a curmudgeon's thanksgiving

what have i to do with
this vile thing gratitude
these sentimental folks sitting about
as if nothing matters but family
and an odd friend
guffaw guffaw
and i spit horribly
at all this mushy banter of love
between mouthfuls of potatoes
screw your flippant turkey
sitting there in ridiculous command
its ass staring you in the face
no good will comes from me
puhshaw i spit your direction
you hideous practioners of tables shared

won't the world be better when
the gripe of life is all we know
won't it all much clearer be when
every breathing yapping human dog
can be the enemy at least suspected
of viscious intent
gaze a severe gaze in the warm bath
of human kindness
breathe cold
it's the only way to be

there is no goodness no hope
no beauty no good food
we choke on the illusions
we gag on the ill got hopes
we spew out every orifice
the bilious vomit of decency

don't give in
don't let anyone tell you
the hearts of men and women can
yield the joy of friendship
hate it all
clothe your wiltering body
in the garments of
indiscrete mistrust
pay for it if you must

the world will be better will it not
the world will
not be will it not be
better will be worldy willful and better
when we all learn to despise with justice
to hate with impunity
to trample the idiotic hopes
for a better world somehow

give the sour sentiment over
to the rancid puddles
drink cheers of that my
laughably desperate friends
ha ha ha ha ha