When I walk by, do you feel the tension in the air?
Do you notice that I'm even there?
I'm waiting for you to notice me.
I'm watching whilst you go day by day oblivious of my stare.
I walk so close you must feel my breath
Hear my steps
Smell my scent
Feel my need to be by your side.
And, yet I'm continually denied my presence by you.
Others notice, they look at me, through me.
They ignore me.
The woman in the grey shroud, blending in with the crowd.
Soon, this shroud will lie in tatters, and all who matter will know
How enticed by your paradise I paid the price
Seeds sown, Ploughed and rooted
The child within was muted
Know how you denied me twice and left us to die, sliced.

As we start this solemn slalom towards a day that ends engorged,
with stomachs bloated whilst we gloated and toasted a perfect day,
let us remember that December has more days than the 25th.

Mass consumerism has voided homemade, love made gifts.
Orange? In a stocking? That is shocking,
the kid asked for an X-box bundle.

Now, I'm not from the distant past, just the 1970's/80's
Where Christmas carols played alongside a Wham's 'last Christmas'
as we ate our immense repast and pulled a sad ******* or two.

Now, gifts are tiny (but show immense expense)
Most perplexing is this new time of year that Kris Kringle
Would undoubtedly mingle slamming a tequila or two!

Now, kitted out in new underwear
(Ironically cherubic rhymes with *****!)
it's time to offer salutations to the incoming year
with no backward glance or hindrance
We say "Happy New Year"

T'is that time of year when everybody spends,
pretends to the world that peace is reigning,
winning, lying, buying, crying.

See the mother crying at night deep in the dark,
her heart aching, breaking that love is not enough.
Love cannot be placed under a tree.

Credit wins, common sense loses.
For what? tinsel and a turkey?
Baubles and gifts exchanged in the sales.

Garish lights, plastic trees,
fights in the aisles for the must have items
Belief, understanding all transferred to the neon God.

Advent calendars lie. Instead of chocolate or a gift,
let's open that cardboard door and see the rift
this season brings.

On the 1st day of Christmas a bailiff came to me
repossessed last years gifts and left
the plastic tree.

Little donkey, little donkey
little cheer, little joy,
little donkey can kiss my ***.

Jingle bells, jingle bells
jingle all the way......to depression
oh what fun it is have with discount *****

Poor vs Rich, Belief against Belief
the homeless, the food-banks, suicide
hunger, fear, nothing a man in a beard can save.

We are all dead.
We are born with one goal: to die.
Waiting to cease completely.
Remember to turn off the light.
Try to go peacefully.
Make sure they spell your name right.
We, none of us get out of this try as we might.

Hello my comfort through dark
Episodes,through depression and
Loathing, I've missed your solace, your
Loquacious eloquence.
Opining my misery

Profuse prose poetry attempting to heal
Open wounds,
Emitting sorrow and loneliness
Take me back as an errant lover, the lost and
Raving raven of old and,
Y**ore, tell me repeatedly, that nevermore will we part.

Oscillating timekeeper ticks and tocs.
Pendulous seconds bumping time forward on the face of a clock.
Father Time, that Patriarchal chronometer
that martyr, master, commander and observer.
Watch the clock, it's moved forward, did you notice time moving?
Father Time so old, and bearded, a scythe by his side waiting to cull.
Waiting is dull.
Time is a lull, a lullaby before you die.
Cronus never steps back, always marches forwards
and we the human race, suspended in time, and space
watch the clock, wishing more time away with regret,
whilst watching the clocks face.