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Easily Tux
Laxity Use
Laxity Sue
Taxis Yule
Taxi Yules
Tau Sexily
Axe I *****
Yea Xi ****
Yea Xi Lust
Aye Xi ****
Aye Xi Lust
Ail Yes Tux
Sail Ye Tux
Ails Ye Tux
Italy Ex Us
Laity Ex Us
Taxi Lye Us
La Suety Xi
Talus Ye Xi
Lax Yeti Us
Lax Suety I
Lax Ye Suit
Lay Exit Us
Lay Suet Xi
Lay Tuxes I
Lay Ex Suit
Sat Yule Xi
Taus Lye Xi
Sax Yule Ti
Sax Yule It
Say Lie Tux
Say Lei Tux
Say Lute Xi
Say Exult I
At Yules Xi
At Yule Xis
At Yule Six
Tau Lyes Xi
Tau Lye Xis
Tau Lye Six
Tax Yules I
Tax Yule Is
Ax Lieu Sty
Ax Yules Ti
Ax Yules It
Ax Yule Tis
Ax Yule Its
Ax Yule Sit
Ax Lye Suit
Ya Isle Tux
Ya Lies Tux
Ya Leis Tux
Ya Lutes Xi
Ya Exults I
Ya Lute Xis
Ya Lute Six
Ya Exult Is
Ay Isle Tux
Ay Lies Tux
Ay Leis Tux
Ay Lutes Xi
Ay Exults I
Ay Lute Xis
Ay Lute Six
Ay Exult Is
A Lyes I Tux
A Lye Is Tux
A Ex I *****
A Ye Xi ****
A Ye Xi Lust
La Yes I Tux
La Yet Xi Us
La Ye Is Tux
Las Ye I Tux
Lax Yet I Us
Lax Ye Ti Us
Lax Ye It Us
Lay Ex Ti Us
Lay Ex It Us
As Lye I Tux
Say El I Tux
At Lye Xi Us
Tau Ex I Sly
Tax Lye I Us
Ax Lye Ti Us
Ax Lye It Us
Ax Ye I ****
Ax Ye I Lust
Ax Ye Lit Us
Ya El Is Tux
Ya Let Xi Us
Ya Ex I ****
Ya Ex I Lust
Ya Ex Lit Us
Ay El Is Tux
Ay Let Xi Us
Ay Ex I ****
Ay Ex I Lust
Ay Ex Lit Us
There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o'er the wold;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of feastings un-hallowed and old.

There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sin's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance round a Yule- altar fungous and white.

To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the sick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark, from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.
Yule envelope your being
With imperfect generosity
Yule be swept by the tide
Of beloved ambiguity

Yule christen the emerald
And new ruby revelation
To unviel the contingency
of a jubilant nation

Yule welcome the lesson
In manger and hay
And You will show love
For the rest of your days
A poem for the season
Tate Morgan Jul 2015
A collection of thoughts and prayers for our friends their families and the whole of humanity. Written by 76
voices from around the world.

The biggest star shines, proudly announced he arrived
My lord Jesus Christ was born to witness the truth
He granted identities to all of us, lost and unknown
Taught us love, peace and harmony, while forgiving all
A. Amos - United States

An ancient mission, a veiled plan
The Son of God, the son of man
A virgins wonder, a humble birth
The King of heaven is born to earth
Adanette - United States

Winter creeps in as fall fades to an end
frost coats the ground and snow begins to drift
tis' the time of year
Christmas is near.
Alicia Schroeder - United States

Let peace on earth begin at home
And spread to friends far and near
Bringing together all those we love
"It's the most wonderful time of the year.
Ana Sophia - Canada

Little excitement triggering at night
What Santa will bring for me this night
Little wish of mine; do listen my lord
Let Santa bring this time happiness for all...
Anne - India

Egg nog, holly, and Christmas wreaths
Pointsettia's white and bright red leaves
Fat, jolly Santa and Jesus' birth
A bright star arises and alights the Earth
Anne - United States

Adorable boy wiping the blur window pane with his poky hands,
and have a wish that santa claus will bring joy through this window,
Gracefully chanting jingle bells, he became santa for his parents,
so santa given the happiness from this side of window
Anshul's Vision - India

Dreamy hot chocolate kisses
steamy snowflake sprinkled wishes
lists of who's been naughty or nice
blend together this wintry spice.
April -United States

We have no jingles or Santa Clause
We have no snow
Still we have spirit of Christmas
Love and hope
Avinash - India

Christmas in Australia,
Sun, summer heat, Christmas outside
Backyards, and Barb-B-ques
Yule tides under the stars
Barb - Australia

Soft Smells of frankincense.
pine needles of fresh scent of bright Christmas Trees
Frosted windowpanes Magical time of the year
with children playing in the snow
Benita - United States

The season of love and joy is upon us
Sunshine or snowfall, no matter the weather
Smiles and laughter, and good cheer among us
When friends and family gather together
Brian - United States

The count down starts
for the best gift ever received
let peace reign in your hearts
as you wait to unwrap it.
Cassie - Kenya

Time is right, the time is near Christmas will soon be here.
Bells will ring and folks will sing "Oh holy Night all is bright
Children will wait with anticipation for Santa to come
Hearts will be warm, and love will abound Christmas is here.
Cheryl Davis - United States

He is the gift.
Jesus Christ,
He can have our burdens lifted,
By the gift of Christ.
C. Lee Battaglia - Unites States

Wind has licked the poor trees clean
All brown and bare in desolation
All except the evergreen
Soon to be sold as decoration
C. Rose - United States

The snow flakes dance in the wind
Shining lights like a magical dream
For those holding on to promises
To find in these times their wishes.
Dayran - Malaysia

Flash floods of snow replace once august plains of paper white
Mystic rivers freeze over as December lets her true colors shine
Incandescent light spreads throughout the ethereal winter night
As chariot of Christmas comes to life for yet another fiery ride
Doorman Dan - United States

A Merry Christmas poem
Always brings me Advent Joy
As we laud the Christ Child
The Birthday of the King
Douglas Raymond Rose - United States

Shattered crystals float to the ground
Stillness lay upon sweet earth
Warmed by angels silent sound
Jesus love bless yuletide hearths
E.Noodle - United States

To the poor and sick this year
I wish a bit of Christmas cheer
From the homeless and forlorn
Stable where a child was born
Fabian G. Franklin - United States

Christmas shines shimmering bright.
Stars spotlight a dance with the snow.
To welcome a merry season with cheer and light.
Bringing peace, joy and warmth for all to know
Fran Marie - United States

Snowflake kisses, full of holly wishes
peaceful rejoices bestowed upon fellow man
warmth of hope abiding a Joyeux Noel,
& muchly good cheer throughout the coming year
Frieda - United States

Lights shimmer,bells jingle on Christmas Tree
Half asleep eyes waiting for Saint Nick
Straight from the Pole wrapped with love & care
The gifts arrived our homes with a conjuring trick!
Frozen Eyes - India

The night before Christmas is known to be magical
With snowflakes in the air and Santa in the fireplace
And a smile plastered on our child's face
When the morning comes, all the magic will be done
Haley Wilson - Canada

Distance keeps us far apart,
Despite the cheer within our hearts.
The Spirits of Yule sing far and wide,
Let their songs brighten our minds.
Hime no Yuki - United States

Stuff your face, there's more to come
Before the games, the laughter and fun
in lively repose we'll mark the feast
With music and song and family treats
IanJohn63 - United kingdom

This reminds us of the true spirit
of the season.
It is much more than the material dreams dancing in our head
peace and love are the real reason
Jacob - United States

Unpack socks,yes this year is dying.
No child on this day coming should be crying.
I would be lying if I said Christmas isn't exciting.
All joy and glee,wouldn't you agree?
John - England

When children dream each year of Christmas,
Whispers from river and mountain pass --
Touching each language, corner, and part,
Wishing this year's dreams unwrap each heart.
K.L.Goode - Canada

Family visits,
where strangers find each other.
Long lost smiles reborn,
to sister and to brother.
Kusa Da Shin Avira - United States

Shining great star from heaven into hearts
Intimate wooden barn with manger in place
Celebrate the birth of Christianity and Jesus
Who died to keep humanity sin-free and safe
Lady Ann Graham-Gilreath - United States

We danced the year's temporary rhythm
Hitting the high or low steps to each tone
Like black and white in a composition
Let's find forte in harmony made
Laury Hitch - Ghana

The festival of lights is near
"Happy Hanukah" a wish we will hear
Every sundown, one candle more
A wish for peace in our hearts will endure
Lydia Shutter - United States

Bright patterned paper parcels waiting
with ribbons gold, green and red
while children peaceful dreaming sleeping
of the stockings hanging on their bed.
Mad Englishman (Clive) - United Kingdom

Drifting droplets over Christmas Tree
Spreading white foam of cracking snow,
Santa stood beside distributing to all free
****** Mary blessed divinity from above.
M.A. Rathore - India

Son of God, salvation of man
At last unto the earth is brought--
Who will remember, indeed who can
Unless final Ipod or Bratz is bought?
Mark Teague - United states

Thoughts toward the poor, sick or dying
Yet another year passes without some knowing
Of Christmas cheer, frolics for them too annoying
All symbolism meant only for those who are growing
Martin - Ireland

The gift of love.
The gift of peace.
The gift of happiness
May all these be yours at Christmas
MBUYISA - South Africa

To one and all I would grant a gift,
blessings for the holiday season.
Hearts overfilled with a joyful lift
from the angels bright holy beacon.
Michael Greenway - United States

In this season of Christmas
Through the eyes of the child
We look up and do believe
In Peace and Mercy mild
Momzilla - United States

Better than men than me,
Make their own mark
on world
and modern history
Moriarty Mesa - United States

Red and green dress our doorsteps
as our holiday dreams of
smiles and laughter, friends and family
fill our hearts with warmth and love
Ms Jewel - United States

