Eliot - God and Mammon – Two Masters

August 20, 2017

Assuredly captive shakes our head on haphazard

Under the Christmas tree are occular daylights clean blown out

On the block of the rational executioner presumed disembling quarrels

Ready his circling axe

With an aim to the tree root cut down, offers sunny dreams, dayglo,

With an eye to a new development on a new earth brownfield site

Once was good ground, polluted now, depot of hydrocarbons;

Grand tera-firma incidence, ensample, of failed faith

Gone downhill, our gross receipts, so sweet, decline of Love’s best favour

Labour on self-delusion: - computate thy moneybags -

Three wishes on cut-glass dishes and touted round with all hands out

Resplendently by hustlers proffering where the gravy suits

A cue pursued by shoppers shopping clouts for crazy’s sake

Making in plate glass windows girning faces; delectate

Exult, on exponential fancy-tag exalted rags

Spending a jolly global ultra vires jamboree

Pour plethoras

Seductions, over-productions, heartless grasps by greedy mouths

Salivas drool;

Even need’s hungry huddles surge, to make a jealous claim

How fairy-tale, it is, yes, in this blessed Western whirl

Disordered shuffles edge and wrest, too keen to pick sparse scraps

As were a lodestone likerishness imploring down their souls

To the edge of a world inducing them, and then the next gone over

Into molto Paradiso, such a sad psychotic cruise,

Prefabricate, delusional, and succoured along by sin

So a proselyte discovers comes the cash till crashing down

Under hung mistletoe Continuing Cities kiss goodbye

Done gone is a New Jerusalem, instead in proud array

Of means come Saturnalias bacchanaling, trumpeting

Assaying a fractious imsolence above A Greater Name,

Its moil a sick ascendancy who cast up rates of things

Piteous Golgotha’s gone, as into dunghill dug,

Like landfill blowing, growing, a beauty lithe, on nodding wastes

Dance daffodils to do honour to disgrace where put aside

Amongst the dregs Truth’s meekly dignified

Rogue sentiments have come-over hearts, delighted supervene;

They entertain in brokerings on feathered-nested nights

Scores of the day remaining, their rejoinders set to looms

Whose motions, fortune’s morrows, give the stretch to laughter lines

Quo bono? The gambit favoured here is to impose and flex

An arm or sum of money, thrum carousings on a drum

Issue an edict, ultimatum, slapping down on doves

On the very grounds in-question in the very face of grace.


Talk-up the mighty high-ground stances, praise the wield of force

Beligerent potent benfactor who-would-be and so forth

The most magnified who’d rise

To be a Lord Protector in this unbeshriven world

Who would make the call, and defy to death, equal, Emmanuel

Then straight is one’s yes, one’s no, with no especial comment

Straight to the looms go follow there whom wisdom’s price would haggle

Go them who will to dungeons of desire, consume,

Come you recruits of Love, yea-sayers, here’s His heart to attend you:

By Christ He shall.