Metanomalies

God and Money

January 20, 2018

Money; there’s no-one in the world would disregard it
Funny; it’s all mirage
A tangent in our heads turned to a beeline when a sum
Of money is imparted
In elevation, joy, or stone cold horror struck
According as we gain or (ghastly, nasty!) lose
Chemicals in the brain in train by stimulation
Is money.
A cousin of position, power, place and consequence
Fool figment?
By which we teach ourselves our common empathies?
A piece of paper, a promissory note
Says ‘pay the bearer on demand’ - a pig in poke?
Not so, our inmost veins approve, lend trust, believe it,
Our very life blood says we must demand, receive its
Most full face value
The guys who massage money making pussyfoot around
Tax gatherers and sinners largely every one
In need of a physician, although they’d laugh you down
For saying so; oh no, they are who know
The magic on the mind that binds a reasoning heart
Big-city bankers shift out credits, debits, round in play
From one side of a ledger column to the other
Outlaying debt, thereby creating purchase power
Upon thin air
Fashioning waking daydream whimsies in the office chair
Let us forego a contretemps involving tackling God
Except to say that disbelief in Him seems mighty odd
When set beside a pile of banknotes, fancied, lusted after
Yet everything existent such an infinite impasse
So exponentially important
Let us instead regard The Spirit, Holy Person Three,
Of Persons much disparaged in God’s Holy Trinity;
A faint regret, in sighs departs, long insincerity
Dismisses with all euphemistic artful tact
Such comic drollery
As fallacy, as trope supposed; Spirit? “all in the mind”:
A lamp unto our feet however lightens currency
To leads us by the waters of her sweet temptation
Trailing her seamy civet scents behind
One knows that smell of money, money talks attractively
The quaint odour of sanctity, beside it funked, passe,
Adrenaline electric draws out long our eager fervours
The reachy smell of lust surpassing Comforting
“All in the mind” thrives greed indeed. Prostrated,
Abased; a mind concedes before its objects,
Bows down to either sweet deceits of cheap cupidity
Else groans within are Spirit; most forlornly cries;
Each hitches to its master to perform its prayers
Its evidences creasing brows, care’s conversation
Of earnestness,
And skin indenting to a depth as if ploughman ploughed
Our anxious foreheads;
*
Preliminaries, proposals, perform most elegantly
Whether petitioning loot, or good first fruit; together
Within our minds these strangers and have discrete playgrounds
Since one drives out the other, suffering it no bounds
Takes absolute possession of the fought-for field
As willed
*
A subject honour cannot honour both, though both may be
Effectual agencies
By which we teach ourselves our common empathies
And, as we do not look for money in high marbled skies,
Our Spirit’s eyes
Declare all areas round about us to be of God’s domain
Excepting places in residual arrears of destitution
Which mount accumulatively in the money-minded conscience
Which by its choosing loses
In what it chooses
*
Store up your treasures then in heaven not earth,
There where your troubled heart should be
One cannot serve both Mammon, God, selectively
The strong man acts to drive out others, reigns exclusively
Making a mind a Hell, a Heaven, mayhaps, perdie?