Satan’s Whores Fed Bread and Circuses
by Sabrina Dawkins
In a dream I saw you in the TV room,
fat and dressed in black.
You complained about how Satan’s real wife treats you
as a slave in her late husband’s back field.
But I saw you sitting cross-legged in all black
on Satan’s couch in his TV room,
trying to extend your stay,
but you have been replaced
by younger whores
not yet disillusioned.
You had sucked the wolf teats of Rome,
the beast empire you love.
You can’t till a TV room floor,
nor would you want to,
one of six whores
living in Satan’s house
run by his widow,
as a desperate harlot
determined to stay
and without shame.
Vladimir Lenin or Putin said “cracka”
and you hurried to his side,
a comrade it seemed.
It tickled your ears
to follow a dream.
But he only “exposed” those
with no power.
And you took the bait.
So you headed to Jonestown,
a supposed communist ideal,
where you were adopted by Jim Jones
into his multicultural brood,
his rainbow cult.
And he spoke your slang,
identified with your struggle.
But Lenin said,
“The best way to control the opposition
is to lead it.”
You didn’t want to die.
You wanted to live a dream.
Armed guards surrounded the perimeter,
hidden from sight
to make you feel free,
until you wanted to leave.
I saw Satan’s bedroom.
Having died, he was no longer there.
But the Holy Bible remained
on a lighted night stand beside the bed,
his tool, through Churchianity mixed with New Age,
puppeteering popes, preacher
and false prophets.
The wolf teats dried up,
but the Bible remained.
The pope dead,
with a painting in his bedroom
of young boys doing queer things.
But the Bible remained.
And many have worn it to deceive,
to call forth Satan’s whores
to worship a man
who unites them all
in a house of whoredom
as Rome does fall.
Comrade, congregation, your king was the devil
in the form of a man
who pretended to be God.
And he offered you bread,
and you dwelt in his house.
Now you wear all black,
a symbol of death
because Satan can’t prevent
the second death.
In fact, he hastens it
like psychiatric drug works
by turning spirit off.
Thus, Marx was wrong:
A godless man as king
is the opium of the people
who live without God.
And Jones gave them their final dose
in the form of a sweet drink.
You might not realize it
but you sold him your soul
for the bread he gave you
which he got from the Lord.
But the pale green apple he gave you
was his own.