A poem to A-Maze the holi-daze of christ-mass shopping while bombs are dropping...
The day after christ-mass
Christ-mass each year,
Like a smoke screen appears.
Con-descends upon us as a mass craze;
Man-ufactured man-ipulation of human feeling,
Start to finish.
Packaged and sold as a “holiday,”
But little did we know,
We work overtime to buy and spend overtime to pay.
All-encompassing and all-inclusive,
An all-consuming "escape,"
Designed to enclose
All in the throes
Of a dead circle.
Like a trap/door.
After all, mirages leave you craving more and more...
Of the empty, the dead,
The unfulfilling, the polluting,
The boredom unsaid.
Caught in a-maze for weeks on end,
Through flimsy mists of deception,
And the false fathers' commandments:
Buy more. Pollute more.
Don't ask any questions.
Doublethink your way out of any objections.
Ignore your feelings. Accept defeat.
Swallow cheap tricks masquerading as treats.
Pretend you like them.
Believe you like them.
Swallow the Lie.
A giant monopoly of monotony.
Where we're all slated to lose.
Yet none grow the wiser.
Year after year,
Mask after mask,
Repetitious task after repetitious task.
Each time this Big Act
We all pay.
An Incantation to Dis-Spell the Bad Magic of christ-mass
May we all live to see the day,
Of the complete end of this fake patriarchal holiday.
Christmas shopping while bombs are dropping,
Heaps of crap the land fills topping.
Tree Mother's corpse dressed up with balls,
Murdered and sold to deck the halls.
Grown for profit the monoculture way,
Bringing good tidings of pesticides and cancer our way.
Then she's tossed right on the rubbish heap,
While he-god carols lull all to sleep.
Stripped of Real Magic, the cheap fake seems so nice,
May all See through this flimsy device,
And decide forevermore to be Naughty not nice!