Wednesday, July 08, 2009

"Bless you": this line is uttered so often, you'd think there were a bunch of Gods running around. Or agents of a God, dressed in the clothing of the day. Hmph. It sure makes me wonder.

Gesundheit

I wonder sometimes
What stories I'll tell,
When I have left Heaven
And I'm not in Hell,
Some might think I'm crazy
The things that I'm saying,
But if you are religious
I know that you're praying.

At work the other night
I performed some good feat,
The nurse that I helped said
God bless you, Pete,
And it caused me to wonder
If she somehow had the power,
Bestowed on her, by God
To bless me for an hour.

I didn't notice any difference
That a blessing could have made,
Perhaps the blessing is in storage
To be sometime, later played,
To my better advantage
In a time of greater need,
Like when I stick myself with a needle
Causing me to bleed.

What makes people think
They can randomly send a blessing,
As personal agents of God
It's almost depressing,
Because that's what the whacko's say
Before they poison their flock,
It fills me with trepidation
As I prepare for the blessing shock.

Who knows what it means
When you're blessed for a sneeze,
Though I've always preferred
"Gesundheit", if you please,
That kind, German wish
To offer me good health,
But I'd really prefer ten dollars
And wish me good wealth.

Fibril_late;
7/8/09

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