XXX-MAS

xxx-mas
the violent burden of the sky
thrashes down hoaving all its weight
with such vigour that verges on hate
shreading tearing winds slap and slice into
haggard well worn jeans already torn
while sodden boots hammer out a beat
clapping onwards, Upwards, towards retreat
choked by the stagnant mists of allyways
to be rained upon by crumbling red bridgeways
forever under the hatefull glass eyed gaze
of frozen dead beat street fixers
slumped on stolen rotten soiled sofa`s
creeping like the cold into blissfull coma`s

blurring past window screen TV scenes
of blinding yellow happy family holidays
where a meter or two slides into miles away
from this ever expanding salt grit grey
its from where spoiled blood drentches
spills over and entrentches cracked curbs
marking the territory of the voodoo suburbs
heads dazed, bobbing with packed pockets
and burnt out dead hollow sockets
where actions speak louder than words
where actions forever colour curbs

frozen flowers in the mist
ignored flowers stiffen
no reminder of a life forgotton
never listed never missed
entombed in the Christmas mist
dismissed.