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Innovation­game

Christmastide is here again


Now Christmastide is here again
I seem to call a certain name
to mind, which I had quite forgot
(for which others care not one jot)
whilst bustled by the madding crowd
whose anti-fear is being proud
of lavish gifts on which they spend
hardly-meagre earnings for their friends.

Smug, perverted salesmen in shops
pounce on those who dare to stop,
admiring many "Heaven sent" gifts
that with false joys their poor hearts lift,
thinking of what their friends will say -
"Oh, how can he afford to pay?" -
and oh, what warmth of gratitude
comes forth from corrupt attitudes!

The real contentment that is Yule’s
commercially exploited fools
fail from within their vanity
to recognise, that it may be
their one desire to give their praise
to He who lived throughout his days
the perfect life and died that men
might reconciled be once again.

They picture not the stable’s straw
with asses stamping on the floor,
the half-clothed mother with her child
nestling close to her breast, so mild
the tender look upon her face,
her arms encircling him with grace
in such a lowly place of birth
into a humble life on Earth.

And as a nation of great power
draws nigh to the coming Christmas hour,
so it is locked in raging strife
with those who live a humble life
in far off lands and understand
nothing of the men whose commands
have brought upon them suffering
through undisputed tampering.

From this worldly mess I must fly
and hope that when my turn to die
comes round, then I will be content
with happiness and sentiment
that springs eternal in my heart,
when time draws near that I must part
with all that I have known before -
and suddenly I hope no more.

My wish is that these Christmas fools
could look into the muddy pools
of rain and see a picture true
of all the things they are bound to do
whilst under oath to affluence,
the sordid outcome of pretence
into which they’ve been conveyed
by propaganda, blindly played.

If only they could understand
the message of the lonely band
of Christ’s disciples, scattered sparse
as nonsense in a tragic farce:
I would my very life yet give
for some small chance that they might live
in fear and praise of values true -
I pray and hope they may so do.