by performance poet - Tom Mansfield 

Christmas uppercut, Double choc chip glut, Big belly pocket empty never ending spend, Bethlehemeriod is back again to attack the trend, Caught in the false cuddle of a tinsel trap, Awash with plastic crap, That will never end, Disposable god cannot fit in the bin, Landfills full to overflowing from the brim, Mesmerised by the painted eyes of a manikin, Beckoning you in again with a superficial grin, Pringle tubes pop nonstop like the clock ticks, Neon sale cost cut price drop tricks, Salstis long lost mechanism sick, What’s this stocking stuffed with? Stultifying shit, Locking rubbish treasure pleasure in a shopping bag, Made to measure festive fabrication leisure grab, Aim of attainment made to make you glad, Material appeal steal still make you sad, My objection to this western stress obsession, Seeks to be a lesson, That the flotsam and jetsam of this season is a reason, For rethinking the mistaken presents that belies our pleasing, Sneezing amidst ripped wrapping paper- That’s ceased its seasonal teasing, Reaching for a Kleenex blatantly bereaving, The present that you didn’t get, From fatefully forgetting to just celebrate through making, With your own mind your own kind of cake- With personalised icing, Buying just like taking is not a kind of trying, And if trying is dying we won’t find ourselves flying, Surely sky high sweet spot is where would spend a lot- Of our time in, un-blind, away from earthly rot, Where sunshine beats hot on angelic wings, Away from earthbound robots wired for buying things, Imagination cultivation must recast us kings, So to say it again, Bethlehemeriod is back to attack the tragic trend, With a Christmas uppercut to that double pudding chin, And take your fake Santa’s sack back that’s headed for the bin, My message is this precious present that resides within, My precious message is this present that resides within. ***

Also check: Merry Apocalypse