"humbug" poems
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
one more for Joni and the one who accuses me of
"owning the courage to care so blatantly."
<:>
accused of writing with blatant courage,
a 4 credit requirement for caring
blatant is a word of merger -
open obvious unsubtle and unashamed
and a dissembling misleading one!
it is all of these and yet can be a contradictory mask of
opposing, differing faces
my blatant is none of these
but appearance only
**** muses keep me coming back
to a particular lyric,
keeps seeking me out, so successfully, wherever I go,
I hear it
it’s invading my both sides now
the dizzy dancing way you feel
you think I have my own blatant courage, untrue!
so oft you mistook my dizzy dancing,
all fluff all humbug so obvious so ashamed,
a cover up, a most subtle cosmetic pretense of the truth -
of
no courage at all
and yet (they mock)
you do care...
just another of my peculiar
life’s illusions
(self-delusions)
I really don’t have blatant courage at all
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
Lays of Mystery,
Imagination, and Humor
Number 1
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls,
And each damp thing that creeps and crawls
Went wobble-wobble on the walls.
Faint odours of departed cheese,
Blown on the dank, unwholesome breeze,
Awoke the never ending sneeze.
Strange pictures decked the arras drear,
Strange characters of woe and fear,
The humbugs of the social sphere.
One showed a vain and noisy ****
That shouted empty words and big
At him that nodded in a wig.
And one, a dotard grim and gray,
Who wasteth childhood's happy day
In work more profitless than play.
Whose icy breast no pity warms,
Whose little victims sit in swarms,
And slowly sob on lower forms.
And one, a green thyme-honoured Bank,
Where flowers are growing wild and rank,
Like weeds that fringe a poisoned tank.
All birds of evil omen there
Flood with rich Notes the tainted air,
The witless wanderer to snare.
The fatal Notes neglected fall,
No creature heeds the treacherous call,
For all those goodly Strawn Baits Pall.
The wandering phantom broke and fled,
Straightway I saw within my head
A vision of a ghostly bed,
Where lay two worn decrepit men,
The fictions of a lawyer's pen,
Who never more might breathe again.
The serving-man of Richard Roe
Wept, inarticulate with woe:
She wept, that waiting on John Doe.
"Oh rouse", I urged, "the waning sense
With tales of tangled evidence,
Of suit, demurrer, and defence."
"Vain", she replied, "such mockeries:
For morbid fancies, such as these,
No suits can suit, no plea can please."
And bending o'er that man of straw,
She cried in grief and sudden awe,
Not inappropriately, "Law!"
The well-remembered voice he knew,
He smiled, he faintly muttered "Sue!"
(Her very name was legal too.)
The night was fled, the dawn was nigh:
A hurricane went raving by,
And swept the Vision from mine eye.
Vanished that dim and ghostly bed,
(The hangings, tape; the tape was red happy
'Tis o'er, and Doe and Roe are dead!
Oh, yet my spirit inly crawls,
What time it shudderingly recalls
That horrid dream of marble halls!
5.5k
I cannot feel the love thats there
My Christmas failed
Bleak ended
All is fair
No sherry cheer or party grape
It's all inside
The dreaded
Hate
The songs I love now rattle hard
Slam the silence
Breath out
Loud
The sheep I shout
No more to care
You hear me now
Scrooge
I am
“Bah," said Scrooge, "Humbug.”
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
five years ago, June 2018,
I, poet Sir Humbug,
wrote:that the job of the artist was to be
luminous and dangerous
<>
*the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous
luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves
when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised
and so the job,
our work,
begins*
<>
five years on,
somethings have changed,
indeed, the dangers of
being luminous,
clarifying and exposing,
the requisite badge of courage,
need-be more desperately earned
the work is more risky,
as the rules of now are none,
and the risk of good taste,
thoughtful caring,
exposing you innards outwardly,
so easy to demean
and sadly
that titillates the iliterati
like a fire-working fireflies flashing,
their in-concert of ligh attracts the
oohs and aahs
but too,
the restless for glory,
opinionated blowhard,
whose critical boundaries of ill will
are
boundless
yet,
write on, right on
to be where courage be the
sticking point!
your verbs must be pointy,
your direction true,
adjectives of modest innovation,
craft harder, then harder again,
for the work must be honest
in a manner most delicate
now is the time of
subtlety -
if one must bang pots to be heard,
that you to are but a noisemaker, a loser,
an addition to those
lost in the din
quiet passion,
thoughtful insight
to inside, to the tender parts,
will rule the day
and the blow smokers
will rue the day,
as their pretenses chafe and flail wayside,
and your words,
be like sightings of new lands
where you take us utterly beholden,
willing explorers to places most wonderfully
luminous and dangerous!
