My Friend Mark has blessed us with another of his poems. This is too good to ignore, so please read on.
A happy, happy Turkey Day-
"Thanksgiving" it is called;
though god and thanks have been removed,
at this my cat's appalled.
Whom does one thank when god's not there?
to whom do praises ring?
in land of "post" to Christ and truth
one can praise anything!
So on this day I praise my socks,
some squirrels, a piece of pie;
I praise our car with mileage fair-
and not to wonder "why?"
I praise our house, our lawn so green
with Creeping Charlie weeds;
I worship cash that's mostly green,
though recently unseen.
I bow down low before some donuts
I did eat last week,
and honor due to spinach pizza:
melting cheese did creep.
But last of all I praise my bookshelves
full of stuff to read,
since death means zilch in chaos filled,
my cat to them I deed.
And if some folks- when I am gone-
do talk about my life,
for goodness sake don't speak of truth,
of meaning, or of strife.
For it means naught- the whole darn thing-
from birth until depart,
we just exist- that's all there is-
like cows that chew and fart.
Don't be dismayed as to the void
you move and soon will see;
good tires, good socks, good soles on shoes:
post-modern Trinity.
I write this to a faithless world-
"enlightened," it is said;
so pluck that turkey,
bake that pie,
eat much, then go to bed.
Post-Meaninglessness, Arch-Faithless, Pre-Nihilist, A-Spiritualist, Supra-Truthless, Intra-Vacuumist Pietist