Christmas morning winked; lazy
Five, nineteen the start of crazy
The first rumble of little feet
Eyes shut tight in hopeful retreat
The tell tale creak of a handle turning
A heart beat quickens, stomach churning
A slip of light, fierce and bright
A demons claw appears in sight
“I will not cry, I will not shout
I will not curse, I will not pout”
A resolution bravely made
An empty promise that won’t last the day
And now the door swings sharply wide
And with lucifers lungs there is a cry
“It’s too early” you yell, “not til six I said”
A futile attempt you realise with dread
And like that, all of a sudden
They’re everywhere, must be a dozen
Screeching, scrabbling, fighting fierce
Drowning in noises of a fledgling curse
Next it’s the opening of presents bought
A feasting on retail flesh, fresh caught
In their tearing grasping reach
Ignoring your futile desperate beseech
In silent fear you weep and sit
As yet another thoughtful gift
Turns to yet another shredded stack
Of ungrateful discarded plastic crap
The latest craze: Furniture of celebs
Stormzy’s footstool, with just two legs
Selena’s bedroom door, always open
Elton’s bathtub, always floating
What’s this? I hate it! I didn’t want that!
They cry, they curse, they spit and spat.
They Scamper for Santa’s merry discards
Shameless, blatant, blameless, disregard
“I see now, how today looks for me
It unrolls grim; a Dickensian prophecy.
Chained to the oven, covered in scum
Surrounded by ghosts of chores yet to come”
You stir from your thoughts, with a sudden blow
The pains just beginning that much you know
But it won’t last forever, soon will be free
Then realise with horror it’s still only 5:19
“That’s it!” You cry, as the rage builds
“Enough. You little bastards” and it fills
You up to overflowing. And pop...
“I raised you better, please just stop.”
You throw them to the floor as you rise.
And smile to yourself at their surprise
“You little ungrateful demon shits.
All I do, every year, all of this.”
“And what do i get? Some bubble bath.
A plastic bracelet. Don’t make me laugh.
Do you even care, just one jot?
Just some gratitude, it’s not a lot.”
You scoop all presents, up in the sheet
Silent shocked faces follow, meek
Down stairs outside and into the bin
Followed by petroleum, and a wild grin.
“Well now you’re done. Time to burn.”
Tear filled faces, silent and stern,
A match is dropped, a cloud of light
Melting hearts and home furnishings alike
At least that’s what you want to do
But you know that you couldn’t go through
instead you watch kids (and clock in between)
Flashing red forever 19, 19, 19...”