Another Tasteless Kitschmas
EACH YEAR, FOR MANY YEARS, I’ve added more verses to a carol I’m continuously writing, entitled “Another Tasteless Kitschmas”. This year, it has increased by 25% and now has 30 verses. (See below). This is the only Xmas card you’ll get from me! 
Although, on the surface, it looks somewhat tongue-in-cheek… on another level, it is deadly serious. I hope it brings you some seasonal thoughtfulness. Love to you from me. 
Recently I noticed something
happening in the streets:
A guy was on a ladder
using 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!
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
We’ve only just had Halloween
(“Thanksgiving” in its wake).
Then Friday Black has come and been,
our precious store to take.
And coming closely after that
was Cyber Monday’s turn.
There’s no end to their tasteless tat;
our money’s theirs to burn.
Would all these crass and made-up days
have ever come to pass
if we’d not had a buying craze
for goods just to amass?
When “things” become a substitute
to fill an empty heart,
we’ll Scroogelike then suppress all love
and just remain apart.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all 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 October
a glaze comes on their eyes.
Their style goes out the window
as if they’re mesmerized.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all 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 stifle screams of death:
It’s only a veneer.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
Consider too those single mums
who do not have a dime.
Their kids’ 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.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all 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 done
where will that spirit go?
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all 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.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
One in four kids now obese,
a recent study shows;
and thirty-five percent too fat —
that waistline figure grows.
On Christmas Day the calories
consumed in Western states
is eight-thousand five hundred.
That’s PER PERSON, on their plates!
Thirteen percent of folks on earth
have not enough to eat.
That puts things in perspective
when we’re wolfing down that treat.
If Christmas really was about
glad tidings and goodwill,
instead of buying crap
some starving bellies you could fill.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
In December just four years ago
in twenty-seventeen,
seventy-six billion pounds Brits spent —
the highest ever seen.
According to statistics made,
that could be better spent
for two whole years to feed the
world’s poor hungry kids, if sent.
There’s something sick about that sum,
I’d even say obscene.
Just 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.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all 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
can 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’ll quietly disappear myself,
my soul’s health to enrich;
and one thing I can guarantee:
I won’t subscribe to kitsch!
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
I’m feeling deep down in my soul
this all has gone too far.
We’ve passed the point of no return —
this life’s become bizarre.
Obsessed with mere irrelevance,
we waste away our days
and buy our selfish children
every latest trend or craze.
“Put the Christ back into Christmas!”
religious people say.
But Christ was never really there —
not even on Christmas Day!
December twenty-fifth we know
was not his day of birth.
Most likely was September time
the Christ-Child came to Earth.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
While folks are out there worrying
“Will Tesco have my bird?”
I hope you will now realise
how it’s all so absurd!
Tradition isn’t always bad
(I’ll give you that much, yes).
But when it just enslaves, I draw
the line, I must confess.
Another thing to bear in mind
in this specific year
is you won’t be so welcome
at the tables to appear
of those who have a Band-Aid on
their arms and worn with pride,
if you’ve refused the jibbjabb
they won’t want you by their side.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
This year your government controls
what Christmas you’ll enjoy.
You’re wondering right now, aren’t you,
what rules they will employ?
It’s all a ruse (even a scam)
to have you in their thrall.
As for myself, I couldn’t care;
their rules aren’t mine at all.
What Boris, Joe, or Tom or Dick
tell me that I can do
means nothing in the “bubble” where
I interface with you.
My Christmas or New Year’s preserved,
like each day of my year,
from governmental edicts
as I live life free from fear.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
So many just find Jesus cute
when swaddled in His crib.
Thus, in their minds they keep His power
reduced to a damp squib.
They prove they have not understood
’twas He who made this sphere
and all the cosmos with His breath
while folks crave Christmas cheer!
While you’re at home to celebrate
that baby Jesus birth,
please bear in mind that He will come
again to planet Earth —
not as a baby, though, this time,
but as a cosmic flash
of lightning seen across the world.
All evil He will trash.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
So deck your walls with holly sprigs
and decorate your tree.
You’ve kept them from last year somewhere
to use again for free.
Like royal weddings on TV
this Christmas jamboree
will keep your mind in sleepwalk state
with all its fakery.
The world I see is travelling fast
in a handbasket to hell.
So now I’ll hide from Christmas kitsch
and bid this world farewell.
Please let me know when New Year’s passed;
I may come out to see
if there’s a place left on this globe
for sweet simplicity.
The time’s come for another tasteless Kitschmas;
it’s time for plastic holly round the door.
So eat up LOADS of food with uber-richness;
to hell with all the starving and the poor.
© Alan Morrison, 2012-2021
The Naked Troubadour 