One

And me, a general of course

One of His Napoleons

Them’s the breaks, accept your fate

Don’t blame me, don’t make a fuss

You snubbed Him, fool, and it’s too late

No niggers on our golden bus

Admit that jealousy makes you hate

For you don’t have my Porsche and pool and estate And the guardian of our country club’s gate

Is my pal 900 foot Jesus.

ORANGE SOCKS

Orange socks stuffed

With so many pounds of meat

Like Christmas stockings from hell

Orange
bags for trick or treat

Her killer’s a celebrity

An embossed cover and silver foil title

While she’s a buried black and white photo

All blurry anonymity

No one has claimed her

But on him a film was based

Yes, it was a good one

But her history’s been erased

Was she not a daughter or a wife?

Is her family, too, all dead?

Or are they too busy reading books on Manson

To admit she had a life?

We’re supermarket voyeurs

With no real interest in the criminal mind

We just want to know how he killed her

As we stare at her bare behind

Her screams are long-passed echoes

She’s just an extension of him now

Just a price-tagged cadaver, another victim

In a country rife with psychos

To satisfy petty cruel desires

He stripped her clothes and identity

And now his desires are our desires

As we revel in his insanity

We’ve rewarded him with fame

Who punished her with death

Out of pure disgust and rage

I refuse to give his name