CHRIST MASS

Imagine it
its an hour or two yea infact beyond
Noon that is on Christmas Day
Where everyone is fond
Of eating a roasted bird
That wanted to live , but we
Decided it was time to leave
this mortal coil and see

No more the ugly cages
The battered barn
The shit
The dubious pills they fed us
Wherever we did sit
Instead thrown quite aggressively
into a smelly crate
To be transported to the abattoir
And shackled there to wait

For the Rabbi and his helper
To affirm my place of death
To read from some hebrew manuscript
And to expect my breath
To be forcibly restricted
At the hands of some vile thug
Who seemed to speak in gibberish
And who had an ugly mug

Clearly it all was meaningless
An illogicality
Without anticipation
Of how i could get free
A prophesy was evident
And anticipatory
On what would be the outcome
Of the guillotine that be

Positioned out in front of me
Bloodied and on fire
Here I was to lose my head
The thought of that felt dire
But that was now expected
For it seems I had been sold
Without any recollection
Of really how much gold

I was worth, apparently
Dressed in worthy silk
Stuffed with sage and onion
Soaked in dead calves milk
The lunacy and madness
That followed on from this
CJD psychiatry
And a second chance at bliss

It is the height of absurdity
The shenanigans around
The extravagance of knowing
That in my blood I drown
The genius the master
Or perhaps the idiot born
A dipstick and a numbskull
Whose given extra corn

Imagining that by so doing
Their station might just be
Higher than the next charge
Who grows with dignity
Envisaging a future
Beyond the guillotine
Beyond the rotten torture
Carried, by the vile machine

Into boiling water to soften up our quills
For labourers to come and pluck
As a blood droplet spills
The unintelligibility
The equivolence of same
A semantic shift in empathy
Uncoupled from the blame

There is nothing esoteric
About what has happened here
I was the picture of innocence
Brought to a place where fear
Was rampsnt common purpose
Was really everywhere
Tall men with dark glasses
And very litte hair

Disguised among the brussel sprouts
The parsnips and the soul
The really sticky gravy
The juice as thick as coal
This is where it ended
In an oven from Japan
basting every minute
In accordance to some plan

Oh to have some silence
And perhaps coconut cheese
Respect, for we are witnessing
The scorching of my knees
The sage felt overwhelming
Such brief sincerity
A swindle in the offing
That became a fallacy

The dupery and the larceny
The deception all the way
Riddled with the hormones
A mockery some say
Sharp practice they were good at that
The illusion of it all
What was exaggeration
With Our backs against the wall

Afterwards the pudding
Pig fat I can smell
Soaked in the best cognac
Which was shipped up from Hell
The river styx distillers
Charged with obstinacy
And lots of hesitation
And variability

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