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Twas the Night of Thanksgiving

November 23, 2005

Twas the night of Thanksgiving,
and all through the house,
not a creature was stirring
not even a mouse.

We all had had more than
our share of good food,
eating turkey and stuffing, and
not to be rude

but our waists had expanded
past one more belt notch,
was it fate that demanded
that last glass of scotch?

Well, now that the eating
is finally done
and all of the “younglings”
are resting their “tums”,

it’s time to start planning
the shopping excursion,
we’ll take in the morning,
some say it’s perversion

the sheer gabs of money
we spend on our gifts
when all the world over
their needs are for thrift

but we spend our dough
as though it will never
diminish and so
we think we are clever

when deficits rise
(both our own and the national).
Can you sense the surprise,
we don’t think that it’s rational

when our stomachs and purses
fill up, pop our buttons,
the rest of the nations
know we are just gluttons.

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8 comments

  1. how true! ’tis the season!


  2. This is a stern but much needed Tday poem.

    Daniel- Something happened to my email filters to screen out poetry carnival poems and it lost your email. Please resend your poems. Sorry to trouble you. It shouldn’t have happened.

    Garnet


  3. and this is how it ends, thank yer for particpating

    DEAD MAN WALKING

    Weeping souls
    In dead of night
    Sing their songs
    Of death and blight

    Ephipany of sorrows calling
    Sorrows hunting twitching
    It is of chaos the pain’ll strive
    It is of order the pain’ll die

    If we summon charon
    for stygian trips
    how he suffers us
    the malignant deserts

    Desert the crumbling hearts
    to dust the earth
    with death-
    songs heaved
    within each breath

    Until the soul
    in endless flight
    finds its solace
    in the darkening night

    For chorus of death
    Shall ring no bound
    To prey on weak
    Blood thirst of hound

    so travel on
    endless quest
    cold heart
    caged in that chest

    Tread across a bridge of sand,
    Fleeting thought turn and give chase
    To spidersilk memories of days gone by
    As the sand slips slowly away.

    Fear not, carry on
    The journey is not all that long
    The distance, an illusion
    A miasma that will pass

    Not another step you’ll have to take
    For the answers are inside of thee
    Let go of all that bind
    And slide away unto yourself

    For everything ends in me
    Melacholy of death shadows me
    Soon, Vanity becomes all reasons, for now I hear
    Execution awaits in mental prison
    Just another dead man walking


  4. Great one, Daniel. I love the parody and I added it to my 30 Days Of Christmas.


  5. Daniel….yes, this season has more of a disinhibiting effect on gluttonous behavior than does alcohol, the usual external source of disinhibition.


  6. Very very nice. But did you have to remind me ha.


  7. Nice theme. I like the ironical tone


  8. I really like this one.



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