Jul 10, 2023
Jul 10, 2023 at 11:25 PM UTC
A Bizarre Czar
You can call me the Grinch,
stealing Christmas was such a cinch.
Went to Whoville, and stole the toys,
crying was all the little girls and boys.
You can call me Ebenezer Scrooge,
my bank account and ***** is very huge.
Bah humbug to all you poor people,
if you only could see the size of my steeple.
I am mean, I am vicious,
unlike you I'm very ambitious.
I'll take your home, I'll take your car,
make your payments or I'll leave a scar.
Some call me the new ******
but I'm stronger and much bigger.
I love to see chaos and destruction,
pretty soon, I wont need an introduction.
I'm a genius, who is insane,
I cause suffering, I cause pain.
All of you, are so far beneath,
too rule the world is my belief.
I rule the north, I rule the south,
don't you dare open your mouth.
I rule the west, I rule the east,
I used to be a catholic priest.
Before I take over this pathetic world,
a thousand pounds I once curled.
Don't you dare give me a reason,
especially during the baseball season.
Before I take everyone as my prisoner,
I need your consent with a signature.
Be prepared to be my slave,
I have become the latest rave.
People follow just like fools,
I take their money and their jewels.
I'm the leader of a new cult,
death to you all will be the result.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 2:09 PM UTC
She wore bright glossy
Humbug tights.
Aw ****
the way she smoked
her Marlboro Lights
was pornographic.
She flicked her smoke rings
at the traffic
and was blown to bits by
cheap hairspray.
(Considering my love of Jean Genet,
I told her ‘you make sense this way.’
She smiled and clicked
a ****** heel.
‘Holy **** How real you feel!’
Not that I have points of reference.)
Stop confusing my ******* preference
with La-La-Lola Soho Kink.
Your lips are painted ***** pink
and you wrap them round
your glass and down
your Lambrini-Girls Pre-Party
drink.
(I want you against my kitchen sink!)
And naked -
How you overplayed it!
I think you were a bit
afraid
of both your halves,
your masquerade,
your matching scars.
(What did mermaids do to
all their sailors
struck by stars?)
You’re a crazy fusion,
Top-heavy wonder.
You’re a woman, my dear -
and you pulled me under.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 9:32 AM UTC
I hate this time of year.
Everyone's always singing
stupid christmas songs
and wearing even stupider sweaters.
People say 'bah humbug',
I say **** it*.
I hate the cold and snow.
The getting totally twisted off of disgusting eggnog
and falling into bed with your best friend
only to regret it in the morning.
I hate that everyone's so giggly and rosy cheeked.
The old men in the malls posing as the
overweight **** that watches us all while we're sleeping.
I hate the gaudy wrapping
paper hiding pointless gifts
no one really needs.
And the people who're usually ********
kissing up to get something good.
I hate how lovey-dovey everyone is,
holding hands and snuggling in public places.
And how everyone has someone to kiss
when the ball drops on New Years.
Everyone but me.
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
The *** with match, lit the fire
scolding kettle with burnt goaless ambition.
claiming snobbish golden prowess
paid in wanton , savage, screaming tuition.
"It is I" said ***
"Who has sent aromas of worlds
preperations in lifes gluttonous lust
smiling rewards genorously hailed
with slothed culanary trust..."
"tis true" whispered kettle
"It is I, the ***
forged in iron clad
who in laborious toil
so generously cast my sweet savory scraps
amongst your soot and soil..."
"tis true" hissed kettle,
"For I, the ***
adapt in multiple arrangement
of compliment and comfort where you lack
with singular solitary function
wailing, seared and scarred in black..."
"Tis true" whistled kettle
"I, the ***
filled in glorious substance and magnificant sustenance
praised in lifes delicate, vital, victuals and viands
in with which I do enhance..."
"Tis true" howled kettle
"Yet it is I, Kettle,
in further fashion of design
than copious function in fare
do not heed your song and dance..."
