Another Tasteless Kitschmass

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[feel free to sing along!]

another_tasteless_kitschmass

Recently I noticed something
happening in the streets:
A guy was on a ladder high
in acrobatic feats.
I wondered if this was some kind
of urban culture craze;
but then I saw him hanging up
some Christmas light clichés.

At first he hung a Santa there —
a rotund little man
whose origins are not North Pole
but Siberian shaman.
Those guys who dress up in the stores
have strange proclivities.
There’s no way I would let my kids
sit on those Santas’ knees!

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

Excuse me if I make a point
but Santa is a word
which, if you move the letters round,
it all becomes absurd!
What’s more, if I went jumping down
a house’s chimney shaft
my clothes would all be black as night
so Santa’s red is daft!

One thing about my friends is that
they all have such good taste
in clothes and books and furniture —
there’s nothing out of place.
But sometime in December
a glaze comes on their eyes;
their style goes out the window
as if they’re mesmerized.

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

If Christmas is supposed to be
a merrymaking time
how come the rate of suicides
so massively does climb?
Admission into hospitals
by folks who are depressed
rockets through the roof at Xmas —
more than you’d have guessed.

“Peace on earth” — “goodwill to all”
the slogans people chant.
But will all wars and subterfuge
be no more found extant?
Because some soldiers stop the fight
for Christmas Day each year
it will not stop the screams of death:
It’s only a veneer.

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

Consider too that single mum
who doesn’t have a dime.
Her kid’s humiliation stains
this “goodwill” Christmastime.
Consumerism, greed and glut
are masked by schmaltzy mirth;
while getting drunk and pigging out
eclipses Jesus’ birth.

Perhaps you’ll think I’m just a scrooge —
a killjoy with a grudge
who only sees the bad in things,
who only can prejudge.
I happen to believe that we
should be discerning peeps
and not be taken in by things
so graceless, vulgar, cheap.

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

You’ll say I’m bitter ’cause I write
my lyrics in this vein.
“What could be wrong with giving things?”
You’ll think that I’m insane.
That’s not the issue here, I say.
The time has come to learn
that those who give should keep it quiet —
want nothing in return.

Hypocrisy’s an ugly word
which makes me want to gag;
we give our kids huge Christmas gifts
about which they then brag.
We claim to be so generous
when under mistletoe.
But when these Christmas days are through
where will that spirit go?

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

You’ll ask me “Why do you resent
the Christmas jamboree
which ricochets across the world
with positivity?”
The reason is because this time
of year is just a trap —
folks making piles of money
out of selling plastic crap.

Tradition out of habit
on a set date every year
is not spontaneous joyfulness
but downright insincere!
Midwinter festivals are good
for bringing merriment.
But silly hats and gluttony
just cause embarrassment.

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

On December twenty-third,
the year two thousand and thirteen,
The Brits will spend four billion pounds;
the highest ever seen.
If Christmas really was about
glad tidings and goodwill
with forty-five thousand every sec
some hospitals could be built.

There’s something sick about that sum
I’d even say obscene.
Think of all the homes we’d make
and irrigation schemes.
We’ve lost all our perspective now
of what it means to love;
and soon we’ll rush out to the sales
to spend more, push and shove.

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

I haven’t got a clue why you
can’t understand my thread
or why this time of year each year
with all my heart I dread.
I don’t know why to do good works
is just to Yule confined.
The things one does in Christmas week
should be done all the time!

So if you’re wondering where I’ll be
on coming Yuletide days
I won’t be singing “Good King Wence”
or watching Songs of Praise.
I will just quietly disappear
my soul’s health to enrich;
and one thing I can guarantee:
I won’t subscribe to kitsch!

It’s time for another tasteless Kitschmas
Time for plastic holly round the door
Eat up loads of food with all its richness
Never mind the starving and the poor.

.
.
© Alan Morrison, 2013

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