I'm dreaming of a WHITE Christmas
Not like the ones we used to know
Where the hoods and robes are
making things all *****
Those kooks dressed up white as snow

I'm dreaming of a WHITE Christmas
His uni underneath the tree
With his new Doc Martins
That he'll look smart in
To show his mentality

I'm dreaming of a WHITE Christmas
I'm glad it only is one night
With his new plaid shirt on
This racist *****
Hia  tree...has no coloured lights

I'm dreaming of a WHITE Christmas
What would he do if he just knew
The KKK man
Had better re-plan
His Christ....he was born a jew

I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, black or white, green or grey, red, brown and yellow. Have a wonderful Christmas Season, because it is Christmas after all.....and remember, this is just a poem, just fiction. I want a White Christmas, but, one with every colour of the rainbow treated equally, and hopefully some nice prezzies and a song or two by Andy Williams and Bing Crosby.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE

We,the childhood delegation arrived at midnight in Lapland, to ask for the resignation of Daddy krimbo.
Only three months to go and the toys are not done,he's as drunk as a skunk and his helpers are having our Christmastime fun,
It's not fair on us kids,we've been good,we've been kind and didn't swear or go behind,any bike
shed and were not led astray.
If our prezzies don't come Christmas day, we're going to torch his sleigh,set the reindeer free and see how he likes it,not one little bit I should think.
Just
lay off the drink and get cracking,start racking up points,collect a few stars or we're coming back,some of us with iron bars,
You have been warned Santa.

She
finds me,
in ribbons she
binds me,
******* in taffeta
I laugh at her
she
smiles at me
the upper hand will
always be
hers.

lunch?
             yes, lunch.
what will it be,
herr vielefurz? bring me,
oh noble page,
   3 czech beers.

   funny,
as a pole, i can
see the downfall
of germany,

and as nietzsche
predicted,
the deutsche:
wächter von kreuz...

and to see it,
well... i am seeing
germany topple,
and i didn't
even have to lift
a finger,

well, i had to do something:
so i farted while
sitting in an armchair;
in polish it sounds
a bit different:

mazel tov!
   oh wait, that's jewish...
á jom patru patru na to szambo,
i se myślom... pinknie...
i se pierdziáłem w fotel
na to ganz popierdolenie:
            ojra ojra, hurrrrr'ah!

sto lat takich lat jak tych!
  
sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje nam,
sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje nam!
  
   eins hundret, eins hundret,
                    damit leben für uns!

germany... it's your.... birthday!
wanna see the prezzies?
ah... go on... titanic is sinking,
might as well open them,
while the orchestra plays!

orchestra! play! play!
  and let us sing:

       sha! shtil! makht nisht keyn gerider          
der rebe geyt shoyn tantsn vider            
sha! shtil! makht nisht keyn gevalt          
der rebe geyt shoyn tantsn bald...

   and they took their root into the home
they made, and made their
language the mongrel ******* of
yiddish...
               while in poland:
    they still spoke with a "funny" accent...
as stanisław wokulski
would testify, in the novel
the doll, by bolesław prus.

p.s. i once heard a jew complain
that he be called that,
   a jew...
         ah... but wouldn't it be
more offensive, if i called you
a ***? he blushed,
          and took off his kippah;
well then,
                     hebrye.

Christmas in prison
Christmas out at sea
Christmas round the in laws
Christmas alone with me

Christmas with the Manson's
Christmas in the I.C.U
Christmas in Carcosa
Just the Yellow King and you

He won't dress as father Chrimbo
In his tattered rags he'll stay
As he eats all time and space
No prezzies he'll display

He won't watch vintage Two Ronnies
As the black stars rise
And in terrible twin sunlight
Your soul will be his prize.

Chistmas in prison
Christmas out at sea
Christmas round the in laws
Christmas alone with me

Christmas at the wainwrights
Christmas in the I.C.U
Christmas in Carcosa
Just the yellow king and you

He won't dress as Father Chrimbo
In his tattered robes he'll stay
As he eats all time and space
No prezzies he'll display

He won't watch vintage two ronnies
As the black stars rise
And in terrible twin sunlight
Your soul will be his prize.

Where'd you get them spex?
Where'd you get them kecks?
Jesus lid yer clobbers off the chart!
And frocks for lady muck
Of prezzies there's a glut
The fences laughing
Play their part
But you've murdered trust so early
Gone so ******* Tory
Turning self obession into art.