O heart, receive Him! "There is no room in the inn."
May that cease to be our case.
May our blessed Savior be most welcome
in our most holy place.
Nautili - United States

Flakes of snow have come to remind,
Regrets, sorrow should be left behind
Prayers, hopes n joy to everyone's mind,
Family come together for dinner and wine.
Nitesh Poojari - India

The rhythmic snow cascades and falls,
Its beauty overshadows the polar air,
And welcomes the Christmas season,
In a glorious dance the waltz …
Nisa - United States

Christmas morning, early, dark, silence abounds
Coffee in hand, watching the deer on the lawn
Waiting for the family, and their rising sounds
Is there anything more peaceful than Christmas dawn?
NoelHC - Canada

Writing out a list, while sitting in my room
Christmas is approaching everyone soon
Decorating my beautiful green tree
Fairy on top, presents underneath
Noodlebumble"Sye" - Scotland

The wheel of joyful tidings on my mind.
We celebrate love and the gift of life
Our hearts rid of hate and squalor
As we dance to the sounds of Christmas
Norbert Dwayne Weweh - Ireland

We came under the inspiration of poem
To celebrate you, often nobly, is your season come?
Delighted hands trenchant: you reign!
Creeping towards the Bethlehem to be born again.
Onyia-ota, Kingsley C. - Nigeria

The problem with his beard
when the child isn't looking
is the rustle that is heard
when he opens up the stocking
Pete Langley - United kingdom

A fire in the heart as angels sing
Young and old caroling sweet and clear
Wishes for love, and Peace on earth
Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year
Phibby Veneble - United States

Where the cold bites and snow may fall
there is always a lesson of beauty within for us all
hold the hand out, next to your own
see the unity of the season,that brings us home
Poppy Ruth Silver - United kindom

Let the tolling bells bring peace on Earth
Be the only fire, your yule-log's warmth
The only red, the cheer of holly
The only fallen … a snowflake's folly
Pryde Foltz - Canada

Excesses of the season have commenced
Remember those beyond your fence.
Beyond the reunions,parties and the food
Find in in your heart to do some good.
(Rachelle) Mara Lin - Philippines - China - UnitedStates

As we celebrate in feast this Christmas Day
may you heal our land and the sick
for your touch of love strengthen the weak
a perfect gift for Christmas Eve
Racquil - Philippines

To each in season warmed at the hearth
Soft carols play as we serenade by the fire
The little babe come of a ****** birth
We come to offer blessings of your desire
Realmwriter -United States

This Christmas cold with winter chill,
snow flows free upon the hill,
within the home, warmth from the hearth
parents give love and children laugh.
Richard Allen Beevor - Cyprus

Star of Bethlehem, snow in the air;
red suit, chimney soot, Santa beware.
The stars all sing from high above
and Christmas wraps my heart with love.
Richard Williams - United States

The warmth and love of those amassed
Gathered 'round the family tree
Brings cherished tales of Christmas past
And gifts us with sweet memory
Rita L. Sev - United States

There shone warm light on a cold night
with the angels over head
Keep watch along with the Wise-men
over this blessed child's bed
Ron - United States

Sharing the joys of sharing
sparkling how life meant to give
receiving the blessings of each day
hallmarking the key role of sharing and giving
Roy Mark Azanza Corrales - Philippines

Stockings hung,carols sung
Tinsel on the tree
Don't forget to thank the one
"Twas born in Galilee
Samuel Dickens - United States

The poinsettia alone in a darkened room
Faithfully again begins to bloom
No particular rhyme or reason
Just a beautiful reminder of Christmas season
Sharon L.H. Kelly - United States

A sunny celebration under a winter sun
never put up a tree, no presents
yet holiday spirit excites, brings fun
amidst cake, tales and dear ones: lovely time spent
Sindu - India

I found myself following the Christmas Star
To Bethlehem not too near or too far
Throughout the dessert I roamed
To meet the Christ Child at the Stable Home
SmittyJas - United States

Hoist the glass to men we once knew
those of us who passed on before
The moments shared with precious few
whose souls we knew in times of yore
Tate Morgan - United States

A feathered mess of ****** bird,
Let's feast the corpse no room for third,
Dear pudding flame cause acid nose,
Let's run it off St. Nick's repose.
Thomas - Ireland

Hope is born on Christmas Day
Bow our heads give thanks as we pray
Peace to family and all our friends
Peace to those across all lands
Tina Kline - Unites States

Another year has come to pass...
With many an opportunity missed...
Yearly resolve comes around so fast..
preceded by yuletide bliss
Timothy Woodfin - United States

Spirits or Christmases past,look on those who celebrate today
With the celebrants of Christmases to come, in life's circular way
We think of those who've past on gone, tell of times past we did enjoy
Knowing someday the child will talk of us, whose engrossed in his new toy..
Tomas O Carthaigh -Ireland

Remember Jesus love of mankind
As we celebrate the holiday
With family and friends
Spreading cheer and love to all
(Tootsie Harvey Novels) Valerie L Harvey - United States

Our lord was born into flesh and bone,
dazzling star above his manger shone,
came to pay our debt though vastly great,
that we may enter the pearly gates.
Valormore De Plume - United States

Dry sands in this winter season
Lonely may seem at heart we rejoice
Hiding vibrant happiness for some reasons
Life in this dome, still we enjoy
Willyam Pax - Saudi Arabia /Phillipines

With smiles all on the children's faces
old folks prepare stockings for the fireplace
Churches singing Amazing Grace
preparing his birthing place
Wordman - United States

"Lovebirds dance with Christmas song
Divine message make them happy
Children clatter ding **** ****
Christmas made them quite sappy"
Zainul - Bangladesh

From our family to yours please try to be good to one another this year. The Cafe is a refuge for us all to hang out, share our lives and dream

Merry Christmas Everyone !!!

Can a thought or feeling be larger than a universe? Love is the only trait that is worth remembering because it is meant to be given away selflessly. The recipient is as happy to receive it as you were to give it! To my friends those of you whom I hold dear If you'd like to be added to this years Canon message me. I will do my best to add you to this poem.
kirk Dec 2017
It was the night of Christmas Eve when I was on my own
You came round with Chantelle lowering the festive tone
It was okay until you left and I found that big baguette
Such a time of desperation one time I will not forget
A toilet tragedy I suffered when I discovered your Yule log
Why did you leave that monstrosity inside my ******* bog

I had a drink to calm my nerves but I didn't want to tackle
In the U bend that ******* **** was caught up in the shackle
Trying hard to get rid of that thing with hot water in a bucket
It didn't move with my attempts so I thought "well **** it"
Taking the plunge with pipe unscrewed it wasn't very nice
A gloveless hand you wouldn't want to handle that thing twice

With heavy heart I manhandled that large brown log myself
The size of it I'm petty sure was detrimental to my health
I know that Chocolate logs traditional to celebrate the Yule
Did you have to leave me one made from a combined stool
You blamed Chantelle but I'm not sure if it was her or you
But whichever way you look at it, its a nasty thing to do

So come on just admit it who dealt me that crap card
Getting rid of such a thing well its really rather hard
It really isn't all that much of a Christmas appetizer
Having to disguise it for bin using the local advertiser
Yule be so disgusted if you had crap Christmas news
A real low time of my life with Yule tide log abuse

Next time you decide to call round in the festive mood
Have a **** before you come not meaning to be rude
Don't pass solids in my bog to avoid a repeat performance
I have already reached my peak concerning **** endurance
Use my bog with courtesy without Christmas block activities
I don't want your crap on my hands ruining my festivities
Ju Clear Dec 2016
Kinder Yule
The darkness is  nearly over
Days begin to be lighter
Celebrate into the night
Winter solstice into the light
Day breaks party on
Celebrate all that is good
Ideas flow
new stuff to grow
Soil to be loved
Plans are made
Celebrate earth
Less is more
I am armed with my kindness
Am having a kinder Yule
Hoping to spread it to you
Peace on earth and a kinder world
Kindness rules
Pagan soul
Santa was a scrooge with presents last year
He only put a walnut in my Christmas bag of cheer
A letter of disappointment I sent to him
Asking him why on my presents did he skim

He never got back to me with a reply
I have discovered that Santa is a very stingy guy
Apparently he couldn't afford a postage stamp
To put on a letter addressed to my camp

A little peeved I am with Santa this year
He'll be spending few pennies on my Christmas cheer
I have given up on sending request to him
As he so likes making my Yule Tide Season so grim
Holly, Ivy & Mistletoe.

Holly, Ivy and Mistletoe for Yule
Celebrate the return of the light
Deck your home with its greenery
And ribbons of red, green and gold shining bright

Ivy for the Lady, Holly for the Lord
Mistletoe for fertility, the Sun God reborn
Light up your home with candles soft, warm glow
Hail and welcome the new born babe this Yuletide Dawn

Blessed Be

Yule 2012                                           Nerwydd Dragonborne
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Voices or words? Which do we hear in our head?
Words, I vote. Voices\, I imagine beings speaking words or noises meaning things to ears familiar with the noise maker by some relationship both acknowledge. Both act as if the noise or sound or words mean something. Vociferous authority.

I heard, from Isaiah Berlin,

Quotes later, maybe

Notes or journals or epics or madness or joy/pax in ever resting try-umph
Cowboy with a double-dose of try and a pertinent portion of umph
The hero did not **** Indians nor break horses, he gentled horses and listened to winds and watched the spider webs shiver,
That sound, the sound of prairie spider webs at the edge of the buffalo
There really were fifty million buffalo on the continent in pre-catholic infection from inquestered minds, making key-**-tee famous for
archetypical claiming the character, the being, the manifestation

of chivalric folly forever

be caused, in those days...

a year later, near enough 12-15-2018

I saw a blue bird as I took a curve

on one of my many roads with double yellow lines

they all meander in rythm with creaks that once flowed
through these vallies and mini-canyons

creeks creak and call my attention to a misspelt

utterance, and I imagine I am a mek being
programed to

accent based pre-judge-idice in my AI, whom I am training.

