in the shadow of a black thought
the dampness
has never been as damp
as it is this christmas
perhaps tears from the holy land
have replaced the ‘glory that shone about’
grey dust clouds saturated
dripping in a bloody sunset
the nativity scene
for the first time seen
as the beginning of the road to calvary
there are more stigmata today
on the hands in every nation
that the promises of paradise
by the martyrdom for righteous causes
is nothing but an unforgivable spite
never has the silent night
been rended by the howls of the bereaved
of blue children tinselled with the baubles of
the smart bomb’s displaced responsibility
the dove of peace is a wing
above the sea of our transgression
if the world is saved from climate destruction
or a third world war or some pestilence
it will never again resurface above the sea
of our selfish DNA
god i am so angry i could kill these
thoughts about your transgressions
but i am afraid to cast the first stone
but i digress
it is time for warm mince pies and cream
and a nice coffee
looks like the rain has stopped
it is drying up again
for now at least
merry christmas
every body
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