"Blah" clammered ***
"For it is I, the lowly kettle,
sing to each melodious morning
to begin the days
unknown magical soaring..."
"Pishaw" growled ***
"It is I, kettle,
bestowed in somber, modest truth of fact
nakedly express that
you too, my dear ***
are simply black..."
"humbug" steamed ***
*** humbled... kettle mumbled...
"It is in each honorable day
we serve our distinguishable stay
in detectable unadorned identicle way.
"Tis true" said ***
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 3:27 AM UTC
On This Christmas Day With Trump
There's an odd Santa Claus
In the air
Riding and laughing
Atop Trump's hair
Even through the fluff
Blinded by the glare
Reindeer pulling gifts of prayer
Through the roots they go
Low lights here and there
Laughing in despair
** what sadness it is to stare
On a one,
****
White Horse open
Night mare
** ** **
Ploop
Open open mouths a sneer
Tounges at war appear
Whispers everywhere
Laughing in despair
Hats off
We spare
To the red suited fare
Abound
And confound
To Trump's
Wishy washy care
Waiting in repair
** ** **
Santa,
My good man,
We have clause
To tear
You're in a mess
To bare
For humbug in Trump
So held in arrear
We're crying in despair
Logan Robertson
12/06/2018
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC
You need a porcelain mixing bowl and a wooden stirring spoon
a cup and a measuring jug.
Add one teaspoon of ripe inconsequentiality.
then add two teaspoons of innate stupidity.
Pour in one cupfull of political lack of integrity
preferably nurtured in hot smelly air.
Add 4 cupsfull of facile celebrity chatter,
preferably with the volume turned down..
Add 2 cupsfull of shallow religious nonsense
full of obsequious morality.
Add 2 cupsfull of vain "god" chatter
and sacrificial demands.
Pour in 1/4 cup of nonsensical "goddess" humbug
and fatuous posturing.
Sift untold millions of youthfull soldiers dried
and powdered bones until finely ground in the crucible
of never ending wars.
Take up the wooden spoon of societal hypocracy
and stir slowly with gossipy backstabbing.
When all these ingredients are blended as smoothly as a shaven young girls **** put to one side covered with a bloodstained cloth for a millennia to rise to the occasion.
Back in an hour
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 12:40 AM UTC
Merry Christmas, the voice greets me
humbug I mutter under breath
greed hatred jealousy
only things you live with.
Keep to yourself your mirth
I sullenly brood
such lies are too heavy for this earth
done this place no good.
Relations under cloud of doubt
each soul bears a grievous injury
merriment had long gone out
the greet is just empty.
It's a pity you still find it merry
with all the injustice inequity
men classified quartered
children for food bartered.
Merry doesn't the word stink
while some choose what to drink
fuss about the flavor to savor
many reach it by miles' labor.
Merry can't hide away the glum
of human habitats in dingy slums
strewn on pavements under open sky
breathing refuses left to die.
Still, Merry Christmas to you, says the voice
the time is to give and rejoice
the world though truly is what you say
haven’t You, I, We, made it that way?
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 9:45 AM UTC
Here
Is a timely
Noun to consider
From the Merriam-Webster page.
"Trumpery."
Note (at bottom) the list of near-antonyms;
what is the opposite of trumpery?
[Popularity: Bottom 40% of words]
trumpery
noun trum·pery \ˈtrəm-p(ə-)rē\
Definition of trumpery
1
a : worthless nonsense b : trivial or useless articles : junk <a wagon loaded with household trumpery — Washington Irving>
2
archaic : ****** finery
Origin of trumpery
Middle English (Scots) trompery deceit, from Middle French, from tromper to deceive
First Known Use: 15th century
Examples of trumpery
<claims for weight-loss products that are based much more on Madison-Avenue trumpery than on bariatric science>
Related to trumpery
Synonyms
applesauce [slang], balderdash, baloney (also boloney), beans, bilge, blah (also blah-blah), blarney, blather, blatherskite, blither, bosh, bull [slang], bunk, bunkum (or ******** claptrap, codswallop [British], crapola [slang], crock, drivel, drool, fiddle, fiddle-faddle, fiddlesticks, flannel [British], flapdoodle, folderol (also falderal), folly, foolishness, fudge, garbage, guff, hogwash, hokeypokey, hokum, hoodoo, hooey, horsefeathers [slang], humbug, humbuggery, jazz, malarkey (also malarky), moonshine, muck, nerts [slang], nuts, piffle, poppycock, punk, rot, ******* senselessness, silliness, slush, stupidity, taradiddle (or tarradiddle), tommyrot, tosh, trash, nonsense, twaddle
Related Words
absurdity, asininity, fatuity, foolery, idiocy, imbecility, inaneness, inanity, insanity, kookiness, lunacy; absurdness, craziness, madness, senselessness, witlessness; hoity-toity, monkey business, monkeyshine(s), shenanigan(s), tomfoolery; gas, hot air, rigmarole (also rigamarole); double-talk, greek, hocus-pocus
Near Antonyms
levelheadedness, rationality, reasonability, reasonableness, sensibleness; common sense, horse sense, sense; discernment, judgment (or judgement), wisdom
By: Robinson Bolkum
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Stare the stare and the glaze is near, move the root and the weight is there - Kiss, don’t tell and it’s all going swell - You’re flaming heart is always a dare, I punish you by giving the stare.
