Litanies of Satan

Oh, you, most remarkable of angels

Driven from the divine crush of the skies -

You were the first exile.

The billions have followed,

Either into new lands or immediate graves

You heal our discontents

And make us strong through

Hate and anger of our masters

And the weariness of the days

The cancer victims, young beauties with ulcers

Alcoholics who won't be content with their O.K. jobs

Would be happy to give themselves up to the paradise

You maintain below.

Through your agent, Death,

You give us hope and

The curiosity to see tomorrow;

The guilty have their calm photographs

Printed in the newspaper. It is our joy

To see them. Satan,

Whose hands-on the perishable -

Guides drunken feet to cars

Encourages tired whores

Broke drug addicts to score again

Violent alcoholics to hit away

Sends those who want love,

Terrible lovers -

Take pity on our pain?

We are exiles, too!

Prayer

Satan, a prayer to you because we cannot reach anyone else.

Only we are left to remember your unfair loss.

This hell we do not accept silently.

Help us take more apples from the tree -

Let nothing remain unseen!

When you shoot out

To flower again

Remember us not as brute but as

Ones who accept the torture

Again and again.