Kosher Olives From Mt. Olive Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I thought for eons Mt. Olive was a fictional place
where Judas hung from a branch but the proof is
in the olive label I am looking at and see the place
is alive and slippery as olive oil can be.

The scapegoat survived by slipping past his ordeal
and we recently struck, with regard to fundamentals
although not concerning details, a renewed
acquaintance. He told me the whole thing was

a political plot and that his leader, upon an infamous
but highly heralded promise of return, wanted to
buy the land on the cheap. A deal is always sought after!
For that purpose we had to establish its bad reputation

and suchly depress its market price. With that in view
I chose the branch that had weak spot, a knot right at
the bend. So not only was our master a mastermind
of salesmanship having sold his coat for a song and

a dance but he was an accomplished marketer whose
techniques far surpassed his unnaturally foreshortened
life, a consequence of having been crucified
according to the rules and customs of the Roman

pricks who were no different than the present
Wall Streeters. In memoriam if not as souvenir
I bought a fancy decanter to anoint myself and
my friends but especially for my enemies

under whose feet I dribbled some to hasten their
departure from these worldly affairs. For that
purpose the oil acted at its best and Judas
redeemed himself in my burning eyes.