I move into you with full brutal force, I close up when you say it’s been hours of talk. I need to feel satisfied before I think, you don’t even mean what you just did.
By giving me all the attention I seek, you always know how to speak. You learn and you go, and you travel to learn again - But this time I mean it - It was just not mentioned then.
I see you when I speak, I tolerate your thoughts. I adore the humbug you make out of nothing. Thank you for knowing me better than yourself, this is the real stare I meant to fit with that glaze.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 3:58 PM UTC
How can we stand
Upon a regulation of fraud
Under the humbug that they've brought?
How can we uphold
Upon a tree of partisan
Onto the product of corruption?
How can you be sure
Upon a protest of desolation
Won't exist at the end of endurance?
How can you be sure
Upon a traitorous of dissatisfied
Won't happen underneath the self-evident of consumption?
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 4:03 PM UTC
That's
Nonsense!
That's
beans!
babble!
bunkum!
bogus!
baloney!
blither!
blather!
blah blah!
********
balderdash!
blarney!
********
That's
crapola!
claptrap!
codswallop!
That's
drivel!
That's
fiddlesticks!
flapdoodle!
frippery!
folderol!
That's
guff
garbage
gibberish!
gobbledygook!
That's
horse hockey!
hocus-pocus!
hokum!
hogwash!
humbug!
hooey!
humdrum!
That's
jibber-jabber!
jive!
jazz!
That's
malarkey!
mumbo-jumbo!
monkeyshines!
That's
Nuts!
That's
poppycock!
piffle!
prattle!
That, sir, is
******* and
RIGMAROLE!
That's
trash
tripe
and
twaddle
That, sir, is
NONSENSE!
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
read me literal, dear reader
please - for I never transcend
beyond the obvious
I am in the physical, embodied and whole
and so cannot go into things figurative
or metaphorical,
satirical, persona-cast, parodic or symbolic
*Irony, I've always known, is some contraption
wrought by an ironsmith*
and so to me, dear reader
"He's got the whole world in his hands"
is a ridiculous proposition, makes no sense;
and Isaac Newton was obviously
suffering from concussion
from the literal apple
that hit him hard on his head
when he extemporised:
*"If I have seen further it is
by standing on the shoulders of giants."*
Bah! Humbug! - a scientist and you believe in giants!
Come on Newton - you're nuts! Stick to apples!
read me literal, dear reader -
so when I say my wife is an angel
I mean she's dead and she floats around me
making ****** sure I don't get hitched again
till I too become an angel, or fiend,
however it may come to pass;
and the guy who tells me: "Nice day, isn't it"
when it's raining cats and dogs
is obviously some crazy *******
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
Baa Humbug to the world this day
Its stupid time of year
See madness in the peoples eyes
All rushing face the fear
So what its Christmas soon I say
Baa Humbug to you all
Your mad and crazy for the trick
It almost makes me crawl
Yes Santa go and swing ya pants
And stuff ya stupid tree
Pine needles still in June my ***
They hurt my lickl'e feet
A present yeah some socks a pair
Oh thanks I'm really chuffed ..
Sent smelly stuff from who I care
Yes great I smell of farts
I look like I'm all bothered
I really want all this
Cant do with all the hassle
With my cookings crap as hell
Baa Humbug to this time of year
I hate it all the time
When Reli's turn up Christmas cheer
And drink all of me wine
Sod the fact that that's all gone
Won't see them for a year
So Santa sling ya hook again
go find some others pies
Cos mine are staying right in here
..................................
