I am a wealthy god who cares about the poor.
I’ve built them shopping malls to worship me,
paid for stained-glass windows to let in a little light
filtered in my image, crafted search engines to ask
for things I am too wise to give away:
my customers know that nothing is free, for
I gave them freewill and the free market, a motive
to profit that is a sin to suppress—
the apostate begs for unearned salvation.

I am a wealthy god who cares about the poor.
My spokesmen prove it: on Sundays
they donate wafers and wine—a little food,
a little libation to ease the coming week.
But beware, o downtrodden,
do not withhold what’s owed me: I collect all rents,
I calculate the FICO score of eternal life,
I cause inflation and unemployment to rise,
your 401k—you’ve yet to open an account?—to implode.

I am a wealthy god who cares about the poor.
My disciples know to be generously rich,
and promise the same to all who wait.
I disavow those who do evil in my name:
I am the largest property owner on Earth
and you, my blessèd tenants.
Who are you to call me a slumlord?
My lawyers are happy to show the contract
you signed when you were born—
your life is subsidized by me,
and that’s all there is to it.

—

Rhodes, Carl, and Peter Bloom. “The Trouble with Charitable Billionaires.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 24 May 2018, www.theguardian.com/news/2018/may/24/the-trouble-with-charitable-billionaires-philanthrocapitalism.