My anti-consumerism poem which is just right for this time of year

 

Dripping souls festoon each bough

And rafters gleam with blood and slime.

The vast halls echo with dreams unsung

And stories never told.

Tis the time of peace on earth

Tho dust and dark descend.

No sun, no star, no guiding light,

No babe, no hope, no joy.

The gates of doom will yet unfurl

As night and day collide.

Dark ones wrapped in cloaks of light

Fly swift between the worlds.

They reap the souls from mortal men.

To bring them home to Him.

He sprawls upon his jewelled throne,

To await his gifts galore;

Encrusted with be-jewelled hearts

And entwined with weeping souls.

Upon this throne He proudly waits

As his bloody booty does come home.

He’ll raise his glass to one and all

And wish you merry cheer

Then down your blood in one fell swoop

And devour another soul.

Its party night in Underworld

The invites are on their way.

Come swathed in black,

Come drip with fear,

Please come and dine with Him.

But leave your soul hung by the door

As there’s much fun to explore.

You gaze around the bedecked halls

At souls so brightly hung.

Purged of bodies now disposed,

It could be you, it may be you.

You sing the tuneless song.

The song of man, the song of peace,

The song of joy on earth.

The song of death, the song of war,

Ah now – the fiddler knows the tune!

You dance with glee,

You dance with joy,

The piper joins the throng.

Round and round and in and out,

Night to day and right to wrong

Tis the season to be jolly,

You weave the merry song.

The song of man, the song of peace,

The song of joy on earth.

So deck the hall with dripping souls

“Trala lala la lala la la!”

 

underworld

 

Written Yule 2007

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Dec 2016

 

 

 

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