John Constantine Cons the Three Lords of Hell, and an Angel or Two
It’s always another demon, innit,
or god or angel chirping hallelujahs,
peddlin’ their holy books,
harping plans for mankind’s good.
It’s always the world
on the hands of a clock or
brimstone out a Ouija board’s ass.
Another day and some bloke’s heart
is pulverized in a monster’s fist:
his red dancing between its claws
because he was too dumb to read
the fine print (Viagra be damned).
Somebody’s sister can turn her head
360 degrees and needs to be nailed
to the floorboards as she spits pea soup
like a sprinkler at a chemical plant.
Lil’ Billy is spewing so much Latin,
a priest blushes in his skivvies.
So much fire and rain goin’ on
these days that James Taylor
wants to hang up his guitar
(and Thank Whoever for that one
miracle off my bucket list).
Heaven and Hell, I’m wearin’ holes
in yer’ Welcome mats, aren’t I?
I see yer’ (un)holy lights are on
and the fine china’s all set
on yer tables but no one answers
the doorbell. No worries, kiddos.
I’ll see myself out.
Come see Jordan read on day four of the Welcome to Boog City 17 Arts Festival on Mon. Sept. 11 at 6:30 p.m. at Bar 718 in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Details here: