A Poem For The Holidays

The dawn of crippled skull and crossbones
chicken wings and crossbows
The hen-pecking of strawberry nuns
the top of our hands slapped with stigmata
A gift for the moral ones
The warm darkness of a wet womb
the barking hounds on subway tombs
A Brainsick moon watches skin flicks
made by brides and grooms
A candlestick maker
A bloated old baker
A devil child conceived in a filthy
oven. A coven of illegitimate cupcakes
Bondage bandits with anemic eyes
Flesh covered icing holocaust
What is the cost
of a bakers dozen?
The nefarious nectar a cordial specter
in a twist he licks his lips and sips your
addiction. A cyst an abyss, the curly little
wisp that wraps around your throat.
As the cheesecake vampire vanishes within
his cloak.
There is no hope
A satanic pope gloats as soldiers pace
on a sandbox of graves where children play
and Jesus loves them..
As he hems the holes in his hands and feet
and eats a delicious pie made of kittens and bunnies
dripping honey and sperm from terminally ill
paper dolls.
We inhale the wicked, blow out the candle
avoiding the warning on the label
Christmas dinner will be served on silver platters
placed neatly on the sacrificial
alter, cashew nuts and maggots. Cancerous tumors in Christmas
Stockings. Hard-ons and Christmas cards
Nerves twitch, just a nip
of the children's bleeding lungs.