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Syndel's Spire
Syndel's Spire

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Kerosene and Christmas Trees

Type:Diary entry
Added:December 08th 2012, 01:07:03
Rating:Not rated yet.

Fe, Fie, Fo, Fum,
I smell the blood of a Fat-old-mun,
The kind ye see on Christmas Eve,
From poster-board and crayon draw'n,

He reeks of beer, cheap stuff too,
Vomiting Christmas chunder in loo,
His arse stuck up like a stuffed old seat,
Faded red and coming repleat

With bells and holly and all things jolly,
Kiss him under the belt's held trolly,
And don't you even dare scream "golly!"
When realizing your cheerful folly,

A pox on this! A pox on you,
Green elves are goblins in disguise,
A war on this! A war on you!
Your stomach belching forth flies,

Oh spirit of 'Nick, from Coca-cola past,
Oh giving and loving from Harrods and cast,
Oh peace and happiness from her Majesty's army,
Oh safety and stories from preachers barmy!

Spare me! Spare me your chill-borne smiles,
Your happiness in face of torture beguiles!
You look upon a world a muck,
With slush and blood and words like "fuck"

And pretend for not even thirty days,
"I am a better man" he says!
For resolutions made on Christmas morning,
Are gone by the time Boxing is dawning,

So fill your trees with Kerosene,
Wipe your fake-frost from fake-sincerity,
Huddle around the fire and look upon the flame,
Burn all your toys and false idols of fame,

And as you look upon that fire,
See not a past but a future desire,
That for a safety and hope which respires,
- A beautiful sight in dwindling fires,

These ashes will dance and feed a new land,
They feed into all that mother nature had planned,
And in each new shoot her love shall be heard,
From each new puppy or kitten which murred,

For there was a time before big and jolly,
Before there were books, before we picked holly,
Where people would die alone in the snow,
And had we not given we'd give fatal blow,

A time when ol'e Jack was a deadly spirit,
And all with sense knew rightly to fear'it,
And a different time too from the necessity age,
When acts of giving were considered noble sage,

When providing one's loved with paper-covered glee,
Was a service not of duty but of love's decree,
When children don't beg or expect their "just" source,
And instead were surprised by a generous recourse,

When giving was that which filled the world,
With belonging, with happiness, with kindness unfurled,
And anger forbidden as all were as one,
The mother, the father, the sister and son.

So Kerosene and Christmas Trees,
But please do take care,
Your loved ones are waiting,
Both arms and hearts bare.

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Total Personal Pages: 220 - Total series: 116 - Total texts: 882
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