Thankful

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  • GeniusMan
  • When push comes to shove, conga lines can get pretty ugly.

Poem Commentary

Well, it's Thanksgiving, and it's only natural that this website get filled with the same idea about giving thanks. And all the really 'deep' people end up complaining about the same darn thing; society, like I just did. And it makes you wonder, does it really matter? Because tomorrow we're going to go back to breaking our New Year's Resolutions and knowing we'll be GETTTING stuff on Christmas. That's just me, though, and I'm a huge hypocrat, so take what you want and throw the rest away, okay? Good day. Happy Thanksgiving.

Thankful

I always pay my taxes, but there are people here who don't
And they leech off all my credit, and the government is broke
I have a house and loan for it, but payments can get hard
But there are people who have mansions and collect a bunch of cars
When I sit here with my Kia, nothing fancy, just gettin' by
And I look at life and yell at her, and sometimes I do cry
But there's one whole day I am okay, and let me tell you why
                                                                  It's Thanksgiving

For one whole day I must reflect, not what I want, but what I get
Not when I've saved, but when in debt, and feel grateful for the heck of it
For the lot of life is a rocky plain, and it can be a hard terrain
But we'll laugh together on this day, point the finger and name some names
For today is the the day of "At least I'm not him,"
      when at least we don't live in a pile of rot
For today is the day when we take it all in
      and we say "well, at least, I love what we got"
Is it fair on this day that we ration our luck
      That we sit here and say "I've a couple more bucks"
Is it fair that we lie about our content
      Thus we must take our lust and suck it back in
And for what, are we lying? Is this how we feel?
Would we still eat Thanksgiving as a Microwave Meal

Let me tell you something, today is no different
For those starving young children who sleep at a mission
They cry out all night and day, look to Lord, they smile and pray
                                            "Thank God, for every day that I'm alive"
I bet you your luck that you'll never be grateful
 As an african child getting a package on chrismas
From some spoiled white family, loving yet hateful
 With only a toothbrush, some toothpaste delicous
 Maybe an old toy, a new toy, a t-shirt
        Maybe a new shoe that's chewed through or holds dirt
Maybe it's nothing, the kid just got nothing
   How does it feel to complain about something?

So today is a day to celebrate living, today is a new day to look at your self
Today has two great things, Some thanks and then giving
                                                    Today you aren't better off anywhere else
Today you can laugh, today you can cry
 But the big bothersome question you should be wondering why
                   Is why did your diety, whoever that is,
               Let others die, so you could somewhat live,
           And whine about "What if's" and cry about "He has"
        You lie about your gifts and make it seem all bad
Suicide, is a big white lie, that coward's try because they don't see
There's at least fifty people, trying to get by, who would really much rather be
       Enjoying that huge feast you ate on this day
                                                                       It's Thanksgiving

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Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

GeniusMan’s Poems (63)

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