Dim the lights and shield the candles
Thirty Kodak cameras flash
Before a yule eve almost shambles
The church grammar primary
‘Seventy-four nativity
Bears the markings of the era
Mary’s in a cut-down kaftan
Joseph: maroon dressing-gown
The donkey is the Johnston’s Afghan
Wise-men wear burnt orange crowns
On folding chairs, denim-ed parents
Lean in close to see their young
Christians? Er, syncretic nearer
Chakras, dolphins, est and Jung
Marys mum fucks wise mans father
Every Tuesday in his Saab Four
At back behind this Babylon
The vicar has his bike clips on
A skivvied teacher plays “moonshadow”
Yells directions, turns the page
As Mary drops potato Jesus
The donkey shits upon the stage
Where are they now, these midget saviours
Decades from their holy labours?
Mary, three grooms in tow
Does Pilates, Lexapro
The vicar, well he made parole
Slashed up in a dole hotel
Josephs end? perhaps the cleanest
“Dentist impregnates his hygienist”
Has a flat, alimonies (two)
Takes the kids to Maccas, then the zoo
The Afghan got the shagpile wet
Boxing day, to the vet
Oh dear we didn’t live the Passion
Caught in spark and die-away
In attics, with old boardgames, fashions
Those photos too, fade to gray
But for a moment, in that place
It is not the high ground Guy . . .
that today you seek
nor do you care to reach
an epistemological peak
rather, choice of words designed
aligned, focussed on affront
stripped bare and unaware
another ‘innocent’ in line to shunt?
That list line is set at smaller type in error, I should add; not done for twee effect
Oh I dunno grundle, having that ‘list’ line writ smaller makes it the more poignant.
Wassailing away.
Goes for me too. A small ‘sufficient grace ‘ amidst all our human short comings.
Good grief, Guy, almost as bad as Rowan Dean
Oh great Guy so high up in the sky
there must be a reason, i ll give it a try
you wane and wax but neither hither or thither
and to one on command you choose your slither
tis not God that leads you aside
but that religious facade that tears you inside
so get down on your knees and rid your shamus
otherwise it remains for you an ignoramus