Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas
sings Santa, from his sleigh.
‘Look, Mummy – there’s Santa,’
the little girl cries
at darkened skies.

Merry Christmas, the Mum thinks,
while she wraps up the gifts,
and prepares the lamb feast,
as her Mum would do.
As she must do.

Merry Christmas – it’s that time
of year is it not? It’s
time for lost I love yous
punched ten years too late.

I did my bit.

‘Merry Christmas,’ says the priest
at the lectern of guilt.
I bless Orthodox style,
watch you choke on
holy smoke while
taking those coins
to feed my
hunger and
fuck the ones
not here
they’re just
drug
fucked.

‘Merry Christmas!’ chimes the retailer
in a tinsel decorated store of
glittery jewels and every kind of
doll with an abundance of
kitchen-wear to slice yourself up
and shiny plasma screens to
zombie your eyes with and
speakers to blow your
brain with and food to
stuff your tummy with
and gifts to spread
Christmas cheer with.

‘Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!’
sing the shareholders.
‘Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!’
smoke the head-honchos,
with sweaty hands of
hundred-dollar bills.

‘Merry fucking Christmas,’ cries the
faceless slave from China that
made your necklace for
5 cents to feed his family
a cube of bread
while you wear
your thousand
dollar branded
necklace and
feel
grand.