Odd how the night shortens days more and more
With each day toward Christmas, a seasonal war.
Between light and dark and cost to heat the cold,
Annoying to the young, but misery for the old.
May this last Christmas, brought by the unrepentant Scrooge:
The one warm in our White House, Greed's grandest stooge,
Be the end of the war on us; when the Hand of God does smite
All of these crooks and liars from out of our sight.
Millions of homeless--American refugees--
Shaken out of their jobs and homes, brought to their knees;
While the wealth we sweated to produce was dumped in the laps
Of the already very wealthy, while our sons and daughters lay dead over Taps.
And demand the whole evil lot be put in handcuffs;
That, until the war on us be brought to an end,
This Christmas we simply stayed home and not spend.
The pauper's wages they have demanded we take
(though rather we not be paid at all, for profit's sake)
These betrayers of we and our nation will not prevail
When we refused the bait of their preChristmas sales.
So let us pray for the homeless, lest we wear their shoes
And join forces with the poorest we too often verbally abuse.
Let us forsake Judgements and Indifference to those little different from us,
Else Providence make us join them, a punishment ironic but just.
This Christmas, pray extra hard for Peace On Earth,
And pray Greed be destroyed and replaced with real worth.
Of prosperity shared by all, not reserved for the very few;
So the very next Christmas is truly Merry for so many more than you.