Oh, Venom of God, tempting with that throbbing hex
in Gardens of Babylon and hanging from the tallest tower
Where I plucked your bounty and bound to earthly tempers
of impetuous hand and tongue which leave me Lordly vex.
Here I stand again, at the minarets of Hagia Sophia
To preach and tell, once more, the story of everything:
***
It all began with jealous Cain who spied my golden fleece
And as he snatched it off my back I called and prayed to higher powers
But answered back did Jezebel from atop her Balish balcony
Who called the brimstone rain to burn my city to the ground.
And then I hear Belshazzar boast the stone-to-gold braggartry
Which one expects when reading the acid prophets off the painted walls.
Another day, another sea of people to part for promised lands
as the lamb's blood paints my Egypt's ruin, spared from a plague of riots.
Dear God, oh God, sitting up well in ivory heaven,
Care to spare a trump of angels for my Sodom's many sinners?
I know them all by name you know and could use a small inferno,
But sadly, only Baal sends rain, and the devils dance on angel statues.
It's every city, every story, again and again I ask and pray
Dear Delilah's whispers could echo miles further than my prayers!
But worst of all is this head-throb thorn, bleeding my left-side temple,
Aching my brain as Solomon's texts in fake American news.
"The city's not burning, it's only just my home," ah what a relief to hear!
***
Is it my cross to bear then when greeted by the tenement's gospel
Or made to lose my fleece to Cain, the true victim of this story?
What a vex I'm forced to live, and it all began with Edan's folly
But as they say, Ecclesiastes 1:9, it's all been done before,
The sun rises, falls, and cycles my misery again tomorrow.
Unless a rapture sounds to steals me and my fleece from hell...