I realise I've not written very much at all on this damnable site of late, so while you've been off dreaming of a White Christmas like a daft racist I've written a short article on the dull issue of winning poetry competitions.
I say "winning", I mean "not coming last"
Find it here: http://networkedblogs.com/c5Sqy
In the meantime, to get you in the festive spittoon, here's a little piece about the yuletide which I'd written for DanseMacabre last year. Now go away.
Christmas Fever
No wrapping but the gut
lining, no bow but the bile,
no box but the brittle bulge
of my projectile smile.
lining, no bow but the bile,
no box but the brittle bulge
of my projectile smile.
Ding dingaling and ding along.
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!
No manger but the rough
sleep, no advent but the wheeze,
no sugar but the colon’s
furious chocolate sneeze.
sleep, no advent but the wheeze,
no sugar but the colon’s
furious chocolate sneeze.
Ding dingaling and ding along.
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!
Merry merry, very merry,
hear my Christmas song!
No fire glow but the fever
sweat, no chestnut but the phlegm,
no stuffing but the mucous balls:
it must be Christmas again.
sweat, no chestnut but the phlegm,
no stuffing but the mucous balls:
it must be Christmas again.
Russell Jones
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