Waking to the voices of angels
Beck shudders in image-horror:
“No! Not yet! I’m not ready! I
haven’t worn this image out yet”
His grey brush-cut turns white,
His sneer turns purely smiley,
His fake goodness turns good.
People kneel to him & he prays
“Don’t let this happen to me yet!”
His bars of gold turn platinum.
His earnings go sempiternal,
but the IRS can’t audit them.
(Labor Day Weekend, 2010, Santa Clara CA)v3
[note] A multi-panel altarpiece of Beck's purification
despite his basest aspirations: praying, like Augustine
of Hippo, "God, make me (whatever)...but not yet!"
(Jabez = Beck's gold-idol, not Jesus.) Going platinum
disturbs his arrangement with the gold bullion dealers
he presently does internet ads for; platinum only comes
in 1 oz bars, & is traded by a higher echelon of clients
(cf. Swiss banks), not gold-ingot ziggurati. (-BC)