Poetry Blogs (bah humbug)

You see the chavs unveiling torsos
Which fashion hair that always grows
The shorts his distant cousin wears
Showing us sights that only scare
The ice cream man appears once more
Serving melting ice cream through his door
You hear the neighbours having a Barbie
An hour or two later they sound rather barmy
The neighbourhood drunk stumbles as usual
And vain young girls become rather delusion...

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Christmas Day and New Year has been and gone but, the false enthusiasm is still here,

With the pan stick you plough on, because it's your duty to instill cheer,

It's just that time of year, except it's the 8th of Jan, the presents have been unwrapped, carols have been sung and the roasting tin packed away.

John Thompson nurtures his whisky hangover in the Green Room gloom,

And wonders ...

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Anti-Christ(mas)

Santa Claus isn’t real -
there, I’ve gone and said it.
Just some smart-arsed marketing ploy
to stress your Christmas cards of credit,
an old Bavarian legend
glammed up and pushed by Coke
to give a job each yuletide
to some fat, be-whiskered bloke
who likes a little tipple
and knee jogging some pre-pubescent cutie -
under any other circumstance
you’d report him to pro...

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