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I never knew that Stonehenge refers to hanging gallows


While solstice gives solace as the sun dial moves forth

Many years of mysteries immortalized for sacred worship

	Blue Stones transported from Pembrokeshire

	For a giant Cromlech by magic or very hard graft

Pagans knew about meaning and witches were good folks

And sometimes you still see them flying in Salisbury Plain

	Sounds of yesteryear swish by and touch every heart

	Unhinged at times but always voiced crystal clear

Not far from here Father Christmas is stuck in a blazing chimney

And the Fire Brigade rescue tradition and the Feast of Love

	A lonely cross dances with a snowman's carrot

	Spared from an opulent meal on turning tables

Nostalgic Vinyls recording mist up children's gleaming eyes

As one of them takes aim at ornaments with a slingshot

	Another one bites the dust and misses the manger

	Mary remains immaculate but an angel falls dead

A renegade father nestles ammunition belts like prayer beads

'Have to go with the times for Bethlehem's changed meaning'

	Another burp and space resumes for more turkey

	'Can't stand it three days in a row and no lamb in sight'

Mum is a feminist and reads Beauvoir to three Holy Kings

A Kafkaesque scene ensues as reindeer meta-morph into beetles

	At least the little daughter cuddles Joseph the cat

	Who proceeds to climb faux fur with irreverent purring

In his rocking chair Grandpa is unperturbed and turns the table

With a remote control for a play station and thus he creates a

	Different nativity scene for heretics and believers in plain

	Sight as he caresses the Family Bible submerged under wrappers

Grandma has been 'blessed' with dementia and thinks it is Easter

For her Santa's beard looks like Rapunzel's hair covered in snow flakes

	She rubs Pinocchio's nose which sticks out like tinsel on respite

	As she is spoon fed mashed potato and gravy with cranberry sauce

While the adults get drunk on canned laughter from Pandora's box

And the family dog barks at the wrong tree before piddling at roots

	The new born baby sleeps blissfully oblivious to the fuss

	Maybe there was too much mulled wine in the breast milk

The pastor recommends faithfully 'Do as I say and not as I do' and the

Little Drummer Boy sings along to prepubescent choir's young voices

	Pitched high in false falsetto in unshaken belief of their talent but

	Then Christmas is not about perfection and the show must go on


25th December 2019
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