Baa Humbug be the time
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:52 AM UTC
Merry Christmas to all who know
What it's like for Santa not to show
He dropped in on the neighbors
Brought the greedy rich kids favors
I'd like to tell that elf where to go
Merry Christmas to all who live
With a family two ***** they can't give
And to those who have no one
It's really tough for festive family fun
Instead of cheer you get a shiv
Merry Christmas to all who sin
Because you don't pay a religion
Gifts are still nice to give and receive
Even if in Christ you don't believe
The cash register is where it all begins
Merry Christmas to all who ****
About you, I don't give a .....
You can choke on your gifts and die
You cheat, still, spit, and lie
Anything for a lousy, greedy buck
Merry Christmas to all who hear
This and scorn my humbug jeer
You know you'd may feel this way too
If friends and Santa forgot about you
Would you join me in a cup of cheer?
Please.....
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
I have lost it
That wonder that seasons bring
The merriment of Santa hats and childish elven ears
Jack knifing into the harder edge of happy
Where humor lies in irony
And frosts numb the grinching bitter pill that is my
Reality
The sleigh bells ringing
The Christmas story pinching pennies
Across the retail maw that is a nation
I tend to feel like that man haunted by the ghosts of Christmas past
Where I felt cherished as a child does when they know they are loved
Not used like meat flesh to thwart the hungry mob of customers
Whom think me less human
For working a dead job
But even I whom spits in the face of too sweet liars
Could not help but smile
When bright eyed children
Gaze in awe
That fat red man and silver beard
This old gaffer could not help but cheer
When little girls get earrings for the first time
And boys conquer driveways with plastic tires
And even more
For I know that despite my humbug
And all my ****** off jeers
He will open that door
And I like a child will stare in awe
When my love comes home for Christmas
The one thing I have wanted
Maybe I had been good after all!
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
Merry Christmas, the voice greets me
humbug I mutter under breath
greed hatred jealousy
only things you live with.
Keep to yourself your mirth
I sullenly brood
*such lies are too heavy for this earth
done this place no good.*
Relations under cloud of doubt
each soul bears a grievous injury
merriment had long gone out
the greet is just empty.
It's a pity you still find it merry
with all the injustice inequity
man classified quartered
children for food bartered.
Merry doesn't the word stink
while some choose what to drink
fuss about the flavor to savor
many reach it by thirsty miles' labor.
Merry can't hide away the glum
of human habitats in dingy slums
strewn on pavements under open sky
breathing refuses left to rot and die.
Still, Merry Christmas to you, says the voice
*the time is to give and rejoice
the world though is truly what you say
You, I, We, have made it that way.*
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
The Church in its awesome majesty
Looked down, from over the hill,
From faith, to hope, to travesty
It stood, and is standing still,
So proud in its fine regalia
Its ritual, and never the least,
Its potent God who would wield his rod
Deter the jaws of the beast.
The Bishop of Saint Ignatius Church
Was a proud and holy man,
Who wouldn’t suffer the jibes of fools
From Rome to Afghanistan,
And certainly not those down the hill
In the new Masonic Lodge,
That beastly, secret doctrine that
He advised his flock to dodge.
He’d stand at the steps of his church and stare
Down at the barbarians,
He hated Lodges, he hated Mosques
And Rastafarians,
‘There shouldn’t be anyone else but me,
I hold the eternal God,
What gods they worship could never be,
For they’re all distinctly odd.’
While down at the Lodge of the Masons
They were cool with their golden rule,
They had to believe in a god as such,
But how, it was up to you.
For some would practice the Baptist faith,
And some Presbyterian,
While some enrolled in the Primitive state
Were a type of Wesleyan.
There was only a single Catholic
And he wore a glued on rug,
He wanted to still be young at heart,
Was known as the Grand HumBug,
The Antidiluvian Mason’s Guild
Was the name he’d chosen himself,
The others differed, but he was keen,
And he was the one with wealth.
Their God was known as the Architect,
They carried the masons tools,
The set square set them apart from all
The disbelievers and fools.
They worked on their secret rituals
And kept a goat at the back,
For leading a blindfold novice in
And guarding the Lodge from attack.
