Tue May 22 2012

The Godliness of Dollar Bill
by Joseph Mascio
June 5, 2003

I. Learn to swim, or trust their life preserver around your neck…up to you It’s either sing along or
make new music,
get on your knees or
get aroused

I prefer standing to bowing
I like to see my reflection in lying eyes,
writing poems to reading prayers
I’ve got my own words for God,

he must get tired of hearing the same old
please pleas day after day
after all,
God’s an artist with a big dick
craving satisfaction
and evolution
like the rest of us,

divine spirit,
sexy morning sun,
I saw her reach out to me
her still burning ashes blowing into the breeze;

I sweat like I do in my sleep God,
I miss how you used to tuck me in at night
I always felt so lucky and loved
like a chosen soul, even though I knew
you fondled me and raided my wallet
while I slept,
at least it was something…

now here I stand whistling under cloudless skies,
the time to be an angel has passed,
thousands of thirsty flies spin ‘round
as I sever my wounded wings for cash.

II. It’s The Rich vs. poor, Nothing More
Yet another ten-hour day
scraping half-eaten moralities
off customers plates
into trash sacks
slapped on my back
like a ghetto-Santa
chaining myself
to arthritic reindeer
without insurance…

They all smile tossing
nickels on rented tables
before rushing toward
open doors,
fully stuffed…

Do they really need us?
haven’t they invented
some machine yet
to do this work
without tips or
dirty looks?

Limping home on sore feet
I wonder
who sold my soul,
or stole my soul
and replaced it with this
cock hard roll of coins?

What show was I watching,
What blanket warmed me,
What submarine sandwich sunk my future
As I bit my teeth into the truth?

No liberties or freedoms
no religions or country
no whites or blacks
Asians or Africans
no this line or that line
drawn on a windy beach
while the seas starves,

there is no history
of the world but
rich vs. poor

capital saved is
a mountain
of oppression

no more royal crowns
now wealthy clowns
in bloody suits
run around strangling
our towns

depriving our sick
Attention
depriving our schools
Attention

we have no money
or hope in this situation
all we have to pay is
Attention

wake up to the sunshine
electric heat,
funded by the World Bank
sold only
to prized countries
who can pay$$$$$$$$$$
to the soldiers

we really are running out of time
for the first time
in history…

They’ve grown tired
of wasting clock suppressing
revolutions,
their gods faces on money
scowl
at the thought

less and less
possess more and more
while the rest of us
climb on each others backs
to see over golden fences
we should be storming
hand in hand

III. Buddha’s $1,000,000 Smile
Discomfort is but a bump
on the path to enlightenment.

Brush off your ego bruises
dirty knees

without truth
lies are fantasies

judging
by the star of David
in the eyes of our checkbooks
God hides,
unintentionally,
glazed over by haze,

painting itself in color
over city walls,
pouring itself like lovers
into puddles of all,

releasing itself breathing itself
untied and free of itself

a coin-flip away from destiny
pasting dollars together as rafts.

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