We proclaim neither -ist, nor –ic
Not-at, not-an, nor-ants, nor-ims,
We endure ismless, diven like
Polished stones to shores by storms
In forestlands where bears amble
Through our beach yard in search of chow,
Not god (we can identify),
Life in these parts a glorious danced
We all hope to conclude with style.
God (a nom de plume, one wonders?)
Takes imagined liberties
With carbon-based toys like us.
We eat, we drink, and boink and laugh
And lie and act, define, redact,
I am careless about myself
To the extreme, the point of life
N’est pas is life now, not later?
This is not a Christmas savings
Fund that lets God live lavishly
Off interest of our sweat equity.