Puppet for Satan
I’d like to address the ladies now,
Just please explain and tell me how—
How could you dress like that to go out?
A girl with milk still round your mouth.
Yet age don’t matter, for I’ve seen things
From full-grown female human beings.
You pull the glass up to your lips,
And sip by sip the shadow slips.
When you drink rum, you drink him in,
And fill your blood with burning sin.
For Satan slides into your soul
To take complete and total control.
You dance upon the nightclub floor,
A dirty dance, an open door.
A puppet dancing on his strings,
Oblivious to the harm it brings.
He jerks your arms, he moves your feet,
To dark rhythms on the street.
You lose your mind, you lose your grace,
Lost within that wicked place.
You pass out cold and wake up blind,
With empty dark inside your mind.
A strange room under morning gloom,
A heavy sense of coming doom.
You say you’ll never drink again,
To wash away the shameful stain,
But deep inside you know the lie—
You love the lifestyle passing by.
The horror strikes when morning clear
Reveals the threat of growing fear.
A stranger’s child inside your frame,
A man who left without a name.
He vanished quick, without a trace,
Abracadabra—out of space!
He’s gone like magic in the night,
Disappearing out of sight.
And now your life becomes a shell,
A path that leads to deeper hell.
You leave your little ones alone at home
While you still hit the clubs and freely roam.
The candles tip, the curtains catch,
A tragic fire from a match.
The house goes up in smoke and red,
While small souls ascend overhead.
And now you sit behind the grate,
A victim of your chosen fate.
For child neglect is still a crime,
And now you pay with locked-up time.
This present lifestyle, cold and grim,
Is where you’re led for serving him.
Inside a cell of steel and stone,
You sit and reap what you have sown.
But listen close, you still have time
To turn away from sin and crime.
Before the final door is shut,
Before your thread of life is cut.
Turn back before it is too late,
And step away from Satan’s gate.
Oh ladies, please act like ladies,
Don't be a puppet for Satan.
The candles tip, the curtains catch,
A tragic fire from a match.
The house goes up in smoke and red,
While small souls ascend overhead.
And now you sit behind the grate,
A victim of your chosen fate.
For child neglect is still a crime,
And now you pay with locked-up time.
This present lifestyle, cold and grim,
Is where you’re led for serving him.
Inside a cell of steel and stone,
You sit and reap what you have sown.
But listen close, you still have time
To turn away from sin and crime.
Before the final door is shut,
Before your thread of life is cut.
Turn back before it is too late,
And step away from Satan’s gate.
Oh ladies, please act like ladies,
Don't be a puppet for Satan.
©A. Derek Catalano/Gemini
Related poem: A Dose of the Holy Ghost