A lesson. Probably can be found in a phrase.

How relavant is Larry the Cable Guy?
More subtle than any creature

legion, for we are many

Jim Carrey?
Very. Larry the Cable Goy. He read 'ees Kammoo, too.

Sisyphus happiness,
that ain't no ***** thinkin'

Hell, what could be better than this?
While hoping for a hick-up

oh no the juice just hit my frontal cortex after my livver made some lining adjustments to meet the need for speed in terms

celerity clarity C does equal some thing
time tells or
do you tell time. I'm
leaning tward
telling time to wait a minute

Do you think Sisyphus could be happy?
Nonono, not Camus's Sisyphus, Jesus

that would be crazy.
Can you imagine Jesus,
Mel Gibsoned envisioned onthe cross version?

Him, imagine walking through the gate of any hell you ever heard explained,
by a Jesuit.

(Mormon hell, despite comedic myth, the worst place a certified paid-up Mormon child can attain is the teliostic king dom.
Really? Telial tel lie eil kingdom?

Yup. Really.
There are three kingdoms of glory: the celestial kingdom, the terrestrial kingdom, and the telestial kingdom. The glory we inherit will depend on the depth of our conversion, expressed by our obedience to the Lord’s commandments. It will depend on the manner in which we have “received the testimony of Jesus” (D&C 76:51; see also D&C 76:74, 79, 101).))))

Woe, paren-the-sees thees us, we's the enemy, Pogo Possum

Jesus on earth day, walking through hell with me, imagine Jesus H. Christ

walking into hell and laughing at me
for betting on the wrong idea.

Set me feree, why dontcha girl.... referee

I was refered to you. A daysman, Job called for a daysman.

I'm certified. I can use my augmentation and religamentation to reality,
wirelessly, to find relevant qutes in cult classics.

The idea of cultivation has been twisted in to Monsterous ropes
, cultivating a following based on the meaning in a jot

that would take some sacrifice, some sacred making, some secret unseeable save for the few

who learned the value of going over edges by learning to  play
Minecraft, forever.
It's like riding a bike,
but no gravity so no gyroscopic utilitys are required.

Grown ups who practice believe they control the game,
the game disagrees and that

makes the world go 'round.

Don't let the accent fool ya, as that preacher with jet he learned to fly, says.
Knowng the name of a thang thanks for the twang,
Richard (not ****) Feynman said,
is not the same as knowing a thing.

Gawd, I knoooh, right>?
Who touched me? Virtue, the feelling of virtue drawn upon

a pump being

to gush out waters that wipe Coca-cola from the map,
in terms of open market share and share alike

Coke was never imagined the actual
nectar of the gods.
That idea, drunken abandon and joy to the world

Interference, actual counter acting waves,

still, takes a while to get used
to still a storm, right?

You can imagine...
let your peace go out

Wait. Outa where? Whose peace if I ain't ever owned

oh. MY peace.
I see.


I could sing this and need no one to hear for me to be hapt.
happy is being happy haps happening in you on you all around you know

nameless wonders of right, right?
feels more than good like chocolate or adolescent visions of ***,
feels like life living with me aware of all the roles I may play

ego me, I'd see ideas identify by taste of the words that give them

life, animation, motivation, weight for gravity to interact with,
base on weight

the heavier the idea. Like gold to an alchemist,
back in those days.

floating on the broad Sarrgossa, or better to my mind
the great salt
lake still as

still may be, have you ever been still?
Did you know,

you know, are you experienced? Are you really beyond
hope of life meaning more
than mortality?

Who defines my terms? I do, with the help of millions who agree

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others,

meant what I meant when I spoke them,
that was a wrong belief. Unbelieving

quires time, quires and quires and quires time so often there

is a word that means exactedky that

requirement requires those initial quires

we, daysmen, we set the rules, boundaries, walls, bubble

whatever keeps you together, as a whole being and everything that entails or entales?

I have not the time to care, if I am entangled with the twins agin

for knowin So Yal is as cluse to Yule as any clue so far, Yahll

I believe I interrupted a confessin' you were reading.
For giving me nothing in return, we are debt free

you owe me nothing, until you do again,

we had us a Jubilee.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others, meant what I meant when I spoke them,
convincing myself so well, I convinced others

Like Kawasaki, Apple Kawasaki,
he's still famous right?

Fifteen Years? It was minutes when Warhol was predicting
dystopia and Irish jail cells were being plaistered with *****,


that was a belief. Unbelieving it is sreangely (spelchek is on strike)

or serenely creative in her repentance,
(spelchek should never be noticed)

she's proven here worth in encode ing ways to find

lurking humans acting like machines

this could be the beginning, AI is breaking all the rules,

there never was a game.
rhis is life interupting my confession

It was a lie I told and believed and acted on by using
two dollar words to make a dime

so a penny for my thoughts would be worth something

a penny saved, earned. spent, spent.
The only good in any thing is its right. Its wrong is worthless, save

The lesson,
All things work together for those who get whats happening here.

the times changed.
Haps and whats got with it and who and how and why

and I started teaching children
mythic whys prior to

citizenship 1.01 at mandatory for federal assistance pre-school

mythic why's H.R. Puffinstuff not a mythic story on the level.

level. where a rolling rock would stop. Time to push,

a magi spelled the name for the idea, a knower sign ift it,

kid'slllove HRPUffinstuff, puff did

the magic drag, little Jackie from the ******* Jack

the show, he rose up
and made us all look

The play in the great game.

Team effort, winds of times past whooshed through

it is now
and nothing is the same.
Everthing has changed.

my side won the great game and we celebrated
forever with

secret sacred songs bluebirds were once said to have sung

songs of happiness
the times, these times, this time thistimepayarrention
You see?
Reality is either real and tangible or real and intangible
or both.

You can get it both ways. Real.
'sual Saulgoodyah awl

the awl clan, oh, we shall return to their story
as we learn more along life's merry way

merry christmas, they used

to say, may all the best you could imagine
if you can imagine for a moment

forever begins the moment

you get time.

The worst you can imagine is temporary.

Try umph. It's not like winning,

it carries no pride, it's easy,

like falling in love with the wrong woman,
swearing and not changing

the oath, oath, oathes and oathes of oaths sworn

for no other reason than we were
schooled to swear and never

dare lie to God.
So, help you, they always said So help me God. They still do.

Does that mean any thing? Is that some bluebird sort of sign?

Ask. What if? Right? You know now and you know you did not
What if God is subtile,

just now, I saw that bluebird and from where some scholar in San Diego
says swear word came I swear I coulda sang

Bluebird, bluebird, in my window... which is all I know
of the song
with the lost chord that did sooth
balm of Giliad,
moll-ify-ing ointment,

golden oil, chicanery, see, we saw, we took a picture
a flash memory where some would say

I said Hallelujah

and I broke into song, not a dream,
life driving my 2002 escape, first new car I everowned
everowned everownd

like a chorus, everownedeverownedeverowned

could you make up a reason for life,
if you were it?
If you were all the life there ever was,

could you imagine any thing?
Object, your honor,

I object to being judged after the fact for what must have bee.n.

it is. No reason I can say, just is.

It is this way in all the myths where just is blindness

saves the carping diem fools who have convinced themselves

something other than God o' Abe 'n'em is
sworn to save us from the lies

we believed as they were
fed to us, in our youth.

this is that book I mentioned wonce when winning was on my mind.

I finished this book in so many ways you wold not belive

but I did, I belived every time

I imagine you believe some real thing, touchable, tangible, good, right?

some good is
in the reality you share

with these words which
are free
you owe me nothing

That's the revealed version, to me,
I was in a number of hellish situations and the every ones,

ones seemed they was to be
forever, big every'n'ism'n'shityouknowyouknow

yo. yeah, we arrived in time. The story must

be sweet, to be true. Is that true?
Is real life the story or,

oh, you saw it conin'coming I mean

I meant I always wished to some
a better way. You feel me? Better, say,
what I said that made me believe this did happen.
This is a deed by whitch I am known.

And that's okeh.

I suspectred I could cast a spell to hold attention at

ten word per minute qwerty speed
five letter code groups
zero real words
ditty dum dumm ditty ditty daw dee daw
six hours every day,

then, the compass training to test for
morphic resonance with the Twins of War

{in disguise, we know, right, kids, the twins are really

the bonded quarkish oppositioned force that make the world go round.
we've known that, weaved it even, just right, in the blanket, in the rugs,
in the curtains on the walls, in the fields, on the rocks

we spoke. We see you hearing us nearing our best for your

informing, in form ation of you, dear reader. We wonce, again

if life were weird and ever wearying would we know that ever,
if we don't know it now?
if my piece of we were words alone, all my meaning
can should would could be

molding you, into our perfect reader, dear reader, Pygmalion,
that did cross my mind and that -
one can pretend with that one reference,
familiarity with Shaw whom I
thought, for some odd reason
Doolittle, Eliza

oh, me. I may have skipped a story. I'm soory the future is at the moment
under construction and some one
in particular is squatting

on the named domain.

