Poem Of The Month: December 2012

HERE WE GO AGAIN

Here we go again

in the middle of it –

what?

That Christmas Thing:

Tsunami

starts mid-December

trying to remember

what I gave him/her

last year –

aliens queue in

supermarkets

up and down the towns, cities,

fields;

gathering nuts in May

for that one day.

Christmas Eve – forgotten

something, probably loads

of things:

Unexpected guests –

didn’t buy you a present,

didn’t think you’d be here;

didn’t send you a card,

didn’t get one from you

last year.

Have a Sherry,

sausage roll,

mince pie,

search for reindeer in the

sky, even though you’re old enough

to know better.

Speeds to its close,

as if Christmas Day knows, and

thinks:

I agree –

it’s bollocks for you

and bollocks for me. Load

up the car,

on our way,

M1, M4

join the others heading for

Christmas day and

all its barmy illusions,

delusions, promises –

oasis in the arid desert of the year:

Eat, drink, tear the wrappings

from gifts, love them

hate them, totally indifferent:

Oh thank you! My God how lovely!

Just what I’ve always hoped I wouldn’t want.

Mulled wine, turkey,

sprouts undercooked,

Christmas crackers

overlooked:

Knew I’d forget something.

TV on – Christmas Selection

tasteless, predictable, eat

more, fall on the floor,

filled glasses, mess

everywhere, and some anal misfit

gets the Hoover out.

Wave hits:

We didn’t see, didn’t know

that planet Earth was

celebrating Christmas too –

Boxing Day, wave spent, flood

recedes, water lies

like too many mince pies

in bloated bellies

and we float, powerless,

try to laugh at the

usual shows as another Christmas

flows into history.

More booze. Have a date, Quality Street,

(but not the purple ones) –

tangerine, and where

have you lot been?

(outside for a fag) – listening to

the smoky fog sound

of people having plastic fun

in the town, pubs, wine bars, streets,

private parties;

doing what we do in

an emergency:

Coming Together.

Time to clear up the mess,

get over it, move on,

rebuild,

new beginnings

for a nice shiny New Year:

New Year’s Day –

wake up, feel new,

feel changed (as though

life really has),

get up, plug in my computer,

wait for ages for Google to appear

and see what it says in my

HOROSCOPE:

I see, with a deep inner, almost

psychotic fear

that I’m lined up for another

amazing, groundbreaking, fabulous year.

I write this poem, metaphorically speaking

painfully aware, that so many are weeping

real tears.