Pasta Lord – a poem

Hi. So, I’m new to Pastafarianism, but I’m finding the transition easy enough. I was eating some awesome ravioli the other day, and it occurred to me to make an FSM-inspired poem for National Poetry Writing Month. I thought I’d share.

—Judd, Philippines

 

Pasta Lord

Slippery tendrils lash above the sea

In a frantic manner to save what be

A crew of pirates, stranded, latching on

To his noodly appendages a’dawn.

 

His Noodliness holds two spheres of meat

Muddled in the tangle of pasta, neat.

In Him, I find true mirth; my solace, joy!

The Pasta Lord, He taketh me—ahoy!

 

He promises a Kingdom grand, so long

As we abide by Captain Mosey’s song:

Yon, beer and ale spurt out of mountaintops;

A stripper factory that does not stop.

 

Rejoice, for He has boiled for our sins!

And now his wheaty sauce runs ‘neath our skins.

My Pasta Lord who flies with wholegrain love,

Invisible in the heavens above.