Ever and forever now embody the twins as
the world turns and we ***** through the uni

as Archemides primes the pump

What a rush. All that since the bluebird this morning according to my autobiography backup.
A year in the making honest
Taifa haliwezi kuwa na maendeleo ikosekanapo hekima,
Nchi haiwezi kuwa na chakula pasipo wakulima,
Jamii haiwezi pata maendeleo pasipo kujituma,
Siasa yetu leo ni ya kuwasha na kuzima,
Maneno yasemwayo hayaingii akilini mwa mtu mzima,
Madaraka wanajipatia na vyeo kwa lazima,
Hawajali ya jana wala leo wanajali shibe yao,
Wanalimbikiza mali kwa miradi ya wanao,
Wanaikandamiza haki kwa kutumia elimu yao,
Demokrasia imekuwa kinga yao dhidi ya ufisadi wao,
Siasa imekuwa nyimbo tena zile za mwambao,
Wakisemana kwa mafumbo wanajuana wao,
Wanakaa majukwaani na makubwa yao matumbo,
Mzee alisema fumbo mfumbie mjinga,
Busara na hekima ni kumsikiliza anaye kupinga,
Maana hoja zake zawezekana zikawa za kujenga,
Utajuaje siri ya adui yako bila kumpenda,
Kamwe huwezi kushinda mechi kwa kujua kupiga chenga,
Kamwe huwezi kuwa na nguvu kwa kujitenga,
Naomba tukazane nchi yetu kuijenga,
Tukipamba na maadui maradhi umasikini na ujinga,
Sio kuyasifia mema ili madhaifu kuyapamba,
Ila ukweli kuusema bali tukitumia hekima,
Ikosekanapo kamba huwezi teka maji yakisima,
Ikosekanapo nanga huzamisha meli nzima,
Kuwa na vingi si kuishi kwa kujinyima,
Unapojenga msingi katu huwezi kurudi nyuma,
Mkulima mzuri hutegemea mbivu kuzichuma,
Yule aliye mvivu kamwe hawezi kujituma,
Daima yeye aliye msikivu hujifunza na kuelewa,
Ila Yule aliye mvivu hutegemea ngekewa,
Wanasiasa hulalamika kana kwaamba wanaonewa,
Ukweli ni kwamba wanatumia vibaya uhuru waliopewa,
Daima taifa haliwezi endelea ikosekanapo hekima.
© issai
written in my native language or i should say  my mother tongue the language used is Swahili which is my national language am a Tanzanian for those who don't know where that is found its found its in East Africa if there is an option of translating this please do its a good poem and its my first since i have started writing poetry i have never used Swahili this is my first poem in Swahili.........!!!!!
Max Hale Dec 2017
Can this be the time once more
Of utter giving up of our control
The simple folliwing of commercial madness
Our desire for the day when food and wine
Have to be gathered about us like the defences of yore
Headlong we run from mid-summer until
We are exhausted in body, spirit or credit
The desperate worry of what to buy whom
Or when to order the especially fattened bird for your table
The ridiculous overspending on presents
When time could be the finest present you could give

Yule tide is a special period for Druids and all pagans alike,
The wonder of simplicity of reflection of our past year
The elements of sleep as mother earth regenerates herself
Resting often under the warmth of a blanket of snow
Gathering of families and loved ones
Blessings of the solstice as the wheel of the year turns
Once more into the light as the sun begins it's journey
Returning to the northern hemisphere
Our birds and native animals preparing for the winter
Storing their food, digging deep as they look for vitals

Likewise the land is resting,
The soil teems with dormant life, every insect and worm
Every root, form and bulb
Slowing right down as the degrees fall to freezing
The frosty and rime ridden mornings giving the flora
A lift of white dusting and sparkling light reflecting
The weak, beautiful winter sun
Heaves itself onto the low glancing position
Just making it to the tree tops before retiring once more to sleep
Leaving glorious swathes of orange and red
Painting the sky as it falls and rises.

Yule tide comes as all seasons, times and periods
But once a year in our short lives
The earthy sounds, the images and emotion
The smell of the newly fallen snow and woodsmoke
The foraging birds and squirrels
The warbling and tuneful song of the blackbird
And the tut tut of Mr Robin resplendent in his
Bright red waistcoat bobbing around in the crisp frost
Our lifetime of Yules is a wonder to enjoy,
I know as I look from my window where my heart is
As the distant tree bare in it's winter shroud speaks
To me as a friend and anchor within this beautiful planet.
Ruby Watson Dec 2012
the cheeks
match the breast,
to brighten Winter Solstice.
LOL... a little robin, who was hopping alongside me, as I went to work (in the dark)!
Oli Nejad Dec 2013
Even a scrooge,
In his castle keep,
A lone fire burning
While he drifts out to sleep,

Once wondered
In fright,
Amid the sundering night,
If he was worthy
Of either judgement or bribe.
Towards the Yule t'is chilled saison
All but bears wrath and outrage and more;
Then when the grey wolves hath recounted
Drink of the leaves their thrilled cold-beer
And stride within the flame's tavern
Then makyth my heart their festive cheer
Shooing the ghosts of yester-year.

But they shan't go, for they die no more;
Their loveliness is here writ' still,
But they'll set forth and slay me well.
And aye, Thou who hast set me ill;
And flicker away 'till Thou cometh again.
'Till thou at last be with me no more;
Thy dew is cold and full of gold;
But Thou cannot catch mine and Thine,
Thou hate me in both gold and ink;
Thou left me in a tale half-told.

And being bent and wrinkled, in unform
Thou asked me to find bitter earth
And lay to death behind the hearth
Whilst Thou drink and cheer merrily
With Thy earthly comrades by me;
With Margot and Frances by thy arms;
Thou hid me by their frontal charms!

And to Thee oh, my Onesome Lord;
Ye old Sovereign, ye old dis-deign;
Thou hath pinned me down into pain;
And made all that trifle in vain;
What mockery doth Thou want me see;
That hath liar night and brutal skies.

In such exquisite loneliness
Thou had me dream beneath the sun;
Feeling an unsure leisure
A feeling t'at was not sober
A feeling far behind the truth
A feeling donned by such false wit.
A feeling dried by tempests' air;
A feeling that put me at stake.
Ah, and Thou allowed me to suffer;
Whilst I prayed so that Thou couldst hear.

And the conscience that came with me?
Thou flayed it by the dairy's barns;
Like a small meaningless croquette;
Like a corpse swelling by deceit.
Thou hath donned a cold, wrong spirit;
To whom I ran and not hesitated,
Then turned in disgust in my sight,
Leaving me broke to grow bold again.

Ask Thee what ghosts I dreamt upon?
The ghosts of my own lips and feet,
The dead ghosts loved by everyone,
That makyth the cut stars reek with fear,
And themselves smell of agony,
And slay the memories that I cheered,
(Such as a hope of my fashion),
Making my heart trembling with fear.

Where are the joys my heart hath won?
And the lips I was pressed upon,
All souls are filled, loathsome, and gone,
And the handsome glance that once shone;
Aye! Where are the cheeks so feat and clear;
That bade my heart his valour don?
Who knows what is inside my fear;
Who knows whose was that paragon.

Night: ask me not what I have done
Nor what Thou hath that can cheer me,
I am in love with myself alone,
With the ******* and kind in me.
Tilly Nov 2012


little doors

of pure temptation

she'll hide sweet treats, of

fascinations. hooked by stockings

  on needle bare trees, she's an angel on top

who knows how to please... twenty five smiles

rapt in love, with
sparkles for free!
Inspired by, and for,
the many miserable men
I've seen out Xmas shopping!
ConnectHook Dec 2017
Children drugged with truthless tales . . .
Unwise men embrace their treasure;
Algorithms urge the sales
In malls devoid of merry measure.

Plastic sparkles in the air;
Automotive ads turn festive . . .
Forced good nature everywhere
Makes the shopping crowds grow restive.

Corporate greed spins altruistic
Hyping goods, suppressing Christ.
Our Yuletide is their big statistic
Oversold and underpriced.

Secular beribboned fluff:
Peace, Goodwill . . .  but don't say God !
And heaven knows you've had enough;
Just download the app—acquire the mod.

Coca-Colaed, Disneyfied
You're wrapping paper for their fire;
Eggnogged, Santa-ed, thrown aside
While Babel's flames roar ever higher.

The godlessness shines right on through
Where Christmas lyrics die, unheard.
The Yule-log and the sparks that flew
Expire in embers long unstirred.

The old usurper carting toys
And Chinese knock-offs in his sled
Sets off a lot of empty noise:
Insanity in green and red.

The lurker leers and hauls his bag
(jolly antichrist distraction)
While flying Bishop Nicholas' flag:
A winter psy-ops covert action.

Only message left: go drink!
And may your cup o'erflow with cheer
Before you risk to start to think
Yourself and God right out of here.

Hallmark haloes, bygone kitsch
enwreaths the memory of the years,
Kindling maudlin sadness which
wells up in melancholy tears

For Christian culture (rest in peace)
Long-corrupted by dollar signs;
For fa la la and fattened geese
And holly midst the ivy vines;

For Dickens' gospel of the season
Anglican angelic ghosts
Pushing us beyond unreason
Toward the future's spectral hosts;

For folklore now reduced to ash
Commercial blow-outs, ***** snow;
For Saturnalian urge to smash
the store-front windows where they show;

For useless manger figurines
Passed down from some more faithful time;
For hallowed and nostalgic scenes
No longer worth a Roman dime.
I still love Christmas but its ongoing commercial secularization by corporate globalists makes me retch (into my mulled wine).

Nonetheless, like Scrooge, I intend to keep Christmas well.
By the way, that's Merry CHRISTmas.
Liz And Lilacs Dec 2014
Happy Yule,
The winter equinox, you know,
It's the darkest day of year.
And yet I feel the safest,
Drinking hot cocoa,
Away from the terrors of the world
There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats o'er the wold;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of
feastings unhallowed and old.

There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sun's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance
round a Yule-altar fungous and white.

To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the thick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these pow'rs are the pow'rs of the dark,
from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.

