O Almighty FSM,
Press upon me with thy Noodle
Let me shrink to half my size,
Drink beer, the whole caboodle

I praise Thy giant balls of meat
And oodles of noodles galore
Your strippers and grog amaze me so
How could I ever have asked for more?

I once was fed lies from the church
But You got through to me
I knew You were the One True God
With Your stripper factory

From Your Meatballs to Your Midgits
To Your giant beer volcano
To Your ever-growing followers
And the knowledge you bestow

Forever shall I stay with You
And preach Your Noodly Word
I'd never denounce my faith, my God–
The thought is quite absurd!

For every Friday night I raise
A glass of grog to You
And feast upon spaghetti tacos
(They're delicious – You know it's true)

And so, Almighty FSM,
I end my ode with this:
I'll turn the people to Your love
For ignorance ain't bliss


Basically, this poem doesn't make sense if you don't know who the FSM is. He is the Flying Spaghetti Monster, the One True God, Whose mighty Noodly Appendages bestow love upon us. Look up the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster on Google to fully understand. No, I do not believe He is really God. I am an atheist, and Pastafarianism is a parody religion. Say what you want; you can't persuade me to convert.

Yes, I know I misspelled "midget." That's how we spell it. It is not in any way supposed to be offensive. We consider Midgits to be His chosen people. It's a good thing.

For more information, check out The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster from your local library. Written by Bobby Henderson, His first prophet.