Wednesday, December 26, 2012

The Poet Speaks in Pleasantries

Good morning, neighbor, Mrs. Jones.
How nice to see you, yes I did
And thank you and I certainly will.
Good afternoon, sir, and I say
Thank you have a nice nice day
And 'evening to you, Mr. Man
Anonymous person, Mrs. Man.

And do you weep from unseen wounds?
Do you hear a hidden whisper,
Do you follow, with mournful soul
Something further, out beyond,
A Man Who bleeds for us and still
His voice is oh so very still
But can you hear it?  Can you still?

On we go perfunctory
Perfunctor-functor-functory
Off we go now,
Off we go.

I would say more, if I could,
But we are chums, acquaintances,
Our love is ordered, fit and proper,
Customary, place the stopper.
Shut your mouth and move along.
Please don't sing your mournful song.

Over at the corner parish,
Where Our Lord did die and perish,
They need some money, on the spot!
They need to pave their parking lot.
The folks don't know that guy named Jesus,
But Father's sermon will appease us,
Funerals for those who die,
And lots to eat at the fish fry.

On we go now, move along!
Longing long, a mournful song.

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