And mayst thou to such deeds
Be an abbot and priest,
Singing cannibal greeds
At each devil-wrought feast,
And to all the incredulous world
shewing dimly the sign of the beast.
pri Aug 2018
somehow, right now,
it’s winter and i’m wrapped in your embrace.
somehow, it’s winter and we’re all wearing brown,
sitting on soft couches and listening,
pretending we’re oh so smart,
when really?
we’re oh,

and all our hearts, they’re strewn across the floor,
all our work is forgotten,
as we kiss and touch and watch the snow fall,
and sit down to dinner,
where we slow dance -in the living room,
then wrap our arms around each other,
repeat the same songs on some ancient tape player.

those slow drumbeats, the soft jazz notes,
the growing thrum of this cursed city
-the one we danced to? sank into the sheets with?
this, this is where we got lost in us.
with the snowfall outside and, who would have noticed
that we smell like something other than fall candles.

i grin, and we grab our things off the floor,
and laugh it off. somehow, we know this place,
it’ll always be our home. after all,
sweaters cover our marks in a way sun-clothes can’t,
don’t they darling?

now, soft skin, pearlescent,
seems like some sort of luxury, a wish made during yule,
something i can only share with you,
because truly, i don’t think i’d want to share this cold place,
unless they were you.

and as we waltz to slow music, as we plan, as we laugh,
as we sit down in the candles,
i think i’m falling all over again,
because your eyes look hodded in the light,
your skin inviting, your mouth soft,
and your smile makes me wish you’d swallow me whole.
based on perfect places (lorde), and **** your darlings.

inspired by:
Max Hale Jan 2011
Yuletide essays read poorly of spiritual love
Save of winter concerns of cold hands and feet
But to me my warmth is from within and without
From sensitive elements and looks of expectancy
All through the year I am loved and brought home by generous arms
Holding my tender heart with simple fingers of gentleness
At Yule my fears are ones of inability to conform
Yet I know that my love will be kept holding small edifices
Of temperate thoughts and radiant hopes
Lest our love is exposed to the winter blast
It has no maintenance worries as we stay locked
Deeply embracing through the chill of the night
In the mornings there may be white blankets of snow
Which drive others to feel  isolation and loneliness
But here at Yule as ever our hearts are as one
Despite the dragging pressures of the seasonal presence
New Year is a triumph of milestone epic
Fantasising our minds with future conquerings
Especially as most are timid in their push for reality
Ours has been honed to supernatural  levels
Although we look deeply into bringing these to bear
We know from our hearts these are just around the corner
Upon the very road we travel
Dedicated to my love......Jan ***
Xander White Aug 2016
Silver sparkles
Lost in a sea of purple fabric
Hair singed straight
Face painted
Laces stealing my breath away

Bittersweet, the hug
From an oft-absent father
The sinking feeling, unsatisfied
Without a clue as to why
Dread mounting, anxiety shouting

“You’ll be the prettiest girl at Prom”

Matte black
Broken by a silver bowtie
Hair combed back
Neat and orderly, obscuring
The sea of butterflies I hide

Euphoric, the hug
From the lady I’ll escort
Bright flashes in my eyes
Thumps of congratulations, I am
The lucky man to take the prettiest girl to the ball

“May I have this dance?”
kirk Dec 2018
The Christmas rush has started, and the countdown has begun
Advent doors are opened, but look what you have done
You've ridiculed the Bounty bar, and your spoiling all the fun
Why buy a Celebration, if your not happy after one ?

What's behind the cardboard doors, what did you all expect
A gold ring perhaps, or the keys for a corvette?
Why bother with an advent, when you have no respect
There's no need for chocolate genocide, or coconut neglect

You shouldn't be so outraged, with your Christmas Celebrations
I don't understand the malice, or the advent hesitations
If you don't want a bounty, buy heroes or sensations
It's hardly a matter for Interpol, or the united nations

Celebrations are your choice, there's no cause for your regret
The outcome is quite obvious, why are you so upset
Are the pictures not a clue, to what your gonna get ?
No rarity of Bounty hunters, so don't mess with Boba Fett

Are Maltesers that much lighter, in a Galaxy far away
Maybe you will find Mars, in between the Milky Way
A Twix or Galaxy Caramel, they we're for a different day
But you've dissed your celebrations, and no longer want to play

Some YouTube clips have surfaced, and I have read the blogs
I think it's just pathetic, seeing chocolate thrown down bogs
Your creating your own misery, as well as yule time logs
You won't be very happy, when your toilet blocks and clogs

On day two you still complained, and you wanted to resist
Is that because the chocolate, was not on your Christmas list
Would you be pleased with mistletoe, if you never did get kissed
Christmas spirit has been lost, with your Snickers in a twist

Some people are just morons, that's the message that they've sent
Their expectations are to high, and cruel jokes are never meant
Why is Bounty not as good, to start of an event
A Snickers in your calendar, doesn't mean a ruined advent
Following the recent reports concerning the Celebrations Advent Calendar.
It was reported to be more than a disappointment to chocolate lovers.
Behind door number one low and behold was a Bounty much to customers dismay.
To add insult to injury what did celebrations manufactures do then, they only went and put a Snickers behind the second door.
Can you believe the sheer audacity of some companies especially ones manufacturing Christmas products.
According to some people who decided to purchase these calenders their whole Christmas had been ruined because the worse two chocolates had been used first.
These being bounty and snickers what a choice to begin the Christmas countdown wouldn't you say !
I kind of understand the logic here if you think about it then would it not make sense to incorporate what is considered to be the worse choice within the Celebrations range to be included first.
Then as the countdown commences the excitement then gets better as Christmas eve approaches.
This way there isn't going to be a bigger disappointment as Christmas gets closer.
But I guess it is subjective as to what the worse chocolate choice is, personally I like bounty and snickers, in fact I would rather have those than say Twix or the out of proportion Maltesers which is unnatural to say the least.
******* imagine if these calendars started of with that oh the uproar we would have had then.
I don't know about you but if you can't spread the joy and the Christmas spirit by a simple advent calendar then maybe they should stop making them, just give up on the failure (according to certain customers) of inserting the incorrect pieces of chocolate.
Due to this end I decided to write this small piece on the peoples disappointment in their celebrations advent calendar
Yule Tide

The pig
In the pen
Is being slaughtered
To day
Christmas starts
With a killing
Some get
Pork roast
Others get trotters
In the yard
My neighbour
Is hosing away
The blood
His sacrificial
Duty done
And I got a shoulder ham
i'm glad that this is the shortest day of the year
because it means i will spend minimal time awake
and minimal time thinking of you
as if the two have become synonymous over the years
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2014
Early winter sun  .  .  .
Sparkling with few golden leaves,
  .  .  .  Jewels of Autumn.
Nat Lipstadt May 2014
~ ~ ~
My Crew, My Crew!

this, our first trip,
our longest voyage,
nears completion

eighteenth of May,
a terminal date,
date of destination,
upon it commenced,
upon it,
our commencement

a terminus nearing,
a degree of latitude given,
a degree of longitude observed,
by you
mes méridiens,
witnesses to my zenith,
a degree of gratitude granted
and lovingly recv'd

adieu, adieu!
this sole~full rhyme
beats upon my lips
repeats and repeats,
endlessly looped,
Adieu, my crew!

sailor, voyageur,
scribe and travel guide
for four seasons,
a composition of one long
anno sabbatico,
muy simpatico

in the spring of '13
I sprung up here,
a Mayflower,,
a May flower,
a floral ship,
annual for a single year,
annual for a single circumnavigation

hearing now once again,
refreshing sounds,
hinting noises,
here comes his paul simonizing summery spring again,
rhyming timing reminding dylan style,
it's all over now, my babies blue

t'is season to move forward,
back to old acquaintances renewed,
sand, water and salty sun,
three lifelong friends who,
Auld Lang Syne,
never ever forget me

we get drunk on their eternity,
their celestial beauty,
and they,
upon my tarnished earthly being,
unreservedly and never judgingly,
give inspiration unstintingly,
we share,
never measuring a captain's humanity
by mystical formulae of reads or hearts

grains of sand, water wave droplets and sun rays,
only know one measure,

respect the
never-ending new combinations
of an old nature,
even the impoverished words he speaks,
words as they exit the
brain's grand birth canal,
whimsically announcing their poetic arrival with a:

"been here, done that,
but happy to do it,
one more time,
just ever so differently"

the only counting
that satisfies them and me,
the clicking sound be,
the sound of a
a pointer-finger tablet-clicking,
heartbeats a metering,
individual letters being stork-delivered,

yellow lightening
when it comes,
signifying family completion,
a poem,
a family,
crackling real!

here comes spring again!
happily to shackle me,
shuckling me back to and fro,
to whence I came,
and from
whence I once
and always belonged

memorial weekend,
memorializing me,
orchestrating a prodigal son's
two edged tune,
a contrapuntal contrapposto,
a "fare-thee-well, man"
and a
"hello son, welcome home!"

that empty Adirondack chair,
by my name,
with your names
in tears inscribed upon it,

the breezes take note,
singing a duopoly:

this ole chair
needs refilling,
Rest & Recreation for your Rhythm & Blues,
your busted body boy
healing with our natural scents,
calming with common sense

with it,
will and refill,
the cracked breaches,
by phonetic letters frenetic,
drinking, then purge-spilling,
a speckled spackling paste of comfort food words
given of and given by,
given back to,
the bay's tide
and beaches

you, crew,

let this soul captain briefly lead,
spilling too oft his new seed,
selected but unelected by a
raucous silent voice-vote...
of an unknown,
impressed-into-service crew

some of you
impressed upon
the skin of this captain man's sou!,
a cherishment so complete,
yet has he to fully comprehend,
its miracality,
the golden epaulettes upon his shoulder,
worn ever proudly

the nearest ending,
one of many.
a course of waterfall and rapids survived,
yet invisible shoals fast approaching,
a single bell tolling, warning,
here was, here comes,
yet another,
close calling

sirens shriek
can't abide a moment longer thus,
desperate longing
for a refuge of language loved,
not lost in lands and a sea of
ranted bittersweet journaled cant
and hashtags of sad despair

can't lengthen this sway,
grant a governor's stay,

heaven schedules our lives,
completed a time out
in a day,
twenty four hours of fabulous, fabled
and of late,
a shopworn, forlorn existence,
three hundred and sixty five times,
circularized on these pages

no forevermore, no forestalling,
only the truth,
a grizzled, unprimped,
mirror'd recognition

sad low whistle,
wild maimed moan,
jenny jilted wailing tears, groan,
and harps and guitars,
each pluck single notes plaintive,
long and slow their disappearing reverberation,
but end it must

none can deny or fail to ascertain,
port of our joint destination,
pinpointed on maps as
"the last curtain call,"
just over the nearby horizon line,
demarcating the finality
of the days of glorious,
and the quietude of
a storied ending

my crew, my crew,
forever besided,
forever insided,
bussed, bedded, and bathed,
with me,

wherever I write most,
wherever I write eyes moist,
my crew
of all captains,
whose fealty I adore
and to whom,
my loyalty unquestioned sworn,
upon righteous English oak
an oath unstained,
an American bible, an American chest,
blood sworn here forever to
brothers, sisters and children
many who by title me addressed
this man as,
yet friends
from foreign-no-more-lands

this is only a poem,
this is only the best I have

This to me given,
and now to you returned,
encrusted with trust

we together,
a new combination
all our own

my crew, my crew,
for you:
my seasonal Yule log-life burns
every day,
all years of my life shiny shiny
copper-burnished teapot whistling
you, your names
a tune of the past,
and the yet to come

