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Sa Sa Ra Dec 2012
I really like Christmas
It's sentimental, I know, but I just really like it
I am hardly religious
I'd rather break bread with Dawkins than Desmond Tutu, to be honest

And yes, I have all of the usual objections
To consumerism, the commercialisation of an ancient religion
To the westernisation of a dead Palestinian
Press-ganged into selling Playstations and beer
But I still really like it

I'm looking forward to Christmas
Though I'm not expecting a visit from Jesus

I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun
I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun

I don't go in for ancient wisdom
I don't believe just 'cos ideas are tenacious it means they are worthy
I get freaked out by churches
Some of the hymns that they sing have nice chords but the lyrics are dodgy

And yes I have all of the usual objections
To the miseducation of children who, in tax-exempt institutions,
Are taught to externalise blame
And to feel ashamed and to judge things as plain right and wrong
But I quite like the songs

I'm not expecting big presents
The old combination of socks, jocks and chocolate is just fine by me

Cos I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun
I'll be seeing my dad
My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum
They'll be drinking white wine in the sun

And you, my baby girl
My jetlagged infant daughter

You'll be handed round the room
Like a puppy at a primary school

And you won't understand
But you will learn someday

That wherever you are and whatever you face

These are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world
My sweet blue-eyed girl

And if, my baby girl
When you're twenty-one or thirty-one

And Christmas comes around
And you find yourself nine thousand miles from home
You'll know what ever comes

Your brother and sisters and me and your Mum
Will be waiting for you in the sun

Whenever you come
Your brothers and sisters, your aunts and your uncles
Your grandparents, cousins and me and your mum

We'll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun

Darling, when Christmas comes
We'll be waiting for you in the sun
Drinking white wine in the sun

Waiting for you in the sun
Waiting for you...
Waiting...

I really like Christmas
It's sentimental, I know...
Tim Minchin
White Wine In The Sun lyrics
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fCNvZqpa-7Q
Phil B Jul 2017
Talk - it's cheap and full of sheep.
Air moving, mouthing, making
words to distract and bamboozle,
meaning is used to confuse you.

Colour - superfluous and intangent.
It divides just as much / as it unifies,
the masses and controls our thoughts,
trick of the light, a tailored emotion.

Taste - individuality in isolation.
Eating. Engulfing, endlessly entropic.
Consumers call connoisseurs canon,
Sordid selfish sense, seldom shared.
I read an interesting thought piece written by an author, and it really did get me thinking about how, special moments, experiences and sensations are commercialised by Hollywood and the marketing industry, and how we respond to it over time as we are increasingly exposed to it.
SassyJ Dec 2016
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urggg yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
the songs are like a clogged bell
streaming depressive used sounds
Hymns of abused commercialisation
As an excuse of mixed celebrations

Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urggg yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
you remain dead for long time ago
when my heart changed into stone
and my dance a faded fortification
in opened doors of the unreached

Christmas, Christmas,Christmas
Urggg yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
a season where enemies embrace
with a tint of lost meshed generosity
That flavoured distasteful laughter
Coated with silvery decorations

Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urggg, yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
a shaw of the dying tower blocks
Overlooking hunger and troubled war
that height of starry driven nights
Casting shadows to the chilled earth

Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Urgg, yrgggg yrgggg urggg,
The trees are felled to make cards
with anthems of a failed system
the tide of the recycled messages
of happy tidings, fill the bellies ehhh
For those who question the commercialisation and falsity of Christmas. Thankful for the time off....
Julian Delia  Apr 2018
Us vs them
Julian Delia Apr 2018
A mentality
Permanently ingrained, a lack of impartiality
A mentality of one tribe, one leader
Conquerors of all
Watching one denomination rise
As the others fall.

We see this
In our daily lives;
Competition is our focus.
The locus
Of our society
Is the proliferation of one
At the behest of many –
The most popular,
The most fashionable,
The most sought after,
The best of the best.

