There's a little black angel
stuck in the liquor residue
at the bottom of my glass

I like to drink, a glass
is nice company, just
like family, Family

That little black angel is me
It's my good self, my love
stuck at the bottom

of your promises
that you couldn't keep
That rookie mistake

Promises you break
will break you
I know all about it

with the self-invented consolation
that a fallen angel
is still an angel

a man sits
at the bottom
of the steps
not blocking the path
but he cannot be missed
begging alms
from the myriad
who climb and descend
in droves
the cup he holds
is barely weighted
by the meagre amount
he has received
he patiently wishes goodwill
to all who pass
despite their lack of offerings
even though
the majority will ignore
purposefully averting their eyes
or apologetically decline
to part with
any lose change
instead saving their coins
to pay their entry
to marvel at
the gilded interior
of the church
whose teachings include
"love thy neighbour"

Goodwill to all
Men
Women
Children
Family
Neighbours
Those kids on the corner
Fellow commuters
That bloke
who takes my parking space
Workmates
My boss
Competing shoppers
Nodding acquaintances
The woman down the road
with the 6 dogs
Complete strangers I see each day
The family who just moved in
over the way
Refugees
wherever they are
whoever they are
whatever their origin
- to all human kind
Heaven-sent goodwill
and God's grace
to you all
by my hand
and by my voice
Raised in greeting
Raised in support
Raised in defence
All year round
and never tiring
- Merry Christmas.