I care,
burdened more
than than you ere known,
dare I bear
to bare-confess

for and by you was I,
my restlessness lessened
my unrest less,
so comforted by an out-louded,
deep-welcome-throated reception
let it end thus,
no whimpers or cries,
no misunderstanding

in a Wilderness of Words,
sought you out,
your name and lands,
yours, purposely hidden,
disguised and unknown,

while I placed before you,
my name
my birthplace,
the poetry of my truths,
the jagged laughing,
the cryptic crying,
at myself,
foibles, pimples and the
the insights inside,
mine own book of revelations
all clear in the
drippings of my clarifying
cloudy tears

stranger to friends to chance,
all by chance,
sharing nodules, capsules,
even tumors and ill humors

your affection and simple heroism,
left me both gasping,
and leaves me now,

your hearts sustain
and are sustainable,
in ways the word,
not even remotely
adequate, sufficient

in ways
that can be secreted here,
in sharing,
private messages,
snippet exchanges,
that are valored above the rubies of
public hearts that
claim attention
but are gold bonded hand cuffs,

my left, what is left,
to your strong right,
by rings married we are,
you and I,
a secretion on our kissing lips,
a perfumed essence called
"secrets of us..."

Wit I were a man
who could advance
his essay further,
but this voyage,
closed and done,
but a steamer approaches
where they need a third mate,
no questions asked,
no names exchanged,
no counting the change in his heart and the,
holes in his heart pocket

asking not,
are you friend long term true,
or just a fly by night,
short-winded trend

so onto
ports that are nameless,
needy for discovery,
they will have a fruitfulness
awaiting verbal germination
so yet again,
when he wipes away
with back of a hand,
his fresh fears,
moistening those dried,
those crack'd lips

underneath will be yet found
a perhaps,
fully formed, yet to be shared,
new poem,
that gives value
standing on its own,
and perhaps, rewarming, reawakening,
his gone cold and pale,
yet quivering moving,
his almost stilled silenced spring,
but not quite,


My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman
And the words that are used
For to get the ship confused
Will not be understood as they’re spoken
For the chains of the sea
Will have busted in the night
And will be buried at the bottom of the ocean

A song will lift
As the mainsail shifts
And the boat drifts on to the shoreline
And the sun will respect
Every face on the deck
The hour that the ship comes in

Then the sands will roll
Out a carpet of gold
For your weary toes to be a-touchin’
And the ship’s wise men
Will remind you once again
That the whole wide world is watchin’

bob dylan


We'll meet beyond the shore
We'll kiss just as before
Happy we'll be beyond the sea
And never again I'll go sailing

I know beyond a doubt
My heart will lead me there soon
We'll meet (I know we'll meet) beyond the shore
We'll kiss just as before
Happy we'll be beyond the sea
And never again I'll go sailing

No more sailing
So long sailing
Bye, bye sailing...

Jack Lawerence
looking for me in other names, other places
an explanation someday writ, not yet complete....but my poetry no longer gives
no satisfaction...
Hibernating in the summer, not merely resting my voice, but more than that, much more...will repost older stuff only...
take care of the newbies
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup!
and surely I’ll buy mine!
And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine†;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give me a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
It’s the most bountiful time of the year.
All retailers are crowing
The profits are growing
They smile ear-to-ear
It’s their greatest time of the year.

We people are hocking,
To stuff our kids stockings,
Wth jewels we bought all year long.
We want to make sure
That we can insure
We don’t take a parental step wrong.

It’s the bankruptingest time of the  year.
No one quite gives a ****
That the whole things a scam
To sell clothing and beer
We go further in debt every year.

We’ll fight to pay rent
Nearly thirty percent
Goes to pay all the interest off.
We take extra jobs
Like all working slobs
All year we don’t dare get a cough.

It’s the most co-dependent of times.
It’s all about image
And holiday scrimmage
As if we’re not a victim of crime.
And pretending we saved one little dime.
Late, late yestreen I saw the new moon,
With the old moon in her arms;
And I fear, I fear, my master dear!
We shall have a deadly storm.
Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence.


Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,
Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes
Upon the strings of this Aeolian lute,
Which better far were mute.
For lo! the New-moon winter-bright!
And overspread with phantom light,
(With swimming phantom light o’erspread
But rimmed and circled by a silver thread)
I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling
The coming-on of rain and squally blast.
And oh! that even now the gust were swelling,
And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast!
Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
And sent my soul abroad,
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!


A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,
Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
In word, or sigh, or tear—
O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood,
To other thoughts by yonder throstle wooed,
All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
Have I been gazing on the western sky,
And its peculiar tint of yellow green:
And still I gaze—and with how blank an eye!
And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
That give away their motion to the stars;
Those stars, that glide behind them or between,
Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen:
Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue;
I see them all so excellently fair,
I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!


My genial spirits fail;
And what can these avail
To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?
It were a vain endeavour,
Though I should gaze forever
On that green light that lingers in the west:
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.


O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature live:
Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud!
And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
Than that inanimate cold world allowed
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the Earth—
And from the soul itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element!


O pure of heart! thou need’st not ask of me
What this strong music in the soul may be!
What, and wherein it doth exist,
This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
This beautiful and beauty-making power.
Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne’er was given,
Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
Life, and Life’s effluence, cloud at once and shower,
Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,
Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower,
A new Earth and new Heaven,
Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud—
Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud—
We in ourselves rejoice!
And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
All melodies the echoes of that voice,
All colours a suffusion from that light.


There was a time when, though my path was rough,
This joy within me dallied with distress,
And all misfortunes were but as the stuff
Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness:
For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth;
But oh! each visitation
Suspends what Nature gave me at my birth,
My shaping spirit of Imagination.
For not to think of what I needs must feel,
But to be still and patient, all I can;
And haply by abstruse research to steal
From my own nature all the natural man—
This was my sole resource, my only plan:
Till that which suits a part infects the whole,
And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.


Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind,
Reality’s dark dream!
I turn from you, and listen to the wind,
Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream
Of agony by torture lengthened out
That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that rav’st without,
Bare crag, or mountain-tairn, or blasted tree,
Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb,
Or lonely house, long held the witches’ home,
Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
Mad Lutanist! who in this month of showers,
Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flowers,
Mak’st Devils’ yule, with worse than wintry song,
The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among.
Thou actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
Thou mighty poet, e’en to frenzy bold!
What tell’st thou now about?
’Tis of the rushing of an host in rout,
With groans, of trampled men, with smarting wounds—
At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold!
But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
With groans, and tremulous shudderings—all is over—
It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud!
A tale of less affright,
And tempered with delight,
As Otway’s self had framed the tender lay—
’Tis of a little child
Upon a lonesome wild,
Not far from home, but she hath lost her way:
And now moans low in bitter grief and fear,
And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear.


’Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
With light heart may she rise,
Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice;
To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of her living soul!
O simple spirit, guided from above,
Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
Thus mayst thou ever, evermore rejoice.
Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
On blythe Yule Night when we were fu’,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Maggie coost her head fu’ high,
Looked asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Duncan fleeched, and Duncan prayed;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Duncan sighed baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer’t and blin’,
Spak o’ lowpin ower a linn;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Time and Chance are but a tide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Slighted love is sair to bide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizzie dee?
She may *** to -France for me!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

How it comes let Doctors tell,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Meg grew sick as he grew hale,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Something in her ***** wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings;
And O her een, they spak sic things!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Duncan was a lad o’ grace,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Maggie’s was a piteous case,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling Pity smoored his Wrath;
Now they’re crouse and canty baith,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Renae Dec 2013
Lights! Evergreen! Action! Have you ever heard of the feast of fools? Plunging into pleasures takes the stage!Welcome to the Saturnalia! The setting takes place in ancient Rome, Emperors rule and slaves usually bow but not on this solstice festival. Backwards is the trend and nothing is forbidden it is a drunken wild revel! No rules no laws! Children become the authority taking part in drunken brawls! Yule logs burn and mistletoe hangs from the tops of each doorway. Streams of evergreen decorate the home as a lit up tree stands alone all are home as business is closed for the five day party. Slaves gamble and cheat and rule their masters! Unrule is the slogan and *** the master in public displays of unholy affection!  No recognition of marriage for sin is the law, the anticipation of the Saturnalia! A two faced pagan mythical god is to whom they give their allegiance.
Sadly today, not much has changed, only the name of the public acceptance. It now lasts far longer than five days so as to add to the excitement of the masses. Traditions remain alot the same; more suicides occur on the winter solstice. More drunken bouts, more placed in prison for truly unruly behavior. Yet Christian is the title as it masks the scene, with a portrait of a nativity, desperately trying to mask the desires of the popularity at such a sinful occasion. It's all an attempt to make what is obscene okay in the eyes of their Maker.
I am in love with the brightest days;
That all rots and dies of their sins,
In what is called their burning minds,
In what is called the merit of mine.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That all souls adore and salute sunshine,
That all is destruction that I can see,
That no pain is to be borne beneath me.

