THANKS

Lord God, though you don’t exist, I’m grateful

for yobs, gits and swindler-shysters hateful,

for the backstabs making my blood boil,

for misunderstandings, pointless toil,

for presenting liars as fine-to-follow,

for lost-in-the-mail cheques, hard to swallow,

for kicks, knocks, blows, tripping feet extended,

for false heroes, idols, gods commended,

for enticing leads, to nowhere winding,

for growths cancerous, giving a hiding,

for hangovers, let-downs, woes inflicted,

that keep my skull crammed, all joys evicted,

thanks, for horrors past, now, due; sincerely –

ere them, I’d have died of boredom, merely.