This ideology
Is a narrow, winding road
Fraught with many perils –
For example, in our education,
There is this infatuation
With the pressure cooker environment.
This toxic affinity
Of the extension into infinity
Of one’s mental ossification
Of the mind’s degradation
As it is appraised
By a system that is based
On the standardised quantification
Of the truthfully divine abilities
Of the human mind.

A system designed to create drones.
It’s basically a free-for-all;
A few get to be called the best
Whilst the rest
Fall through the cracks.
Those who struggle
Are risking getting marginalised
Or at least, probably penalised –
The letter ‘F’ blankly stares back at you,
Its power to grade one’s mental capacity
Wielded like Aaron’s Rod
Borne by those who receive it like the Mark of Cain.

The us vs them attitude
Arises from this system
A point of interest on the same latitude.
We built a world
That conditions in us
Not a spirit of co-operation
But one of aspiring to *******
The prioritisation
Of one person or group deemed fit to rule over all;
Be it a sport, or a work of art
A theory, a criticism,
Or a measurement of the schism
Between one political party and another
It does not matter –
If there is an issue, people will be divided.
Those of us who think outside these parameters
Those who dare look for intelligent, fruitful discussion
Are destined to a life of being given the side-eye
A social concussion.

Why must we compete?
Why is our life replete
Not with community spirit and a betterment of humanity
But with iron-****** regulation
And an inability to concede?
Why must we divide our resources
Not fairly and justly for all
But like a fire that scorches
Consuming all it finds
With no thought for the morrow?

Imagine
7 billion human beings
Not only co-existing
But actively seeking
To be smarter,
To consume less, to work harder
Not on commercialisation or profit
But on travelling farther
In the realm of human creativity,
On sustainable ingenuity
And the wiser administration
Of a planet we inherited.
Always, incessantly
We adhere to our tribe’s superstitions;
Our decisions
Are not exclusively ours
But a result of countless hours
Of indoctrination, of believing in entities
Not morals or principles – in our identities,
We conceive of ourselves as vessels that are imbued with what we consume,
Not with what we are actually made of.

How about
Instead of being sealed off from each other
We realise that it shouldn’t be us vs them
But us vs us –
A moment of introspection
A brutally honest intervention
To give ourselves time to realise
That mindfulness is an exercise
All of us should engage in.

It is easy to exist
Within the frameworks that are provided to us;
The ‘us vs them’ mentality
Is like sandpaper to one’s individuality.
We trim and edit our personality
To fit our group’s motifs.
It is much more difficult
To realise that nobody is going to fight for us
Except for ourselves
And that this fight
Needs to start from within.
All we need to do
Is learn how to say ‘No,
I will not be a part of this –
I will not be a serf to the kings and queens
Who blind your eyes, and steal your dreams.’
WAKE UP.
Nigdaw  Jun 2019
Punk
Nigdaw Jun 2019
It had an unbridled joy
Screaming guitars, weeping
As the current flowed through
Pickups, feedback and tremolo
Arm distortion, a cacophony of
Chords, played by would be
Rock stars, accompanied by
Thundering drums and a base
Turned up to number eleven,

It wasn't about the music, it
Was about the noise, the energy
Generated by hundreds of sweaty
Bodies out for blood, out with
The boys, nothing pleasant here
An outpouring of emotion, beyond
The pale, it exists in us all, but
Only some could tap the source, for
A chance to be a three minute hero.

Commercialisation won in the end
Bringing the ugly monster to its
Knees begging for fortune, craving
More fame, as soon as the track was
Recorded punk died on a mixing desk,
Some kept a little kudos, pretending
Not to play the game, some died trying
To be an eternal flame, some are there
Still, banging out the good old days.
Julie Grenness Dec 2016
What's your opinion,
All you Santa's little minion,
Is commercialisation a treason,
When this is the holy season,
And Jesus is the reason for the season........
Feedback welcome.

— The End —