Defying The Devil

Get thee behind me Satan!
Ah...on second thoughts,
perhaps we could come to some
sort of accommodation.
Let´s not be rash or overnice.
What exactly are you offering?
And what´s the price?
Before we begin the negotiation
I should point out
that I´m not so naive
as to actually believe
you would answer my every wish.
On the other hand, I don´t expect
you to be satisfied with
something so vague as my eternal soul.
So, if you could see your way to gratifying
some of my outlandish little peccadiloes,
those quirks of taste,
and supplying the necessary dosh
for a life of profligacy and waste
I would be willing to submit
to becoming a social pariah,
to be held up as a bad example,
pointed at, pilloried, reviled
and abused by citizens driven to wild
outrage by my excesses.
I can´t manage all that on my own,
I need a backer.
So, how do you feel?
What do you say?
Is it a deal?

Mike


Dost bidst me get behind thee, Mike?
Why so? Hast thou not known that I was always there?
How else could I have whispered in thy ear
and bid thee descend to this and that indulgence,
at my pleasure or at my will,
for my delight, have made thee dance
to my most merry tunes?
How else but from behind
could  I have taken all the hindermost?
Those peccadilloes of which thou boasts
I gave thee in thy idle times,
those quirks and idiosyncrasies of taste,
my gifts to thee at birth.
I've carved thy faults deep, my protégée,
my toy, and now, thou ragged puppet,
doest seek to bargain with social exile
in exchange for profligacy?
If thou doest think
that that would set thee apart
then look again,
thou joinst a swelling throng.
The untempted are the ones that stand apart
Hah! Come closer, Mike, pale child.
See what I have here in my palm?
This murky , fading light that splutters and fails
is thy grimy soul, which as I wish or not
I'll snuff.

Arthur

A Minor Demon

My work has been laid out for me,
and thus I tempt in only little ways;
you see, tis the accumulation of minor things
that leads to greater wantonness.
For instance, just one little piece of cake,
and then another, and another, a little extra
cream--all make for a paunch that says excess.
And only a little kiss shared in a hallway,
what harm is that?  But kisses become habits
much as cake, and more is required until
the very icing on the cake is piled thick
and kisses proceed from lips to neck,
and ah I have you. Its then, I move away
for one who is further in the chain,
for protocol exists even in hell,
my pale and trembling friend.

Sue Scalf

The devil gives his due to woman.

O Madam, you dissemble,
when you pretend that you resemble
some 'minor' demon, of no concern,
indeed you know full well
the sweet fires of hell
in brown eyes burn
and in those dimples devils dwell.

You toy with man's stupidity
by indulging their cupidity.
It is your coyness that beguiles,
the lash-laced glance,
the lights that dance
when that mouth smiles;
all part and parcel of your wiles.

So, my bewitching hell-hound,
when those last bells sound
and they hear the keening screams,
of grubby ineffectual souls
writhing in the burning coals,
they'll know the 'is' from 'seems',
and all the rest was dreams.

Beelzebub

(Arthur)

Old Scratch's Match

I hear fiddles,
the laughter of kittens,
and glee of the gospel choir
    "Bringing in the Sheaves."
I smell garlic,
baby powder on clean diapers,
    Granny Aribelle's lemon chiffon pie,
the pastor's favorite.

I stand at the crossroads
with wicked women,
country lawyers
    and a man with music
where his soul should be,
a crow's feather in my right hand,
a half-starved cur at my left.

I hear the devil whisper,
smell sulfur and feel the heat,
but there is time enough to worry
after the fiddle-man has ridden his tune
and the wicked women
have danced the music into sunrise.

At the moment,
I have a country lawyer at my side,
a baby on my arm,
and a piece of lemon pie on my fork.