(Based on a true incident)
Don’t give me your first-world problems,
What to shop and at which store,
You buy iPhones and drop them,
So you have to buy one more,
What do I wear for spinning?
The same outfit as core?
Me I’m desperate for a widdle,
And the maid’s just mopped the floor!
He is the first son
Of the first son
Of the first son
Of the first son
The oldest son
Of the oldest son
Of the oldest son
Of the oldest son
Your son extends beyond you,
Into the future,
And behind you,
Into the past.
He will be the first son of the first son of the first son of the first son,
But he will be one.
Not many.
Though he be connected, he will not be them.
But without them, he would not be.
He will not be them,
And he will not be you.
He will be he,
And claim his place in the world.
In time,
It is possible,
He will in turn meet his first son.
Another connected one.
Time needed to learn lesson
In general shall
Bare a connection
To the thickness of skull.
Christmas Day
On my way to work
6:45 a.m.
The only other people
Beggars and workers
I have my giant Marshall headphones on
Listening to Marc Maron interview
Elvis Costello
But as I go
About my day, making coffee
Dealing with food and medicine
And issues
There’s an undertone
That lies in the bone
Surfacing on the 25th of the 12th
Falling down from my shelf
To heart and soul
For I’ve no control
Something I can’t deny
Even if I try
This feeling of Peace and Goodwill
Of all humankind
As one
Like Christmas day in WW1
A seasonal warning
Echoes of Scrooge
His epiphany on Christmas morning
A gladness like no other
Every person sister or brother
In this great wave of humanity
This blesséd sea
Every you and every me
Love expounded in every way
On Christmas Day.
CHRISTMAS IS TOO BIG FOR CHRIST
Christmas is a time for love,
Despite the hectic push and shove,
We’re reminded that we all are one,
That peace and joy do have a place,
In uniting the human race,
There is something we are all part of,
This spirit Mister Dickens felt,
That makes the hardest Scrooge heart melt,
We can’t risk losing it, no not a smidgeon,
For unity is our motif,
Regardless of our own belief,
That’s too vital to screw up with religion,
The idea sounds quite radical,
He at least needs a sabbatical,
Been more than two millenia,
With all this Jesus business,
The world’s changed more than he could fathom,
We’ve moved on to Lennon’s Imagine,
So though it will offend some, yeah,
Let’s take Christ out of Christmas,
So let’s stick with snow and sleighbells,
Grand hellos and then faretheewells,
Auld Lang Syne, Good will to all you know,
Be it Kwanza, Christmas, Hannukah,
I’ve something here for all of ya,
Come on over ‘neath the mistletoe,
The idea sounds quite radical,
He at least needs a sabbatical,
Been more than two millenia,
With all this Jesus business,
The world’s changed more than he could fathom,
We’ve moved on to Lennon’s Imagine,
So though it will offend some, yeah,
Let’s take Christ out of Christmas!
https://soundcloud.com/ken-donner/christmas-is-too-big-for-christ
Bullets have no best before date.
Nor do bombs or landmines.
Things that kill, maim, or mutilate,
Seem to get a pass from time.
But your milk will curdle,
And your bread grow mould,
Veggies become fertile,
Candy hard, chocolate old.
Maybe bullets should go bad.
Perhaps last an hour.
Before turning weak and sad,
And losing all their power.
Instead what gives life,
Is at best fleeting,
Whilst things that take life,
Prove to be time-beating.
CHRISTMAS BELONGS IN DECEMBER
We all know there’s a reason,
For stretching out the season,
It’s very clear, no discretion implied,
The market knows what sells,
They ring Pavlov’s Christmas bells,
Knowing we will open up our wallets wide,
Christmas is swell,
Carols and bells,
But bloody hell,
It’s only mid-November,
Christmas time belongs in December!
Sure I like the lights,
All those funny elves in tights,
Food and toys and candy on each shelf,
Peace, goodwill and all that stuff,
You know I just can’t get enough
But I’d rather wait until month number twelve
Stop Killing People,
You Fucking Twats.
What’s so fucking,
Hard about that?
The message is elegant,
Unsubtle and blunt.
It would be even better,
If they used the word, cunts.
Arms makers, arms dealers,
I lay you to blame,
You don’t care who’s killing,
Or in what name,
You don’t care who’s dying,
Who’s crippled, who’s lame,
At the end of the day,
All your gold looks the same,
Call me simplistic,
Argue defense,
Behind all your riches,
The sound is nonsense,
You profit through hatred,
It fuels your greed,
Power or religion,
You nurture the seed,
You’ve no motivation,
For bloodshed to cease,
Because there’s no way you
Can profit through peace,
My limit is reached,
My anger is full,
It’s time to scale back,
The whole world’s arsenal,
Call me naïve,
I don’t really care,
As with nuclear weapons,
It must start somewhere,
Maybe not down to zero,
But as close as can be,
A weapon moritorium,
So that we can see,
If we can slow down,
This daily death dance,
And if there’s really a way,
To give Peace a chance.
What if I find my angel was a demon?
What if I find my wrongs were mostly right?
What if Jim Morrison had been a woman?
These are the things that keep me up at night.
Random Misanthrope 