God is a kind of conspiracy, no?
Or gods. They plot and plot against us, right?
Suppressed trauma, the hand invisible,
The hidden brain, the constant speed of light,
The secret wars between the classes? Left
Behind, or right behind is money. Right
Beneath, in back room deals, we trust,
Are scandals, kompromat—is Satan trite
In hell, or is it safe to say that place
Has never been, and only what is right
Can cast a shadow, what we know will face
A loss, that day is punctuating night?
Undone by what we’ve done, we’d rather rig
A setup set by morals, leaves for figs.