The Bishop heard that a Catholic
Was leading the Masons there,
He fumed, choked on his rhetoric, but
Was heard to firmly declare,
‘I will not shelter a wayward sheep
Who has taken to ways I hate,
The only fate for a traitor here
Is to excommunicate!’
He gathered a dozen priests to march
With candles, down to the Hall,
Surrounded the base heretic’s Lodge
And named HumBug in his call,
Sprinkled his holy water ‘til
It fizzed, and gave off a smell,
Doused his candle and closed his book,
Consigning the man to Hell!
But Humbug patted his glued on rug
Went out, untethered the goat,
He let it loose on the dozen Priests,
It butted the Bishop’s coat,
They ran in confusion up the street,
To the church, set up on the hill,
While the goat was hard at the Bishop’s heels
Like a demon released from Hell.
It butted the Bishop’s altar and
It charged, knocked over the font,
Scattered the pews for the devil’s dues
In a hellfire sacrament,
While HumBug muttered he might end up
In Hell, with his Mason’s sect,
But the Bishop’s God, had failed with his rod
In a clash with his Architect!
David Lewis Paget
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
Talk to me, talk to me of Old St. Nick
Talk to me of Sinterclaus
Of Mikulas, Pere Noel, or Babbo Natale
Talk to me of candles, christingle and a silent night
Talk to me of crackers, carols and calamities
Talk to me of snow, sleighs, and stars
Talk to me of Christmas cards, wrapping paper
Talk to me of gold, old spice and mice
Talk to me of icing, icicles
igloos, ivy
Holly
Oh sweet Hollie
Tots of Drambuie
Marmalade and toast
Talk to me of Philip Scholfield
Carols From Kings
Mary Poppins
Scrooge
Festive films
Radio Times
And things that are too pretty
Lights, nights
Hark, Dark
barking dogs
tinsel
Tinsel Town
Wolves at the door
Salvation Army playing once more
Talk to me
Talk to me
Cream Crackers, cheese
Frosty mornings, old knees
Talk to me of snow covered alpine forests
Gateaux
Cherries
walnuts and berries
Festive fun,
A seasonal run
Of All Gold telly
With a full belly
Farts, sprouts
Turkey that tastes just like chicken
Oh talk to me of
Terry Wogan
Rosh Jogan
Grogan Josh
Last minute deals
Black Friday
White Friday
And all the Cyber Mondays
Talk to me of
Happy Mondays
Dancing Bez
In a Festive Fez
Talk to me
Talk to me
Of Festive time
Late nights
Early mornings
Beer
Cheer
All in entertainment
Oh talk, TALK to me
Of hangovers,
sleep overs
gloves
mittens
and cute kittens
Oh talk to me of
fake Chanel
Faux Fur and underwear
Celvin Klein
Talk to me , Talk to me of
Jonah Lewie
Bony M
The Pogues
and all those rogues
Fairy tale of New York
Stop the Cavalry
Mary's Boy Child
And the
Spaceman who came riding by
Oh talk, Talk , Talk to me
of places, and spaces We all know
Christmas markets
Tesco, Aldi and John Lewis Adverts showing
Christmas is coming
Christmas is coming
Christmas is coming
Chris
Oh talk to me
Oh talk to me of old St. Nick
Talk to me
Talk to me
Eggnog
Talk to me
Talk to me
Bah humbug
Talk to me
Talk to me
Happy Christmas
Dec 19, 2019
Dec 19, 2019 at 4:54 PM UTC
There's one "special" Holiday, in the **** can I will toss
The Pagan Calibration, of fricking Santa Claus
-
If that ****** Bozo, down my chimney tries to come
I’ll blow his *** away, and beat it like a drum
-
Then I’ll shoot his Reindeer, I’ll have a jolly feast
Hey Rudolf Dancer Prancer, you will be deceased
-
All the Queerass little elves, I’ll blow away as well
And that stinking slay, I will go and sell
-
To the North Poll I will go, with an Atom Bomb
500 megatons!! And drop it with aplomb
-
December 25th, from the calendar I'll wipe
And all the goody-goody "Good Cheer", and all the Farceass Hype
{If you are getting the notion that I don't like Christmas, you are right! Why? I think it's blasphemous to associate the birth of Christ with a Pagan Holiday} {AND the way it's celebrated !!!}
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC