Everything Must Go
At the sight of the earth’s bright corners,
At the sound of the sky’s top brass,
The dead wake the not-yet-born-ers,
And flesh unmingles from grass,
And a queue, uneasy and bleary,
Starts edging towards the blaze,
Confronting the dies irae
In the eeriest kind of daze;
And the only folk still milling
Are the faithful of Cheap-O-Mart.
While the rest are all dies ill-ing,
They are pushing one final cart,
Not being quite sure if Heaven
(Though perfect, of course, in its way)
Is open 24/7,
Including Last Judgment Day.
East of Eden Goes West
“Little lamb, who made thee? God,”
Smirked Abel, with a whack.
“Now all we need’s a little prod,
And He can have you back.”
The little lamb’s indignant bleat
Reached Cain, a-slicing bread.
He cried, “We’ll see how God likes meat!”—
And sliced Abe through the head.
The Lord thereat was passing wroth:
His mighty lips were pursèd.
Cain packed his ploughs and issued forth,
Evicted and accursèd.
He sowed for all that he was worth,
But ’twas a losing battle;
For Abel’s friends bought up the earth,
And covered it with cattle.
“Grow wheat!” cried Cain. “We can’t sustain
This profligate cuisine!”
But, in the red, he thought again:
“Well, goodbye, Mr. Green.”
So now you’ll find him managing
A world-wide burger chain:
Where bread is pulp and meat is string,
Behold the Brand of Cain!