Jingle bells,
Christmas smells.
The turkey's bubbling.
The skittish kids are bouncing off the walls all round the room.
The sugar rush is toxic.
Makes them buzz real quick.
The presence of Christmas and Christmas presents.
Tidily stacked under the tree.
For a minute or three.

Mum is flapping passion.
More than the once flapping turkey's wings ever could.
Dad he's supping from his can.
It's Christmas time and he's a man.
Gets away with ******.
Every year he always does.
He sits there getting pickled.
While mum fights with the oven gloves.

With bloated face and rosy cheeks he screamed at her.
"Hurry up, I'm hungry."
You would think he hadn't eaten for weeks.
Sanctimonious twerp.

Mother beautifully dished up dinner for her brood of starving youth.
Instead of dishing the same up for dad, she dished up something really bad.
Slices of turkey covered in gravy.
Designed to burst his pompous bubble.
Enough's enough she thought to herself
Traces of spicy gravy, covered his designer stubble.
Half a tub of chilli powder had laced the gravy on his plate.
Cooked to absolute perfection.
Obviously, to enhance the wonderful flavour.
And mum said, " it's a new recipe, I fetched it from a magazine".
Something only mama knew.
The children enjoyed their Christmas dinner.
Mum chuckled to herself after scoring a winner.
And dad did the dishes with his fiery tail firmly stuck between his legs
(C) Livvi

here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty