From the desks of Moishe and Mordecai

 
Meet my two black cats 

<--Moishe and Mordecai

two funny little fellows

to describe them I will try

They're quite entitled

so cocky, furry and sleek

They think we are their staff

They're not so very meek! 

But yanno I wouldn't have 

them any other way

even their naughty antics

honestly make my day

when from the shelter they came

one fine October day

they never once looked back

and never went astray

Oh sure they get the zoomies

and occasional urges to roam

Moishe wandered a bit

but he quickly came back home

it's true that Mord's a stinker

in fact he's a thieving brat

but still for all we love him

this light-pawed little cat

you always know where he is

by noises of things crashing 

as he pushes stuff off the counter

he partial to sounds of glass smashing 

and then there's us yelling

as he thuds to the floor

he somehow gets the treats

while we get the cleanup chore

he has zero conscience

we've concluded with defeat

without at least one cat-astrophe

his day is not complete

Moishe is loud and bossy

when to the basement he goes 

But he makes up for it with 

all the affection that he shows 

I've learned quite a lot

from my two kitty boys

to take my pleasures where I can

and celebrate the simple joys

So what's one jar among friends?

what's one stinky pickle-y mess?

not such a big hairy deal

if it gives them such  happiness

Mord, this is no excuse for breaking 

and at you we will still exclaim

Moishe, you'll get a scold too

as you profit from his ill-gotten gain

But it's also a lesson on battles

those worth fighting and those that are not

what counts is loved ones including cats

and we're thankful for who we got

Who do you say that i am?

Jesus asked his disciples

who do people say I am?

then he asked them again 

who do YOU say that I am?

Ostensibly he hoped to be

understood as the Messiah

unfortunately most people 

only saw him as a pariah

Was our Lord having an

identity crisis of some kind?

as in those dark hours

he struggled in his mind

I understand his pain

perhaps confusion too

it's hard to comprehend purpose

when everyone turns away from you

Who am i, I never wondered

it wasn't given me to ask

This was for others to decide

mine, the knuckling under task

So, I ask like Emmanuel

who do you say I'm supposed to be?

If Marilisa isn't good enough

You tell me then, who is she?

Is she just sister, daughter, slave?

Your minion, drudge or drone?

Evidently she's isn't meant to have

any kind of life to call her own. 

Selah. But wait...

it doesn't seem right to end 

this little ditty here

it's a pretty bleak assessment

but if I'm honest, also clear

It probably should have 

a big Halleluiah chord

some resolving great Amen

maybe that would that please the Lord?

cuz it ain't just me I don't know

I also have no idea of Him

we've talked of this before

in my odes so very grim

don't get me wrong, I'd love to end 

with promises and prayer emojis

gushy kisses and smiley hugs

but i'm fresh out of all of these 

I wish I could offer you

Vera Lynn and keep smilin thru

Dunkirk spirit and all that jazz

I'm trying to mend, and make do

I've packed up my troubles 

got me Lucifer and fag

but for all I've smiled at problems

they've worn clean thru me ole kit bag

And maybe you don't want it anyway

secret chords and cheery attitudes

maybe you don't like that kind of music

Maybe you and God hate cheezy platitudes 

if so, that's good to hear

can't we just admit it's such a bore

all i got's pukka real and honest

and honestly not much more