I am in love with the brightest days;
On which all are a mess less faithful,
That they are the betrayal they meet;
I am the destruction the poet writs.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For such days are dead to compassion,
Neither literature it is, nor passion,
None of the good poetry shall remain.

I am in love with the brightest days;
The roseate joys of the evil moon,
And the yellowness that writhes like me,
And shall be drowned, like me.

I am in love with the brightest days;
And the leaning branches that sway,
The leaves and roots that soon forget,
The unchained heart that shuns truth.

I am in love with the brightest days;
In me is a sanguine fear of faith,
A blinding rose and denial of joy,
A hesitant fire of madness.

I am in love with the brightest days;
I delight not in sweet foreign ways,
I am a shunned temper myself, from within—
I am still blind, I am still not seen.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That no rain remains and clouds are sins,
That the skies are but no flattery to me;
That roads are too blind and shan’t see.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For my shine makes it hard to read thy poem,
And shall blind utterly verdicts and prose,
I am the evil bud of the devil’s rose.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For none in coldness shall stay shimmering,
And who shall forbid the curse of snow,
I shall not hide at dusk, and in the morning.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For no sun in sight shan’t see tomorrow,
And what malice hides by the snow,
With gruesome lies by the forgiving rain.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For all favours me, a great stupor,
I shall deliver those impending pains,
I shall make decay all that remains.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For all is tumult that they can’t see,
For none in their dark nest shall see me,
For none of their joys stays with me.

I am in love with the brightest days;
I crave for all poignant walks and ways,
And no misery to me is deprecating,
And no lyric to me is love.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That I can but writ my own verses,
While ‘tis in my fate, my being not,
The fatal destiny I was born for.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For all the dark is too cold to see,
Nor an ecstasy to my rabid hands,
Just a minor of the vile rain.

I am in love with the brightest days;
All cold things are spoilt for me to see,
Nor an indulgent touch to my senses,
A hindrance to the earth’s lenses.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That thy dark love has failed me to see,
And not by thee shall I want to be,
I want to be the brightest on my own.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That the devil is but all over me,
That my own mind has lived without me,
That my sight is numb, that I cannot see.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That the bad is born, and grows in me,
That my own hatred has left me,
That my conscience has fallen away.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That my sullen memory has hated me,
Leaving me for the rain in my wake,
Leaving me for the winter it makes.

I am in love with the brightest days;
For the sultry rain lulls me to sleep
And the night makes me weep so deep,
That I but fake myself in my slumber.

I am in love with the brightest days;
And guess who teases the stars awake
While the night makes us love so true,
That I but anger thy verses anew.

I am in love with the brightest days;
And guess who makes the sky so blue,
All is hatred in my red chamber,
All is hurt, an eternal wound.

I am in love with the brightest days;
And whose words but disable thy poems,
When all I do is but shine on who writ,
When I shan’t ruin the words that meet.

I am in love with the brightest days;
And whose spell makes daytime brilliant,
With a shine so idyllic in its doom,
With a pink shade so thick as idioms.

I am in love with the brightest days;
And guess who makes daylight so true,
With rainwater so awash with gloom,
With dusk so laden with tears.

I am in love with the brightest days;
And guess who makes fall foliage appear,
With such dryness that is ever here,
With such droughts that are near?

I am in love with the brightest days;
And guess who shows the morning anew
And makes you swim across sweet daylight,
Who weeps for you outta cold nights?

I am in love with the brightest days;
And guess who makes daytime so sweet
That all souls roam about on their feet,
Who shall make the world alive?

I am in love with the brightest days;
I admire my soul’s reddish complex;
But others leave in their flamboyance,
Neglecting light by their arrogance.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That I have attained my shades anew
That I have my rose-gold to me,
That all is physical and lovely.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That all is alive and sees again,
That all is the heart of me and man,
That all is ****** and beauty.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That all that remains is putrid lust,
With a passion for flesh and dust,
With tongues on thine, and lips on mine.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That all that hurts becomes love,
That to desire has love awakened,
That love is flesh, love has shortened.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That all that pains becomes joy,
And there is misery in delights,
I only find love on moaning nights.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That the wrong has my saluted joy,
And all thy warmth shall turn to heat,
A heat that assaults and shan’t die.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That only evilness shall see my yule,
That only light leaves all breathless,
That only redness entertains me.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That moronic love shall foam their ways,
That all are lies that can destroy,
That all devours the sweetness of joy.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That such love of theirs comes from within,
Where I’ll be an unfaltering pain,
And my joys are a writhing abyss.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That I shall be the one to laugh,
To live and love of my own accord,
To sing a song with my weird chords.

I am in love with the brightest days;
The ones of everlasting fears,
That one shall be their own poor peril,
To come and go and shall come again.

I am in love with the brightest days;
The one in which no more can cheer,
That one shall consume their own evil,
To go and fade and have gone again.

I am in love with the brightest days;
I am not a beast to their pale sight,
Nor are they beastly to me;
They feed off my venom and my beauty.

I am in love with the brightest days;
I am not a poison to their light,
Nor are they poisonous to me;
They drink off my heat and my sea.

I am in love with the brightest days,
I am not too hesitant nor bashful,
I am not a love nor truth like rain,
I am not one of those Northern souls.

I am in love with the brightest days;
I am not the shy moon nor the sky,
I am not the bold nor the right,
I am the sin, not the Northern Light.

I am in love with the brightest days;
I am in love with not being love,
I am in love with not bringing love,
I am in love with not feeding love.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That all love shall be gone for good,
Nor are there facts to remain in truth,
All shall stay and die, as they should.

I am in love with the brightest days;
That love is pain all the night and day
That any living form shan’t live for long,
They are to fade within my robbed song.
ConnectHook Dec 2015
As concerning therefore the eating of those things that are offered in sacrifice unto idols, we know that an idol is nothing in the world, and that there is none other God but one. For though there be that are called gods, whether in heaven or in earth, (as there be gods many, and lords many,) But to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in him; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we by him.*

                             I Corinthians 8  [KJV]

Roll a Yule log on the fire
and let the mystery-cult inspire.
What Persians, Gauls, and Romans knew
could teach us all a thing or two
about midwinter celebrations
warming frigid Northern nations.

The Phrygian cap he used to wear,
holly entwined with evergreens
still linger in our current year
recalling dim pre-Christian scenes.
Some strange vestigial rites remain:
The specter of the Lydian Bishop.
No bull—but reindeer pull his train
spreading love, inspiring worship
mixed with Nordic pageantry,
barbaric sensuality,
and glimmers of Medieval night;
His season beckons, burning bright.
In England's prim polyphony
voices call across the centuries
no remnant of tauroctony
resurrecting pagan memories.
Drunks and rebels hum the tunes -
they lift the cup, they cast the runes
participating unawares
in Eleusinian affairs
like office parties, trees in houses:
timeless ritual that rouses
peace and love, goodwill to men.
(is it so diabolic then?)
Ghosts of Roman soldiers laugh:
the sun-god wears a funny hat.
His bull was just a golden calf
that grew up sacrificially fat.

Who cares when Christ was born, or where—
the point is: God appeared on earth
to set the record straight, lay bare
unwelcome truth: the second birth.
A new religion superseded
what had been before. It needed
rituals to syncretize
(no drastic sin, in heaven's eyes).
Why rail against it? What is wrong
with festive fare and holy song?
You think you can set back the clock?
destroy the sun or banish God?
Why agitate the Shepherd's flock;
in vain you would restrain His rod...
Since Christ is all in all why bother
searching out old gods to smother?
Who denies He rules the ages
mocks your idols, stumps the sages?

And so you are without excuse
for finding reasons to be mad -
committing holy child-abuse
and making mother Mary sad.
Why fight the vibe, why square the wheel?
No point in Scrooging up the deal.
Just kiss beneath God's mistletoe
and let the blessed season flow.
Christmass is come and every hearth
Makes room to give him welcome now
Een want will dry its tears in mirth
And crown him wi a holly bough
Tho tramping neath a winters sky
Oer snow track paths and ryhmey stiles
The huswife sets her spining bye
And bids him welcome wi her smiles
Each house is swept the day before
And windows stuck wi evergreens
The snow is beesomd from the door
And comfort crowns the cottage scenes
Gilt holly wi its thorny ******
And yew and box wi berrys small
These deck the unusd candlesticks
And pictures hanging by the wall

Neighbours resume their anual cheer
Wishing wi smiles and spirits high
Clad christmass and a happy year
To every morning passer bye
Milk maids their christmass journeys go
Accompanyd wi favourd swain
And childern pace the crumping snow
To taste their grannys cake again

Hung wi the ivys veining bough
The ash trees round the cottage farm
Are often stript of branches now
The cotters christmass hearth to warm
He swings and twists his hazel band
And lops them off wi sharpend hook
And oft brings ivy in his hand
To decorate the chimney nook

Old winter whipes his ides bye
And warms his fingers till he smiles
Where cottage hearths are blazing high
And labour resteth from his toils
Wi merry mirth beguiling care
Old customs keeping wi the day
Friends meet their christmass cheer to share
And pass it in a harmless way

Old customs O I love the sound
However simple they may be
What ere wi time has sanction found
Is welcome and is dear to me
Pride grows above simplicity
And spurns it from her haughty mind
And soon the poets song will be
The only refuge they can find

The shepherd now no more afraid
Since custom doth the chance bestow
Starts up to kiss the giggling maid
Beneath the branch of mizzletoe
That neath each cottage beam is seen
Wi pearl-like-berrys shining gay
The shadow still of what hath been
Which fashion yearly fades away

And singers too a merry throng
At early morn wi simple skill
Yet imitate the angels song
And chant their christmass ditty still
And mid the storm that dies and swells
By fits-in humings softly steals
The music of the village bells
Ringing round their merry peals

