Don’t think that satire cannot be a prayer.
Don’t think the Lord disqualifies my sneers
as, verbalized, they rise through mundane air
and find his keen and all-attentive ears.
Grave child, please know: I’ve been at this for years,
mocking both serfs and princes, pimps and popes,
mocking their empty smiles, their bogus tears,
their high-pitched threats, their self-deceptive hopes.
The experts I’ve exposed as utter dopes.
The judges I’ve exposed as shameless liars.
At this late date, I surely know the ropes.
Of slashing so, my spirit never tires.
I’ve seen the truth and told it. Satisfied?
In this endeavor, God is on my side.