The world stands ready to accuse the lover at
the drop of a hat
Of everything they'd like to do themselves, and bag him like a cat--
Or maybe dangle him neatly between two trees,
Or place him in boiling oil up to his knees.
Eleven of Jesus' top twelve were slaughtered;
It's a wonder all Humanity doesn't get drawn and quartered!
But that'd leave no one to do the torturing,
And torturers are sorely needed in God's joke-posturing.
"Wanted: torturers: excellent pay," read the ad in Hell.
"All you need to do is go up to the Earth to dwell."
"Signed, God," read the ad. "'Cause I can't leave my
They need something to prod them, some hammer on
heads and hearts a-banging."
"It gives them wings: 'course you won't see them when they've
But your pay will be the Grace, next life to get your ways mended."
to Meher Baba poems back