Devil In Tweed Poem by Joe Fraccalvieri

The devil's standing on the corner
in a brown suit made of tweed--
Holding up a tin cup
for all the mouths he has to feed

And what he's telling you
is that he's selling you--
Not what you want,
but what you need

And the bristled back of vengeance
has ushered in the war…
Pestilence replaces opulence
as economists sip their coffee
and pour over the football score

And the president tells his constituents,
'It just doesn't make any sense! ',
as terror, like a milkman,
makes deliveries at the door

Will you drink his brand of half-and-half,
buttermilk-- eat wheat bread, or white
Will you take his hand to touch that ilk,
and put it out of sight...
Or take a sow's ear-- make a purse of silk,
and simply shrug off fright

Shall I seal your eyes with candle wax
so you can't see where he'll go--
Shall I fill your mouth with carpet tacks
so you won't say what you know

Gone are the days of Godly men who kept the Law
and sought the land of Milk and Honey…
Here are the days where lawyers' pen rewrote the law
and bought a land with laundered money

And so it goes, for each of those,
whichever comes first-- elderly and younger--
for best or for worst, because they've all been cursed
who brood in hell and cast asunder

For though sin has been the drink of choice to quench their thirst
only Truth can be the very food to quell, at last, their hunger--