Christmas Eve
Starless Trees Spike Their Shadows
Across A Pool Of Dead Insects,
Their Christ-Head Trunks Mass
Like A Gang Of Dumb Assassins.

Lurking To Smash Any Trace Of Magic –
They Will Find The Cauldron Dry, Should They Swoop.
Winter Breaks England, My Heart Smothered In A Hat And Scarf Is There,
My Head Is Here -— Boiled In An Oven.
There Are Hawks For Company -— Bigger Than Turkeys Some,
Maybe I-‘ll Catch One And Tomorrow, Cook It With My Head.
The Fountain Is A Drill Of Loneliness
It Spurts And Is Swallowed Up. The Lake Means Nothing To It.
An Empty Plate Awaits St. Nick
Not Even A Chimney To Sweep Down, Or A Stocking To Fill.
This Night Nothing Stirs, Once Twas A Night -— Now Is Just Another Night.
A Silver Chocolate Penny Crossed Like A Celtic Headstone Lights Eve,
Wait! I Can See Eight Reindeer Ride Across Her Face!
Ha! Good Ol-‘ John Barleycorn!
Christmas Morning
He Hasn-‘t Been-Â… He Hasn-‘t Been-Â…
St. Nick, Where The Hell Are You?
Did You Get Lost?
Did You Collide With Some Of Your Elves?
Or Get Held Up In The Sky By A Tailback Of Shooting Stars?
Or Is It Because There-‘s No Snow Here? I-‘m Sure That Must Be It!
I Know You Would Not Have Just Gone And Forgotten Me-Â… Or Missed Me Out
I Mean, I-‘ve Been Good This Year-Â…
It-‘s Ok Though Mr Claus -— I Can Open My Stomach. There-‘s A Cleaver In The Kitchen-Â…
I-‘m Joking -— There Isn-‘t A Cleaver-Â…
Anyway, I Have U-571 To Watch-Â…
-Â…and East 17 On The Radio-Â…
I Am The Luckiest Man Alive! I May Stay Another Day!
So Don-‘t Feel Bad-Â… What More Could A Person Want?
No-Â…you Must Have Hidden My Present-Â… That-‘s The Only Explanation-Â…
-Â… Nothing In The Drugs Cupboard-Â… Or The Knife Draw-Â…
Lots Of Razors In The Bathroom Cabinet But Nothing That Looks Like A Present-Â…
Nothing Along The Fifteen Foot Roof Beams-Â… Anything In That Oven-Â…?
No-Â… No No No!
You Murderer Dressed In Red, Which Was Once Green Anyway-Â…, Your Ruddy Complexion, You Alcoholic-Â…
Hold On-Â… What-‘s This?
Oh-Â… Just My Copy Of The Goddam Catcher In The Rye-Â…
I-‘d Forgotten I-‘d Hauled It-Â…
Plus A Book About Barthes And Todorov-Â…
I Can Kill Somebody Famous Then Justify It With Semiotics-Â…
-Â…you Liar With Your Sack Of Death, You Spiteful Hermit With Only Beasts To Keep You Warm-Â… And That Lapland Ice-Shop You Keep-Â…
-Â…so Many Names You Have Father-Â… Chriskindl, Babbo Natale, Papa Noel, Jultomten, Sinter Klaas, Pere Noel
Santa Claus-Â… You Bastard, We-‘re Through!
Christmas Night
Silent Night
Silent Night
Silent Night
Is There Something To Be Said For Solitude At Christmas?
Across The Lake I Heard A Family Quarrel About Broken Toys And Overdone Ham,
I Spoke To Three Friends About Their Rows, Arguments And Tears-Â…
Their Eastender Bawling -— They Should Love Its Common Maul.
The Silver Penny Is Lopsided And Teary,
An Unselected Chocolate Left In The Coffin Box.
There Is Nothing New To Look At.
No Wrapping-Paper Filled Bag.
No Left-Over Dinner For The Craw.
No Hugs Of Love And Goodnight Kisses.