Monday, 26 December 2016

Christmas... A Poetic Script


It's Christmas,
what's my spirit?
spiced rum,
I sail the 7 seas
with captain Morgan,
or is it seven sins?
na just one... glutton,
man how am I
going to work off
this belly button.

I write this on the eve,
can I finish it on the day,
my belly is boxed in from
my winters crave.

I am asked whats your
take on christmas,
Family
Food
and
Hope that everyone
gets their wishes.

A day for family,
but I have my own,
or
this memory without them
would be a altered reality
due to past memories
being young at home;

Sitting amongst my alternative
tends too drive me to insanity,
a black sheep in my herd,
I hardly got heard, thinking,
why santa never got at me,
na mum, I forgive,
you were not at an ideal salary.

I have good memories
of this season,
like my god parents
who cooked more
In one day,
a ray of flavours
then my mum could
do in four seasons,
Not to say she was plain,
She was a single mother,
Had no time to cook why
That day I could not wait,
I would have
not one, not two
but four plates
and some cake
and Guess what?
I would never
put on weight,
which was great.

The family table seems
a thing of the past,
it's in front of the T.V,
skipping channels,
skipping monopoly
and
time to catch up properly,
Arguing about the remote,
I want to argue about
who has the most property.

Video games with the younger brothers,
but they only play
football games,
or
shooting games...
they lames,
80s baby syndrome,
retro or the updated version,
but they don't want a change,
football or shooting,
I say
"shoot at the local football pitch
or
shoot at the local shooting range,
these days I talk to myself,
I find trying to talk
to others even if they are my brothers,
is now the normal strange.

I used to laugh at my uncle,
Asleep on the chair,
When I got older realised
why he would only cheers,
then turn into tears,
then turn into ranting,
then sleep
and
repeat
when it came to New Years,
and new years was
the same day for him,
if they only listened to his
drunken rambling.

New Years would be
a time to celebrate,
na not me...
I wait until my birthday,
I can't stand people who
make resolutions,
but have no will power,
causing cosmic confusions,
you a magician to your word,
as most of your words are illusions,
me I am a wordsmith creating word fusions.

As I come to an end,
I am thankful for mobile blogging,
as the toilet is my friend,
I may as well live their until
the seasons end,
I can't wipe and write,
I will stop
and
see you in a fresh start
and
please keep your promise
for the first three months,
new lessons learning
or
repeat the old semester.

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