How I hate the trashy, tinselled, messed-up
Art-bereft display of total tat,
Putatively soul-warming, but actually a dressed-up
Pile of blatant commercialism, one that
Yields no joy or enduring happiness – indeed,
Creates an unassuageable longing, fake
Heartache for hollow toys, only to feed
Remorse at wasted hard-earned dosh, to make
Iller the earth, heaping a rubbishy tomb,
Seeding the seas with a dust of microplastic
To blossom and scathe, in and beyond the womb,
Meting out a less of life: fantastic!
All this I scorn; and yet I love such time
Spent familial with you – despite this rhyme.
Art-bereft display of total tat,
Putatively soul-warming, but actually a dressed-up
Pile of blatant commercialism, one that
Yields no joy or enduring happiness – indeed,
Creates an unassuageable longing, fake
Heartache for hollow toys, only to feed
Remorse at wasted hard-earned dosh, to make
Iller the earth, heaping a rubbishy tomb,
Seeding the seas with a dust of microplastic
To blossom and scathe, in and beyond the womb,
Meting out a less of life: fantastic!
All this I scorn; and yet I love such time
Spent familial with you – despite this rhyme.
(18.12.25) v 1.0