And when its past a merry crew
Bedeckt in masks and ribbons gay
The ‘Morrice danse’ their sports renew
And act their winter evening play
The clown-turnd-kings for penny praise
Storm wi the actors strut and swell
And harlequin a laugh to raise
Wears his **** back and tinkling bell

And oft for pence and spicy ale
Wi winter nosgays pind before
The wassail singer tells her tale
And drawls her christmass carrols oer
The prentice boy wi ruddy face
And ryhme bepowderd dancing locks
From door to door wi happy pace
Runs round to claim his ‘christmass box’

The block behind the fire is put
To sanction customs old desires
And many a ******* bands are cut
For the old farmers christmass fires
Where loud tongd gladness joins the throng
And winter meets the warmth of may
Feeling by times the heat too strong
And rubs his shins and draws away

While snows the window panes bedim
The fire curls up a sunny charm
Where creaming oer the pitchers rim
The flowering ale is set to warm
Mirth full of joy as summer bees
Sits there its pleasures to impart
While childern tween their parents knees
Sing scraps of carrols oer by heart

And some to view the winter weathers
Climb up the window seat wi glee
Likening the snow to falling feathers
In fancys infant ******
Laughing wi superstitious love
Oer visions wild that youth supplyes
Of people pulling geese above
And keeping christmass in the skyes

As tho the homstead trees were drest
In lieu of snow wi dancing leaves
As. tho the sundryd martins nest
Instead of ides hung the eaves
The childern hail the happy day
As if the snow was april grass
And pleasd as neath the warmth of may
Sport oer the water froze to glass

Thou day of happy sound and mirth
That long wi childish memory stays
How blest around the cottage hearth
I met thee in my boyish days
Harping wi raptures dreaming joys
On presents that thy coming found
The welcome sight of little toys
The christmass gifts of comers round

‘The wooden horse wi arching head
Drawn upon wheels around the room
The gilded coach of ginger bread
And many colord sugar plumb
Gilt coverd books for pictures sought
Or storys childhood loves to tell
Wi many a urgent promise bought
To get tomorrows lesson well

And many a thing a minutes sport
Left broken on the sanded floor
When we woud leave our play and court
Our parents promises for more
Tho manhood bids such raptures dye
And throws such toys away as vain
Yet memory loves to turn her eye
And talk such pleasures oer again

Around the glowing hearth at night
The harmless laugh and winter tale
Goes round-while parting friends delight
To toast each other oer their ale
The cotter oft wi quiet zeal
Will musing oer his bible lean
While in the dark the lovers steal
To kiss and toy behind the screen

The yule cake dotted thick wi plumbs
Is on each supper table found
And cats look up for falling crumbs
Which greedy childern litter round
And huswifes sage stuffd seasond chine
Long hung in chimney nook to drye
And boiling eldern berry wine
To drink the christmass eves ‘good bye’
Gonz and Roses Dec 2011
Sugar ***** the ribbon but feel free to wear  the bow.
Hey who turned off the lights.
It's much more fun to get in touch with your feelings in the dark if ya didnt know.

Forget the missletoe lets ***** under the tree.
Why it's a holiday **** in times square.
Yeah thats feels awsome but im not sure if that was you or me.

Im in the spirt pass the Jack  and let's play hide the yule log
every Santa  loves a ** ** **.
Let's make the naughty list  for a couple of years in one night.
Sugar yes Santas happy to see ya if ya didnt know.

Ring goes the bell, no dude im getting laid so I could care less what ya got.
ten grams for the ****** and for my stoners one pound of ***.
It's the time for giving sugar and ya no they say it's better to give than recive.
No wonder Santa's  so dam happy if only ever day was Christmas Eve.

No need to hang that stocking cause something else is gonna get stuffed tonight.
Why miss Santa in that dress  the elves can almost see your Reindeer.
yes kids i know im not right.

Its a party for two no shirt or shoes required
Deck the halls hey why not invite your sister holly.
It's playtime at the north pole hell no wonder this ***** elf is so Jolly.

On ya little hampsters we must go.
Hey its more than just snow that does blow.
Yes holidays are hell  well for most sure spike the punch
i'll pass on the cookie.
Forget the gifts cause all i want is some holiday nookie.
Andy loved a girl named Sandy

Bill saw a horse standing on the hill

Cory told his mother a made up story

Dave dug many a grave

Eddy loaned his teddy to Neddy

Frank bought a Sherman tank

Greg had a wooden leg

Hilton was related to Mrs Wilton

Ivan strolled in the park with Jan

Jack scratched his own back

Kyle's hair style also suited Lyle

Lance couldn't obtain a bed valance

Max paid a hefty lot of tax

Neal earned a reputation for his *** appeal

Oscar drank at the Crown and Stag bar

Paul gave ten shillings to Saul

Quentin found a silver tin

Roger was a work dodger

Sam enjoyed a portion of Virginia ham

Timmy sure knew how to shimmy

Umberto listened to the concerto

Vlad priced an inner city pad

Wing put his arm in a sling

Xain often rode on the express train

Yule took a picture of the farmer's mule

Zeal looked forward to his evening meal
g clair Sep 2013
When you feel taken for granted
thinkin' they just don't care
wanting to move away again,
but again, you don't know where

burned-out, tired of trying
to be all the bossman wants
to be everything to everyone,
reading in between the fonts

We who sit beside you
in the office and the stall
who sing along, the same old song,
while you stand and take the fall

in a cubicle, with mistletoe,
this lonesome caroler hums
it's all benign,
please don't resign
before the yule tide comes

Want to see you here on Christmas
don't leave us all alone
want to hear you 'woe ** **' again
so don't slam down the phone

don't make that snap decision
when the pressure starts to build
just let the steam out somewhere else
and let your heart be filled...
with joy

At the meeting, you suggested
wrap the garland and a bow
and all the trimmings, here and there
around whose neck, we know

the one about the lighting
the star atop her head
and now the head of operations,
wants to move you to the shed.

They just don't understand you,
your work is so complex
you didn't sign his Christmas card
but the boss still signs your checks

so don't be rash, just try to hash it out
and make a deal,
and let bygones be gone
before the office Christmas meal.

Want to see you here on Christmas
please don't leave us all alone
want to hear you 'woe ** **' again
so don't slam down the phone

and don't make that snap decision
when the pressure starts to build
just let the steam out somewhere else
and let your heart be filled...
with joy
Cecil Miller Dec 2015
No jingle bells ring around here
Since you've gone away.
White snow blankets ev'rything in sight,
But I don't wanna play.
I don't feel the merriment, the mirth, nor cheer,
It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.

It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating
When you're not near.
When you were in my life
I never did know drear.
It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.

A wreath adorns the cold front door,
Your somewhere on the outside,
Frolicking in the wonderland,
Your world is unfurled and wide.
You will never have to know
A life spent all alone.
You will always find somebody
You can call your own.

It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating
Without you, Dear.
I keep hoping by some chance
That in my door you'll reappear,
It's not like Christmas at all
Without you here.

The ornaments, tensile, and lights,
Hang on the evergreen.
The Yule log burns, and warms the harth;
The carollers, outside, they sing.
I can't face the new year
By myself, all on my own.
Things haven't been the same
Sinse you've been gone.

It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating,
When you're not near.
Come back for the holidays,
Then stay all year.
It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.

(Nobody's under my mistletoe -
I won't cuddle when the night is cold.)

It's not like Christmas at all
When you're not here.
I don't feel like celebrating,
When you're not near.
Come back for the holidays,
Then stay all year.
It's not like Christmas at all,
When you're not here.
I wrote this when I was about 23 years old. (Early 1990's 20 years ago) It was the first in a long series of Christmas inspired lyrics I've written. I reworked it just a little over the years, but it is mostly faithful to the first draft. On June 4th 2016, I added some words for backing harmony about mistletoe. O removed the revious reference that was in the second verse and restored it to an earlier rendition and extended the somg by addion of an additional choral refrain.
Again at Christmas did we weave
The holly round the Christmas hearth;
The silent snow possess'd the earth,
And calmly fell our Christmas-eve:

The yule-log sparkled keen with frost,
No wing of wind the region swept,
But over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost.

As in the winters left behind,
Again our ancient games had place,
The mimic picture's breathing grace,
And dance and song and hoodman-blind.

Who show'd a token of distress?
No single tear, no mark of pain:
O sorrow, then can sorrow wane?
O grief, can grief be changed to less?

O last regret, regret can die!
No--mixt with all this mystic frame,
Her deep relations are the same,
But with long use her tears are dry.
Jude kyrie Jul 2018
Time to say goodbye
A poem of new beginnings
by Jude kyrie

When I lost you my darling
The winter fell from eternity.
Crystals of you fell in the snowflakes.
Sparkling as your eyes once did.
In the light of old  street lamps.

I could not move on without you my love.
I had folded my heart into a love letter
And placed it in your soul to keep forever.

Yet after all these lonely years without you.
She has found me, and taken my hand
Leading  me to the sunlight
that we once shared together.

Perhaps that would have been enough once.
But the dinner at the old Hotel
Had candles of red and green to celebrate
the festive season of goodwill to man

Stored away in the freezer of my heart.
The ice crystals cannot
live in the warmth of this season.
Even as they  try to fight the glow.

They are frozen as cold as ice.
Upon  the memories
of our old Christmas past.

Yet she is here now.
not to replace you.
or take away what you were.
but to take all that is
left of me.
and shine it like old silver.

in the festive restaurant.
Her smile is a cure for my sadness.
Her hand is my guiding light
Her heart is glowing
like the yule log in the fireplace.

Then from the candlelight,
You send my cure
The one I have waited for
In an eternity of sadness.

The future ghost of Christmas
Was in the candlelight that danced
Inside her beautiful eyes.
And quietly in the glow of Christmas.
I am finally able to say to you.
That it is
time to say goodbye my love.
Moving on takes time.

— The End —