A Poem For The Holidays


Twas the day after Christmas
And all through the town
People were milling
And wearing mild frowns

The ground lightly sprinkled with torn paper and crap
From all of the gifts, just yesterday, finally unwrapped
Gravy stained disposable plates from excessive feasts
And used condom wrappers cast out from ‘tween sheets

Had all fell from the sky like a crusty new snow
But Christmas wasn’t over, there was still one day to go
For no amount of presents sent from the North Pole
Could ever fill up the Boxing Day hole

From centrally located condos and suburban sprawl
Like a rank undead throng, they lurch to the malls
With boxes and bags ‘neath racks full of stuff
They trample each other for marketing fluff

Fuelled by holiday themed coffees and nonsensical greed
They lineup for bargains on stuff they don’t need
That’s mine! One lady fitfully cries
While she uses her thumb to poke out another’s glazed eyes

A new surround system to make movies more loud
And a sleek, shiny phone that uploads things to “the cloud”
Faces aglow with a feverish joy
Brought on by a discount on leftover toys

Poor weary workers, torn from their well deserved rest
For a day full of serving the mad and depressed
Fingers all bloody from punching the till
And fattening the pigs on their Boxing Day swill

Uinmaginable hordes, faces severe and bleak
Their insatiable lust turned a day to a week
Sometime in the future, you heard it first here
We’ll be trapped in perpetual “Boxing Day Year”

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